A Tale of Crowns

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{Story Variables} -Chapter One- <<set $portrait to false>> <<set $tujotrust to 0>> -Chapter Two- <<set $shamkurstory to false>> <<set $xstory to false>> <<set $astory to false>> -Chapter Three- <<set $ridebehindr to false>> <<set $ridebehinda to false>> <<set $ridealone to false>> <<set $comfortbyr to false>> <<set $comfortbya to false>> <<set $comfortbyd to false>> <<set $comfortbyx to false>> -Chapter Ten- <<set $nudemrejected to false>> -Chapter Eleven- <<set $liedtox is false>> {Relationship Variables} <<set $romancepath to false>> <<set $metd to false>> <<set $metr to false>> <<set $meta to false>> <<set $xpoints to 0>> <<set $rpoints to 0>> <<set $apoints to 0>> <<set $dpoints to 0>> <<set $xfriend to false>> <<set $rfriend to false>> <<set $afriend to false>> <<set $dfriend to false>> <<set $xfriendship to 0>> <<set $afriendship to 0>> <<set $rfriendship to 0>> <<set $dfriendship to 0>> <<set $rlowcount to 0>> <<set $rhighcount to 0>> <<set $dlowcount to 0>> <<set $dhighcount to 0>> <<set $xlowcount to 0>> <<set $xhighcount to 0>> <<set $alowcount to 0>> <<set $ahighcount to 0>> <<set $xrelationship to "">> <<set $arelationship to "">> <<set $rrelationship to "">> <<set $drelationship to "">> {Main Character Customization} <<set $name to "">> <<set $progress to "0">> <<set $surname to "">> <<set $gender to "">> <<set $preference to "">> <<set $scar to "">> <<set $facialhair to "">> <<set $bodyhair to "">> <<set $fh to false>> <<set $sc to false>> <<set $height to "">> <<set $haircolor to "">> <<set $hairstyle to "">> <<set $hairtexture to "">> <<set $skincolor to "">> <<set $skinavg to "">> <<set $clothing to "">> <<set $xnickname to "">> <<set $cxnickname to "">> <<set $rnickname to "">> <<set $crnickname to "">> <<set $anickname to "">> <<set $canickname to "">> <<set $dnickname to "">> <<set $cdnickname to "">> <<set $crafts to false>> <<set $outdoors to false>> <<set $mental to false>> {Main Character Pronouns} <<set $they to "">> <<set $cthey to "">> <<set $their to "">> <<set $ctheir to "">> <<set $theirs to "">> <<set $ctheirs to "">> <<set $them to "">> <<set $cthem to "">> <<set $themselves to "">> <<set $cthemselves to "">> {Main Character Traits} <<set $charstats to false>> <<set $charcodex to false>> <<set $appearance to false>> <<set $charm to 0>> <<set $blunt to 0>> <<set $intel to 0>> <<set $intu to 0>> <<set $adven to 0>> <<set $caut to 0>> <<set $kind to 0>> <<set $calc to 0>> <<set $flirt to 0>> <<set $res to 0>> <<set $ass to 0>> <<set $pass to 0>> {Main Character Skills} <<set $magicpref to "">> {Codex} <<set $royalcodex to false>> <<set $royalhis to false>> <<set $religion to false>> <<set $ashaduna to false>> <<set $ferzan to false>> <<set $twocrowns to false>> <<set $hathura to false>> <<set $sur to false>> <<set $thallos to false>> <<set $ivia to false>> <<set $qathesh to false>> <<set $zerat to false>> <<set $penawar to false>> <<set $sevan to false>> <<set $avdin to false>> <<set $revealed to false>> {R} <<set $rcodex to false>> <<set $rcodex2 to false>> <<set $rappearance to false>> <<set $rgender to "">> <<set $rname to "">> <<set $rtitle to "">> <<set $rthey to "">> <<set $crthey to "">> <<set $rtheir to "">> <<set $crtheir to "">> <<set $rtheirs to "">> <<set $crtheirs to "">> <<set $rthem to "">> <<set $crthem to "">> <<set $rthemselves to "">> <<set $crthemselves to "">> {X} <<set $xcodex to false>> <<set $xcodex2 to false>> <<set $xappearance to false>> <<set $xgender to "">> <<set $xname to "">> <<set $xthey to "">> <<set $cxthey to "">> <<set $xtheir to "">> <<set $cxtheir to "">> <<set $xtheirs to "">> <<set $cxtheirs to "">> <<set $xthem to "">> <<set $cxthem to "">> <<set $xthemselves to "">> <<set $cxthemselves to "">> {A} <<set $acodex to false>> <<set $acodex2 to false>> <<set $aappearance to false>> <<set $agender to "">> <<set $aname to "">> <<set $athey to "">> <<set $cathey to "">> <<set $atheir to "">> <<set $catheir to "">> <<set $atheirs to "">> <<set $catheirs to "">> <<set $athem to "">> <<set $cathem to "">> <<set $athemselves to "">> <<set $cathemselves to "">> {D} <<set $dcodex to false>> <<set $dcodex2 to false>> <<set $dappearance to false>> <<set $dgender to "">> <<set $dname to "">> <<set $dthey to "">> <<set $cdthey to "">> <<set $dtheir to "">> <<set $cdtheir to "">> <<set $dtheirs to "">> <<set $cdtheirs to "">> <<set $dthem to "">> <<set $cdthem to "">> <<set $dthemselves to "">> <<set $cdthemselves to "">> {Corrections} <<if $haircolor is 'copper red' or $haircolor is 'ginger red' or $haircolor is 'ruby red'>><<set $haircolor to 'auburn'>><</if>><<if $haircolor is 'dark red'>><<set $haircolor to 'dark auburn'>><</if>><<if $haircolor is 'sunny blond' or $haircolor is 'warm blond'>><<set $haircolor to 'dark blond'>><</if>><<if $haircolor is 'ash blond'>><<set $haircolor to 'ash gray'>><</if>><<if $xnickname is 'darling star' or $xnickname is 'my darling star' or $xnickname is 'sweet rose' or $xnickname is 'my sweet rose'>><<set $xnickname to 'my beauty'>><<set $cxnickname 'My beauty'>><</if>><<if $romancepath is true>> <<link "Relationships" "Relationships">><<script>>var viewportWidth = window.innerWidth || document.documentElement.clientWidth; if (viewportWidth < 1000) {$("#sidebar").toggleClass("toggled");}<</script>><</link>><</if>> <<if $royalcodex is true>><<link "Royal Codex" "Royal Codex">><<script>>var viewportWidth = window.innerWidth || document.documentElement.clientWidth; if (viewportWidth < 1000) {$("#sidebar").toggleClass("toggled");}<</script>><</link>><</if>><<if $chartraits is true>> <<link "Character Traits" "Character Traits">><<script>>var viewportWidth = window.innerWidth || document.documentElement.clientWidth; if (viewportWidth < 1000) {$("#sidebar").toggleClass("toggled");}<</script>><</link>><</if>><<if $charcodex is true>> <<link "Character Codex" "Character Codex">><<script>>var viewportWidth = window.innerWidth || document.documentElement.clientWidth; if (viewportWidth < 1000) {$("#sidebar").toggleClass("toggled");}<</script>><</link>><</if>> <<link "Credits" "Credits">><<script>>var viewportWidth = window.innerWidth || document.documentElement.clientWidth; if (viewportWidth < 1000) {$("#sidebar").toggleClass("toggled");}<</script>><</link>><<if $progress is "2" or $progress is "3" or $progress is "4" or $progress is "5" or $progress is "6" or $progress is "7" or $progress is "8" or $progress is "9" or $progress is "10">><<set $cresblades to true>><</if>>@@.chaptertitle;CHARACTER CODEX@@ <b>@@.stattext;MAJOR FIGURES@@</b> <<if $fam is true>>[[Secret1]]<<else>><b>Undiscovered</b><</if>> <<if $rcodex is true>><<if $rgender is 'female'>>[[Lady Rozerîn, The Sorcerer|The Sorcerer]]<<else>>[[Lord Rêzan, The Sorcerer|The Sorcerer]]<</if>><</if>><<if $rappearance is true>><<if $rgender is 'female'>>[[Lady Rozerîn, The Sorcerer|S2]]<<else>>[[Lord Rêzan, The Sorcerer|S2]]<</if>><</if>><<if $rcodex is false and $rappearance is false>><b>$rtitle $rname, The Sorcerer</b><</if>> <<if $xcodex is true>><<if $xgender is 'female'>>[[Xelara, The Hero|The Hero]]<<else>>[[Xelef, The Hero|The Hero]]<</if>><</if>><<if $xappearance is true>><<if $xgender is 'female'>>[[Xelara, The Hero|H2]]<<else>>[[Xelef, The Hero|H2]]<</if>><</if>><<if $xcodex is false and $xappearance is false>><b>$xname, The Hero</b><</if>> <<if $dcodex is true>><<if $dgender is 'female'>>[[Delal Sîdar, The General|The General]]<<else>>[[Dara Sîdar, The General|The General]]<</if>><</if>><<if $dappearance is true>><<if $dgender is 'female'>>[[Delal Sîdar, The General|G2]]<<else>>[[Dara Sîdar, The General|G2]]<</if>><</if>><<if $dcodex is false and $dappearance is false>><b>$dname Sîdar, The General</b><</if>> <<if $acodex is true>><<if $agender is 'female'>>[[Ashti Mirza, The Protector|The Protector]]<<else>>[[Azad Mirza, The Protector|The Protector]]<</if>><</if>><<if $aappearance is true>><<if $agender is 'female'>>[[Ashti Mirza, The Protector|P2]]<<else>>[[Azad Mirza, The Protector|P2]]<</if>><</if>><<if $acodex is false and $aappearance is false>><b>$aname Mirza, The Protector</b><</if>> <<if $sahmarancodex is true>>[[Secret3]]<<else>><b>Undiscovered</b><</if>> <<if $tirzal is true>>[[Secret2]]<<else>><b>Undiscovered</b><</if>> <b>@@.stattext;MINOR FIGURES & GROUPS@@</b> <<if $crowns is true>>[[Crowns of Old]]<<else>><b>Undiscovered</b><</if>> <<if $cresblades is true>>[[The Crescent Blades]]<<else>><b>Undiscovered</b><</if>> <<if $nobility is true>>[[The Nobility]]<<else>><b>Undiscovered</b><</if>> <<if $theperis is true>>[[The Peris]]<<else>><b>Undiscovered</b><</if>> <<if $sur is true>>[[The Tribes of Sur]]<<else>><b>Undiscovered</b><</if>> <<if $fov is true>>[[The Followers of Vidarna]]<<else>><b>Undiscovered</b><</if>> <<link "Return" $return>><</link>>@@.chaptertitle;ROYAL CODEX@@ [[Geography]] <<if $royalhis is true>>[[Lessons in History]]<<else>><b>Undiscovered</b><</if>> <<if $magicodex is true>>[[Lessons in Magic]]<<else>><b>Undiscovered</b><</if>> <<if $religion is true>>[[Lessons in the Divine]]<<else>><b>Undiscovered</b><</if>> <<if $courtcodex is true>>[[Lessons in the Crown's Domain]]<<else>><b>Undiscovered</b><</if>> <<link "Return" $return>><</link>><<set $progress to "1">><div id="1.1">@@.chaptertitleact0;CHAPTER ONE@@</div>@@.titleblack;Destiny That Binds@@ Ten years ago, your eyes were cursed. They glint in the moonlight as you move through the narrow alleyways of an ancient city, and even covering them in the shadow of your hood only barely dims the gleam of gold that glitters beneath. There is never a moment of silence in these time-worn streets, never a lack of people navigating the stone body of this giant, coiled around the crests of ten hills that have immortalized its name: Marabad. You wrap your scarf tighter around your neck as you quietly pass by a group loitering in the warm light of a lantern hanging by the open door of a teahouse. You almost pause at the welcoming melody of a lively tembûr drifting outside with every plucked string, accompanied by the sound of dice rolling across wooden boards, laughter and conversation happy background noise. But then one of the people standing outside glances your way and you have to avert your gaze before they catch it, quickening your step and pulling your thin hood further down over your eyes. In a city this big, you cannot take a chance on who might be an enemy. Continuing to slowly navigate the maze of Marabad, you turn a corner and finally find what you were looking for. You spot thick, dark curtains draped over the entrance of a small, inconspicuous shop at the very end of a street that leads downhill. This shop also has a lantern, which is thankfully still lit. Wandering down as cautiously as you can in the dark, you take care to avoid any curious passerby who may be wondering why you’re covered up on such a warm night. A person with a bright yellow scarf slung around their shoulders exits the shop just as you approach it, and you keep your head down as they pass you, tensing until they have gone away again. Pausing in front of the shop, you take a deep breath to calm your frayed nerves. You were lost in the city for far longer than you would’ve liked, but you’ve finally made it. You reach out to push the thick curtain aside and step into the dimly-lit building. [[Continue|1.2]] <<if $agender is "male">>@@.titlepurple2;Azad Mirza@@ @@.footnote;[ah-zahd · mir-zah]@@<<endif>><<if $agender is "female">>@@.titlepurple2;Ashti Mirza@@ @@.footnote;[ah-sh-ti · mir-zah]@@<<endif>> An excerpt from a letter of correspondence with an unknown recipient, written by Mîr Lîlan of the province Avdin: <blockquote><em>Tell me in truth if you have ever seen a warrior with such promise. You claim that $atheir lack of regard toward authority and $atheir disdain toward the ruling class is an unforgivable flaw, and yet all I can see is an invaluable asset. The Royal Protector answers only to the Crown and no one else; in that respect, it is a position with power second only to the Crown themselves. There are even situations in which the Royal Protector has grounds to overrule the Crown for their own safety. Who better for such a title than someone who has proven $athemselves to be completely incorruptible? $cathey puts $atheir principles above all else, and while $atheir loyalty is rarely given, once it is earned it is undying. Someone who looks beyond the formality of titles to assess character instead of political influence is exactly who we need by the future Crown's side. So you will have to forgive me for saying so, my lady, but I do not see "$cathey refused to attend my monthly banquet of debauchery" as a sufficient reason for blocking $atheir appointment.</em></blockquote> <<back>><<if $xgender is "male">>@@.titlepurple2;XELEF@@ @@.footnote;[che-lef]; 'ch' as in <em>Loch</em> or <em>Bach</em>@@<<endif>><<if $xgender is "female">>@@.titlepurple2;XELARA@@ @@.footnote;[che-lah-rah]; 'ch' as in <em>Loch</em> or <em>Bach</em>@@<<endif>> A legendary hero, also known as the Pale Sword, whose exploits were chronicled in song. One such famous ballad details the words $xthey shouted to Mîr Behram, standing in his palace courtyard and demanding he come outside. An excerpt from the song: <em>His soldiers cried out, "The Pale Sword is coming!" As the gates broke down, Behram filled with dread <<if $xgender is "male">>And there stood $xname,<<else>>There was $xname,<</if>> With pale sword in hand, A smile as $xthey sang, "Let the palace run red!"</em> <<back>><<if $rgender is "male">>@@.titlepurple2;Lord Rêzan@@ @@.footnote;[rae-zahn]@@<<endif>><<if $rgender is "female">>@@.titlepurple2;Lady Rozerîn@@ @@.footnote;[ro-zehr-een]@@<<endif>> Every Crown has a Sorcerer who serves as the closest advisor to the throne. The Sorcerer is often considered to be the most powerful magus in the entire Empire, if not the most influential. $rname is said to have been very young when the previous Sorcerer, Lady Zerya, found $rthem performing magic for coin on the streets of Marabad and took $rthem in as her apprentice. During $rtheir time under Zerya's tutelage $rname was rarely seen in public, and even after succeeding $rtheir teacher $rname has maintained $rtheir unusually elusive reputation. It was only after Zerya's recent passing that $rname was forced to step outside and show $rtheir face to the world once more, in order to fulfill $rtheir duty as the Crown's Sorcerer. <<back>><<nobr>> <<if $pronouns is "sheher">> <<set $they to "she">> <<set $cthey to "She">> <<set $their to "her">> <<set $ctheir to "Her">> <<set $theirs to "hers">> <<set $ctheirs to "Hers">> <<set $them to "her">> <<set $cthem to "Her">> <<set $themselves to "herself">> <<set $cthemselves to "Herself">> <</if>> <<if $pronouns is "hehim">> <<set $they to "he">> <<set $cthey to "He">> <<set $their to "his">> <<set $ctheir to "His">> <<set $theirs to "his">> <<set $ctheirs to "His">> <<set $them to "him">> <<set $cthem to "Him">> <<set $themselves to "himself">> <<set $cthemselves to "Himself">> <</if>> <<if $pronouns is "theythem">> <<set $they to "they">> <<set $cthey to "They">> <<set $their to "their">> <<set $ctheir to "Their">> <<set $theirs to "theirs">> <<set $ctheirs to "Theirs">> <<set $them to "them">> <<set $cthem to "Them">> <<set $themselves to "themselves">> <<set $cthemselves to "Themselves">> <</if>> <</nobr>>"I go by $they," you answer, glancing toward the exit as you wonder if it would be rude to just leave. "Well met!" Perjin smiles at you. "You may <<if $pronouns is "sheher">>also refer to me<<else>>refer to me<</if>> as she, if you did not already know. It's a true pleasure to see a new face around these parts! Usually it's always the same old customers." She hasn't actually <em>seen</em> your face, strictly speaking, but you're not about to volunteer to correct that technicality. Not wanting to get trapped in a longwinded conversation, you respond with a noncommittal hum instead. "Will that be all, then?" she says, leaning forward onto the counter as it seems she took your indifference as shyness. "Perhaps I might interest you in an additional potion at half the price, to extend the duration of the glamour?" Her sales pitch aside, she seems quite friendly. <ul class="a"> <li>[[While you are usually attracted to women, you decide to keep your distance.|1.5][$preference to "female"]]</li> <li>[[While you are attracted to anyone with a pretty smile, you decide to keep your distance.|1.5][$preference to "bi"]]</li> <li>[[You're usually attracted to men, so her pretty smile doesn't affect you.|1.5][$preference to "male"]]</li> </ul><<nobr>><<if $preference is "male">> <<set $rgender to "male">> <<set $xgender to "male">> <<set $dgender to "male">> <<set $agender to "male">> <</if>> <<if $preference is "female">> <<set $rgender to "female">> <<set $xgender to "female">> <<set $dgender to "female">> <<set $agender to "female">> <</if>> <<if $preference is "bi">> <<set $rgender to either("male", "female")>> <<set $xgender to either("male", "female")>> <<if $rgender is "male" and $xgender is "male">><<set $agender to "female">><<set $dgender to "female">><</if>> <<if $rgender is "female" and $xgender is "female">><<set $agender to "male">><<set $dgender to "male">><</if>> <<if $rgender is "male" and $xgender is "female">><<set $agender to either("male", "female")>><</if>> <<if $rgender is "female" and $xgender is "male">><<set $agender to either("male", "female")>><</if>> <<if $rgender is "male" and $xgender is "female" and $agender is "male">><<set $dgender to "female">><</if>> <<if $rgender is "female" and $xgender is "male" and $agender is "male">><<set $dgender to "female">><</if>> <<if $rgender is "male" and $xgender is "female" and $agender is "female">><<set $dgender to "male">><</if>> <<if $rgender is "female" and $xgender is "male" and $agender is "female">><<set $dgender to "male">><</if>><</if>> <<if $rgender is "female">> <<set $rthey to "she">> <<set $crthey to "She">> <<set $rtheir to "her">> <<set $crtheir to "Her">> <<set $rtheirs to "hers">> <<set $crtheirs to "Hers">> <<set $rthem to "her">> <<set $crthem to "Her">> <<set $rthemselves to "herself">> <<set $crthemselves to "Herself">> <<set $rtitle to "Lady">> <<set $rname to "Rozerîn">> <</if>> <<if $rgender is "male">> <<set $rthey to "he">> <<set $crthey to "He">> <<set $rtheir to "his">> <<set $crtheir to "His">> <<set $rtheirs to "his">> <<set $crtheirs to "His">> <<set $rthem to "him">> <<set $crthem to "Him">> <<set $rthemselves to "himself">> <<set $crthemselves to "Himself">> <<set $rtitle to "Lord">> <<set $rname to "Rêzan">> <</if>> <<if $xgender is "female">> <<set $xthey to "she">> <<set $cxthey to "She">> <<set $xtheir to "her">> <<set $cxtheir to "Her">> <<set $xtheirs to "hers">> <<set $cxtheirs to "Hers">> <<set $xthem to "her">> <<set $cxthem to "Her">> <<set $xthemselves to "herself">> <<set $cxthemselves to "Herself">> <<set $xname to "Xelara">> <</if>> <<if $xgender is "male">> <<set $xthey to "he">> <<set $cxthey to "He">> <<set $xtheir to "his">> <<set $cxtheir to "His">> <<set $xtheirs to "his">> <<set $cxtheirs to "His">> <<set $xthem to "him">> <<set $cxthem to "Him">> <<set $xthemselves to "himself">> <<set $cxthemselves to "Himself">> <<set $xname to "Xelef">> <</if>> <<if $agender is "female">> <<set $athey to "she">> <<set $cathey to "She">> <<set $atheir to "her">> <<set $catheir to "Her">> <<set $atheirs to "hers">> <<set $catheirs to "Hers">> <<set $athem to "her">> <<set $cathem to "Her">> <<set $athemselves to "herself">> <<set $cathemselves to "Herself">> <<set $aname to "Ashti">> <</if>> <<if $agender is "male">> <<set $athey to "he">> <<set $cathey to "He">> <<set $atheir to "his">> <<set $catheir to "His">> <<set $atheirs to "his">> <<set $catheirs to "His">> <<set $athem to "him">> <<set $cathem to "Him">> <<set $athemselves to "himself">> <<set $cathemselves to "Himself">> <<set $aname to "Azad">> <</if>> <<if $dgender is "female">> <<set $dthey to "she">> <<set $cdthey to "She">> <<set $dtheir to "her">> <<set $cdtheir to "Her">> <<set $dtheirs to "hers">> <<set $cdtheirs to "Hers">> <<set $dthem to "her">> <<set $cdthem to "Her">> <<set $dthemselves to "herself">> <<set $cdthemselves to "Herself">> <<set $dname to "Delal">> <</if>> <<if $dgender is "male">> <<set $dthey to "he">> <<set $cdthey to "He">> <<set $dtheir to "his">> <<set $cdtheir to "His">> <<set $dtheirs to "his">> <<set $cdtheirs to "His">> <<set $dthem to "him">> <<set $cdthem to "Him">> <<set $dthemselves to "himself">> <<set $cdthemselves to "Himself">> <<set $dname to "Dara">> <</if>> <</nobr>><<if $preference is "female" or $preference is "bi">>You clear your throat, awkwardly glancing away from Perjin's glittering dark eyes as you take a small step back from the counter. "That's, ah, quite alright."<</if>><<if $preference is "male">>"No, thank you," you answer before she can try to empty your pockets, taking a small step back and keeping your head angled down and away from the candlelight. "A month is long enough."<</if>> She looks somewhat disappointed but recovers quickly. "Very well, I'll have your glamour ready for you in two days' time." You incline your head and with a murmured good night depart the shop again, the tension draining out of your body as you breathe a sigh of relief. No one has ever seen through your disguise before, the shadow of the hood usually dark enough to obscure the true color of your eyes. Part of it might be that the possibility simply doesn't occur to people; it certainly wouldn't occur to you, were you not in this position. Some days you almost wish someone would find out, just so you could be free of carrying the weight of this secret. But you can't let that happen, not when you don't know who to trust. You still remember the day the fires found you and burned the gold into your irises, your mother staring at you as if you sentenced your entire family to death, and maybe you did. Back when you were a child, you always thought the reason you and your family were on the run was because of your father, but in hindsight that was probably yet another lie you were fed to keep you in the dark. Shaking the memory off before it poisons your thoughts, you continue on back towards the small inn near the outskirts of the city where you managed to find a room once arriving to Marabad. You are not a native here, but you traveled all over the province of Rojan with your parents and have wandered these streets many times as a child. The last time you visited was when you were seventeen, but eight years hasn't changed much about the Labyrinth City; it's just as difficult to navigate as ever due to its nearly uniform lay-out. You probably would've never returned here either, were it not for your father. "Can you believe there are still people willing to risk it, after what happened to Yado?" To your right, standing near the base of the hillside street, is a couple who appear to be quietly discussing something among each other. In fact, the person wearing a bright yellow scarf is the same one you passed by earlier as you went into the shop. You intend to ignore them since attracting any attention is the last thing you want at this point, but what one of them says next arrests you. "I can believe it, actually," the scarf-wearer replies to their friend with a sigh, shaking their head. "Though you'd have to be either very stupid or very desperate to try and deceive $rtitle $rname with such a cheap trick." $rtitle $rname, the very reason you embarked upon this journey in the first place. You were planning on gathering information about $rtheir whereabouts sometime tomorrow, but now that the opportunity has presented itself--even with your eyes in the state that they are in--you find it hard to pass up. How do you go about asking them more about $rtitle $rname? <ul class="a"> <li>[[No point dancing around the issue, you'll just ask what you need to know.|1.6][$blunt to $blunt + 25]]<<if $cheatsheet is true>> <em>+ Blunt</em><</if>></li> <li>[[In cases like these, a friendly smile and some artful deception work best.|1.6][$charm to $charm + 25]]<<if $cheatsheet is true>> <em>+ Charming</em><</if>></li> </ul><<set $rcodex to true>><<if $blunt is 25>>"What do you know about $rtitle $rname?" The couple turn to you with raised brows, exchanging befuddled looks between the two of them as you keep a careful distance. "Only what everyone knows," the scarf-wearer replies with a dismissive wave of their hand. "Which would be?" "Oh, come now!" the one without the scarf scoffs. "Don't tell us you've never heard of $rthem before?" Feeling somewhat self-conscious, you shift on your feet. "I'm from out of town." "That might explain it, I suppose." The scarf-wearer sounds somewhat unconvinced, and their friend is eyeing you with an open skepticism that's making you tense even more than you already are. "$rtitle $rname is a great magus, the one appointed to be the Sorcerer of the realm. $crthey is the one tasked with finding the next Crown--you do know about how the succession works, right?" "I do," you confirm. "Do you know where $rthey's staying?" "The Royal Palace," the scarf-wearer's friend answers dryly. "Where else?" "You won't have much luck getting in," the scarf-wearer warns you. "The last time I was in the area there was a whole crowd gathered claiming to be the next Crown, it was like a small mob." Your brows arch slightly, though you suppose it's not that unexpected considering the circumstances. Who wouldn't want to rule the Empire, after all? Well, except for you. <</if>><<if $charm is 25>>"Excuse me," you say as you approach the couple, both pausing in their chat to turn and look at you. "I couldn't help but overhear your conversation and I was just wondering, is it true $rtitle $rname is still in Marabad?" "Oh, yes, $rthey's staying at the Royal Palace here," the scarf-wearer's friend answers airily, though they give you a suspicious look. Despite your friendly demeanor, you keep a careful distance. "Why?" "I was actually hoping to have an audience with $rthem," you answer honestly, though it doesn't take you long to start bending the truth. "Everyone knows $rthey is a magus of great skill, being the Crown's Sorcerer and all, though I have heard $rthey has yet to take on an apprentice. I was hoping I could convince $rthem to pick me." The scarf-wearer whistles. "That's pretty brave of you, considering how many people $rthey has already turned down for the position." "Maybe even a bit arrogant, I've been told," you reply lightly. "But I won't know until I try." "I respect that," the scarf-wearer's friend responds. "Then you're in luck that $rthey's still around, though I'm not sure if you'll be able to get $rtheir attention with the search for the Crown still going on." "You said it," the scarf-wearer agrees. "The last time I was in the area there was a whole crowd gathered claiming to be the successor, it was like a small mob." Your brows arch slightly, though you suppose it's not that unexpected considering the circumstances. Who wouldn't want to rule the Empire, after all? Well, except for you. <</if>>"I take it many people have tried to pass off as the successor?" "You don't know the half of it," the scarf-wearer sighs. "We've never gone so long without a Crown before, so people think to try and take advantage of the tensions in the Imperial House by slapping on an eye glamour and hoping no one will notice." "As if $rtitle $rname could be fooled," their friend scoffs. "The selfish idiots have just made $rtheir search more difficult; I hear $rthey's even considering giving up entirely to return to Zeratun." "$crthey's giving up the search?" the scarf-wearer says, looking at their friend in surprise, their expression a small mirror to the alarm you feel at the thought of letting this chance slip away. "It would be temporary," their friend considers, though that's a small comfort; temporary or not, you cannot afford to wait. "Has $rthey already quit searching in Marabad?" you ask, trying to keep the urgency from your tone even as you feel the restlessness in the bottom of your feet. "I'm not sure," the friend responds with a shrug. "I haven't been near the palace in a while, but they could have already very well opened it to the public again if $rthey left." "I see." You'll have to visit tomorrow then to assess the situation. "Thank you for your time, I should get going." "No problem at all," the scarf-wearer says brightly, and their friend gives you a casual wave as you take your leave from them. You hadn't expected to find $rtitle $rname so soon, and yet it still may be too late if the rumor of $rthem giving up the search for the Crown is true. Ideally you'll be able to see $rthem tomorrow and then your eye glamour won't be necessary at all, but you have a feeling that it won't be so simple. Letting out a deep breath and setting aside these thoughts for now, you try and enjoy the cool breeze blowing through the streets as you make your way back to the inn. [[Continue|1.7]]<<set $charcodex to true>>[ <b>[[Character Codex]] unlocked</b> ] You awaken the next morning confused and disoriented as you find yourself staring up at a ceiling that you don't remember being there. The sleep-addled thought of why you aren't curled up in your tent in the woods passes through your mind, until you finally remember your arrival in Marabad yesterday. With a great big sigh, you heave yourself out of bed to face the monumental task ahead of you that day. The inn you're staying at doesn't offer much beyond a simple cot, a modest dresser and a table and chair, but the owners seem like good people. That, at least, is in your favor. They're an older couple who have spent their entire lives in this city, all too willing to give you directions to the Royal Palace when you go downstairs for breakfast. Considering that they don't seem remotely suspicious of you constantly walking around with a hood, you conclude that they're either very naive or they've decided you're some sort of leper. Either way, you're all too eager to take advantage of it; moving around in daylight is far more dangerous for you than during the night. Better that you are left alone. Though you wouldn't be in this situation at all if that damned eye glamour from before hadn't worn off so quickly. In all fairness, it's your own fault for trusting the shady alchemist in the last village, but he offered the glamour at just the right price and it proved too tempting for you to overcome your desperation to stay hidden. Golden eyes aren't exactly subtle, after all. [[Continue|1.8]]@@.chaptertitle;LESSONS IN HISTORY@@ <<if $revealed isnot true>><<if $timeline is true>><<if $intel gt $intu and $charm gt $blunt>>[[The Order of Events So Far|intelcharm]]<</if>><<if $intel gt $intu and $charm lt $blunt>>[[The Order of Events So Far|intelblunt]]<</if>><<if $intel lt $intu and $charm gt $blunt>>[[The Order of Events So Far|intucharm]]<</if>><<if $intel lt $intu and $charm lt $blunt>>[[The Order of Events So Far|intublunt]]<</if>><<else>><b>Undiscovered</b><</if>><<else>>[[The True Order of Events So Far]]<</if>> <<if $calendar is true>>[[The Arsurian Calendar]]<<else>><b>Undiscovered</b><</if>> @@.stattext;<b>MAJOR EVENTS</b>@@ <<if $ashaduna is true>>[[Ashadūna and the Tribes of Sur|ashaduna]]<</if>><<if $ashaduna is false>><b>Undiscovered</b><</if>> <<if $ardashir is true>>[[The War for the Crown|ardashir]]<</if>><<if $ardashir is false>>Undiscovered<</if>> <<if $ivia is true>>[[The Land of Ivia|ivia]]<</if>><<if $ivia is false>><b>Undiscovered</b><</if>> <<if $ferzan is true>>[[The Assassination of Crown Ferzan|ferzan]]<</if>><<if $ferzan is false>><b>Undiscovered</b><</if>> <<link "Return" $return>><</link>>@@.chaptertitle;<span style="color:#530080">THE ARSURIAN EMPIRE</span>@@ @@.descriptive;<b>Colors</b>: Purple, white and gold. <b>Symbol</b>: A shining white eye with a golden sun as its pupil, set against a purple flag.@@<<if $mapii is true>> @@.footnote;<em>select to expand</em>@@ <<click "@@.descriptive;THE MAP OF ARSUR@@">><<toggleclass "#section02" "hidden">><</click>> <div id="section02" class="hidden"><img @src="setup.ImagePath+'mapshrink2.png'" width=100%></div><</if>> Arsur dominates the entire northwestern part of the continent of Hidica, laid by the Sea of Igris. Its most prominent neighbors are the independent city-states of <<if $thallos is true>>[[Thallos|thallos]]<<else>><b>Thallos</b><</if>> to the west, across the sea on the continent of Isune, and the Kingdom of <<if $qathesh is true>>[[Qathesh|qathesh]]<<else>><b>Qathesh</b><</if>> to the south. <<if $map is true>>Between Arsur and Thallos, connecting the continent of Hidica to the continent of Isune like a bridge, lies the land of Ivia.<</if>> The Arsurian Empire itself consists of five separate provinces, all ruled by a Mîr who serves at the pleasure of the Crown. Its official capital is the city of Zeratun, where the Crown historically resides. @@.titlepurple2;ROJAN@@ @@.descriptive;<b>Provincial colors</b>: Red and gold. <b>Symbol</b>: A serpent coiled around a mountain.@@ The northernmost province of Rojan is currently being ruled by Mîr Behram. Its provincial capital is the city of @@.stattext;Marabad@@, famed for its intricate architecture that stretches over the span of ten large hills. This province is where the sizable Ruhuth River originates from, before flowing down into the province of Zerat. The other provinces depend on Rojan for timber, stone and valuable minerals as its primary export, though its impressive mountain range is equally as important; it has warded off invaders for centuries. <<if $ashaduna is true>> Rojan is also the historical region of what was once the Monarchy of Ardia. Much of its architecture has survived the passage of time and has been carefully preserved, such as the Royal Palace in Marabad. It is also known as the Throne of Ashadūna, as it was once Crown Ashadūna's home.<</if>> You yourself were born in a small village, situated within the valleys bordering the snow-capped peaks of the Armas Mountains to the north. While never staying long in any single place, you've spent your entire life in Rojan; it is the only home you know. <<if $map is true>><span style="color:#000000">@@.titlepurple2;ŞEVAN@@</span> @@.descriptive;<b>Provincial colors</b>: Black and gold. <b>Symbol</b>: A cheetah lying down with a crescent moon behind it.@@ <<if $sevanmir is "Unelected">>The southernmost province of Arsur currently has no Mîr, and is under the combined rule of its Council of Stewards. Its provincial capital is the city of @@.stattext;Rushem@@, laid at the edge of the Silent Desert. It used to be known as the land of Hathura, though that name changed sometime after it became part of Arsur.<</if>><<if $sevan is true>><<if $sevanmir is "Zelal">>The southernmost province of Arsur is now being ruled by Mîr Zelal, appointed by the Crown.<</if>><<if $sevanmir is "Bazo">>The southernmost province of Arsur is now being ruled by Mîr Bazo, appointed by the Crown.<</if>><<if $sevanmir is "Ezman">>The southernmost province of Arsur is now being ruled by Mîr Ezman, appointed by the Crown.<</if>> Its provincial capital is the city of Rushem, laid at the edge of the Silent Desert. Before it became part of the empire, the province was known to be the ancient land of Hathura; its language and customs are quite different from the rest of Arsur as a result, as it was not required by Crown Ashadūna to assimilate. Any Crown after her who demanded otherwise was always met with fierce resistance. It is the only province, for example, that does not have a Provincial School for Magic, instead choosing to let each village and city decide how to educate its children. Despite its hot desert climate, the people there have adapted to their environment well. They seldom venture beyond the borders of the province, known to be very attached to their culture and lands--in part due to the complicated relationship they have with Arsur as a whole--though they are also known to be welcoming of visitors. The oases within the Silent Desert are particularly renown for their great concentrations of magical energy, and the waters within them possess immense regenerative properties. As mentioned, Şevan's relations with the rest of the Empire have always been strained, but it has reached a new low ever since Crown Ferzan's assassination. Once its previous Mîr passed away, there was no Crown to appoint a successor, leaving the entire province without guidance. A power struggle soon erupted within the capital, and if something is not done soon, it might escalate into civil war.<</if>><<else>><b>Undiscovered</b><</if>> <<if $map is true>>@@.titlepurple2;ZERAT@@ @@.descriptive;<b>Provincial colors</b>: White and gold. <b>Symbol</b>: Two hands holding a scepter with the sun at its top.@@ The centermost province of Arsur is currently being ruled by Mîr Mêrxas. Historically, the province of Zerat has been used as the primary residence of the Crown. Its capital city, @@.stattext;Zeratun@@, has held the Royal Palace known as the Seat of the Crown for nigh on five centuries, and it is widely considered to be one of the grandest structures in the entire world. <<if $ashaduna is true>>Zerat is also considered the native homeland of the tribes of Sur, who were the first to settle the region.<</if>><<if $zerat is true>> The climate of Zerat is not as stable as its mountainous neighbor to the north, but its agriculture is unparalleled. The northern parts of Zerat experience enough rainfall to grow grain crops, while the southern parts receive virtually no rain, its agriculture depending on extensive networks of irrigation canals. The most fertile lands of Zerat, located between two rivers--Ruhuth in the west and Ermet in the east--has tempered the province's otherwise arid climate with humidity, allowing for the empire's most bountiful yield of crops.<</if>><<else>><b>Undiscovered</b><</if>> <<if $map is true>>@@.titlepurple2;AVDIN@@ @@.descriptive;<b>Provincial colors</b>: Blue and gold. <b>Symbol</b>: A sea serpent rising from the waves, reaching towards a star above.@@ The westernmost province of Arsur is currently being ruled by Mîr Lîlan. Its provincial capital is the city of @@.stattext;Ilwan@@. Avdin is also sometimes called the Merchant's Province; it takes up nearly all of Arsur's western coastline, enabling trade with Qathesh, friendly Thalloi city-states, and many various island nations located within the Sea of Igris.<<if $avdin is true>> .....<</if>><<else>><b>Undiscovered</b><</if>> <<if $map is true>>@@.titlepurple2;PENAWAR@@ @@.descriptive;<b>Provincial colors</b>: Green and gold. <b>Symbol</b>: A heron standing among reeds with its wings spread, rings of light emanating from them.@@ The easternmost province of Arsur is currently being ruled by Mîr Sarya. Its provincial capital is the city of @@.stattext;Arzo@@. The province is famed for its marshlands, though it also tends to be looked down upon for that reason; its population and its cities are small and built around the marshes, lacking the wealth and extravagance of other provinces.<<if $penawar is true>>...<</if>><<else>><b>Undiscovered</b><</if>> <<back>> Leaving the inn you immediately fall into the familiar posture that you're starting to worry is going to turn your back crooked: head bent down, eyes aimed to the ground and neck already growing sore. You glance up occasionally to see where you're going, but with your robes being ragged and dirty from camping in the wilderness, it's more than enough to make you seem a common beggar. As such, you're largely ignored by whoever passes you by. Unfortunately it also makes it difficult to enjoy the sights of the grand city at the heart of Rojan, a province controlled by a famously capricious master. As far as you know, every other Mîr resides in the capital of their territory within the Empire, making Mîr Behram an odd outlier in choosing to live at the very outskirts of his princedom. Then again, considering the rumors of his ill temper, perhaps the citizens of Marabad are better off for it. Why the previous Crown did not remove such a controversial figure from power is beyond your knowledge or understanding. Setting thoughts of politics aside, you try to enjoy what little of the city you do see. Occasionally the dirt path beneath your feet will transition into stone steps built into the slopes of Marabad's hills, and you catch glimpses of colorful robes passing you by, dangling jewelry as common as the dirt stained on bare feet. The main roads within the city, as you have been told by the innkeepers, were all built to lead toward public areas and buildings such as temples, marketplaces, the famous bazar in the southern quarter and the Royal Palace at the very center of Marabad. At first glance these public places and private residences all coexist alongside each other, but as you walk you notice many identical walls separating various buildings from the streets. Another thing you notice is how difficult it is to go from one quarter of the city to the next. You thought the city was one giant maze before, but in fact it holds multiple contained mazes in each area, only connected by the main roads. By the time you think you're close to the Royal Palace of Marabad, you're almost sure you've already forgotten the way back to the inn, and walking up and down all these hills is really testing your endurance. You're about to take a break after heading up yet another hill, until the sight of the palace shielded with huge, stone walls grinds you to a halt. [[Continue|1.15]]<<set $royalcodex to true>>[ <b>[[Royal Codex]] unlocked</b> ] Your gaze passes over the imperial structure, the palace's beige stone intricately detailed with paint and carvings and reliefs. You can see the top-half of the famed apadana; an enormous, roofed hall supported by massive columns, serving as the main hall of the Crown should they choose to reside here. The fluted shafts of the Arsurian columns are just about visible, topped off by two intertwined snake figures supporting the roof, as well as short colorful banners hanging down the roof between the columns. The architecture is sheer extravagance. You cannot even imagine what the interior must be like. Eventually you look away from the Royal Palace, finding the entrance to it as well as something more. Where those same solid walls shielding the palace end in an iron gate, an ordinary commoner stands as close as can be without risking the ire of the guards stationed in front of it. The commoner, you notice upon closer inspection, has golden eyes just like yours. Well, perhaps not <em>just</em> like yours. "For the last time, $rtitle $rname won't be seeing anyone today!" the guard on the left snaps, seeming to be losing their patience as they grip their spear tighter. You resume your walk at a much slower pace, trying to hide your eavesdropping while you keep your eyes fixed on the ground and listen to the commoner try their luck. "I was born with these eyes," the commoner begs. "Had them all my life! I swear to you, I'm the rightful Crown!" "And I'm the Mîr of Rojan," the guard mocks, their partner snickering. "The Crown isn't <em>born</em> with golden eyes, you fool! Now get lost before I throw you in the dungeons with the others! $rtitle $rname has no time to waste on this nonsense." You feel your heart sink as you continue to shuffle along while the commoner is finally persuaded to leave. It seems $rtitle $rname has well and truly given up $rtheir search in the city and is ready to return to Zeratun. If you don't get to $rthem before $rthey leaves, you probably won't last long. It's only a matter of time until you're found by your parents' killers. There's no other choice for you but to reach $rtitle $rname before $rthey departs. If $rthey hasn't left already. But first, you need information. You pass by the palace and don't look back, entering the first teahouse you come across. [[Continue|1.16]] It’s not as busy inside as you expected it would be. The small, round wooden tables scattered around the teahouse are spread around the center of the room, where you assume nightly music is played at the leisure of the guests. The shop is empty save for a group of five seated in the far left-corner, a couple of people scattered throughout otherwise, and a lone performer seated on the stool in the center absently tuning his tembûr. You catch a few words softly sung, almost at a murmur. <em>"The Pale Sword is coming... let the palace run red... let the palace run red...."</em> This is a song you have heard many times as you traveled through various small towns and villages to Marabad. You don't know the details of the event, but even you have heard of Mîr Behram hiding in his palace when the famous mercenary and hero $xname, the Pale Sword, came knocking at his door. Supposedly for debts unpaid, or something of the sort. Behram's cowering was so embarrassing that it was immortalized into song. It's a catchy tune, if a bit macabre; the children certainly love to sing it. You approach the storyteller, who glances up at you and smiles in a friendly way before turning their attention back to their instrument. The bright green scarf they have wrapped around their head obscures most of their hair, though you see a few wisps of black poking out from underneath the fabric. “Are you here for a story, friend?” they ask without looking at you as you take a seat at a table near them. Storytellers are excellent sources of information in big cities like these. “Sure,” you reply. “Do you have one about $rtitle $rname?” The storyteller blinks as their brown eyes flit to you once more, tembûr forgotten. “The Sorcerer? I have one or two.” Of course it’s not actually a story or a song you want, but rumors about $rtitle $rname's stay here in the city. Though you figure truthful stories about $rthem must be few and far in-between, what with how reclusive $rthey is known to be. "What would you like to know?" the storyteller asks, staring at you with curiosity. They should not be able to see anything of note, though, as you are careful about keeping your eyes hidden in the shadow of your hood at all times. <ul class="a"> <li><<if $rgender is "female">>[['"I am just curious about how her search is going."'|1.17][$intel to $intel + 25]]<</if>><<if $rgender is "male">>[['"I am just curious about how his search is going."'|1.17][$intel to $intel + 25]]<</if>><<if $cheatsheet is true>> <em>+ Intelligent</em><</if>></li> <li><<if $rgender is "female">>[['"I have a feeling she is still in the city—am I right?"'|1.17][$intu to $intu + 25]]<</if>><<if $rgender is "male">>[['"I have a feeling he is still in the city—am I right?"'|1.17][$intu to $intu + 25]]<</if>><<if $cheatsheet is true>> <em>+ Intuitive</em><</if>></li> </ul><<if $intel is 25>>"Not well, I've heard." The storyteller returns to plucking the strings of their pear-shaped instrument, weaving the notes into a loosely formed melody. "The general of the army has been getting quite impatient with $rtitle $rname's search, you see. The longer they extend it, the more restless the people become and the greater the threat of an insurgency. It doesn't help that $rtitle $rname is holed up in the Royal Palace."<</if>><<if $intu is 25>>"As far as I know $rthey's still staying in the Royal Palace," the storyteller says thoughtfully. "Though I have heard rumors that $rthey'll be leaving soon. I couldn't say how soon, considering that revealing the date of departure would be dangerous. Or that's what the general says, at least."<</if>> You frown at the mention of the general. "The army is involved?" "Of course," the storyteller replies. "They are in charge of protecting $rtitle $rname as a matter of safety, as well as helping with $rtheir search." "I assume the general is staying at the Royal Palace as well?" "That's what I've heard." The storyteller peers at you a bit too intently for your liking. "Although I've seen a lot of soldiers wandering around the streets this morning, which seems a little strange as the general has never been one for posturing. Then again, considering how the last Crown died I can understand $dtheir caution." The event itself goes unspoken, not that it needs to be said. You know all about how the last Crown met their end; Ferzan the Bold wasn't known for his political acumen, a personal failing that cost him his life. It was the first time a Crown was assassinated. His sudden and premature death threw the Empire into chaos. Back then, the Sorcerer, Lady Zerya, took over as the de facto ruler to prevent total anarchy from breaking out; nothing in the Empire's laws regarding succession prepared anyone for this possibility. Everyone thought the Spirits themselves responsible for choosing the next Crown, so a disaster like this seemed unthinkable. Surely the Spirits would not allow for it? This naive mindset left the Imperial House completely unguarded once the previous Crown was murdered. Before Lady Zerya died of old age and passed on the duty to $rtitle $rname, she spent close to a decade searching for the next Crown, hoping to restore order to the nation. To no avail, of course. Nothing like this has ever happened before. Usually a new Crown is found well before the current Crown passes, ensuring a smooth line of succession. But this time is different. Your parents did their utmost to keep you hidden, after all. "Was that all you wanted to know?" the storyteller asks, bringing you out of your pondering. <ul class="a"> <li>[["So it was." You toss them a bronze coin. "Let's keep this between us, shall we?"|1.19][$calc to $calc + 25]]<<if $cheatsheet is true>> <em>+ Calculated</em><</if>></li> <li>[["Yes, you've been very helpful." You hand them a bronze coin. "I appreciate it."|1.18][$kind to $kind + 25]]<<if $cheatsheet is true>> <em>+ Kind</em><</if>></li> </ul><<set $gavecoin to true>>The storyteller pockets the coin with practiced ease, tucking it away somewhere into the folds of their robes. "Glad to be of service." As you turn your back on them and head toward the doors, the storyteller calls after you. "Take care, friend," they say. "The general's soldiers patrolling the streets are not known for their kindness, especially toward outsiders." Your shoulders stiffen at the warning. Is it that obvious that you don't belong here? You suppose you have been asking questions that anyone native to Marabad would already know the answers to. Giving the storyteller a nod of acknowledgement, you leave the teahouse behind and walk back out onto the main road in front of the Royal Palace. [[Continue|1.19]] Stepping back outside you don't notice anything that looks different at first glance, but as you continue to follow the road along the Royal Palace away from the gates you start noticing fewer and fewer people walking the street. Ordinarily you would have gladly taken advantage of this and not thought too much about it, but after your chat with the storyteller you find yourself a little on edge at the change. Walking close to the walls of nearby buildings, you gaze out over the main road that curls around the Royal Palace atop its hill. The strange silence is what bothers you more than anything else; there's very little chatter to be heard, no busy footsteps hurrying along the road, no carefree laughter or singing. You're so focused on the lack of activity in the street, that when you turn a corner you do not watch your step before it is too late. Something hard crashes into you, causing you to lose your footing and fall backwards onto the ground. You land hard on your backside as your elbows scrape the dirt. [[Continue|1.20]] "Oh, Zahhāk take you!" you hear whoever you bumped into curse, and invoking the name of an evil spirit does nothing for your nerves. Glancing up, you almost freeze at the sight of the unmistakable uniform in front of you; a bronze breastplate atop a long mail shirt, matching bronze arm guards, red fabric with woven gold decoration covering the legs in a skirt, and a spiked helmet on the head of a very irritated soldier. The soldier's partner on the other hand, standing beside their friend who brushes imaginary dirt off their uniform, looks on with amusement as you scramble back up to your feet. "A thousand apologies," you say quickly, keeping your head bent low. It's best to play the poor old beggar and hope they won't pick a fight with you. "I did not see--" "Yes, it is quite obvious that you did not see!" the soldier you ran into snaps, and you think their anger quite the overreaction considering <em>you</em> were the one who ended up falling over, not them. "Spirits, this day can't get any worse." "There's no need to yell at the poor soul," their friend says, attempting to placate them. "It's not their fault you got chewed out by General $dname." General $dname? You remember hearing that name somewhere before, though you're certain this is not the same general as was in charge during the previous Crown's reign. You don't know a lot about it since you were in hiding around the time it happened, but you're certain you remember the previous general having to resign after the Crown was assassinated. Meanwhile the soldier you ran into is keeping themselves busy scowling at you, but after their friend nudges them with an elbow they breathe out a sigh. "I apologize, traveler, you caught me at a bad time." Relaxing slightly you nod, eager to get out from under their attention as soon as possible. "It's already forgotten." "You're not intending to go down this road, are you?" the soldier questions. "We're closing it down for today, so you'll have to find another way around." That would explain why it's been so quiet. "Closing it down?" "General's orders," the friend answers with an apologetic smile. "We're going to have to ask you to move along." <ul class="a"> <li>[[You decide to risk it. "But why is it being closed down?"|1.21][$adven to $adven + 25]]<<if $cheatsheet is true>> <em>+ Adventurous</em><</if>></li> <li>[[Eager to get away, you simply nod. "Of course, I'll get going."|1.21][$caut to $caut + 25]]<<if $cheatsheet is true>> <em>+ Cautious</em><</if>></li> </ul><<if $adven is 25>>The two soldiers glance at each other, seeming hesitant but thankfully not annoyed at your question. "We really can't give out any details," the soldier you bumped into says sternly when their companion remains silent. "It's a matter of safety." Safety... now where have you heard that before? <em>"They are in charge of protecting $rtitle $rname as a matter of safety..."</em> A rush of excitement floods through your limbs; could it be they're closing down the main road for $rtitle $rname? This could be your chance!<</if>><<if $caut is 25>><<set $dadmemory to true>>Better to heed their warning than risk being discovered. In times like these, you do not know who you can trust-- No, that's not true. You remember your father's words well, uttered through bloodied lips as the heat of the flames drew closer and closer around you. "Look for $rtitle $rname," he gasped, fingers clutching into your robes and staining them with crimson red. "Trust- no one else, do you understand? No one..."<</if>> You inhale a sharp breath as you turn away from the soldiers with a murmured thank you and goodbye, hurrying into an alley nearby before they can say another word. [[Continue|1.22]]<<set $dcodex to true>>[ <b>New [[Character Codex]] unlocked</b> ] It is not your intent to get lost, but it is what ends up happening. You are so consumed by thoughts of <<if $adven is 25>>getting closer to your goal<</if>><<if $caut is 25>>your father's final words to you<</if>> that you end up wandering the narrow pathways of Marabad's central quarter without paying attention to where you're going. It leads you to completely lose track of where the main roads are. Damn this city for being so huge. Trying not to become consumed by your frustration, you pause at an intersection of alleyways and look around, though you are not able to make out much from in between the tall buildings looming over you. But as you pause to observe your current location, in the distance you hear faint sounds of shouting. A crowd, gathered here and now? You turn into the direction of the noise and decide to head straight for it, seeing as how you're lost anyway. Doubtlessly this is related to the reason for why those soldiers had to cut off part of the main road as well. As you walk, weaving through the streets with no guide aside from the ever increasing echoes of the crowd to spur you on, you pass by another building that catches your eye. It is shorter than the residential structures surrounding it and has smaller square windows, but is also much wider in build, colored with a dark gray rather than the warmer beige and simpler white you've become used to seeing. The huge double doors made of heavy stone appear rather intimidating, inlaid with metal patterns carved into it as decoration. This is certainly no one's house. Glancing around to make sure you are alone, you carefully approach one of the small windows, but before you can even decide whether to take a peek, a commanding voice captures your attention. [[Continue|1.23]]"How many times do I have to tell you halfwits to keep your mouths shut before you start listening?" A <<if $dgender is "male">>deep, rumbling voice<</if>><<if $dgender is "female">>clear, steely voice<</if>> rings through the building and outside the window where you're eavesdropping. "All of Marabad is gathered outside now to catch a glimpse of $rtitle $rname," the owner of the distinct voice continues, volume raising with every word as you can tell they're starting to lose their temper. "All because <em>one</em> of you had to go bragging about your assignment! This was supposed to be done in secret!" "General $dname--" "DID I ASK YOU TO SPEAK?" The words thunder through the building, the shout so loud that you flinch before the topic of conversation finally sinks in. Is this truly General $dname $dthemselves, talking about an assignment--likely the planned departure--of $rtitle $rname? Does that mean you still have a chance to catch $rname before $rthey leaves? The silence following General $dname's yelling is deafening, and for a short while all you can hear is the pacing of footsteps on the ground, before that sound too comes to an abrupt halt. "The damage is already done," General $dname states, though $dtheir forced calm does not last long. "Seeing as how $rtitle $rname cannot be dissuaded from delaying $rtheir departure any further, we'll have to make do. But YOU do not go anywhere NEAR $rthem, do you understand? If I so much as SMELL you anywhere in $rtheir vicinity <em>I WILL HAVE YOUR HEAD</em>." "Yes, general!" The poor soldier who is being shouted at sounds like they're about to soil themselves, and you can't say you blame them. "Of course, general!" A drawn-out hum, coming from another person in the room who has been silent until now. "Are you quite done tormenting the fool, $dname?" The question arrives in the form of a bored tone, something the general does not appreciate. "Do not think for a moment that you're off the hook, $aname," the general snaps. "This <em>fool</em> was under <em>your</em> command." "I have already punished him for his misstep," the other person named as $aname replies with disinterest in their naturally drawling voice, making you curious to know who they are to get away with talking to the general so nonchalantly. "Shall we move on to more important business?" "Very well." The general's tone is stiff. "You, get lost." You hear more footsteps, heading straight toward the double doors you happen to be standing next to. <ul class="a"> <li>[[Dive for cover around the corner!|1.24.a][$intu to $intu + 25]]<<if $cheatsheet is true>> <em>+ Intuitive</em><</if>></li> <li>[[Pretend to be a beggar wandering the streets.|1.24.b][$intel to $intel + 25]]<<if $cheatsheet is true>> <em>+ Intelligent</em><</if>></li> </ul> Speaking of your eyes, what about the rest of you? Your hair color is... [[...black.|1.9][$haircolor to "black"]] [[...deep brown.|1.9][$haircolor to "deep brown"]] [[...chestnut brown.|1.9][$haircolor to "chestnut brown"]] [[...honey brown.|1.9][$haircolor to "honey brown"]] [[...dark auburn.|1.9][$haircolor to "dark auburn"]] [[...dark blond.|1.9][$haircolor to "dark blond"]] [[...ash gray.|1.9][$haircolor to "ash gray"]] Your hair color is $haircolor, <<if $haircolor is "black" or $haircolor is "deep brown" or $haircolor is "chestnut brown" or $haircolor is "honey brown">>a common but beloved shade in Arsur, <<if $haircolor is 'black'>>likened to the depth of the night by poets<</if>><<if $haircolor is 'deep brown'>>likened to the warmth of the earth by poets<</if>><<if $haircolor is 'chestnut brown'>>likened to the richness of the forest by poets<</if>><<if $haircolor is 'honey brown'>>likened to the sun-kissed sands of the desert by poets<</if>><<else>>an unusual shade in Arsur<</if>>. Its length and style is... [[...shaved.|facial hair][$hairstyle to "shaved"]] [[...short.|1.10][$hairstyle to "short"]] [[...shoulder-length.|1.10][$hairstyle to "shoulder-length"]] [[...waist-length.|1.10][$hairstyle to "down to your waist"]] [[...hip-length.|1.10][$hairstyle to "down to your hips"]] [[...usually tied up in a ponytail or a bun.|1.10][$hairstyle to "done up"]] [[...usually braided in a ponytail or a bun.|1.10][$hairstyle to "braided"]] [[...braided close to your scalp.|1.10][$hairstyle to "close braided"]] [[...in short locs.|1.10][$hairstyle to "in short locs"]] [[...in long locs.|1.10][$hairstyle to "in long locs"]]<<if $facialhair is 'shaven' or $facialhair is 'stubble' or $facialhair is 'beard' or $facialhair is 'goatee' or $facialhair is 'moustache' or $facialhair is 'sideburns'>><<set $fh to true>><</if>>Your hair is $haircolor and <<if $hairstyle is "very short">>styled very short, and its texture is $hairtexture.<</if>><<if $hairstyle is "short">>styled short, and its texture is $hairtexture.<</if>><<if $hairstyle is "shoulder-length">>styled down your shoulders, and its texture is $hairtexture.<</if>><<if $hairstyle is "down to your waist">>styled down to your waist, and its texture is $hairtexture.<</if>><<if $hairstyle is "down to your hips">>styled down to your hips, and its texture is $hairtexture.<</if>><<if $hairstyle is "done up">>styled up, usually in a ponytail or a bun, and its texture is $hairtexture.<</if>><<if $hairstyle is "braided">>its style is braided, usually in a ponytail or a bun, and its texture is $hairtexture.<</if>><<if $hairstyle is "close braided">>its style is braided close to your scalp, with a $hairtexture texture.<</if>><<if $hairstyle is "shaved">>its style is shaved.<</if>><<if $hairstyle is "in long locs" or $hairstyle is "in short locs">>and kept in $hairstyle, its texture $hairtexture.<</if>> <<if $facialhair is 'shaven'>>You also keep your facial hair cleanly shaven.<</if>><<if $facialhair is 'stubble'>>You also sport a stubble on your face.<</if>><<if $facialhair is 'beard'>>You have a matching beard as well.<</if>><<if $facialhair is 'goatee'>>You have a matching goatee as well.<</if>><<if $facialhair is 'moustache'>>You have a matching moustache as well.<</if>><<if $facialhair is 'sideburns'>>You have matching sideburns as well.<</if>> As for the color of your skin, it is... [[...olive beige.|scars][$skincolor to "olive beige"]] [[...tanned beige.|scars][$skincolor to "tanned beige"]] [[...bronze beige.|scars][$skincolor to "bronze beige"]] [[...golden brown.|scars][$skincolor to "golden brown"]] [[...russet brown.|scars][$skincolor to "russet brown"]] [[...dark brown.|scars][$skincolor to "dark brown"]] [[...warm black.|scars][$skincolor to "warm black"]] [[...cool black.|scars][$skincolor to "cool black"]] [[...deep black.|scars][$skincolor to "deep black"]] Your hair is $haircolor and <<if $hairstyle is 'shaved'>>shaved<</if>><<if $hairstyle is "short">>styled short<</if>><<if $hairstyle is "shoulder-length">>styled down your shoulders<</if>><<if $hairstyle is "down to your waist">>styled down to your waist<</if>><<if $hairstyle is "down to your hips">>styled down to your hips<</if>><<if $hairstyle is "done up">>styled up, usually in a ponytail or a bun<</if>><<if $hairstyle is "braided">>its style is braided, usually in a ponytail or a bun<</if>><<if $hairstyle is "close braided">>its style is braided close to your scalp<</if>><<if $hairstyle is "in short locs">>its style is grown out in short locs<</if>><<if $hairstyle is "in long locs">>its style is grown out in long locs<</if>>, and its texture is... <<if $hairstyle isnot "in long locs" and $hairstyle isnot "in short locs" and $hairstyle isnot "close braided">>[[...straight.|facial hair][$hairtexture to "straight"]] [[...wavy.|facial hair][$hairtexture to "wavy"]] <</if>>[[...curly.|facial hair][$hairtexture to "curly"]] [[...coily.|facial hair][$hairtexture to "coily"]]<<if $scar is 'chin' or $scar is 'nose' or $scar is 'temple' or $scar is 'cheek' or $scar is 'eyebrow'>><<set $sc to true>><</if>><<if $skincolor is "light beige" or $skincolor is "sandy beige">><<set $skinavg to "light">><</if>><<if $skincolor is "olive beige" or $skincolor is "golden brown" or $skincolor is "russet brown" or $skincolor is "dark brown">><<set $skinavg to "brown">><</if>><<if $skincolor is "deep black" or $skincolor is "warm black" or $skincolor is "cool black">><<set $skinavg to "black">><</if>>Concerning your stature, you would consider yourself... [[...very short in height.|1.13][$height to "very short"]] [[...short in height.|1.13][$height to "short"]] [[...average in height.|1.13][$height to "average"]] [[...tall in height.|1.13][$height to "tall"]] [[...very tall in height.|1.13][$height to "very tall"]]<<set $appearance to true>><<set $chartraits to true>>[ <b>[[Character Traits]] unlocked</b> ] <<if $hairstyle is "shaved" or $hairstyle is "braided" or $hairstyle is "done up">>With $hairstyle $haircolor hair, $skincolor skin<<else>>With $hairtexture, $haircolor hair worn $hairstyle, $skincolor skin<</if>><<if $height is "tall" or $height is "very tall">>, a $height stature<</if>> and eyes a vibrant gold, you make for a striking sight. <<if $scar is 'eyebrow'>>The scar through your eyebrow is quite noticeable as well.<</if>><<if $scar is 'cheek'>>The scar on your cheek is quite noticeable as well.<</if>><<if $scar is 'temple'>>The scar on your temple is quite noticeable as well.<</if>><<if $scar is 'chin'>>The scar on your chin is quite noticeable as well.<</if>><<if $scar is 'nose'>>The scar across your nose is quite noticeable as well.<</if>> Anyone who passed you on the street would not soon forget you if you were to forego your disguise, which makes it all the more important that you stay hidden. After what happened to your parents, you know exactly how crucial it is to be careful of who you reveal yourself to. [[Continue|1.14]] As quickly as you can, you hurry around the corner of the building and slip behind the wall just as the double doors behind you slide open. Pressing your back against the stone and flattening yourself against it, you hope the shadows of the alleyway will be enough to conceal you as you hear several people approach. From the corner of your eye you notice something shiny. It's a bit of sunlight catching on the metal of a breastplate, part of the same sort of uniform you saw earlier when that soldier bumped into you. Thankfully the owner of the breastplate does not glance in your direction as the small group of soldiers pass by the alleyway in an uncomfortable silence. Though you suppose the tension isn't a surprise, considering they did just get chewed out by their general. Once the soldiers pass you by, you wonder whether to just move along or stay put when more of the conversation inside the building--soldier barracks, perhaps--makes you halt. You have to strain to pick up the words now, but you do hear them. "What do you want me to do about $xname?" $aname asks, sounding less bored now but not entirely engaged either; polite disinterest, maybe. "Behram has been throwing quite a temper tantrum about $xtheir capture." "When isn't Behram throwing a temper tantrum?" General $dname grumbles, exasperated. "Nevertheless, we cannot risk endangering the search for the Crown. Bring $xname in." "So you believe Behram?" $aname says sharply, the sudden shift causing you to stand up straighter as if $aname were talking to you directly. "You really think $xname--" "$cxthey's a mercenary." The general's tone is curt, bordering on impatient. "$cxthey will do anything for the right price." "$cxthey's a hero to the people," $aname retorts coolly. "Imprisoning $xthem on the word of a known liar will only cause more unrest. Isn't that the exact thing you're trying to prevent?" "I'm not having this discussion with you," General $dname snaps. "I gave you an order and I expect you to follow it." $aname laughs humorlessly. "I'm not one of your soldiers anymore, $dname. You really think you have the authority to order the Crown's personal guard around?" "In case you hadn't noticed, Royal Protector," General $dname says slowly, speaking in a measured tone as if talking through gritted teeth, "the Crown hasn't been found yet. So until that happens, yes, I'll be ordering you around." You're expecting a retort from $aname, but it never comes. Instead, the general sighs deeply. "$xname is the only one with the means to get past our security to reach $rtitle $rname, and that's not a possibility we should take lightly. Now follow your orders and <em>bring $xthem to me</em>. We leave come dawn." A moment of silence, followed by the sound of the doors slamming open. You hold your breath and wait, catching a glimpse of a figure in dark clothes and armor rushing past the alleyway so fast you barely get a look at them at all, and then they're gone. [[Continue|1.25]]<<set $abeggar to true>>As quickly as you can, you back away to the opposite end of the street and sit down against the wall just as the double doors in front of you slide open. Keeping your head down, you cup your palms as you hold them out as any common beggar would, hoping the dirt on your cloak and the frayed edges of your hood will be enough to mask your presence. Your eye catches on something shiny as several feet walk into your line of sight. It's a bit of sunlight catching on the metal of a belt, part of the same sort of uniform you saw earlier when that soldier bumped into you. Thankfully the owner of the belt does not glance in your direction as the small group of soldiers pass you by in an uncomfortable silence. Though you suppose the tension isn't a surprise, considering they did just get chewed out by their general. Once the soldiers pass you by, you wonder whether to just move along or stay put when more of the conversation inside the building--soldier barracks, perhaps--causes you to sit against the wall for a while longer. Unfortunately you can't hear much of it, only bits and pieces of sentences that don't make much sense to you. There are names tossed out as well; you're certain you hear Mîr Behram mentioned at least once, though you couldn't say why. It isn't long until the conversation comes to a sudden end. "...hadn't noticed, Royal Protector, the Crown hasn't been found yet. So until that happens, yes, I'll be ordering you around!" A deep sigh. "$xname is the only one with the means to get past our security to reach $rtitle $rname, and that's not a possibility we should take lightly. Now follow your orders and <em>bring $xthem to me</em>. We leave come dawn." The doors in front of you slam open and you wince before you can help yourself as someone comes striding outside, and the first thing you see are the dark metal sheet of their greaves and their matching dark boots, approaching you. Not daring to look up, you sit there as if frozen with your palms still outstretched. This particular pair of armored legs look much more expensively equipped than the soldiers you saw before. The upper parts are hidden in black cloth that looks a bit more tightly fit than the loose pants you're used to seeing, not revealing any skin and cutting off into a dark robed skirt. The armored skirt itself is decorated with strips of leather hanging down a gray cloth belt, wrapped twice around their waist. You risk a glance further up and catch the gleam of silver scale armor covering their torso, and you know immediately that this is either the general $dthemselves or someone similarly high-ranked. Could it be $aname? They walk at a brisk pace at first, but instead of heading down the street on your right as you were hoping they might, they instead pause, change direction and slowly come to a stop in front of you. Your heart is in your throat as you stare at the dark greaves, unable to do anything but wait. Something drops into your hands. "Zam's blessings on you," $aname says to you, though instead of sounding bored as they did before, their voice sounds much warmer now. Without waiting for a reply from you, they then turn around and walks away toward the street on the right, as they originally intended. You stare down with mute shock at the golden coin cupped in your hands, branded with the symbol of the sun. Putting it away in an inner pocket of your robes, you glance toward the barracks but find that while the doors are still left wide-open, the general is nowhere to be seen. Either way, it gives you the chance to make your escape. [[Continue|1.25]] <<if $haircolor is "deep brown" or $haircolor is "chestnut brown" or $haircolor is "honey brown" or $haircolor is "black">><<set $xnickname to 'my dark-haired beauty'>><<set $cxnickname to 'My dark-haired beauty'>><</if>><<if $haircolor is "auburn" or $haircolor is "dark auburn" or $haircolor is "dark blond" or $haircolor is "ash gray">><<set $xnickname to "my beauty">><<set $cxnickname to "My beauty">><</if>>The leader of the group who managed to capture you grins slowly, seeming amused by the situation more than anything else. "Heval, what do you suppose such a <<if $haircolor is "deep brown" or $haircolor is "chestnut brown" or $haircolor is "honey brown">>dark-haired beauty<</if>><<if $haircolor is "black">>dark-haired beauty<</if>><<if $haircolor is "auburn" or $haircolor is "dark auburn">>beauty<</if>><<if $haircolor is "dark blond" or $haircolor is "ash gray">>beauty<</if>> is doing all alone in the forest?" $xthey wonders out loud, flashing you a roguish smile as $xthey then addresses you directly. "You should take care. There are bandits here, you know. And mercenaries!" "Chief," Heval says with equal amounts of annoyance and resignation. "I'm sure you have better things to do instead of seducing a stranger." "Isn't that the fifth time this week?" you hear someone else mutter. The bandit leader turns to Heval in outrage, then points at you. "My friend, have you seen their face?" Your heartbeat skips, then thunders through your chest at the mention of your face, because seeing your face means seeing your eyes. Your very much unglamoured eyes. "No, chief, I have not," Heval remarks with a disinterest so blatant you almost feel personally slighted by it. "Let me show you," the bandit leader says smugly, like a child trying to show off some sort of glittery stone they found on the side of the road, then turns to you. "Go on, pull your hood down! It's only polite to show your face when meeting someone for the first time, no?" Oh no. You squeeze your eyes shut, the glint of the white scimitar strapped to the bandit's waist the last thing you see, a tremor in your fingers as you slowly grip the edges of your hood and pull it down off your head. A silence falls over the clearing and you breathe in deep. "Why are you keeping your eyes closed?" Heval's voice is laced with suspicion, though it unnerves you more that the bandit leader hasn't audibly reacted at all. "It's only..." You try to swallow, but your throat is so dry you barely manage it. "I'm sensitive to light." There's a long pause, and then-- "Don't make this difficult," the bandit leader says coolly, a stark difference compared to $xtheir lighthearted tone from earlier. "Show us." With few other options, you reluctantly do as you're told. [[Continue|1.37]] <<if $rgender is 'female'>><img @src="setup.ImagePath+'rozframe.png'" id="liframe"/><<else>><img @src="setup.ImagePath+'rezframe.png'" id="liframe"/><</if>><div id="nowrap"><<if $rgender is "male">>@@.titlepurple2;Lord Rêzan@@ @@.footnote;[rae-zahn]@@<<endif>><<if $rgender is "female">>@@.titlepurple2;Lady Rozerîn@@ @@.footnote;[roh-zehr-een]@@<<endif>> <b>Pronouns:</b> <<if $rgender is "male">>He/Him<<else>>She/Her<</if>> <b>Age:</b> <<if $rbirthdaypassed is true>>24 <b>Birthdate:</b> 529 AE, 5 Falling<<else>>23<</if>> <b>Appearance:</b> Warm brown skin, gray eyes, defined lips cupped by a distinct chin, and thick black hair parted in the middle and falling down past $rtheir hips. $crtheir stature is average in height and $rtheir body is lean in build. $crthey prefers to wear figure-hugging dresses, and is often seen with many accessories such as decorated belts or jewelry. Every Crown has a Sorcerer who serves as the closest advisor to the throne. The Sorcerer is often considered to be the most powerful magus in the entire Empire, if not the most influential. $rname is said to have been very young when the previous Sorcerer, Lady Zerya, found $rthem performing magic for coin on the streets of Marabad and took $rthem in as her apprentice. During $rtheir time under Zerya's tutelage $rname was rarely seen in public, and even after succeeding $rtheir teacher $rname has maintained $rtheir unusually elusive reputation. It was only after Zerya's recent passing that $rname was forced to step outside and show $rtheir face to the world once more, in order to fulfil $rtheir duty as the Crown's Sorcerer.<<if $timeline is true>> <b>Notes from the Crown:</b><<if $intu gt $intel and $charm gt $blunt>> @@.intucharm;<<if $kind gt $calc>>I could see us becoming great friends in the future. I only wish $rthey would have more confidence in $rthemselves, but we can work on that together. No reason for <b>both</b> of us to be in constant self-doubt.<<else>>Likely my most valuable ally in court. Motivated by a fear of failure and disappointment. Very vocal with $rtheir support for me, but I suspect $rthey also has many opinions of $rtheir own.<</if>>@@ <<click "@@.footnote;View in regular font@@">><<toggleclass "#section6" "hidden">><</click>> <div id="section6" class="hidden"><<if $kind gt $calc>>I could see us becoming great friends in the future. I only wish $rthey would have more confidence in $rthemselves, but we can work on that together. No reason for <b>both</b> of us to be in constant self-doubt.<<else>>Likely my most valuable ally in court. Motivated by a fear of failure and disappointment. Very vocal with $rtheir support for me, but I suspect $rthey also has many opinions of $rtheir own.<</if>></div><</if>><<if $intu gt $intel and $charm lt $blunt>> @@.intublunt;<<if $kind gt $calc>>I could see us becoming great friends in the future. I only wish $rthey would have more confidence in $rthemselves, but we can work on that together. No reason for <b>both</b> of us to be in constant self-doubt.<<else>>Likely my most valuable ally in court. Motivated by a fear of failure and disappointment. Very vocal with $rtheir support for me, but I suspect $rthey also has many opinions of $rtheir own.<</if>>@@ <<click "@@.footnote;View in regular font@@">><<toggleclass "#section6" "hidden">><</click>> <div id="section6" class="hidden"><<if $kind gt $calc>>I could see us becoming great friends in the future. I only wish $rthey would have more confidence in $rthemselves, but we can work on that together. No reason for <b>both</b> of us to be in constant self-doubt.<<else>>Likely my most valuable ally in court. Motivated by a fear of failure and disappointment. Very vocal with $rtheir support for me, but I suspect $rthey also has many opinions of $rtheir own.<</if>></div><</if>><<if $intu lt $intel and $charm gt $blunt>> @@.intelcharm;<<if $kind gt $calc>>I could see us becoming great friends in the future. I only wish $rthey would have more confidence in $rthemselves, but we can work on that together. No reason for <b>both</b> of us to be in constant self-doubt.<<else>>Likely my most valuable ally in court. Motivated by a fear of failure and disappointment. Very vocal with $rtheir support for me, but I suspect $rthey also has many opinions of $rtheir own.<</if>>@@ <<click "@@.footnote;View in regular font@@">><<toggleclass "#section6" "hidden">><</click>> <div id="section6" class="hidden"><<if $kind gt $calc>>I could see us becoming great friends in the future. I only wish $rthey would have more confidence in $rthemselves, but we can work on that together. No reason for <b>both</b> of us to be in constant self-doubt.<<else>>Likely my most valuable ally in court. Motivated by a fear of failure and disappointment. Very vocal with $rtheir support for me, but I suspect $rthey also has many opinions of $rtheir own.<</if>></div><</if>><<if $intu lt $intel and $charm lt $blunt>> @@.intelblunt;<<if $kind gt $calc>>I could see us becoming great friends in the future. I only wish $rthey would have more confidence in $rthemselves, but we can work on that together. No reason for <b>both</b> of us to be in constant self-doubt.<<else>>Likely my most valuable ally in court. Motivated by a fear of failure and disappointment. Very vocal with $rtheir support for me, but I suspect $rthey also has many opinions of $rtheir own.<</if>>@@ <<click "@@.footnote;View in regular font@@">><<toggleclass "#section6" "hidden">><</click>> <div id="section6" class="hidden"><<if $kind gt $calc>>I could see us becoming great friends in the future. I only wish $rthey would have more confidence in $rthemselves, but we can work on that together. No reason for <b>both</b> of us to be in constant self-doubt.<<else>>Likely my most valuable ally in court. Motivated by a fear of failure and disappointment. Very vocal with $rtheir support for me, but I suspect $rthey also has many opinions of $rtheir own.<</if>></div><</if>><</if>> <<back>> <<if $xgender is 'female'>><img @src="setup.ImagePath+'xelaframe.png'" id="liframe"/><<else>><img @src="setup.ImagePath+'xelframe.png'" id="liframe"/><</if>><div id="nowrap"><<if $xgender is "male">>@@.titlepurple2;Xelef@@ @@.footnote;[che-lef]; 'ch' as in Loch or Bach@@<<endif>><<if $xgender is "female">>@@.titlepurple2;Xelara@@ @@.footnote;[che-lah-rah]; 'ch' as in Loch or Bach@@<<endif>> <b>Pronouns:</b> <<if $xgender is "male">>He/Him<</if>><<if $xgender is "female">>She/Her<</if>> <b>Age:</b> 28<<if $birthdate is true>> <b>Birthdate:</b> 525 AE, 25 Remembrance<</if>> <b>Appearance:</b> Warm, dark beige skin, green eyes with thick eyelashes and a faint scar below $xtheir right eye, <<if $xgender is "male">>chin-length black hair swept back and a trimmed beard<</if>><<if $xgender is "female">>mid-back length black hair tied back into a messy bun<</if>>. Tall in stature with firm muscles lining $xtheir figure, broad shoulders with a lean waist, many scars visible on $xtheir arms. Often wearing light, leather armor pieces on top of $xtheir clothes. Carries a distinct, pale white scimitar. A legendary hero, also known as the Pale Sword, whose exploits were chronicled in song. One such famous ballad details the words $xthey shouted to Mîr Behram, standing in his palace courtyard and demanding he come outside. An excerpt from the song: <em>His soldiers cried out, “The Pale Sword is coming!” As the gates broke down, Behram filled with dread <<if $xgender is "male">>There stood $xname,<<else>>There was $xname,<</if>> With pale sword in hand, A smile as $xthey sang, “Let the palace run red!”</em><<if $timeline is true>> <b>Notes from the Crown:</b><<if $intu gt $intel and $charm gt $blunt>> @@.intucharm;<<if $kind gt $calc>>For once the stories were accurate, maybe even selling $xthem short. Pretends $xthey's doing it all for the coin, but people wouldn't call $xthem a hero if that were true. I hope $xthey sticks around for a while; I owe $xthem a lot.<<else>>Appears charming and approachable, but in truth much more guarded. Holds a grudge against the FoV. Doesn't trust me, but I doubt I'm an exception; likely doesn't trust anyone in a position of power, save for a few.<</if>>@@ <<click "@@.footnote;View in regular font@@">><<toggleclass "#section6" "hidden">><</click>> <div id="section6" class="hidden"><<if $kind gt $calc>>For once the stories were accurate, maybe even selling $xthem short. Pretends $xthey's doing it all for the coin, but people wouldn't call $xthem a hero if that were true. I hope $xthey sticks around for a while; I owe $xthem a lot.<<else>>Appears charming and approachable, but in truth much more guarded. Holds a grudge against the FoV. Doesn't trust me, but I doubt I'm an exception; likely doesn't trust anyone in a position of power, save for a few.<</if>></div><</if>><<if $intu gt $intel and $charm lt $blunt>> @@.intublunt;<<if $kind gt $calc>>For once the stories were accurate, maybe even selling $xthem short. Pretends $xthey's doing it all for the coin, but people wouldn't call $xthem a hero if that were true. I hope $xthey sticks around for a while; I owe $xthem a lot.<<else>>Appears charming and approachable, but in truth much more guarded. Holds a grudge against the FoV. Doesn't trust me, but I doubt I'm an exception; likely doesn't trust anyone in a position of power, save for a few.<</if>>@@ <<click "@@.footnote;View in regular font@@">><<toggleclass "#section6" "hidden">><</click>> <div id="section6" class="hidden"><<if $kind gt $calc>>For once the stories were accurate, maybe even selling $xthem short. Pretends $xthey's doing it all for the coin, but people wouldn't call $xthem a hero if that were true. I hope $xthey sticks around for a while; I owe $xthem a lot.<<else>>Appears charming and approachable, but in truth much more guarded. Holds a grudge against the FoV. Doesn't trust me, but I doubt I'm an exception; likely doesn't trust anyone in a position of power, save for a few.<</if>></div><</if>><<if $intu lt $intel and $charm gt $blunt>> @@.intelcharm;<<if $kind gt $calc>>For once the stories were accurate, maybe even selling $xthem short. Pretends $xthey's doing it all for the coin, but people wouldn't call $xthem a hero if that were true. I hope $xthey sticks around for a while; I owe $xthem a lot.<<else>>Appears charming and approachable, but in truth much more guarded. Holds a grudge against the FoV. Doesn't trust me, but I doubt I'm an exception; likely doesn't trust anyone in a position of power, save for a few.<</if>>@@ <<click "@@.footnote;View in regular font@@">><<toggleclass "#section6" "hidden">><</click>> <div id="section6" class="hidden"><<if $kind gt $calc>>For once the stories were accurate, maybe even selling $xthem short. Pretends $xthey's doing it all for the coin, but people wouldn't call $xthem a hero if that were true. I hope $xthey sticks around for a while; I owe $xthem a lot.<<else>>Appears charming and approachable, but in truth much more guarded. Holds a grudge against the FoV. Doesn't trust me, but I doubt I'm an exception; likely doesn't trust anyone in a position of power, save for a few.<</if>></div><</if>><<if $intu lt $intel and $charm lt $blunt>> @@.intelblunt;<<if $kind gt $calc>>For once the stories were accurate, maybe even selling $xthem short. Pretends $xthey's doing it all for the coin, but people wouldn't call $xthem a hero if that were true. I hope $xthey sticks around for a while; I owe $xthem a lot.<<else>>Appears charming and approachable, but in truth much more guarded. Holds a grudge against the FoV. Doesn't trust me, but I doubt I'm an exception; likely doesn't trust anyone in a position of power, save for a few.<</if>>@@ <<click "@@.footnote;View in regular font@@">><<toggleclass "#section6" "hidden">><</click>> <div id="section6" class="hidden"><<if $kind gt $calc>>For once the stories were accurate, maybe even selling $xthem short. Pretends $xthey's doing it all for the coin, but people wouldn't call $xthem a hero if that were true. I hope $xthey sticks around for a while; I owe $xthem a lot.<<else>>Appears charming and approachable, but in truth much more guarded. Holds a grudge against the FoV. Doesn't trust me, but I doubt I'm an exception; likely doesn't trust anyone in a position of power, save for a few.<</if>></div><</if>><</if>> <<back>> <<if $dgender is 'female'>><img @src="setup.ImagePath+'delaframe.png'" id="liframe"/><<else>><img @src="setup.ImagePath+'darframe.png'" id="liframe"/><</if>><div id="nowrap"><<if $dgender is "male">>@@.titlepurple2;Dara Sîdar@@ @@.footnote;[dah-rah · see-dahr]@@<<endif>><<if $dgender is "female">>@@.titlepurple2;Delal Sîdar@@ @@.footnote;[deh-lahl · see-dahr]@@<<endif>> <b>Pronouns:</b> <<if $dgender is "male">>He/Him<<else>>She/Her<</if>> <b>Age:</b> 30<<if $birthdate is true>> <b>Birthdate:</b> 523 AE, 1 Promise<</if>> <b>Appearance:</b> Tanned olive skin, dark brown eyes close to black, defined cheek and a broad jawline,<<if $dgender is "male">> close-cropped brown hair with straight bangs touching on his forehead.<</if>><<if $dgender is "female">> brown hair cut short with bangs swept sideways across her forehead.<</if>> $cdthey has a single mole underneath the corner of $dtheir left eye. Unusually tall in stature with prominent muscles, long arms and legs. Almost never seen without $dtheir armor on. The military has always played a pivotal role in Arsur's existence. It has been used both as a tool for territorial expansion as well as a shield to defend the Empire with during the reigns of Crowns past, depending on who was in power. That same shield failed ten years ago for the first time. $dname was determined to become the General of the Arsurian Empire in order to succeed where the previous General failed. When the Twentieth Crown was assassinated and the ones responsible escaped, many put the blame at the Imperial Army's feet, and by extension $dname's predecessor, who was forced to resign the position. $dname's road to becoming the General was an arduous one. It was $dtheir talent and $dtheir strategic brilliance--deterring multiple attacks on Arsur's border from hostile nations--which earned $dthem the position through hard work and perseverance.<<if $timeline is true>> <b>Notes from the Crown:</b><<if $intu gt $intel and $charm gt $blunt>> @@.intucharm;<<if $kind gt $calc>>$cdthey seems earnest and reliable. Maybe a little intimidating at first, and definitely uptight, but $dthey's also very passionate. Would really like it if the formality was toned down a little, though.<<else>>Deceptively temperamental. Hides $dtheir cunning under the exterior of a loud and intimidating military-type. I can see why $dthey was chosen to be the General of the Imperial Army.<</if>>@@ <<click "@@.footnote;View in regular font@@">><<toggleclass "#section6" "hidden">><</click>> <div id="section6" class="hidden"><<if $kind gt $calc>>$cdthey seems earnest and reliable. Maybe a little intimidating at first, and definitely uptight, but $dthey's also very passionate. Would really like it if the formality was toned down a little, though.<<else>>Deceptively temperamental. Hides $dtheir cunning under the exterior of a loud and intimidating military-type. I can see why $dthey was chosen to be the General of the Imperial Army.<</if>></div><</if>><<if $intu gt $intel and $charm lt $blunt>> @@.intublunt;<<if $kind gt $calc>>$cdthey seems earnest and reliable. Maybe a little intimidating at first, and definitely uptight, but $dthey's also very passionate. Would really like it if the formality was toned down a little, though.<<else>>Deceptively temperamental. Hides $dtheir cunning under the exterior of a loud and intimidating military-type. I can see why $dthey was chosen to be the General of the Imperial Army.<</if>>@@ <<click "@@.footnote;View in regular font@@">><<toggleclass "#section6" "hidden">><</click>> <div id="section6" class="hidden"><<if $kind gt $calc>>$cdthey seems earnest and reliable. Maybe a little intimidating at first, and definitely uptight, but $dthey's also very passionate. Would really like it if the formality was toned down a little, though.<<else>>Deceptively temperamental. Hides $dtheir cunning under the exterior of a loud and intimidating military-type. I can see why $dthey was chosen to be the General of the Imperial Army.<</if>></div><</if>><<if $intu lt $intel and $charm gt $blunt>> @@.intelcharm;<<if $kind gt $calc>>$cdthey seems earnest and reliable. Maybe a little intimidating at first, and definitely uptight, but $dthey's also very passionate. Would really like it if the formality was toned down a little, though.<<else>>Deceptively temperamental. Hides $dtheir cunning under the exterior of a loud and intimidating military-type. I can see why $dthey was chosen to be the General of the Imperial Army.<</if>>@@ <<click "@@.footnote;View in regular font@@">><<toggleclass "#section6" "hidden">><</click>> <div id="section6" class="hidden"><<if $kind gt $calc>>$cdthey seems earnest and reliable. Maybe a little intimidating at first, and definitely uptight, but $dthey's also very passionate. Would really like it if the formality was toned down a little, though.<<else>>Deceptively temperamental. Hides $dtheir cunning under the exterior of a loud and intimidating military-type. I can see why $dthey was chosen to be the General of the Imperial Army.<</if>></div><</if>><<if $intu lt $intel and $charm lt $blunt>> @@.intelblunt;<<if $kind gt $calc>>$cdthey seems earnest and reliable. Maybe a little intimidating at first, and definitely uptight, but $dthey's also very passionate. Would really like it if the formality was toned down a little, though.<<else>>Deceptively temperamental. Hides $dtheir cunning under the exterior of a loud and intimidating military-type. I can see why $dthey was chosen to be the General of the Imperial Army.<</if>>@@ <<click "@@.footnote;View in regular font@@">><<toggleclass "#section6" "hidden">><</click>> <div id="section6" class="hidden"><<if $kind gt $calc>>$cdthey seems earnest and reliable. Maybe a little intimidating at first, and definitely uptight, but $dthey's also very passionate. Would really like it if the formality was toned down a little, though.<<else>>Deceptively temperamental. Hides $dtheir cunning under the exterior of a loud and intimidating military-type. I can see why $dthey was chosen to be the General of the Imperial Army.<</if>></div><</if>><</if>> <<back>> <<if $agender is 'female'>><img @src="setup.ImagePath+'ashframe.png'" id="liframe"/><<else>><img @src="setup.ImagePath+'azaframe.png'" id="liframe"/><</if>><div id="nowrap"><<if $agender is "male">>@@.titlepurple2;Azad Mirza@@ @@.footnote;[ah-zahd · mir-zah]@@<<endif>><<if $agender is "female">>@@.titlepurple2;Ashti Mirza@@ @@.footnote;[ah-sh-ti · mir-zah]@@<<endif>> <b>Pronouns:</b> <<if $agender is "male">>He/Him<<else>>She/Her<</if>> <b>Age:</b> <<if $abirthdaypassed is true>>27<<else>>26<</if>><<if $birthdate is true>> <b>Birthdate:</b> 526 AE, 18 Warding<</if>> <b>Appearance</b>: Rich black skin, narrow hazel eyes, with <<if $agender is "male">>tightly coiled black hair cut short, facial hair along his jawline, chin and around his mouth<<else>>black hair braided close to her scalp in several raised rows<</if>>. Dimples in both $atheir cheeks and two small, round silver earrings in $atheir right ear as accessories. $catheir stature is on the tall side, $atheir body toned. $cathey switches between armor and robes when appropriate. An excerpt from a letter of correspondence with an unknown recipient, written by Mîr Lîlan of the province Avdin: <em>Tell me in truth if you have ever seen a warrior with such promise. You claim that $atheir lack of regard toward authority and $atheir disdain toward the ruling class is an unforgivable flaw, and yet all I can see is an invaluable asset. The Royal Protector answers only to the Crown and no one else; in that respect, it is a position with power second only to the Crown themselves. There are even situations in which the Royal Protector has grounds to overrule the Crown for their own safety. Who better for such a title than someone who has proven $athemselves to be completely incorruptible? $cathey puts $atheir principles above all else, and while $atheir loyalty is rarely given, once it is earned it is undying. Someone who looks beyond the formality of titles to assess character instead of political influence is exactly who we need by the future Crown's side. So you will have to forgive me for saying so, my lady, but I do not see "$cathey refused to attend my monthly banquet of debauchery" as sufficient grounds to block $atheir appointment.</em><<if $timeline is true>> <b>Notes from the Crown:</b><<if $intu gt $intel and $charm gt $blunt>> @@.intucharm;<<if $kind gt $calc>>Definitely on the reserved side. It probably takes $athem a while to open up to people, but that'll come with time. $cathey tries to act aloof, but you can tell $athey's caring at heart. Was $athey always like this, or did something happen to make $athem this way?<<else>>Has a personal history with the FoV. Secretive about $atheir reason for becoming the Royal Protector. Connected? Regardless, it'd be wise to keep $athem on my side. Can't imagine a worse scenario than my own bodyguard betraying me.<</if>>@@ <<click "@@.footnote;View in regular font@@">><<toggleclass "#section6" "hidden">><</click>> <div id="section6" class="hidden"><<if $kind gt $calc>>Definitely on the reserved side. It probably takes $athem a while to open up to people, but that'll come with time. $cathey tries to act aloof, but you can tell $athey's caring at heart. Was $athey always like this, or did something happen to make $athem this way?<<else>>Has a personal history with the FoV. Secretive about $atheir reason for becoming the Royal Protector. Connected? Regardless, it'd be wise to keep $athem on my side. Can't imagine a worse scenario than my own bodyguard betraying me.<</if>></div><</if>><<if $intu gt $intel and $charm lt $blunt>> @@.intublunt;<<if $kind gt $calc>>Definitely on the reserved side. It probably takes $athem a while to open up to people, but that'll come with time. $cathey tries to act aloof, but you can tell $athey's caring at heart. Was $athey always like this, or did something happen to make $athem this way?<<else>>Has a personal history with the FoV. Secretive about $atheir reason for becoming the Royal Protector. Connected? Regardless, it'd be wise to keep $athem on my side. Can't imagine a worse scenario than my own bodyguard betraying me.<</if>>@@ <<click "@@.footnote;View in regular font@@">><<toggleclass "#section6" "hidden">><</click>> <div id="section6" class="hidden"><<if $kind gt $calc>>Definitely on the reserved side. It probably takes $athem a while to open up to people, but that'll come with time. $cathey tries to act aloof, but you can tell $athey's caring at heart. Was $athey always like this, or did something happen to make $athem this way?<<else>>Has a personal history with the FoV. Secretive about $atheir reason for becoming the Royal Protector. Connected? Regardless, it'd be wise to keep $athem on my side. Can't imagine a worse scenario than my own bodyguard betraying me.<</if>></div><</if>><<if $intu lt $intel and $charm gt $blunt>> @@.intelcharm;<<if $kind gt $calc>>Definitely on the reserved side. It probably takes $athem a while to open up to people, but that'll come with time. $cathey tries to act aloof, but you can tell $athey's caring at heart. Was $athey always like this, or did something happen to make $athem this way?<<else>>Has a personal history with the FoV. Secretive about $atheir reason for becoming the Royal Protector. Connected? Regardless, it'd be wise to keep $athem on my side. Can't imagine a worse scenario than my own bodyguard betraying me.<</if>>@@ <<click "@@.footnote;View in regular font@@">><<toggleclass "#section6" "hidden">><</click>> <div id="section6" class="hidden"><<if $kind gt $calc>>Definitely on the reserved side. It probably takes $athem a while to open up to people, but that'll come with time. $cathey tries to act aloof, but you can tell $athey's caring at heart. Was $athey always like this, or did something happen to make $athem this way?<<else>>Has a personal history with the FoV. Secretive about $atheir reason for becoming the Royal Protector. Connected? Regardless, it'd be wise to keep $athem on my side. Can't imagine a worse scenario than my own bodyguard betraying me.<</if>></div><</if>><<if $intu lt $intel and $charm lt $blunt>> @@.intelblunt;<<if $kind gt $calc>>Definitely on the reserved side. It probably takes $athem a while to open up to people, but that'll come with time. $cathey tries to act aloof, but you can tell $athey's caring at heart. Was $athey always like this, or did something happen to make $athem this way?<<else>>Has a personal history with the FoV. Secretive about $atheir reason for becoming the Royal Protector. Connected? Regardless, it'd be wise to keep $athem on my side. Can't imagine a worse scenario than my own bodyguard betraying me.<</if>>@@ <<click "@@.footnote;View in regular font@@">><<toggleclass "#section6" "hidden">><</click>> <div id="section6" class="hidden"><<if $kind gt $calc>>Definitely on the reserved side. It probably takes $athem a while to open up to people, but that'll come with time. $cathey tries to act aloof, but you can tell $athey's caring at heart. Was $athey always like this, or did something happen to make $athem this way?<<else>>Has a personal history with the FoV. Secretive about $atheir reason for becoming the Royal Protector. Connected? Regardless, it'd be wise to keep $athem on my side. Can't imagine a worse scenario than my own bodyguard betraying me.<</if>></div><</if>><</if>> <<back>><<if $abeggar isnot true>>As you make your way toward the din of the crowds, the sound echoing against the stone walls of the streets and alleyways, you try to process the conversation you just overheard. They're hunting for $xname, at a time like this? You have heard that $xtheir relationship with the military of Arsur is a complicated one; $xthey has helped the Imperial Army as many times as $xthey's hurt it, but such is $xtheir nature as a mercenary. Was $xthey hired to thwart the search for the Crown? $aname certainly did not seem to think so, and even the general appeared skeptical of Mîr Behram's claims.<</if>><<if $abeggar is true>>Royal Protector--though in name only, since there is currently no Crown <em>to</em> protect. You did not expect to get an extra coin out of that exchange, let alone one of gold. Clearly $aname is the generous sort, though they seem rather bad at taking orders. Or perhaps it's just that they have a problem with General $dname?<</if>> Whichever the case, none of this changes anything for you materially; your goal is still to find $rtitle $rname as quickly as possible. Though <em>why</em> you need to find $rthem is something you try not to think too much about. "The Crown hasn't been found yet," General $dname said to $aname. Not knowing that you were standing right outside the building. [[Continue|1.26]]<<nobr>> <<if $pronouns is "sheher">> <<set $they to "she">> <<set $cthey to "She">> <<set $their to "her">> <<set $ctheir to "Her">> <<set $theirs to "hers">> <<set $ctheirs to "Hers">> <<set $them to "her">> <<set $cthem to "Her">> <<set $themselves to "herself">> <<set $cthemselves to "Herself">> <</if>> <<if $pronouns is "hehim">> <<set $they to "he">> <<set $cthey to "He">> <<set $their to "his">> <<set $ctheir to "His">> <<set $theirs to "his">> <<set $ctheirs to "His">> <<set $them to "him">> <<set $cthem to "Him">> <<set $themselves to "himself">> <<set $cthemselves to "Himself">> <</if>> <<if $pronouns is "theythem">> <<set $they to "they">> <<set $cthey to "They">> <<set $their to "their">> <<set $ctheir to "Their">> <<set $theirs to "theirs">> <<set $ctheirs to "Theirs">> <<set $them to "them">> <<set $cthem to "Them">> <<set $themselves to "themselves">> <<set $cthemselves to "Themselves">> <</if>> <<if $haircolor is 'copper red' or $haircolor is 'ginger red' or $haircolor is 'ruby red' or $haircolor is 'auburn'>><<set $haircolor to 'dark auburn'>><</if>><<if $haircolor is 'dark red'>><<set $haircolor to 'dark auburn'>><</if>><<if $haircolor is 'sunny blond' or $haircolor is 'warm blond'>><<set $haircolor to 'dark blond'>><</if>><<if $haircolor is 'ash blond'>><<set $haircolor to 'ash gray'>><</if>><<if $hairstyle is "past your shoulders">><<set $hairstyle to "down to your waist">><</if>><<if $hairstyle is 'very short'>><<set $hairstyle to 'short'>><</if>><<if $xnickname is 'darling star' or $xnickname is 'my darling star' or $xnickname is 'sweet rose' or $xnickname is 'my sweet rose'>><<set $xnickname to 'my beauty'>><<set $cxnickname 'My beauty'>><</if>> <</nobr>>@@.titlepurple;CHARACTER TRAITS@@ <b>Name</b>: $name <<if $surnamereveal is true>>$surname<</if>> <b>Age</b>: <<if $birthdaypassed is true>>26<<else>>25<</if>><<if $calendar is true>> <b>Birthdate</b>: 527 AE, 12 Mourning Embers<</if>> <b>Pronouns</b>: $cthey/$them @@.footnote;[[Change pronouns]]@@ <b>Magic type</b>: <<if $magicpref is "inner">>Inner<</if>><<if $magicpref is "outer">>Outer<</if>><<if $magicpref is "">>???<</if>><<if $magicodex is true>> <b>Magical affinity</b>: <<if $magicaffinity is "none">>???<</if>><<if $magicaffinity is "sun">>Sun's Blessing<</if>><<if $magicaffinity is "eclipse">>Death of The Sun<</if>><</if>> <b>Appearance</b>: <<if $appearance is true>><<if $hairstyle is "shaved">>You have $hairstyle $haircolor hair and your complexion is $skincolor. <<else>>Your hair is $hairtexture and $haircolor, its style $hairstyle, and your complexion is $skincolor. <</if>><<if $fh is true and $sc is true>>You have <<if $facialhair is 'shaven'>>clean shaven facial hair<</if>><<if $facialhair is 'sideburns'>>sideburns<</if>><<if $facialhair is 'moustache' or $facialhair is 'goatee' or $facialhair is 'stubble' or $facialhair is 'beard'>>a $facialhair<</if>> and a scar on your $scar. <</if>><<if $fh is true and $sc is false>>You have <<if $facialhair is 'shaven'>>clean shaven facial hair<</if>><<if $facialhair is 'sideburns'>>sideburns<</if>><<if $facialhair is 'moustache' or $facialhair is 'goatee' or $facialhair is 'stubble' or $facialhair is 'beard'>>a $facialhair<</if>> matching with your hairstyle. <</if>><<if $fh is false and $sc is true>>You have a scar on your $scar as well. <</if>>As for stature, you are $height.<</if>> <b>Your Manners Toward Others</b> <<if $charm eq $blunt>>You take the middle ground between being <em>charming</em> and <em>blunt</em>, much like the average person.<</if>><<if $charm gt $blunt and $calc gt $kind>>You prefer <em>@@.stattext;charming@@</em> others in conversation with your sharp wit.<</if>><<if $charm gt $blunt and $kind gt $calc>>You often <em>@@.stattext;charm@@</em> others with your grace, treating others with courtesy.<</if>><<if $charm gt $blunt and $kind eq $calc>>You tend to <em>@@.stattext;charm@@</em> others, drawing people to you.<</if>><<if $blunt gt $charm and $calc gt $kind>>You speak <em>@@.stattext;bluntly@@</em>, but your every word is chosen with thought.<</if>><<if $blunt gt $charm and $kind gt $calc>>You speak <em>@@.stattext;bluntly@@</em>, but treat others kindly; you wear your heart on your tongue.<</if>><<if $blunt gt $charm and $kind eq $calc>>You say what you mean and hold nothing back, speaking <em>@@.stattext;bluntly@@</em>.<</if>> <b>Your Disposition Toward Others</b> <<if $calc gt $kind>>You are not afraid to <em>@@.stattext;calculate@@</em> how to best use others to your advantage.<</if>><<if $kind gt $calc>>Your first impulse is to treat others with <em>@@.stattext;kindness@@</em>.<</if>><<if $calc eq $kind>>You are not particularly <em>kind</em> or <em>calculating</em>, but choose to adapt to the person in front of you.<</if>> <b>Your Mental Capabilities</b> <<if $intel gt $intu>>You easily categorize the world around you into pieces of knowledge to be stored away, putting your <em>@@.stattext;intellect@@</em> to good use.<</if>><<if $intu gt $intel>>You listen to what your gut tells you, trusting your <em>@@.stattext;intuition@@</em> to lead you to the right path.<</if>><<if $intel eq $intu>>You don't lean strongly toward either <em>intuition</em> or <em>intelligence</em>, instead finding a balance.<</if>> <b>Your Attitude</b> <<if $adven gt $caut and $intel gt $intu>>You eagerly seek out <em>@@.stattext;adventure@@</em> wherever you can find it, driven by a thirst for knowledge.<</if>><<if $adven gt $caut and $intu gt $intel>>You are naturally drawn to <em>@@.stattext;adventure@@</em>, letting your instincts guide your actions.<</if>><<if $adven gt $caut and $intel eq $intu>>You cannot resist the call of <em>@@.stattext;adventure@@</em>, finding yourself drawn to it despite the risks.<</if>><<if $caut gt $adven and $intel gt $intu>>You have learned to move through life with <em>@@.stattext;caution@@</em>, always thoughtfully weighing your options.<</if>><<if $caut gt $adven and $intu gt $intel>>You are naturally <em>@@.stattext;cautious@@</em>, relying on your instincts to keep you away from danger.<</if>><<if $caut gt $adven and $intu eq $intel>>You would rather avoid risks when you can, trusting your <em>@@.stattext;cautious@@</em> nature.<</if>><<if $adven eq $caut>>You are <em>cautious</em> when you need to be and <em>adventurous</em> otherwise, walking a path between.<</if>> <b>Your Decision Making</b> <<if $pass gt $ass>>You are typically <em>@@.stattext;passive@@</em>, preferring to observe and listen to others in order to make informed decisions.<</if>><<if $pass eq $ass>>You have no clear preference regarding <em>leading</em> or <em>following</em> when making decisions.<</if>><<if $ass gt $pass>>You are typically <em>@@.stattext;assertive@@</em>, often the one to take control of a situation and trusting your own judgment when making decisions.<</if>> <<link "Return" $return>><</link>> Your foot catches on something and you trip, the momentum of your run slamming you head-first into the dirt, a sharp pain shooting through your nose. A few choice words slip past your lips as you curl up on the ground, holding your hands to your face and hoping you didn't break anything. At least you don't feel any blood. All thanks to the unfortunate placement of a tree-root. "I did tell you to wait." You stiffen, eyes aimed at the ground as you realize your hood has fallen down, revealing your face to the stranger. You quickly yank it back up, heart pounding. "What's wrong?" A teasing tone in a booming voice. "Don't tell me you're shy?" Certain the shadow of your hood is doing its job to veil your eye color, you glance up at the tall stranger coming into your view with a lackadaisical swagger to their step. They stand still right in front of you, forcing you to crane your neck to get a good look at them. The first thing you notice about them is their eyes. It's not just the brilliant green color of them or the downturned shape, but the thick, long eyelashes framing them, and the faint scar below their right eye as well that makes for remarkable features. As well as an incredibly intimidating stare. You quickly shift your attention to the rest of their appearance. Their skin looks like a warm, dark beige tone in the shadows of the trees, contrasting with the ebony black color of <<if $xgender is "female">>hair swept into a messy bun on the back of their head, stray locks framing their face.<<else>>ear-length hair messily swept out of their eyes, matching the trimmed beard covering the lower half of their face.<</if>> Their figure is much like that of a rigorously trained soldier. With the natural broadness of their shoulders as well as their height, you would not soon want to test them in a battle of any sort. You can even see a few cuts scarred over on their bare muscular arms, as the blacks of the robes wrapped around their torso lack any sleeves. The collar is cut into a deep V, revealing a long slip of their chest<<if $xgender is "male">> and the dark brush of hair covering it<</if>>. The lower half of the fabrics are draped into a loose skirt on top of their black pants, covered by a thick, wide leather belt meant to be armor, matching the leather shoulder pads and chest straps. It's a very light attire compared to what you've seen soldiers wear, but judging from the bone-pale scimitar strapped to their side they look ready for a fight. Though that doesn't seem to be their intention with you, luckily. The stranger regards you with nothing more than mild curiosity, lips bending into a smile as you sit in front of them in stupefied silence, their gaze slowly trailing over you as if assessing you. "Chief!" "Ah, there $xthey is!" More figures emerge from behind the trees and between the bushes, likely having followed you and their leader here, if $xtheir title is any indication. <<if $adven gt $caut>>You don't feel as threatened as you probably should, though you are acutely aware of the fact that your eyes are not glamoured.<</if>><<if $caut eq $adven>>This is not good. Your eyes aren't glamoured and now you're surrounded by a group of strangers, possibly bandits.<</if>><<if $caut gt $adven>>You quickly bend your head down while your eyes flit around the clearing to try and find a way to escape, but you soon realize it's futile. You're surrounded.<</if>> Someone even taller and broader than the stranger in front of you steps forward to join $xthem, dressed in heavy iron armor from head to toe. Their appearance is hidden behind their helmet, stretching down in a metal mask shaped like a human face, set in a stern expression. "Who's this?" they ask, a note of suspicion to their tone. You really hope you're not about to get robbed. [[Continue|1.36]] @@.titlepurple;RELATIONSHIPS@@ <<if $loveinterest isnot 'X'>><b>Your Relationship With $xname</b><<else>><span style="color:#9c0000"><b>Your Relationship With $xname</b></span><</if>> <<nobr>><<if $xfriend is false>> <<if $xpoints lte 0>>You have a neutral relationship.<</if>> <<if $xpoints gt 0 and $xpoints lte 5>>You have $xtheir attention.<</if>> <<if $xpoints gt 5 and $xpoints lte 15>>$cxthey likes you.<</if>> <<if $xpoints gt 15 and $xpoints lte 25>>$cxthey <em>really</em> likes you.<</if>> <<if $xpoints gt 25 and $xpoints lte 40>><<if $xtrust is false or $xtrust is 'undecided'>>$cxthey wants to earn your trust,<<else>>$cxthey wants you to like $xthem,<</if>> though $xthey doesn’t think $xthey deserves it. Your opinion of $xthem matters more to $xthem than $xthey expected it would.<</if>> <<if $xrelationship is 'high'>> You have a steady relationship.<</if>><<if $xrelationship is 'low'>> Your relationship has been unsteady lately.<</if>><</if>> <<if $xfriend is true>> <<if $xfriendship lte 0 and $xpoints gte 0 and $xpoints lte 5>>$cxthey is an acquaintance.<</if>> <<if $xfriendship is 0 and $xpoints gte 2 and $xpoints lte 15>>You get along well.<</if>> <<if $xfriendship gte 1 and $xfriendship lte 3>>You enjoy spending time with $xthem.<</if>> <<if $xfriendship gt 3 and $xfriendship lte 15>>You have a lot of fun together.<</if>> <<if $nextlevel is true>><<if $xfriendship gt $afriendship and $xfriendship gt $dfriendship and $xfriendship gt $rfriendship>>Out of everyone aside from <<if $loveinterest is 'D'>>$dname<</if>><<if $loveinterest is 'R'>>$rname<</if>><<if $loveinterest is 'A'>>$aname<</if>>, you get along with $xthem the most.<</if>><</if>><</if>><</nobr>> <<if $meta is false>><b>A stranger you've yet to meet</b><</if>><<if $meta is true>><<if $loveinterest isnot 'A'>><b>Your Relationship With $aname</b><<else>><span style="color:#9c0000"><b>Your Relationship With $aname</b></span><</if>><</if>> <<nobr>> <<if $meta is true>> <<if $afriend is false>> <<if $apoints lte 0>>You have a neutral relationship.<</if>> <<if $apoints gt 0 and $apoints lte 5>>$cathey is skeptical, but curious.<</if>> <<if $apoints gt 5 and $apoints lte 15>>$cathey's intrigued.<</if>> <<if $apoints gt 15 and $apoints lte 25>>$cathey genuinely enjoys your company.<</if>> <<if $apoints gt 25 and $apoints lte 40>>$cathey never thought $athey would feel so safe with you. You are not just the Crown to $athem anymore, but someone $athey cares for.<</if>> <<if $arelationship is 'high'>> You have a steady relationship.<</if>><<if $arelationship is 'low'>> Your relationship has been unsteady lately.<</if>><</if>> <<if $afriend is true>> <<if $afriendship lte 0 and $apoints gte 0 and $apoints lte 5>>$cathey is an acquaintance.<</if>> <<if $afriendship is 0 and $apoints gte 2 and $apoints lte 15>>You would like to become friends.<</if>> <<if $afriendship gte 1 and $afriendship lte 3>>$cathey feels like a familiar face now.<</if>> <<if $afriendship gt 3 and $afriendship lte 15>>You rely on each other.<</if>> <<if $nextlevel is true>><<if $afriendship gt $rfriendship and $afriendship gt $dfriendship and $afriendship gt $xfriendship>>Out of everyone aside from <<if $loveinterest is 'D'>>$dname<</if>><<if $loveinterest is 'R'>>$rname<</if>><<if $loveinterest is 'X'>>$xname<</if>>, you get along with $athem the most.<</if>><</if>><</if>><</if>><</nobr>> <<if $metd is false>><b>A stranger you've yet to meet</b><</if>><<if $metd is true>><<if $loveinterest isnot 'D'>><b>Your Relationship With $dname</b><<else>><span style="color:#9c0000"><b>Your Relationship With $dname</b></span><</if>><</if>> <<nobr>> <<if $metd is true>> <<if $dfriend is false>> <<if $dpoints lte 0>>You have a neutral relationship.<</if>> <<if $dpoints gt 0 and $dpoints lte 5>>$cdthey doesn't know what to make of you yet.<</if>> <<if $dpoints gt 5 and $dpoints lte 15>>$cdthey feels reassured.<</if>> <<if $dpoints gt 15 and $dpoints lte 25>>$cdthey wants to be there for you.<</if>> <<if $dpoints gt 25 and $dpoints lte 40>>$cdthey feels bare before you.<</if>> <<if $drelationship is 'high'>> You have a steady relationship.<</if>><<if $drelationship is 'low'>> Your relationship has been unsteady lately.<</if>><</if>> <<if $dfriend is true>> <<if $dfriendship lte 0 and $dpoints gte 0 and $dpoints lte 5>>$cdthey is an acquaintance.<</if>> <<if $dfriendship is 0 and $dpoints gt 5 and $dpoints lte 15>>You hope to get to know $dthem better.<</if>> <<if $dfriendship gte 1 and $dfriendship lte 3>>You are starting to grow closer.<</if>> <<if $dfriendship gt 3 and $dfriendship lte 15>>You understand each other.<</if>> <<if $nextlevel is true>><<if $dfriendship gt $afriendship and $dfriendship gt $rfriendship and $dfriendship gt $xfriendship>>Out of everyone aside from <<if $loveinterest is 'A'>>$aname<</if>><<if $loveinterest is 'R'>>$rname<</if>><<if $loveinterest is 'X'>>$xname<</if>>, you get along with $dthem the most.<</if>><</if>> <</if>><</if>><</nobr>> <<if $metr is false>><b>A stranger you've yet to meet</b><</if>><<if $metr is true>><<if $loveinterest isnot 'R'>><b>Your Relationship With $rname</b><<else>><span style="color:#9c0000"><b>Your Relationship With $rname</b></span><</if>><</if>> <<nobr>> <<if $metr is true>> <<if $rfriend is false>> <<if $rpoints lte 0>>You have a neutral relationship.<</if>> <<if $rpoints gt 0 and $rpoints lte 5>>$crthey's interested in seeing how you will do as the Crown.<</if>> <<if $rpoints gt 5 and $rpoints lte 15>>You get along quite well.<</if>> <<if $rpoints gt 15 and $rpoints lte 25>>$crthey feels as if $rthey's known you for years.<</if>> <<if $rpoints gt 25 and $rpoints lte 40>>$crthey knows you will always find $rthem.<</if>> <<if $rrelationship is 'high'>> You have a steady relationship.<</if>><<if $rrelationship is 'low'>> Your relationship has been unsteady lately.<</if>><</if>> <<if $rfriend is true>> <<if $rfriendship lte 0 and $rpoints gte 0 and $rpoints lte 5>>$crthey is an acquaintance.<</if>> <<if $rfriendship is 0 and $rpoints gte 2 and $rpoints lte 15>>You think you can become good friends in the future.<</if>> <<if $rfriendship gte 1 and $rfriendship lte 3>>You are starting to get to know $rthem better.<</if>> <<if $rfriendship gt 3 and $rfriendship lte 15>>You support each other.<</if>> <<if $nextlevel is true>><<if $rfriendship gt $afriendship and $rfriendship gt $dfriendship and $rfriendship gt $xfriendship>>Out of everyone aside from <<if $loveinterest is 'A'>>$aname<</if>><<if $loveinterest is 'D'>>$dname<</if>><<if $loveinterest is 'X'>>$xname<</if>>, you get along with $rthem the most.<</if>><</if>><</if>><</if>><</nobr>><<if $xfriend is false and $xrelationship is 'low' or $afriend is false and $arelationship is 'low' or $rfriend is false and $rrelationship is 'low' or $dfriend is false and $drelationship is 'low'>> <b>An Unsteady Romance</b> Your romance with your love interest may change throughout the story depending on your choices. Currently, your romance is <em>unsteady</em>, which means the romance will experience more conflict. It is still possible to improve your relationship at this point in the story, or you can continue down this path and see where it leads.<</if>><<if $xfriend is false and $xrelationship is 'high' or $afriend is false and $arelationship is 'high' or $rfriend is false and $rrelationship is 'high' or $dfriend is false and $drelationship is 'high'>> <b>A Steady Romance</b> Your romance with your love interest may change throughout the story depending on your choices. Currently, your romance is <em>steady</em>, which means the romance will experience less conflict. This is not permanent: at this point in the story, your romance may still change to an unsteady one. It all depends on the decisions you make.<</if>> <b>Romantic Inclinations</b> <<if $flirt gt $res and $adven gt $caut>>You are bold and you show it in the way you <em>@@.stattext;flirt@@</em>, easy and open with who you choose to share your affection with.<</if>><<if $flirt gt $res and $caut gt $adven>>You take romance seriously and though you enjoy <em>@@.stattext;flirting@@</em>, you are not the type to do so carelessly.<</if>><<if $flirt gt $res and $caut eq $adven>>You do not shy away from showing your interest in others,<em>@@.stattext;flirtation@@</em> being your preferred method of doing so.<</if>><<if $res gt $flirt and $adven gt $caut>>You are more <em>@@.stattext;reserved@@</em> in regards to love, preferring to let your interest in someone show through actions rather than words.<</if>><<if $res gt $flirt and $caut gt $adven>>You have often heard your <em>@@.stattext;reserved@@</em> demeanor being described as withdrawn, lending to your careful approach to love.<</if>><<if $res gt $flirt and $caut eq $adven>>You are not one to be open with your affections, coming across to others as <em>@@.stattext;reserved@@</em> in most romantic situations.<</if>><<if $flirt eq $res>>You are neither especially <em>flirtatious</em> or <em>reserved</em>, capable of both depending on your mood or the situation.<</if>> <<if $pass gt $ass>>In a relationship, you prefer to follow your partner's lead.<</if>><<if $pass eq $ass>>You have no clear preference regarding leading or following when you're in a relationship.<</if>><<if $ass gt $pass>>In a relationship, you prefer to take the lead.<</if>> <<if $nextlevel is true>><b>Platonic Relationships</b> <<if $tujoheval gt 0 or $sihamishrah gt 0 or $kajaezo gt 0>>Aside from your romantic prospects, <<if $tujoheval gt $kajaezo and $tujoheval gt $sihamishrah>>you are also getting along quite well with the Crescent Blades, like Tûjo and Heval<</if>><<if $kajaezo gt $tujoheval and $kajaezo gt $sihamishrah>>you are also getting along quite well with the Imperial Guards, like Kaja and Ezo<</if>><<if $sihamishrah gt $tujoheval and $sihamishrah gt $kajaezo>>you are also getting along quite well with the servants at the Royal Palace, like Siham and Ishrah<</if>><<if $tujoheval eq $kajaezo and $tujoheval eq $sihamishrah>>you also get along with various others, such as your guards or the servants at the palace, or even the Crescent Blades<</if>><<if $tujoheval eq $kajaezo and $tujoheval gt $sihamishrah>>you also get along well with your guards and the Crescent Blades, who have protected you<</if>><<if $kajaezo eq $sihamishrah and $kajaezo gt $tujoheval>>you also get along well with your servants and your guards, who have spent the most time by your side<</if>><<if $sihamishrah eq $tujoheval and $sihamishrah gt $kajaezo>>you also get along well with your servants and the Crescent Blades, who you have talked to the most<</if>><</if>><<if $tujoheval is 0 and $sihamishrah is 0 and $kajaezo is 0>>Aside from your romantic prospects, you aren't getting to know any other people yet.<</if>>.<<else>><b>Undiscovered</b><</if>> <<link "Return" $return>><</link>> The way the succession <em>should</em> work is relatively simple. Once the Crown nears the end of their life, they will receive a vision. Most often this occurs at night, though there have been some Crowns in the past who have had them during the daytime. This vision will lead the Crown and their Sorcerer to the successor. Many have asked Crowns in the past what exactly they saw in these visions, and the answer is always the same: it is a feeling more than an image. Crowns usually get these visions three to five years before they pass away, though on a rare few occasions some have been known to get them a whole decade before their deaths, while others have them mere months before. No one knows what triggers it, at least not with certainty. It is said that the Spirits of the land are responsible for these visions the same way they are responsible for the Crown's golden eyes, or that's what your parents believed. After the successor is found, they spend whatever years the Crown has left being mentored and tutored, though some successors need it more than others. The range of backgrounds is incredibly broad, after all, varying from the humblest farmer to the wealthiest noble. Then, upon the Crown's death, their golden eyes pass onto their successor, securing their rule as the new Crown. This is how it should've gone for you as well. Lady Zerya should have found you and taken you to meet the Twentieth Crown, Ferzan the Bold, who would have had years to help you prepare to become the next Crown. But Lady Zerya did not find you, could not find you when your parents had hidden you away, and then one day your eyes bled with gold and Ferzan was dead, assassinated. You don't know how your parents knew that you would be chosen, you only know that you've been on the run from an unseen enemy your entire life. The same enemy that killed your parents and murdered Ferzan in his sleep. [[Continue|1.27]]<<if $dadmemory isnot true>>You remember your father's words well, uttered through bloodied lips as the heat of the flames drew closer and closer around you. "Look for $rtitle $rname," he gasped, fingers clutching into your robes and staining them with crimson red. "Trust- no one else, do you understand? No one..." But how did he know $rtitle $rname? <<else>>Your father told you to find $rtitle $rname, to trust no one else but $rthem. Did your parents somehow know $rthem? That seems unlikely. <</if>>Your father was a simple village priest and your mother a farmer, neither of them raised anywhere near Marabad nor would they have had a reason to travel there. Is it simply because $rtitle $rname is the Crown's Sorcerer, the least likely to be corrupted? The frustration you've felt ever since reaching the city and only being confronted with more questions than answers makes your jaw clench from the tension. If only they had been honest from the start instead of trying to shield you, but they told you ever since you were a child that your eyes were a curse and Spirits willing you would never see the throne. They never intended for you to seek $rtitle $rname out, but to keep you safe from it all. A desperate, foolish plan, one that left you unprepared when everything went wrong. The anger you hold toward your parents' secrecy distorts into the familiar sorrow at their deaths, but the grief has hollowed out your chest and you have no more tears to shed. You have to move forward if you want to stay alive. [[Continue|1.28]]<<unset $dadmemory>>The shouting from the crowds you are walking toward grows louder than ever, and you find a few people loitering in the alleyways the nearer you get. Thankfully they are much more interested in watching the commotion from the safety of the shadows than paying any attention to you. As you reach the edge of the hill where the streets begin to slope downwards, you emerge back onto the main road and then almost immediately wish you hadn't. It's total chaos. You can barely see the Royal Palace's walls with how the main road is packed with people, the wealthy and the poor alike. You're almost certain this must be the official entrance as the gates here are much larger and gilded in gold rather than the simple iron gates you saw before. Though with how many people have gathered here, you're sure all the side entrances are being harassed by protestors as well. The news of $rtitle $rname's departure must have only just been spreading around. Just your luck. How are you supposed to get to $rtitle $rname now? If only that soldier hadn't leaked $rtheir departure and caused all this commotion-- Thinking of that soldier suddenly reminds you of the conversation between the general and $aname. <em>"$xname is the only one with the means to get past our security to reach $rtitle $rname."</em> An inkling of a plan begins to take shape inside your mind. $xname is a mercenary, isn't $xthey? $cxthey <em>could</em> get you to $rtitle $rname, for the right price. <ul class="a"> <li>[[That is such a terrible idea.|1.29.b][$caut to $caut + 25]]<<if $cheatsheet is true>> <em>+ Cautious</em><</if>></li> <li>/* [[1.29.a]] */<<link "That is such a terrible idea, you //have// to do it." "1.29.a">><</link>><<if $cheatsheet is true>> <em>+ Adventurous</em><</if>></li> </ul> You try to think of any other option that might be open to you, but short of trying to storm past the guards on your own which is surely suicide, you can't think of anything. <<if $intu gt $intel>>To take a risk like this isn't in your nature. If you had even a hope of some other path being open to you, you would never even consider doing this under ordinary circumstances. But, strangely, you don't feel as much fear as you thought you might at the idea. Something in your gut tells you that maybe this isn't as dangerous as you think it is, that maybe you can trust that the stories about $xname's heroic nature are true.<</if>><<if $intel gt $intu>>Being hunted as you are, there have been other moments where you had to abandon your careful nature in order to survive, but you've always done so with the utmost preparation, with back-up plans to your back-up plans. This appears to be one of those moments, seeing as how you have no other feasible way of getting to $rtitle $rname. You don't intend to be caught unaware this time either, not when you're so close to reaching your goal.<</if>><<if $intu eq $intel>>Just thinking of exposing yourself like that is making your stomach twist into knots, but you're running out of time. Ultimately, whether you decide to go to $xname for help or go into hiding to wait for $rtitle $rname to take up $rtheir search once more, both roads could lead you to your death. Still, all things considered, the latter seems almost certain to be lethal, while with the former there's at least a sizable chance that $xname is truly the hero that the stories make $xthem out to be.<</if>> Approaching $xname for help may be tricky, considering you still don't have your eye glamour. You could always pretend to be scarred blind and wrap a cloth around your eyes that's light enough to see through. It's something you've done before in the past, when staying in small villages where people pay much more attention to travelers than enormous cities like these. <<if $calc gte $kind>>It might even gain you some sympathy from $xname, and it's the next best plan you've got.<</if>><<if $kind gt $calc>>You don't feel good about having to resort to such tactics, but at least you have some semblance of a plan.<</if>> Now that you've figured that out, the first step is to find out where $xname is. But where to start? [[Continue|1.30]] <<set $adven += 25>>What other choice do you have? <<if $intu gt $intel>>Sure, $xname could possibly be conspiring with the people who killed your parents, assassinated the Crown and are probably planning to kill you as well--actually, that doesn't sound so good when you lay it all out in your head. But neither $aname nor General $dname seemed to think it likely. That has to count for something, right? You have a pretty good feeling about $xname not being an assassin, and when have your instincts ever let you down before? They got you this far, at least.<</if>><<if $intel gt $intu>>Realistically speaking there is a chance that $xname is bought by the people behind both the assassination of the Crown and the murder of your parents. The thing is, from everything you know about $xname, it's a very <em>small</em> chance. $cxthey is a mercenary, certainly, but $xthey is also known for never taking any contracts involving foreign nations or criminal groups if it harms Arsur or its people. It's the reason why $xthey is considered to be such a heroic figure. $xname is a native to the Empire, after all, and clearly still holds some loyalty to $xtheir place of birth. Why then would $xthey accept a contract to assassinate the Crown?<</if>><<if $intu eq $intel>>Your options are incredibly limited. $rtitle $rname is being guarded by dozens of soldiers and has the general $dthemselves taking care of security. You've been looking for $rtitle $rname for weeks, and if $rthey is truly giving up $rtheir search now, who knows when $rthey'll get back to it? It could be months, perhaps even years; how are you supposed to survive until then with nowhere to go and unseen enemies breathing down your neck?<</if>> Besides, the general was right: $xname is the only one you could imagine able to get you past $rtitle $rname's guards. $cxtheir whole reputation as a mercenary is built on almost singlehandedly winning crucial battles for Arsur during wars with other nations, so much so that you've heard speculation that $xtheir presence alone has worked as a deterrent. If you're going to accomplish your goals, taking a risk here and there is necessary. Otherwise you'll stand little to no chance of reaching $rtitle $rname any time soon. $xname is your best bet. Approaching $xname for help may be particularly tricky, however, considering you still don't have your eye glamour. You could always pretend to be scarred blind and wrap a cloth around your eyes that's light enough to see through. It's something you've done before in the past, when staying in small villages where people pay much more attention to travelers than enormous cities like these. <<if $calc gte $kind>>It might even gain you some sympathy from $xname, if nothing else.<</if>><<if $kind gt $calc>>You don't feel good about having to resort to such tactics, but you don't have any other options open to you right now.<</if>> Before anything else, however, you'll have to find $xname first. [[Continue|1.30]] Both the bandit leader and Heval are staring at you, as well as the rest of the small group gathered in the clearing. No one says anything, seeming to be overtaken by surprise for what feels like an eternity, until someone finally speaks up. "They must be using a glamour," one of the group calls, breaking through the tension before you can even think of anything to say. "We could not simply stumble on the Crown like this." "Almost certainly a glamour," another agrees. "Probably just some desperate impostor." But their leader's grin has faded from $xtheir face and $xtheir gaze has sharpened into a sword's edge as it bores right through you, all the playfulness gone from $xtheir expression. You almost reflexively turn away, trying to hide away into your hood even though it's too late. $cxthey suddenly kneels down in front of you, fingers gripping your chin and lifting your head back up to face $xthem, clear green eyes staring into yours and you hold your breath. You feel like a mouse trapped in the claws of a <<if $xgender is "male">>lion<<else>>lioness<</if>>. But there's something strange about $xtheir grip; you think you feel an unnatural warmth in the tips of $xtheir fingers sinking into your skin, like the glow from a bonfire against your face. It is such a subtle sensation that it might just be your imagination, and without realizing what you're doing you suddenly find your fingers curled around $xtheirs, $xtheir eyes widening in surprise. You feel it so clearly, a blaze of fire within $xtheir veins connecting $xthem to you and you marvel at the realness of its heat. It's as if you were holding a flame in your hand. The bandit leader abruptly pulls back and gets up to $xtheir feet, an unreadable look on $xtheir face as $xthey stares down at you. "What's wrong?" Heval asks, and their leader shakes $xtheir head. "Nothing." $cxthey tilts $xtheir head slightly as $xthey watches you. "Only, our new friend here might be more than they seem." [[Continue|1.38]] "Many people do," $xname says in a flippant tone, though $xthey watches you intently. <<if $blunt gt $charm>>"This is important," you insist. "I wouldn't be here risking my neck otherwise."<</if>><<if $charm gt $blunt>>"Of course they do," you agree. "You're the most famous mercenary for a reason, which is why I came to you; you're the only one who can help me with this."<</if>><<if $blunt eq $charm>>"I'm sure you're very busy," you consider. "But there's no one else who stands a chance of succeeding, and I've run out of options."<</if>> $xname arches $xtheir brows and you catch a glimmer in $xtheir eyes, appearing intrigued for a moment before $xthey quickly straightens out $xtheir expression. "Be that as it may, I'm not a mercenary out of the goodness of my heart and my services certainly don't come cheap. Unless you have some serious coin--" You quickly loosen the heavy bag of coins tied to the belt around your waist underneath your cloak, and hold it up to $xthem. It's everything that your parents left you, having always been meticulous about saving up money and spending as little as possible so as to not draw any unwanted attention. Being constantly on the move and not having a permanent residence certainly helped with that. $xname takes the bag from you, bouncing it on the palm of $xtheir hand to test its weight as the coins inside clink together. The sound draws movement from the mercenaries and sellswords watching from between the trees, like hungry hyenas spotting their first meal of fresh meat. "That's certainly nothing to scoff at," $xthey murmurs, eyes flicking from the bag of coin back to your face. "What's the job?" You take a quiet breath to calm your racing heartbeat. "I need you to take me to $rtitle $rname." Whispers build up around you, the mecenaries muttering amongst each other as their gazes dig into you like small thorns prickling your skin, but you keep your attention focused on $xname whose stare pierces right through you. "Are you telling me," $xname says slowly, "that you're actually claiming to be Arsur's rightful Crown?" You avert your eyes, the tension in the air a weight bearing down on top of you. "I just need to speak to $rtitle $rname, that's all." $xname frowns thoughtfully and stays quiet for a while, but unfortunately $xtheir companion doesn't seem as interested in giving your offer any serious consideration. Though you can't see Heval's face, their helmet is aimed squarely in your direction before it turns to look at $xname. "Don't tell me you're actually considering this," Heval says to $xthem, worry heavy in their voice. "If they turn out to be a liar and you put $rtitle $rname at risk for nothing, General $dname will come for your head!" $xname scoffs. "$cdthey is welcome to try." "$xname--" "I know, Heval," $xname says, raising $xtheir hand and Heval's protest dies down. "I've seen my fair share of charlatans, but there is something different about this one. Besides, why would a fake go through all this trouble when $rtitle $rname is certain to see through any glamour?" "Maybe because they're planning to harm $rtitle $rname," Heval replies tightly, "and they want to use you to do it!" Something falls in $xname's expression and $xtheir shoulders stiffen, $xtheir stare turning cold. Oh no. [[Continue|1.40]] <<set $hirexel to true>>"Oh?" $xname arches $xtheir brows slightly, $xtheir interest in you beginning to wane as <<if $xgender is "male">>he crosses his arms over his chest<<else>>she begins to study her fingernails<</if>>. "And what, pray tell, does this job entail?" <<if $blunt gt $charm>>"I want you to take me to $rtitle $rname,"<</if>><<if $charm gt $blunt>>"It entails a highly dangerous and somewhat foolish escort mission to get me to $rtitle $rname,"<</if>><<if $charm eq $blunt>>"I need to speak to $rtitle $rname and you're the only one who could get me past $rtheir guards,"<</if>> you answer, $xname's attention immediately refocusing on you again as $xthey watches you intently. One wrong word here and you might end up finding out exactly how sharp the edge of $xtheir sword is, and not just $xtheirs alone. The mercenaries and sellswords watching on silently from between the trees blend into a wall of shadows surrounding you as the twilight of the sky fades into dusk. Their dimly-lit silhouettes shift ever so slightly, a little restlessly, as they wait for what their leader will do. "Why?" $xname asks, $xtheir unblinking green stare on you like a solid weight pressing down on your body, the oppressive atmosphere making it hard to keep your breathing calm and your heartbeat steady. <<if $blunt gte $charm>>"Not to hurt $rthem," you emphasize. "Just to talk."<</if>><<if $charm gt $blunt>>"Just for a little chat," you reply, managing a smile. "I might ask $rthem for advice on fashion; I hear $rthey's quite well-dressed."<</if>> At $xname's lingering silence, $xtheir smooth expression as blank as a mask, you resort to the last card in your hand. "I can pay you." You loosen the heavy bag of coins tied to the belt around your waist underneath your cloak, and hold it up to $xthem. It's everything that your parents left you, having always been meticulous about saving up money and spending as little as possible so as to not draw any unwanted attention. Being constantly on the move and not having a permanent residence certainly helped with that. $xname regards the bag of coins for a while, a soft breeze blowing through $xtheir hair and filling up the silence with a hollow sound as you nervously wait for $xtheir judgment. $cxthey looks at you, and then a mocking smile lifts the corners of $xtheir lips. "Let's be honest with each other," $xthey says. "This is about your eyes, isn't it? Would you prefer that I bow or that I kneel, O Mighty Crown?" <<if $blunt gt $charm>>"Look," you start before $xthey can make another snide remark, "do you want the money or not?"<</if>><<if $charm gt $blunt>>"Whichever you like," you reply nonchalantly and $xname snorts. "Think what you will, I'm offering you good coin for this. Are you interested, or should I spend my money elsewhere?"<</if>><<if $blunt eq $charm>>"My reason for wanting to see $rtitle $rname should hardly matter to you," you reply with as much patience as you can muster. "I promise that I mean $rthem no harm, I only want to talk to $rthem--isn't that enough?"<</if>> $xname frowns slightly, appearing somewhat thoughtful, though unfortunately you can't say the same about $xtheir companion. While you can't see Heval's face, their helmet is aimed squarely in your direction before it turns to look at $xname who takes the bag from you, bouncing it on the palm of $xtheir hand to test its weight as the coins inside clink together. "Don't tell me you're actually considering this," Heval says to $xthem, worry heavy in their voice. "If they turn out to be a liar and you put $rtitle $rname at risk for nothing, General $dname will come for your head!" $xname scoffs. "$cdthey is welcome to try." "$xname--" "I know, Heval," $xname says as $xthey passes the bag of coins on to another one of $xtheir underlings and Heval's protest dies down. "I've seen my fair share of charlatans, but there is something different about this one. Besides, why would a fraud go through all this trouble when $rtitle $rname is certain to see through any glamour?" "Maybe because they're planning to harm $rtitle $rname," Heval replies tightly, "and they want to use you to do it!" Something falls in $xname's expression and $xtheir shoulders stiffen, $xtheir stare turning cold. Oh no. [[Continue|1.40]] A shadow appears by your side as if materialized out of thin air, the roughened skin of their palms tugging at your wrists, then followed by a metallic <em>click</em> before you have the chance to so much as process what's happening. The weight of cold iron chains suddenly drags on your arms and it's like all the energy seeps out of you. Looking down at the chains, you notice ancient symbols glowing a soft purple carved into the wrist bindings, likely to prevent you from using any magic. You turn your head to look at your captor in bemusement. A black scarf is wrapped around their head, the cloth draped to cover their face from the nose down, a pair of dark gray eyes and tanned brown skin the only visible part. Their clothes are much the same, black robed shirt atop loose-fitted black trousers and tight boots, covering them from head to toe. "Really, Tûjo?" The silent figure holding your chains does not move a single muscle, though their eyes shift to $xname in acknowledgement. $xname shakes $xtheir head at Tûjo's silence, then claps you on the shoulder in what's supposed to be a friendly gesture but has you nearly falling forward due to the force of it. "Don't worry about Tûjo here, he's much scarier than he looks." "Chief, I think that's supposed to be backwards," Heval remarks blandly and $xname blinks, then laughs. "Ah, well, it's probably more truthful!" You swallow thickly, your increasing nerves making you feel unsteady on your feet. Should you be worried? Tûjo's voice is quiet but sharp, cutting through the atmosphere like the faint whistle of an arrow flying through the air. "You're far too impulsive, <<if $xgender is "female">>sister<<else>>brother<</if>>," he says to $xname, dark brows drawing down slightly in a disapproving look. "Do you realize how much you'll be risking by taking this stranger at their word?" The reprimand seems to have no effect on $xname, who grins and slings an arm around Tûjo's shoulders. "What's life without a little risk?" "I have to agree with Tûjo, chief," Heval adds while Tûjo pointedly extracts $xname's arm from his shoulders. "This is careless, even for you." $xname's eyes flit to you, holding your gaze in a fleeting glance before looking back at Heval and Tûjo. "Do you trust me?" "Always," Tûjo answers without hesitation, and Heval inclines their head in agreement. "Then trust me on this," $xname says, and their debate ends there. "Tûjo, take care of our new charge, would you? Heval, with me." Without another look at you, $xname turns $xtheir back on you and walks the way you came, toward the river. [[Continue|1.42]] You move around the outskirts of the crowd pressing up against the Royal Palace's gates and walls, but even there it's hard to walk a few steps without bumping into someone. "Watch it!" someone scolds you when you accidentally step on the long hem of their dress, causing you to jerk back and cram your elbow into someone else's side. "Agh!" The passerby glares at you as you quickly back away with an apology, trying to be more mindful of where you step while simultaneously keeping your head down and your eyes out of sight. But it's hard to focus with so many people around you, and you're starting to feel overwhelmed as you try and distance yourself even further, finding a wall to flatten yourself against as you catch your breath. You're not used to being in such a mass of people. The volume of the noise is making your ears hurt, the energy coalescing and rippling through the throng putting you on edge. You take a few deep, slow breaths, closing your eyes and trying to acclimate to it; you don't have the time to be loitering here when $rtitle $rname could be leaving the city any second now. As for the crowd itself, it's unclear to you whether these are merely ordinary people trying to catch a glimpse of the elusive Sorcerer, or whether something else is going on. Either way, you need to find information about $xname. <<if $caut gt $adven>>Asking a stranger outright would be the height of recklessness, especially since you have no way of being able to tell friend from foe. You consider returning to the inn you rented a room at to perhaps make some inquiries with the friendly owners; they <<if $calc gt $kind>>seem gullible enough to answer your questions without wondering to the why of it.<</if>><<if $kind gt $calc>>seem helpful enough to answer your questions without digging into your business.<</if>><<if $kind eq $calc>>don't seem the sort to pry into other people's affairs at least.<</if>><</if>><<if $adven gt $caut>>In a crowd this size, surely there is someone who would know what $xname is up to and where you'd be able to find $xthem? It's just a matter of asking the right person and getting them to answer you honestly<<if $charm gt $blunt>>, but with your considerable talents in the art of conversation you should have no trouble persuading them.<</if>><<if $blunt gt $charm>>, but with your straightforward approach you should have no trouble seeing through any obfuscation they might try to pull on you<</if>>.<</if>><<if $caut eq $adven>>There are several ways you could approach this, the most obvious one being to simply ask some people around you whether they might know of $xname's whereabouts, though that carries a certain amount of risk with it. You could also try asking someone you've met before, such as the innkeepers or maybe Perjin from the magic shop, but that would take more time than you might have.<</if>> As you continue to ponder your next action, you somehow pick up the distinct sound of a tembûr through the sounds of chatter and shouting surrounding you. You look around, curious, and sure enough--further along the wall you've been leaning against--you catch the sight of a familiar green scarf wrapped around a head of black hair. Of course, the storyteller! Quickly moving toward them, your hand tracing the stone of the wall as if to anchor yourself, you catch their attention as you approach and they glance up from their instrument to look at you. "Oh," they say in surprise, voice raised so you can hear them speak over the noise. "It's you, from earlier!" Relieved that they remember you, you incline your head in greeting, matching the volume of your voice to theirs. "Hello again!" "Are you also here to try and lay your eyes upon the Sorcerer?" the storyteller teases, smiling slightly. Considering your questions about $rtitle $rname earlier, you can't blame them for thinking as much. "I only wanted to see what the commotion was about," you reply. "What about you?" "Likewise!" the storyteller replies. "I'll be returning to the teahouse soon enough, I can barely hear myself think in this crowd!" Here is your chance. <ul class="a"> <li>[['"Before you go, can I ask you something, friend?"'|1.31.a][$charm to $charm + 25]]<<if $cheatsheet is true>> <em>+ Charming</em><</if>></li> <<if $xgender is "male">><li>[['"While I have you here, do you know where I can find Xelef?"'|1.31.b][$blunt to $blunt + 25]]</li><</if>><<if $xgender is "female">><li>[['"While I have you here, do you know where I can find Xelara?"'|1.31.b][$blunt to $blunt + 25]]<<if $cheatsheet is true>> <em>+ Blunt</em><</if>></li><</if>> </ul>"Of course," the storyteller says. "But perhaps not here?" They gesture toward the sidestreet next to you, and you follow them out of the crowd and into a more secluded area. "Much better," the storyteller sighs once it's quiet enough for you to understand each other without yelling. They turn to you expectantly, keeping their long stringed instrument in their arms. It must be quite the effort to carry that thing around everywhere, but they don't seem bothered by the weight of it at all. "Now, what was it you wanted to ask me?" "Before I get to that," you say, smiling though you're not sure they'll be able to see it from underneath your hood, "might I know your name? I've been just calling you <em>the storyteller</em> in my head this entire time." The storyteller smiles back at you. "My name is Ervin, and I go by he." "A pleasure, Ervin," you reply, returning the courtesy by giving your name and preferred pronouns before moving on to business. "Now, about my question, I have a bit of a problem, you see..." You fabricate the tale of a priceless family heirloom being stolen from you by several intimidating criminals, the only thing of value you owned and was intending to sell for a fair price to save you from starvation. A bit of a bold move, spinning a story for a storyteller, but Ervin seems completely taken in by it. "I suspect it's a whole band of thieves behind this, and I dare not go after them as I'm but one person." "How valuable is this heirloom?" Ervin asks. "Oh, worth your weight in gold at least!" you say, and Ervin arches his brows. "It would've kept me fed for the rest of my life, I would never consider selling it otherwise. I still have some money left to sustain myself for a few days, but I thought it might be wiser to hire someone to retrieve it for me." "If it's truly worth that much... not to mention you're up against an entire band of thieves..." Ervin hums, thinking for a moment. "I don't know how reliable this is, but I've heard rumors about a few Crescent Blades being sighted camping out in the forest outside the city, somewhere in the western part." "Crescent Blades?" you repeat, frowning slightly as you try to remember where you've heard that name before when it suddenly hits you. "Isn't that $xname's mercenary company?" Ervin nods. "They're not as cutthroat as most mercenary groups, but you should still expect to pay a sizable price if you decide to hire them." You let out a breath, the tension in your shoulders relaxing. "Thank you," you say earnestly, reaching for another coin. "This was just the information I needed." <<if $gavecoin is true>>But Ervin gently pushes your hand aside when you try to offer the bronze coin to him. "Keep it. You already paid me before, remember?"<<else>>"Much obliged, friend," Ervin says as he takes the offered coin. "I will keep this between us as well, as you requested before."<</if>> Feeling energized now that you know where to go next, you bid your farewells to Ervin and use the alleyways to maneuver around the crowd gathered by the palace gates, coming back up to the main road and following it to the edge of the city. Hopefully, this gamble will pay off. [[Continue|1.32]]<<set $ervinsent to true>>The storyteller's eyes widen slightly. "The mercenary?" "Yes," you reply. "Who else?" They give you a long look, then gesture toward the sidestreet next to you, and you follow them out of the crowd and into a more secluded area. "Much better," the storyteller sighs once it's quiet enough for you to understand each other without yelling. They turn to you expectantly, keeping their long stringed instrument in their arms. It must be quite the effort to carry that thing around everywhere, but they don't seem bothered by the weight of it at all. "What business do you have with $xname?" You consider your options, watching the storyteller to try and read their expression but their gaze is entirely neutral as they wait for you to respond. "I can't tell you," you state eventually. "I want to hire them for a job, it's important." "Really?" The storyteller arches their brows. "You do know $xname's services do not come cheap? No offense." "None taken." You know you don't exactly look like the wealthiest person in Marabad in your ragged old outfit. "I can pay them, coin is not an issue." "And this job," the storyteller continues, "is it dangerous?" You frown. "Why are you asking all these questions?" The storyteller seems to ponder something for quite a while before they finally speak again. "I'm somewhat acquainted with $xname," they say, and you cannot keep the surprise from your features as you stare at them in silence. "Is it that shocking? I am a rather talented storyteller, you know; I've entertained quite a number of famous people." You suppose that makes sense. "I see." "In any case," they say, waving dismissively with their hand, "I'm asking these questions because I know what type of jobs $xname tends to pick, and if you give me more details, I can tell you right now whether you're wasting your time trying to hire $xthem or not. "So, to return to my earlier question," they continue, "is the job dangerous?" You think of General $dname and $dtheir guards, as well as $aname, the Royal Protector tasked with capturing $xname. "Incredibly dangerous," you answer honestly. "Probably one of the most dangerous jobs $xthey'll ever get offered." The storyteller hums in thought before they finally say, "I don't know where $xname's exact location is at the moment, but I know a few Crescent Blades have been spotted outside the city. Follow the western road until you see a river, their camp should be along the bank." "Crescent Blades?" you repeat, frowning slightly as you try to remember where you've heard that name before when it suddenly hits you. "Ah, $xname's mercenary company." The storyteller nods. "They're not as cutthroat as most mercenary groups, but you should still expect to pay a sizable price if you decide to hire them." You let out a breath, the tension in your shoulders relaxing. "Thank you," you say earnestly, reaching for another coin. "This was just the information I needed." <<if $gavecoin is true>>But the storyteller gently pushes your hand aside when you try to offer the bronze coin to them. "Keep it. You already paid me before, remember?"<<else>>"Much obliged, friend," the storyteller says as they take the offered coin. "I will keep this between us as well, as you requested before."<</if>> Feeling energized now that you know where to go next, you bid your farewells to the storyteller and use the alleyways to maneuver around the crowd gathered by the palace gates, coming back up to the main road and following it to the edge of the city. Hopefully, this gamble will pay off. [[Continue|1.32]]<<unset $gavecoin>><<set $xcodex to true>>[ <b>New [[Character Codex]] unlocked</b> ] You take some precautions before setting out, purchasing a bit of food for on the road and refilling your leather flask with water. <<if $ervinsent is false>>Even though your feet are already aching at the thought of trying to find the Crescent Blades in such a huge forest, you are determined to get there as fast as you can.<</if>><<if $ervinsent is true>>Thanks to the storyteller you know exactly where to look, so you don't anticipate it taking you longer than an hour at most.<</if>> If only you had a horse, but those don't come cheap and you need to save up all the coin you have left for $xname. As you walk down the hill and see the outer city gates of Marabad in the distance, the more you think about what you're about to do, the more insane it seems. Walking out in the open like this isn't doing anything good for your nerves, either. By the time you've finally left the city proper and are following the expensively constructed stone road toward Kartan's Forest, the sun is already on its way back down toward the horizon and the air has gotten chillier. For once, your thick robes come in handy. You pass by a few solitary wanderers like yourself and a small group of soldiers entering the huge iron gates left open to allow passage. It seems you're the only one to be leaving the city at this hour. Hopefully you'll be back soon, but you decide to survey the environment in case this takes longer than anticipated. Great Arsurian oak trees litter the northern part of the landscape, leading towards the slopes of the Armas Mountains far away in the distance. Thankfully, the rightmost part of the forest is more even terrain, broken up by the flow of the Ruhuth River that curls around the city walls before it disappears into the forest itself. Looking further east you can see the oak woods taper off into grassy steppe lands known for pistachio and almond trees, though there is also plenty of food to be found growing wild throughout the mountains. Surviving mainly on nuts and fruits--pomegranates, grapes, plums and many more--as well as the occasional fallow deer or fish has made you intimately familiar with Rojan's natural resources. You have no doubts about being able to feed yourself should the need arise, especially since the heat of summer is still going strong. Had it been winter, freezing to death would have been a far likelier story than starving to death. The only thing that might form a natural obstacle at this point would be wild predators in the western part of the forest, but you doubt any leopards or striped hyenas native to the mountains would venture this close to the city. Bears and wolves might, though. <<if $ervinsent isnot true>>As you continue to follow the road west, you realize the scope of the search you're about to embark on. Couldn't Ervin have been a <em>little</em> bit more specific?<</if>><<if $ervinsent is true>>Whatever the case, the Ruhuth River is where you need to go. You abandon the stone road and head toward the river, intending to follow it until you come across the Crescent Blades camp.<</if>> [[Continue|1.33]]<<if $ervinsent isnot true>>Your feet are worn and you wish you had the foresight to bring a torch with you as time passes by and the sun is slowly finishing her descent beyond the horizon, night chasing the last lingering rays of light coloring the sky. Thankfully it's still bright enough for you to see.<<else>>It's late into the afternoon, the sun still high in the sky as you progress along the riverbank, the sound of the flowing water soothing your nerves but not by much.<</if>> The forest is doing nothing for your paranoia of being caught. You can't exactly watch your back here without solid walls to protect you, though you suppose one upside is that you can't get cornered easily either. <<if $ervinsent is true>>Although, you couldn't exactly jump in the river to escape; you never did learn how to swim.<</if>> <<if $ervinsent isnot true>>After a while of walking in silence, nothing but the quiet sounds of the forest to keep you company, you pick up the subtle noise of flowing water in the distance, likely from the river you noticed earlier. If anyone were to camp out in the forest, it occurs to you that they'd likely do so near a source of water. Might as well follow it, then. After a short stretch of walking, you come across the sizable Ruhuth River, wide and even enough to allow for a smooth stream of water. Taking a moment to refill your water flask once more, as you drank nearly all of it earlier, you wonder how much longer you have to walk before you finally find the mercenary camp. <</if>>The Ruhuth River's currents gradually slow the further you go, your feet brushing through the grass and the flowers, tulips and irises, growing along its bank. An eagle cries out in the distance, breaking up the constant chittering and chirping of other birds, and a soft breeze blows through the tops of the trees, rustling the leaves. It's almost peaceful. You consider taking a break to sit down and enjoy the scenery, until you look ahead of you and spot a figure crouched at the edge of the river, seeming to wash their hands. [[Continue|1.34]] That's unexpected. <<if $adven gt $caut>>You come to a stop, briefly, before deciding to keep walking. They appear to be alone, and you're not so jumpy that you would turn tail and run just because you saw a single stranger. Besides, they seem far too preoccupied with washing their hands to notice you. Maybe they can even tell you if they've seen anyone set up camp here recently? Taking another few steps toward them, you open your mouth to call out to them when you notice something glinting beside them in the grass.<</if>><<if $caut gt $adven or $caut eq $adven>>You come to a stop, peering at the figure with suspicion as you try and decide how to avoid them. Seeing as how you have murderers and assassins tracking you, you're not too keen on engaging any stranger you randomly encounter in the forest. It's best to sneak away and go around them, hopefully without being seen, and you're about to do just that when your eyes fall on something glinting beside them in the grass.<</if>> You go rigid when you realize what it is: a curved sword. "Damned stains," you hear them curse, splashing the water up their bare, muscular arms. "It had better not gotten into my shirt." The grass around them is covered with blood, and as your eyes trace the trail of red you find someone- no, two, even three-- People, <em>corpses</em> lying on the ground a few feet behind the stranger. "Staring is rude, you know," the stranger suddenly says without looking up at you, continuing to wash their hands. You lose your breath and the noise that escapes your lips draws the stranger's gaze to you as you keep standing there in mute shock, staring at them with your mouth agape. They move to get up on their feet, and you bolt. "Hey, wait!" You're not about to listen to a murderer so you run as fast as you can further into the forest, low-hanging branches from trees whipping past you, catching against your robes and occasionally hitting your face. You hear your cloak rip as it hooks on something behind you but you pay it no mind, legs moving and hurried footsteps pounding across the forest floor as you hear the stranger chasing you. "I said <em>wait</em>, damn you!" A flurry of curses follows after you. "I really have better things to do than chase after someone in a forest!" Zigzagging in between the trees, you think you're finally starting to lose them as the sound of their footsteps grows more distant--but of course you couldn't be that lucky. [[Continue|1.35]] The sweet scent of incense is strong inside, cramped as it is with shelves on every wall. They’re all stacked with glimmering bottles and jars filled with potions and ingredients you can’t even begin to guess the purpose of. There are glowing and sparkling liquids in large vials that look like they were melted from gemstones; odd animal parts like a basket of shimmering snake-skin that shifts and changes its color every few seconds; and little wooden figurines of people and animals that totter around on the shelves. You catch the sight of one wooden humanoid puppet nearly tumbling off the edge of a shelf before it abruptly rights itself, marching off the other way again. Though, you suppose for a magic shop it is nothing out of the ordinary. “Welcome, welcome!” a voice says, drawing your attention away from the various items and further into the shop. Someone stands behind a small counter, dressed in a long, shapeless purple gown with a light blue shawl draped over their shoulders. They have a bright smile and a youthful complexion of tan olive skin, though you estimate them to be several years older than you. “Welcome to my shop,” they greet you cheerfully, motioning with their hand for you to come closer, the leaf-shaped charms on their bracelet jingling against each other. “I am Perjin. What can I help you with?” This must be the owner of the shop you’ve heard so much about, a person of great skill. “Good evening,” you reply softly, stepping closer to the counter while taking care to hide your eyes, fingers settling on the edge of the coarse wood as if to anchor yourself. “Do you sell any glamours?” “But of course, my dear!” Perjin’s friendly smile warms and she leans forward over the counter to pat one of your hands, as if to reassure you--Spirits, you must seem really nervous. “What kind of glamour might you be looking for?” You shift uncomfortably on your feet, hoping the light in the room isn’t bright enough to give anything away. The few strangers you dared to approach for directions told you that this was the most reputable magic shop in town, and that Perjin was one of the most skilled alchemists in Marabad, but your request isn’t exactly a socially acceptable one. “Something to change the color of my eyes.” Perjin’s smile falters slightly, turning pensive. “Your eye color, hmm?” “I know it's an unusual request--” She waves you off. “No, no, it can most certainly be done, I would just need some time to brew it. What color would you prefer?” “Brown or dark gray,” you reply quickly; brown and dark gray are common colors in Arsur, and the less conspicuous you are the better. “Whichever you can make quicker.” The alchemist gives you a curious look but does not question you. “It can be done, but I will need some time to find the right ingredients; it’s not often I get a request for such common colors.” That’s unsurprising. You don’t imagine many a person walks in here willing to pay a sizable amount of coins just to glamour their eyes into such innocuous shades. Changing your eye color at all is associated with a particular kind of deceit that could easily land you in a dungeon, but right now that’s the least of your worries. [[Continue|1.3]] "How long would it take, exactly?" you ask the alchemist, watching a wisp of smoke from the burning incense trailing in between the two of you like a veil. Perjin hums, pressing her thumb to her lower lip, the golden rings on her fingers shining in the candlelight. "No more than two days for brown, three for dark gray. They would each last you a month without problems." You let out a sigh of relief; last time you almost had to wait a week. "Brown will do, thank you." "Excellent, I'll write it down for three pieces of silver." You watch as Perjin pulls out a bit of papyrus. "Might I have your name? That way I can add it to the list, so I won't forget." While it would be unwise to give her your family name, your first name should be harmless enough. "It's $name." You watch as Perjin diligently writes down your name and your request on her bit of papyrus with a short, rigid pen made of reed, the split tip of it wet with dark ink, before nodding in satisfaction and looking back up at you. "$name, yes?" she asks, showing the bit of papyrus to confirm the spelling. "How should I refer to you?" <ul class="a"> <li>[[He/him|1.4][$pronouns to "hehim"]]</li> <li>[[She/her|1.4][$pronouns to "sheher"]]</li> <li>[[They/them|1.4][$pronouns to "theythem"]]</li> <li><<click "Insert your own pronouns">><<toggleclass "#fuckyoutwine" "hidden">><</click>></li> <div id="fuckyoutwine" class="hidden"><b>Subject pronoun (note: this will be paired with singular verbs such as is/has/talks/walks/etc.):</b> <em>She</em> is funny. @@.footnote;capital letter@@ <<textbox "$cthey" $cthey>> @@.footnote;lowercase@@ <<textbox "$they" $they>> <b>Object pronoun:</b> I wrote to <em>them</em>. @@.footnote;capital letter@@ <<textbox "$cthem" $cthem>> @@.footnote;lowercase@@ <<textbox "$them" $them>> <b>Possessive adjective:</b> Those are <em>his</em> belongings. @@.footnote;capital letter@@ <<textbox "$ctheir" $ctheir>> @@.footnote;lowercase@@ <<textbox "$their" $their>> <b>Possessive pronoun:</b> That book is <em>eirs</em>. @@.footnote;capital letter@@ <<textbox "$ctheirs" $ctheirs>> @@.footnote;lowercase@@ <<textbox "$theirs" $theirs>> <b>Reflexive pronoun:</b> Xe loves <em>xemself</em>. @@.footnote;capital letter@@ <<textbox "$cthemselves" $cthemselves>> @@.footnote;lowercase@@ <<textbox "$themselves" $themselves>> [[Confirm and continue|1.4]]</div></ul>"I'm not--" But before you can finish speaking, $xname grabs you by the front of your robes and hauls you up to your feet, yanking you close until you're just inches away from $xthem. $cxthey <<if $height is "average" or $height is "short" or $height is "very short">>towers over you<</if>><<if $height is "tall">>stares at you<</if>><<if $height is "very tall">>stares up at you<</if>> with a frightening glare in $xtheir eyes, the look of someone who has killed before and won't hesitate to kill again. "No one will lay a finger on $rtitle $rname," $xname says to Heval, $xtheir voice deceptively calm compared to the fury in $xtheir gaze that's directed at you. "I'll make sure of it." "I would never hurt $rthem!" you insist adamantly, your clammy palms clinging to $xname's wrists. "I swear it, I just want to talk to $rthem!" $xname looks at you a moment longer before suddenly releasing you and it takes all your willpower to stay upright and not collapse back down onto the ground. "Good," $xname says, all $xtheir anger gone, and <<if $xgender is "female">>snaps her fingers<<else>>gestures with a hand<</if>> at some of the mercenaries surrounding you. "Bring me the chains." "The <em>chains</em>?" you repeat, getting more than a little nervous now as you're starting to think that perhaps this wasn't the best idea after all. "Just a precaution," $xname answers casually, as if $xthey isn't about to take you prisoner. "If you really are who you appear to be, then you won't hold it against me." [[Continue|1.41]]"Come on, $xname," Heval says with obvious frustration, and you freeze at the name. <<if $blunt gt $charm>>"You can't really think--" "You're $xname?" you blurt out, your heart beating faster in your chest as $xname frowns down at you. "The mercenary?" $xname's frown is replaced by a smirk, resting $xtheir fists on $xtheir hips in an almost cocky pose. "Unless there is an impostor who would dare use my name, yes, I'm $xname. The one and only!"<</if>><<if $charm eq $blunt>>"You can't really think they're the Crown!" "I'm sorry," you interject hastily before $xname can reply to $xtheir friend. "I just- did they call you- $xname? As in, you're $xname? From the stories?" $xname laughs, a hearty sound from deep within $xtheir chest. "Yes, from the stories! Count yourself lucky, as most never have the privilege of laying eyes upon this <<if $xgender is "female">>beautiful<<else>>handsome<</if>> face."<</if>><<if $charm gt $blunt>>"You can't really think they're the Crown!" "Stranger things have happened," $xname says dismissively and you can do nothing but stare at $xthem, which $xthey notices. "What's the matter, my dear? Were you struck speechless by my divine appearance?" "It's only..." You take a breath. "Could you really be $xname? <em>The</em> $xname?" $xname laughs as $xthey rises back up to $xtheir feet. "Oh, I like that! Heval, take note, from now on you and the crew must address me as <em>The</em> $xname!" "Not on your life, chief," Heval retorts dryly.<</if>> It appears as though the Spirits may smile upon you yet. <ul class="a"> <li>[["I really need your help," you say. "Please."|1.39.b][$pass to $pass + 25]]<<if $cheatsheet is true>> <em>+ Passive</em><</if>></li> <li><<if $charm gte $blunt>>[["I would like to hire you for a job," you state calmly, taking charge of the conversation.|1.39.a][$ass to $ass + 25]]<<else>>[[You stay calm. "I want to hire you for a job."|1.39.a][$ass to $ass + 25]]<</if>><<if $cheatsheet is true>> <em>+ Assertive</em><</if>></li> </ul><<set $cresblades to true>><<set $romancepath to true>><<set $xappearance to true>><<set $xcodex to false>>[ <b>[[Relationships]] unlocked</b> | <b><<if $xgender is 'male'>>[[Xelef's Codex|H2]]<<else>>[[Xelara's Codex|H2]]<</if>> updated</b> | [[The Crescent Blades]] <b>unlocked</b> ] Tûjo turns to the group of mercenaries gathered around you and now that you have a chance to freely look around, you estimate that there are easily over two dozen of them present. Will that be enough to reach $rtitle $rname? "Back to camp," Tûjo calls out, your chain wrapped twice around his hand and from the way the mercenaries around you immediately fall in line you figure that Tûjo must be rather high-ranking within the company. If not equal to Heval, then certainly right below them. Tûjo watches his fellow Crescent Blades--all dressed in similar black attire or armor--retreat through the trees opposite the way $xname and Heval just went. Once the last of them have gotten moving Tûjo follows in their footsteps, the chains pulling you with him, though he does you the favor of not yanking you along like a dog. You trail behind him in silence as you cross the small clearing and pass through the trees and the bushes, no man-made path for you to walk. <<if $intel gte $intu>>Going to $xname was incredibly dangerous, but you already knew that before setting out to find $xthem. The problem is that your eyes were revealed far sooner and much more suddenly than you anticipated, in front of complete strangers no less. What if one among their number is allied with the people who killed your parents, murdered Crown Ferzan? What will you- what <em>can</em> you do to protect yourself?<</if>><<if $intu gt $intel>>Spine stiff with tension, your feet drag through the dirt and the weeds as you keep your eyes on the mercenaries walking ahead of you and Tûjo. Your heart is not pounding, but it still beats a little faster than usual as you follow these strangers. You were willing, <em>are</em> willing to trust $xname, but the mercenaries following $xthem are a different story.<</if>> "Are you afraid?" Tûjo does not look at you as he keeps moving ahead, but it's obvious his question was directed toward you. <ul class="a"> <li>[['"Should I be?"'|1.43.a]]</li> <li>[['"Maybe a little."'|1.43.b][$tujotrust to $tujotrust + 5]]</li> <li>[[Say nothing.|1.43.c]]</li> </ul>"Only if you have something to hide," Tûjo replies, and you wait for him to elaborate but he says nothing more. <<if $blunt eq $charm>>"I'm not hiding my true intentions, if that's what you mean." You pause for a moment, but when he doesn't respond you continue. "If I'm afraid it's for another reason entirely."<</if>><<if $blunt gt $charm>>"I don't," you state unequivocally. "My fear has nothing to do with $rtitle $rname."<</if>><<if $charm gt $blunt>>"Everyone has <em>something</em> to hide," you point out wryly. "But that's not why I'm afraid."<</if>> From between the trees you glimpse the triangular shapes of tents raised in a much larger clearing, the smoke of at least two bonfires rising through the branches into the air. It seems the group you encountered with $xname were only half of the Crescent Blades, the other half staying back at this camp. Tûjo comes to a halt at the edge of the clearing and turns to face you. "Then tell me," he says. "Why are you afraid?" <ul class="a"> <li>[[Lie.|1.44.a]]</li> <li>[[Deflect.|1.44.b][$tujotrust to $tujotrust + 5]]</li> </ul>"A bit of fear is wise," Tûjo replies, and you wait for him to elaborate but he says nothing more. <<if $blunt eq $charm>>"That almost sounds like a threat," you venture, eyeing the back of his head warily.<</if>><<if $blunt gt $charm>>"Are you threatening me?" you ask him directly, eyeing the back of his head warily.<</if>><<if $charm gt $blunt>>"Do you threaten all your charges, or am I special?" you wonder in a nonchalant tone even while eyeing the back of his head warily.<</if>> Tûjo does not so much as break his stride. "Whether it is a threat or not depends entirely on you." From between the trees you glimpse the triangular shapes of tents raised in a much larger clearing, the smoke of at least two bonfires rising through the branches into the air. It seems the group you encountered with $xname were only half of the Crescent Blades, the other half staying back at this camp. Tûjo comes to a halt at the edge of the clearing and turns to face you. "If your intention is truly to speak to $rtitle $rname and nothing more, then you need not fear any of us," Tûjo speaks plainly. "I and every mercenary in this camp will protect you; you paid us to, after all." Casting your gaze to the ground, you remain silent. As much as you want to believe him, you cannot afford to trust anyone so easily anymore. "Unless you have another reason to be afraid?" Tûjo prompts, watching you cautiously. <ul class="a"> <li>[[Lie.|1.44.a]]</li> <li>[[Deflect.|1.44.b][$tujotrust to $tujotrust + 5]]</li> </ul>"Your silence is as much an answer as any," Tûjo observes, and while his tone is straightforward you still can't help but feel as if he is taunting you a little. "It won't save you if we catch you in a lie." <<if $blunt eq $charm>>"You won't, because I'm not lying," you reply with some irritation. "I want to talk to $rtitle $rname, that's all."<</if>><<if $blunt gt $charm>>"I'm not lying." You pause for a moment. "At least, not about this."<</if>><<if $charm gt $blunt>>"How fortunate for me that I'm telling you the truth, then," you reply dryly.<</if>> From between the trees you glimpse the triangular shapes of tents raised in a much larger clearing, the smoke of at least two bonfires rising through the branches into the air. It seems the group you encountered with $xname were only half of the Crescent Blades, the other half staying back at this camp. Tûjo comes to a halt at the edge of the clearing and turns to face you. "So you claim," he speaks in a cautious tone, eyes narrowing at you fractionally. "Yet I sense the fear radiating off your body as clearly as I can feel the wind on my skin. Why is that, if you speak nothing but the truth?" <ul class="a"> <li>[[Lie.|1.44.a]]</li> <li>[[Deflect.|1.44.b][$tujotrust to $tujotrust + 5]]</li> </ul> The best lies are wrapped in truth, an eye-catching veil to hide the features beneath. Surviving meant deceiving and obfuscating until your tongue grew so used to holding the lies that now they slip from your lips as naturally as any exhale of breath. "I'm just- nervous about being here," you say, glancing toward the camp filled with strangers, some throwing subtle looks your way while others stare openly. "I know about $xname, but that's it. I don't know you, or anyone else here for that matter, and I have no idea how much I can trust you." You've lived your entire life in hidden places, small single-room huts sheltered by the forests or inconspicuous caves tucked into the crevices of mountains. Being exposed like this, baring your neck like this, goes against everything you were taught by your parents and it <em>does</em> scare you, just a little. That, at least, is not a lie. Tûjo's gaze trails over your face, then averts, shifting to a spot over your shoulder and turning distant. You can't tell what he's thinking, but he seems to come to a decision soon after. "Follow," he says, turning his back on you and for one nerve-wracking moment you think he's going to parade you straight through the center of the camp, but then he trails off toward the side. You navigate around the clusters of tents raised with dark brown and green cloths, blending in with the forest. You and Tûjo toe the line near to the bushes and trees, and you pick up various scents of musk and smoke and roasted meat as you go, the latter making your stomach stir with interest. The detour doesn't spare you some curious looks from the mercenaries you do pass, but it's much better than waltzing straight through the entire camp. [[Continue|1.45]]<<if $kind gt $calc>>You don't want to lie to Tûjo, or any of the Crescent Blades unless you absolutely have to; you've never enjoyed lying to people. Even though it was a matter of survival for you, it always made you feel a little bad.<</if>><<if $calc gte $kind>>Lying to Tûjo may be unwise. He seems perceptive and you're not on equal footing with him either. As his expression is mostly hidden behind his scarf, it makes him very hard to read.<</if>> It's better to redirect the conversation instead of outright lie. You've done it enough times to know not to make it obvious and how to add a touch of subtlety, inviting the change of subject rather than forcing it. "You seem like the ones who are afraid to me," you say, pointedly lifting your chained wrists. "What do you think I'll be able to do all on my own? I'm not even armed." Tûjo levels you with an unimpressed stare. "You don't need weapons to use magic, or to snap someone's neck." You laugh nervously, though you're certain that Tûjo isn't joking. Any faint notion you had of aborting this whole thing and escaping is instantly crushed as Tûjo turns his back on you and leads you away without another word. With such an intimidating captor, you'd better lay low. Following him, you try not to pay any mind to the looks thrown your way from the mercenaries in the camp. Tûjo leads you around the edge of the brown and green tents clustered together, the attention on you lessening as you shuffle along behind him and keep your head down out of habit. You can't tell whether you're heading to the back or the front of the camp, not that it matters. As you go you pick up some scents of food being made, roasted meat and stew, but try to pay it no mind even as your stomach stirs with interest. The detour doesn't spare you some curious looks from the mercenaries you do pass, but it's much better than waltzing straight through the entire camp. [[Continue|1.45]] "$xname sensed something within you." Tûjo does not turn his head back to look at you, walking forward as if he hadn't said anything at all. You mull over his strange words and are reminded of the touch of heat you felt in $xname's hand when $xthey grabbed your chin. <<if $intu gte $intel>>"About that," you say, feeling less reluctant to speak now that Tûjo invited the conversation. "$cxthey used magic on me, didn't $xthey? I felt it very clearly, but it was... a lot more intense than I'm used to." "Yes," Tûjo confirms. "$cxthey possesses extremely fine-tuned sensory magic, a useful skill to determine someone's intent, among other things."<</if>><<if $intel gt $intu>>"About that," you say, feeling less reluctant to speak now that Tûjo invited the conversation. "What did $xthey do, exactly? I felt $xtheir- presence, or... energy very clearly, but I don't really understand what happened." "$cxthey used $xtheir sensory magic on you," Tûjo replies. "It's a useful skill to determine someone's intent, among other things."<</if>> "Sensory magic?" You think back to the riverbank and how $xname seemed to know you were there without even looking at you, and realize with some embarrassment that your plan to fake being blind wouldn't have worked out regardless. "Why are you telling me this? Isn't it a bad idea to reveal $xname's skillset to a stranger?" Tûjo sounds dismissive when he responds. "It's a well-known fact in our line of work, and hardly $xtheir most dangerous skill." $xname does seem like the type to advertise $xtheir prowess, though you wonder what Tûjo means when he says it isn't $xname's most dangerous skill. None of the stories about $xtheir exploits go into detail about how $xthey defeats $xtheir enemies, or at least, none of the ones you've heard. "So, $xname is an inner magic type, then?" While magic permeates the world and dwells within every living creature, not everyone has the talent of making use of it. The ones that do can receive formal education and become magi--provided that they have the coin for it. Your father being a priest, he was also a magus; the latter is a requirement to become the former, considering how essential the use of magic is in temple ceremonies. He taught you about the bare basics, about the differences of outer and inner magic, of manipulating the magic in your surroundings versus honing the magic within yourself. Inner magic is often more defensive and passive, while outer magic is more offensive and active, and rare is the magus skilled in wielding both. Elemental spells, summoning and warding are all examples of outer magic, while enhanced senses, enhanced physical abilities and healing are all examples of inner magic. Your father was trained in outer magic, himself. As for you... <ul class="a"> <li>[[You always took more to inner magic.|1.46][$magicpref to "inner"]]</li> <li>[[You always took more to outer magic.|1.46][$magicpref to "outer"]]</li> </ul><<if $magicpref is "inner">>Relying on your inner magic suits you more than trying to bend your surroundings to your will. If you have no control over your environment, then you should be in control of yourself. As a result your mind is clearer, your resolve stronger, your body more resilient, and you've learned to remain calm in dire circumstances.<</if>><<if $magicpref is "outer">>You have always been strong-willed, and it has manifested into a particular talent for outer magic. This type of magic has the potential to be incredibly powerful, but also incredibly destructive. As a result you have learned to be more resourceful, learned how to use your environment to your advantage, and it has made you more tactical as well as creative.<</if>> "$xname should have been able to sense whether you had any ill intent," Tûjo says, guiding you to a particularly large tent that stands a small distance apart from the others, colored in red rather than brown and green. "The fact that $xthey couldn't come to a sure conclusion means that either you are exceptionally skilled in hiding your feelings, or you were being truthful." That must be $xname's tent. You eye it warily, wondering if it's intended for you to share it, though you suppose that's the easiest way to keep an eye on you. "Which do you think it is?" you ask Tûjo with some trepidation, watching his back as he walks up to the tent and parts the curtain hanging down over the entrance with a hand, standing beside it and gesturing you to go inside with a nod of his head. "We'll find out soon enough," Tûjo says, then notices you hesitating in front of the tent. "Would you rather sit around outside for the whole camp to gawk at you?" He makes a fair point. <ul class="a"> <li>[['"I would, actually."'|1.47.a][$outside to true]]</li> <li>[['"No, I suppose not."'|1.47.b][$tujotrust to $tujotrust + 5]]</li> </ul> The small closed-in space of the tent makes you far more anxious than sitting outside in the camp in plain view of everyone. At least this way you can watch what they're doing. "As you wish," Tûjo responds, and walks around the side of the tent to one of the trees nearby. You follow a few steps, the chain long enough to allow for several feet of distance, then stop when you see him wrap the chain around a slender tree, hooking it. "What are you doing?" Tûjo does not respond, focusing on tying the chain around the tree. If you weren't a prisoner before, you certainly are now. "Say, Tûjo," you call, remembering your grim first encounter with $xname. Tûjo doesn't turn his head, but his eyes shift your way. "When I saw $xname by the river there were... uh... bodies." "Bandits," Tûjo answers. "We were paid by Marabad's steward to rid the forest of them, to secure safe passage for $rtitle $rname." "Oh." You watch him tighten the chain around the tree, and once that is done, he rights himself and looks at you again. "Do you want to eat?" "Uh..." You briefly wonder if it's a trick question. "Yes?" He leaves without another word. You remain standing there with a baffled look on your face as you watch him go into the camp, both wrists chained to a tree in front of $xname's tent. [[Continue|1.48.a]] With your chains in Tûjo's hands, you follow along, eager to find some privacy away from the curious looks the mercenaries keep giving you. The curtain in front of the red tent is embroidered with a white curved sword, the blade of which is shaped like a crescent moon. Tûjo parts the curtain for you, and you step inside. You aren't at all shocked by the luxurious furs nor the gleaming sets of weaponry and armor scattered about. There's plenty of space for it all, though it is more chaotic than you expected it to be. There's a single lit candle near the bed spread on the ground. Added to the distant light of the bonfires outside, it creates an almost constant and very distracting stream of shadows and silhouettes moving and shifting inside the tent. You nearly trample an old scroll because of it, before realizing what it is and carefully stepping around it. Tûjo picks it up off the ground as he comes inside after you, setting it down among the pile of other scrolls--maps, you notice from one that's been left unrolled. "I keep telling $xthem to clean up this mess," you hear Tûjo mumble, sounding somewhat like an exasperated parent. You cautiously settle down near the entrance of the tent, next to a stack of books, while Tûjo hooks the other end of your chains to one of the poles holding up $xname's tent. He then sits down across from you, legs folded and arms crossed. You can't make out what he's thinking, his dark gray eyes watching you silently. "Say, Tûjo," you say tentatively, remembering your grim first encounter with $xname. "When I saw $xname by the river there were... uh... bodies." "Bandits," Tûjo answers. "We were paid by Marabad's steward to rid the forest of them, to secure safe passage for $rtitle $rname." "Oh." "Do you want to eat?" he asks suddenly. "Uh..." You wonder if it's a trick question. "Yes?" He gets up off the ground and leaves the tent without another word. You're left alone in $xname's tent, slightly baffled. [[Continue|1.48.b]] Settling down on the ground with your back against the tree, you suppose it could be worse. Tûjo has treated you courteously so far even though he's clearly suspicious of you, and $xname has actually agreed to help you. That doesn't mean your outrageous plan will work, though. You lean your head back against the tree with a sigh, a sudden fatigue washing over you after your initial tense encounter with $xname. If your parents could see you now they'd probably die twice over from a heart attack. Surely there are worse mercenaries to entrust your fate to than $xname's famed Crescent Blades? You're not entirely certain what to make of the leader $xthemselves, seeing as how you've only just met, but $xthey certainly appears just as charming and <<if $xgender is "male">>handsome<<else>>beautiful<</if>> as all the stories claimed $xthem to be, as well as a lot more imposing. You expected someone more friendly or approachable, but $xtheir presence is so striking that you can't help feeling a little daunted. Your thoughts linger briefly on the touch of magic between you two. That warmth you felt, the sensation of fire, that must have been $xname's magical signature. Everyone has one unique to them, leaving you wondering what yours felt like to $xthem. The sound of footsteps startles you out of your thoughts, and you quickly look to find Tûjo walking toward you with a skewer of meat in his hand. He stands still in front of you and offers it wordlessly. "Thanks." You take it from him, eyeing the meat before looking back at him. "Aren't you going to eat?" "I ate earlier." <<if $calc gt $kind>>Well, there goes your plan of getting him to reveal the rest of his face. <</if>>Might as well eat, then. You dig your teeth into the meat--a little gamy, probably deer or something similar--as Tûjo sits down cross-legged on the ground across from you, a polite distance away as he stares out over the camp. The meat isn't bad. It's roasted a bit too much for your liking, but it's not as if you have the luxury to be picky. As long as your hunger is sated, that should be enough. While you eat, finishing your skewer rather quickly, you peer at Tûjo who still isn't looking at you. It's hard to tell whether he's lost in thought or watching for something specific as he stares at the activity in the camp, mercenaries filing in and out, wandering around to chat with each other or drink. They often look your way when they get close to $xname's tent, though Tûjo's presence seems to deter them from coming any closer or initiating any interaction. [[Continue|1.49.a]] There soon comes an exception, however. "Hey, Tûjo!" A short mercenary wearing dark furs on top of their black robes waves at him as they walk toward you, a broad grin on their face. "Can I talk to Golden Eyes over there?" Tûjo frowns deeply, arms crossing over his chest in a display of almost palpable disapproval. "Şanazî." Şanazî comes to a stop right in front of him, short brown curls framed around their face as their dark eyes settle on you with brazen curiosity, though they then address only Tûjo. "Are they really the Crown?" <<if $they isnot "they">>"<em>$cthey</em>, actually." <</if>>You regard Şanazî with some interest, as they're the only one so far brave enough to approach you and Tûjo, and it suddenly occurs to you that you haven't even so much as introduced yourself to anyone yet. The issue of your golden eyes overshadowed your identity entirely. "My name is $name, for the record." "Doesn't sound very Crown-like," Şanazî comments drolly. "As dear Tûjo so kindly mentioned, my name is Şanazî, and I go by she." Tûjo clears his throat while you suppress a smile, but only barely. "Şanazî," he cuts in before you can reply to her. "Is there a reason for your visit?" "No," Şanazî answers cheerfully. "Just wanted to introduce myself to our future ruler. You know, make sure $they <<if $pronouns is "theythem">>remember<<else>>remembers<</if>> me, get on $their good side early and all that." She winks at you. Tûjo pinches the bridge of his nose between two gloved fingers. "Please leave." "Wait, am I supposed to bow, or..." Şanazî bends her knees slightly and does an awkward half-dip in front of you. "A true honor to meet you, esteemed Crown! Your... clothes, if you can call them that, look very... worldly. And your eyes sure are gold! In any case, could you lower the price on imported dragon tears? I'm trying out this new mix with beer and I really think--" "Şanazî, stop pestering our client!" $xname's voice rings out over the camp, and sure enough when you turn to look you see $xthem heading straight for you, Heval just a step behind $xthem. [[Continue|1.50.a]] Şanazî squeaks, standing upright like a soldier with her arms stiff by her side, and even then she barely reaches $xname's shoulders. <<if $height is "very tall">>She'd look even shorter if you stood next to her, since you're even taller than $xname.<</if>><<if $height is "tall">>She'd just about come up to your shoulders as well, as you're around the same height as $xname.<</if>><<if $height is "average">>You're not that much taller than Şanazî is, come to think of it, but you do pass $xname's shoulders.<</if>><<if $height is "short">>You're just as short as Şanazî is, come to think of it--or rather, $xname is just tall.<</if>><<if $height is "very short">>She's still taller than you, though; you only come up to $xname's chest.<</if>> "Sorry, chief!" "Take it easy," $xname says with a grin, giving her a friendly pat on the back as $xthey stands next to her, Heval lingering a few steps behind with their arms crossed over their dark metal breastplate. "Have anything to eat yet?" "No," Şanazî mutters. "But I was going to. I just don't like the way Huner roasts the meat, he always overcooks it." "Then cook your own meat," $xname replies patiently, nudging her toward the camp. "Go on, the three of us need to have a private chat." Şanazî huffs. "Fine, fine!" She turns to you one last time, a mischievous curl in her lips. "Remember the dragon tears, alright?" She traipses off back toward one of the campfires surrounded by other mercenaries eating and drinking among each other, one of them blowing some false notes through a flute before Şanazî snatches it out of their hands and starts playing it in a breezy melody. "Şanazî's a good kid," $xname says, not seeming to be speaking to anyone in particular as $xthey watches her. "Nosy, but still a good kid." Tûjo clears his throat. "$xname." "Right." $xname turns to you and blinks, and you briefly wonder if $xthey forgot all about you until $xthey slowly smirks at you. "$name, was it?" [[Continue|1.51.a]] You frown, confused. "You know my name?" "I've got pretty good hearing," $xname replies smugly as $xthey taps on an ear, likely enhanced by magic. "You already met Tûjo, but Heval goes by they<<if $pronouns is "theythem">> as well<</if>>, if you were wondering." You slowly nod in understanding, glancing toward Heval whose helmet is facing straight ahead of them, not aimed at you. From what you've seen, they seem protective of $xname and not overly fond of you. Their caution is understandable, but you hope it won't become a problem later on. Meanwhile, $xname finally notices the chain linking you to the tree, frowning in question as $xthey glances between you and Tûjo. "Why are you sitting outside?" "$cthey didn't want to go into the tent," Tûjo answers plainly. $xname sighs, casting Tûjo an irritated look as $xthey walks over to the tree and starts undoing the chains. "So your solution was to tie $them up like a horse?" Heval makes a strange, high-pitched noise that sounds suspiciously like a smothered laugh. You take a little offense to that, even though you're happy to be freed from the tree. "For the record," $xname says to you, all manner of joking replaced by a rather serious tone, "I wasn't going to force you to share the tent, if that's what this is about. I can sleep somewhere else." <ul class="a"> <li>[[You weren't bothered by that; you're fine with sharing.|1.52.a]]</li> <li>[[You're relieved; you would really rather not share.|1.52.b]]</li> </ul>"I'd rather sleep alone, but why do you care?" you can't help but ask, though you appreciate the gesture. "You clearly have no problem keeping me in chains." $xname glances at Tûjo and Heval, then toward the mercenaries clustered together in the rest of the camp who are starting to stare your way. "Let's find somewhere more private for this discussion," $xname says mildly, nodding toward the tent and you frown a little. "Don't worry, I'll keep my word once it's time to sleep, it's just that my tent has wards to prevent anyone from eavesdropping. Unless you'd rather have this conversation out in the open?" You wonder if you really have a choice in this situation seeing as how talking about this in public is a foolish idea, but $xname is just standing there looking at you. $cxthey's not dragging you along, but waiting for your permission. "Alright." $xname smiles at you in a reassuring way, which is strange when contrasted with the fact that $xthey's holding your chains in $xtheir hands. $cxthey turns and walks toward the tent and you follow along while Tûjo and Heval trail after you. The curtain in front of the red tent is embroidered with a white curved sword, the blade of which is shaped like a crescent moon. $xname parts the curtain for you, and you step inside. You aren't at all shocked by the luxurious furs nor the gleaming sets of weaponry and armor scattered about. There's plenty of space for it all, though it is more chaotic than you expected it to be. There's a single lit candle near the bed spread on the ground. Added to the distant light of the bonfires outside, it creates an almost constant and very distracting stream of shadows and silhouettes moving and shifting inside the tent. You almost trample an old scroll because of it, before $xname quickly bends down to swipe it out from under your feet. "Careful," $xthey says with an apologetic smile, tossing it aside carelessly, though it is quickly caught by Tûjo who sets it down among the pile of other scrolls--maps, you notice from one of them that's been left unrolled. You cautiously settle down near the entrance of the tent, next to a stack of books, while $xname lazily hooks the other end of your chains to one of the poles holding up $xtheir tent. Tûjo sits across from you, Heval beside him, while $xname leisurely lies back down on the brown and white furs of $xtheir bed, a hand behind $xtheir head. "So," $xname says as $xthey plucks a grape from the bowl beside $xthem, tossing it into $xtheir mouth and chewing on it as $xthey continues to speak. "I figure you really are the Crown." A choking sound comes from underneath Heval's helmet and they nearly rear back as if they were physically slapped, though Tûjo looks entirely unsurprised, not even so much as a blink of his eyes. You just stare at $xname. <ul class="a"> <li>[['"What makes you think that?"'|1.53.c][$caut to $caut + 25]]<<if $cheatsheet is true>> <em>+ Cautious</em><</if>></li> <li>[['"So... no more chains?"|1.53.d][$adven to $adven + 25]]<<if $cheatsheet is true>> <em>+ Adventurous</em><</if>></li> </ul>"I don't mind sharing the tent, but why do you care?" you can't help but ask, though you appreciate the gesture. "You clearly have no problem keeping me in chains." $xname glances at Tûjo and Heval, then toward the mercenaries clustered together in the rest of the camp who are starting to stare your way. "Let's find somewhere more private for this discussion," $xname says mildly, nodding toward the tent. With your chains in $xtheir hands, you follow along while Tûjo and Heval trail after you. The curtain in front of the red tent is embroidered with a white curved sword, the blade of which is shaped like a crescent moon. $xname parts the curtain for you, and you step inside. You aren't at all shocked by the luxurious furs nor the gleaming sets of weaponry and armor scattered about. There's plenty of space for it all, though it is more chaotic than you expected it to be. There's a single lit candle near the bed spread on the ground. Added to the distant light of the bonfires outside, it creates an almost constant and very distracting stream of shadows and silhouettes moving and shifting inside the tent. You almost trample an old scroll because of it, before $xname quickly bends down to swipe it out from under your feet. "Careful," $xthey says with an apologetic smile, tossing it aside carelessly, though it is quickly caught by Tûjo who sets it down among the pile of other scrolls--maps, you notice from one of them that's been left unrolled. You cautiously settle down near the entrance of the tent, next to a stack of books, while $xname lazily hooks the other end of your chains to one of the poles holding up $xtheir tent. Tûjo sits across from you, Heval beside him, while $xname leisurely lies back down on the brown and white furs of $xtheir bed, a hand behind $xtheir head. "So," $xname says as $xthey plucks a grape from the bowl beside $xthem, tossing it into $xtheir mouth and chewing on it as $xthey continues to speak. "I figure you really are the Crown." A choking sound comes from underneath Heval's helmet and they nearly rear back as if they were physically slapped, though Tûjo looks entirely unsurprised, not even so much as a blink of his eyes. You just stare at $xname. <ul class="a"> <li>[['"What makes you think that?"'|1.53.a][$caut to $caut + 25]]<<if $cheatsheet is true>> <em>+ Cautious</em><</if>></li> <li>[['"So... no more chains, right?"|1.53.b][$adven to $adven + 25]]<<if $cheatsheet is true>> <em>+ Adventurous</em><</if>></li> </ul>"I didn't say that," $xname replies with a cheeky grin. "Unfortunately, $rtitle $rname's safety is still my priority." "What do you mean, <em>unfortunately</em>?" Heval mutters underneath their breath, but $xname ignores them. $cxthey lies back down on the bed, then asks you an unexpected question. "Tell me, do you have an affinity?" Magical affinities, the type of magic you're naturally inclined toward. Your mother had an affinity toward fire, while your father was more inclined toward air. "No, I don't." Tûjo frowns at you. "How old are you?" "Twenty-five, why?" "That's not possible," he says, scowling. "Everyone who has reached maturity has an affinity." "It's true for the general population," $xname interjects, "but not for the Crown. Or rather, not for the successor of the Crown." This is the first time you've heard of this; did your parents keep you in the dark about this, too? The thought is almost infuriating, to be kept from truths about yourself you have a right to, being infantilized to the point where the people who professed to protect you instead lied to you again and again. Meanwhile, both Heval and Tûjo say nothing in response to $xname, and you are equally unsure of how you could possibly respond to that. This has taken a turn for the truly bizarre; $xname was never meant to find out about your identity, but in the event that $xthey did you were fully convinced it would spell your doom. Instead, it seems $xthey actually believes that your eyes are real and on top of that wishes to help you because of it. You were so unprepared for this possibility that you don't even know how to process this development. "You have a very particular magical signature," $xname continues, addressing you directly though $xthey does not look at you. "I haven't felt the like since... well, never mind that. In any case, it is possible for inner magic types to forge a signature, but even then it's unlikely an impostor would've known to lie about having no affinity." "What does that mean?" Heval demands, voice sounding strained. "Usually magical affinities reveal themselves when a child transitions into an adult, no?" $xname keeps staring up at the ceiling of $xtheir tent with $xtheir hands folded on $xtheir stomach, appearing thoughtful. "It's different for the successor. Their affinity doesn't reveal itself until they become the Crown." You sigh, frustrated. "Why have I never heard of this before?" "Most successors are in their early teenage years when they are found, when it's common not to have an affinity yet," $xname points out. "So it's not typically useful knowledge during a search and not widespread outside of magus circles." "That's not enough proof that $they<<if $pronouns is "theythem">>'re<<else>>'s<</if>> the Crown!" Heval suddenly erupts, throwing up their hands. "$cthey could've easily heard it from somewhere, or--" "That's why we're keeping the chains on, Heval," $xname interrupts, turning to look at Heval with a grin. "Take a deep breath, friend; I'm sure if $name <em>does</em> turn out to be the Crown, $they'll be more than willing to forgive you for all your hostility up until now." Heval sputters for a response, unable to come up with anything and the tent goes quiet. [[Continue|1.54.b]]"You think I'm trying to trick you?" $xname says with amusement when $xthey notices your guarded tone. "Why would I do that?" $xname certainly appears to be a very straightforward person, keyword being <em>appears</em>. <<if $intu gte $intel>>Something tells you<</if>><<if $intel gt $intu>>You imagine<</if>> $xthey did not get this far as a mercenary by being recklessly honest with every stranger $xthey comes across. "I don't know," you answer, retorting with your own question. "Why would you think I'm the Crown?" "Mostly a gut-feeling, among other things," $xname says, lying back down on the bed as $xthey continues to elaborate. "Tell me, do you have an affinity?" Magical affinities, the type of magic one is naturally inclined toward. Your mother had an affinity toward fire, while your father was more inclined toward air. "No, I don't." Tûjo frowns at you. "How old are you?" "Twenty-five, why?" "That's not possible," he says, scowling. "Everyone who has reached maturity has an affinity." "It's true for the general population," $xname interjects, "but not for the Crown. Or rather, not for the successor of the Crown." This is the first time you've heard of this; did your parents keep you in the dark about this, too? The thought is almost infuriating, to be kept from truths about yourself you have a right to, being infantilized to the point where the people who professed to protect you instead lied to you again and again. "You have a very particular magical signature," $xname continues, addressing you directly. "I haven't felt the like since... well, never mind that. In any case, it is possible for inner magic types to forge a signature, but even then it's unlikely an impostor would've known to lie about having no affinity." "What does that mean?" Heval demands, voice sounding strained. "Usually magical affinities reveal themselves when a child transitions into an adult, no?" $xname keeps staring up at the ceiling of $xtheir tent with $xtheir hands folded on $xtheir stomach, appearing thoughtful. "It's different for the successor. Their affinity doesn't reveal itself until they become the Crown." You sigh, frustrated. "Why have I never heard of this before?" "Most successors are in their early teenage years when they are found, when it's common not to have an affinity yet," $xname points out. "So it's not typically useful knowledge during a search and not widespread outside of magus circles." "That's not enough proof that $they<<if $pronouns is "theythem">>'re<<else>>'s<</if>> the Crown!" Heval suddenly erupts, throwing up their hands. "$cthey could've easily heard it from somewhere, or--" "That's why we're keeping the chains on, Heval," $xname interrupts, turning to look at Heval with a grin. "Take a deep breath, friend; I'm sure if $name <em>does</em> turn out to be the Crown, $they'll be more than willing to forgive you for all your hostility up until now." Heval sputters for a response, unable to come up with anything and the tent goes quiet. [[Continue|1.54.b]] You suppose it could be worse. Tûjo has treated you courteously so far even though he's clearly suspicious of you, and $xname has actually agreed to help you. That doesn't mean your outrageous plan will work, though. You lie down on the ground, a sudden fatigue washing over you after your initial tense encounter with $xname. If your parents could see you now they'd probably die twice over from a heart attack. Surely there are worse mercenaries to entrust your fate to than $xname's famed Crescent Blades? You're not entirely certain what to make of the leader $xthemselves, seeing as how you've only just met, but $xthey certainly appears just as charming and <<if $xgender is "male">>handsome<<else>>beautiful<</if>> as all the stories claimed $xthem to be, as well as a lot more imposing. You expected someone more friendly or approachable, but $xtheir presence is so striking that you can't help feeling a little daunted. Your thoughts linger briefly on the touch of magic between you two. That warmth you felt, the sensation of fire, that must have been $xname's magical signature. Everyone has one unique to them, leaving you wondering what yours felt like to $xthem. The sound of footsteps startles you out of your thoughts, and you quickly look to find Tûjo parting the curtain and stepping into the tent again, a skewer of meat in his hand. He stands in front of you and offers it wordlessly. "Thanks." You sit up and take it from him, eyeing the meat before looking back at him. "Aren't you going to eat?" "I ate earlier." <<if $calc gt $kind>>Well, there goes your plan of getting him to reveal the rest of his face. <</if>>Might as well eat, then. You dig your teeth into the meat--a little gamy, probably deer or something similar--as Tûjo sits down cross-legged across from you again, a polite distance away. The meat isn't bad. It's roasted a bit too much for your liking, but it's not as if you have the luxury to be picky. As long as your hunger is sated, that should be enough. While you eat, finishing your skewer rather quickly, you peer at Tûjo who has closed his eyes now. You can't tell whether he's trying to sleep, meditating, or simply didn't want to have to keep staring at you. [[Continue|1.49.b]] You look around for where to put the stick after you've finished eating all the meat on the skewer when Tûjo suddenly holds out his hand, his eyes open again. Handing it over, you watch as Tûjo holds the stick between his two index fingers, and you wonder what he's up to. Concentration furrowing in his brow, Tûjo stares down intently at the stick and after a few seconds pass, it suddenly splinters in front of your eyes, disintegrating into nothing. "You can do magic," you state with arched brows, though you're not sure why you didn't expect him to be able to. Most people can do at least some form of basic magic, though whatever that command was didn't look rudimentary. "How did you do that?" "I commanded the wood to split up into smaller and smaller pieces until it disappeared," Tûjo replies, resting his hands on his knees. "Ah." That would be the easiest way to do it. "So you have a nature affinity?" Magical affinities, the type of magic one is naturally inclined toward. Your mother's was fire, while your father's was air. "Trees and plants, more specifically," Tûjo clarifies. "Not earth." "Wait." You remember the way you tripped over the root of a tree while $xname was chasing you. "When I fell down earlier, was that your doing?" "Yes," Tûjo says simply, unaffected by your accusatory tone. "Huh." Bastard. "So, you have a nature affinity, and $xname has a fire affinity. Plants and fire don't really go together, do they?" Tûjo gives you a long look. "Is there a point to these questions?" You shrug. "I was just curious since you called $xname <<if $xgender is "female">>sister<<else>>brother<</if>> before. Don't siblings usually share the same affinity? Or complimentary ones, at least." "We are not kin, but we have fought many battles together," Tûjo states, saying nothing more. A comrades-in-arms sort of thing, then? It is a common way to refer to close friends as well, you suppose. You take Tûjo's enduring silence as a cue to drop the conversation, assuming that's all you're going to get out of him, but then he says, "What is yours?" "I'm sorry?" "Your affinity." Tûjo tilts his head slightly. "What is it?" "Oh, I don't have one," you answer, and Tûjo frowns. "How old are you?" "Twenty-five." You give him a curious look. "Why?" Tûjo's frown turns into a scowl. "That's not possible." [[Continue|1.50.b]]"It's entirely possible." You nearly jump at the sudden voice coming from outside the tent, relaxing slightly when it's $xname who steps in through the curtain, followed by Heval. "Twenty-five, hm?" $xname shoots you a smirk in passing as $xthey moves toward $xtheir bed, all but collapsing onto the furs. "That's only three years between us; I really thought you'd be younger." Meanwhile Heval sits down next to Tûjo, the metals of their armor clanging together noisily. You glance at the both of them, then look back toward $xname; twenty-eight is nowhere near as old as you expected. With $xname's reputation and how well-established the Crescent Blades are, you figured $xthey'd be in $xtheir late thirties at least. $cxthey must've been quite young when $xthey started doing mercenary work. "What are you talking about, $xname?" Tûjo says irritably, but $xname seems entirely unconcerned as $xthey lazily stretches out on $xtheir bed, a hand beneath $xtheir head. "Twenty-five is far too old to not have an affinity yet." "Patience, Tûjo," $xname teases him, plucking a grape from the bowl beside the bed and popping it into $xtheir mouth, chewing while $xthey addresses you next. "What is your name?" "It's $name," you answer, not sure what to think of $xname's carefree attitude. "I go by $they." "Fantastic," $xname comments and you honestly can't tell whether $xthey's being sarcastic or not. "You already met Tûjo, but Heval goes by they<<if $pronouns is "theythem">> as well<</if>>, if you were wondering." You slowly nod in understanding, glancing toward Heval whose helmet is facing straight ahead of them, not aimed at you. From what you've seen, they seem protective of $xname and not overly fond of you. <<if $caut gte $adven>>Their caution is understandable; if you were in their position, you're not sure you wouldn't be reacting the same way.<<else>>Their caution is understandable, though you hope it won't become a problem later on.<</if>> [[Continue|1.51.b]]"About my affinity," you start, but $xname cuts you off. "What do you think about the tent?" $xthey asks, tossing another grape into $xtheir mouth. "It's..." You look around the clutter, not sure how to describe it without offending $xname. <<if $blunt gt $charm>>"It's a pigsty." $xname bursts out laughing while Tûjo shakes his head. "Honesty! I like it."<</if>><<if $charm eq $blunt>>"It could be worse." "How diplomatic of you," $xname replies with a knowing grin. "I appreciate the attempt to spare my feelings, but trust me, I know it's a mess."<</if>><<if $blunt lt $charm>>"Well, seeing as how every single item in this room is more valuable than I am, I can't complain." $xname gives you a sly smile. "I wouldn't be so sure."<</if>> "Why are we talking about your tent?" Tûjo interjects, glaring at $xname. "Get to the point, <<if $xgender is "male">>brother<<else>>sister<</if>>." "I was only gauging $their opinion since we'll be sharing it for tonight," $xname answers, but then frowns slightly as $xthey props $xthemselves up on an elbow to look at you. "You don't mind, do you? I could sleep outside, otherwise." <ul class="a"> <li>[[You're fine with sharing it if it's just for one night.|1.52.c]]</li> <li>[[You would rather not share it, actually.|1.52.d]]</li> </ul>"I don't mind sharing the tent, but why do you care?" you can't help but ask, though you appreciate the gesture. "You clearly have no problems keeping me in chains." $xname sits up on the furs as $xtheir mouth curves in amusement, leaning back on $xtheir hands as $xthey turns toward you, $xtheir full attention on you making you a little nervous. "Magic isn't infallible, unfortunately," $xname replies, $xtheir gaze on you intent, as if trying to figure out a riddle written across your face. "I have my own thoughts about who you really are, but I can't risk $rtitle $rname's safety on a hunch." "Is it because of..." You glance at Tûjo. "Because of what you sensed in me?" "Your magical signature is very particular, I don't think I've ever felt anything of its like. Well, except for..." $xname's brow furrows slightly. "Ah, never mind. The point is that it's a highly unusual one." "Chief, what are you saying?" Heval interjects, staring at $xname through the eyeholes of their masked helmet, their posture stiff. $xname's eyes flit from Heval back to you, and then $xthey says, "You really are the Crown, aren't you?" A choking sound comes from underneath Heval's helmet and they nearly rear back as if they were physically slapped, though Tûjo looks entirely unsurprised, not even so much as blinking. You just stare at $xname. <ul class="a"> <li>[['"What makes you think that?"'|1.53.e][$caut to $caut + 25]]<<if $cheatsheet is true>> <em>+ Cautious</em><</if>></li> <li>[['"So... no more chains?"|1.53.f][$adven to $adven + 25]]<<if $cheatsheet is true>> <em>+ Adventurous</em><</if>></li> </ul>"I'd rather sleep alone, but why do you care?" you can't help but ask, though you appreciate the gesture. "You clearly have no problem keeping me in chains." $xname sits up on the furs as $xtheir mouth curves in amusement, leaning back on $xtheir hands as $xthey turns toward you, $xtheir full attention on you making you a little nervous. "Magic isn't infallible, unfortunately," $xname replies, $xtheir gaze on you intent, as if trying to figure out a riddle written across your face. "I have my own thoughts about who you really are, but I can't risk $rtitle $rname's safety on a hunch." "Is it because of..." You glance at Tûjo. "Because of what you sensed in me?" "Your magical signature is very particular, I don't think I've ever felt anything of its like. Well, except for..." $xname's brow furrows slightly. "Ah, never mind. The point is that it's a highly unusual one." "Chief, what are you saying?" Heval interjects, staring at $xname through the eyeholes of their masked helmet, their posture stiff. $xname's eyes flit from Heval back to you, and then $xthey says, "You really are the Crown, aren't you?" A choking sound comes from underneath Heval's helmet and they nearly rear back as if they were physically slapped, though Tûjo looks entirely unsurprised, not even so much as blinking. You just stare at $xname. <ul class="a"> <li>[['"What makes you think that?"'|1.53.g][$caut to $caut + 25]]<<if $cheatsheet is true>> <em>+ Cautious</em><</if>></li> <li>[['"So... no more chains?"|1.53.h][$adven to $adven + 25]]<<if $cheatsheet is true>> <em>+ Adventurous</em><</if>></li> </ul>"You think I'm trying to trick you?" $xname says with amusement when $xthey notices your guarded tone. "Why would I do that?" $xname certainly appears to be a very straightforward person, keyword being <em>appears</em>. <<if $intu gte $intel>>Something tells you<</if>><<if $intel gt $intu>>You imagine<</if>> $xthey did not get this far as a mercenary by being recklessly honest with every stranger $xthey comes across. "I don't know," you answer, retorting with your own question. "Why would you think I'm the Crown? Like the others said, I could be an impostor." "Mostly a gut-feeling, among other things," $xname says, lying back down on the bed as $xthey continues to elaborate. "It is possible for inner magic types to forge a signature, but even then it's unlikely an impostor would've known to lie about having no affinity." "Everyone who has reached maturity has an affinity," Tûjo says to $xname, though his tone is more of a question than a stated contradiction. "It's true for the general population," $xname concedes, "but not for the Crown. Or rather, not for the successor of the Crown." This is the first time you've heard of this; did your parents keep you in the dark about this, too? The thought is almost infuriating, to be kept from truths about yourself you have a right to, being infantilized to the point where the people who professed to protect you instead lied to you again and again. "What does that mean?" Heval demands, voice sounding strained. "Usually magical affinities reveal themselves when a child transitions into an adult, no?" $xname keeps staring up at the ceiling of $xtheir tent with $xtheir hands folded on $xtheir stomach, appearing thoughtful. "It's different for the successor. Their affinity doesn't reveal itself until they become the Crown." You sigh, frustrated. "Why have I never heard of this before?" "Most successors are in their early teenage years when they are found, when it's common not to have an affinity yet," $xname points out. "So it's not typically useful knowledge during a search and not widespread outside of magus circles." "That's not enough proof that $they<<if $pronouns is "theythem">>'re<<else>>'s<</if>> the Crown!" Heval suddenly erupts, throwing up their hands. "$cthey could've easily heard it from somewhere, or--" "That's why we're keeping the chains on, Heval," $xname interrupts, turning to look at Heval with a grin. "Take a deep breath, friend; I'm sure if $name <em>does</em> turn out to be the Crown, $they'll be more than willing to forgive you for all your hostility up until now." Heval sputters for a response, unable to come up with anything and the tent goes quiet. [[Continue|1.54.b]]"I didn't say that," $xname replies with a cheeky grin. "Unfortunately, $rtitle $rname's safety is still my priority." "What do you mean, <em>unfortunately</em>?" Heval mutters underneath their breath, but $xname ignores them. "I am still waiting for you to start making sense, $xname," Tûjo says with a hint of impatience, and $xname shoots him an exasperated look. "Brother, if you keep that stern look on your face your heart might stop the day you finally smile," $xname warns, though it sounds more like a childish complaint with the way $xthey almost glares at Tûjo's interruption. "In any case, it is possible for inner magic types to forge a signature, but even then it's unlikely an impostor would've known to lie about having no affinity. That is why I'm inclined to believe our new friend here." Both Heval and Tûjo say nothing at first, and you are equally unsure of how you could possibly respond to that. This has taken a turn for the truly bizarre; $xname was never meant to find out about your identity, but in the event that $xthey did you were fully convinced it would spell your doom. Instead, it seems $xthey actually believes that your eyes are real and on top of that wishes to help you because of it. You were so unprepared for this possibility that you don't even know how to process this development. "Everyone who has reached maturity has an affinity," Tûjo speaks after a while, though his tone is more of a question than a stated contradiction. "It's true for the general population," $xname concedes, "but not for the Crown. Or rather, not for the successor of the Crown." This is the first time you've heard of this; did your parents keep you in the dark about this, too? The thought is almost infuriating, to be kept from truths about yourself you have a right to, being infantilized to the point where the people who professed to protect you instead lied to you again and again. "What does that mean?" Heval demands, voice sounding strained. "Usually magical affinities reveal themselves when a child transitions into an adult, no?" $xname keeps staring up at the ceiling of $xtheir tent with $xtheir hands folded on $xtheir stomach, appearing thoughtful. "It's different for the successor. Their affinity doesn't reveal itself until they become the Crown." You sigh, frustrated. "Why have I never heard of this before?" "Most successors are in their early teenage years when they are found, when it's common not to have an affinity yet," $xname points out. "So it's not typically useful knowledge during a search and not widespread outside of magus circles." "That's not enough proof that $they<<if $pronouns is "theythem">>'re<<else>>'s<</if>> the Crown!" Heval suddenly erupts, throwing up their hands. "$cthey could've easily heard it from somewhere, or--" "That's why we're keeping the chains on, Heval," $xname interrupts matter-of-factly, turning to look at Heval with a grin. "Take a deep breath, friend; I'm sure if $name <em>does</em> turn out to be the Crown, $they'll be more than willing to forgive you for all your hostility up until now." Heval sputters for a response, unable to come up with anything and the tent goes quiet. [[Continue|1.54.b]]"You think I'm trying to trick you?" $xname says with amusement when $xthey notices your guarded tone. "Why would I do that?" $xname certainly appears to be a very straightforward person, keyword being <em>appears</em>. <<if $intu gte $intel>>Something tells you<</if>><<if $intel gt $intu>>You imagine<</if>> $xthey did not get this far as a mercenary by being recklessly honest with every stranger $xthey comes across. "I don't know," you answer, retorting with your own question. "Why would you think I'm the Crown? Like the others said, I could be an impostor." "Mostly a gut-feeling, among other things," $xname says, lying back down on the bed as $xthey continues to elaborate. "Tell me, do you have an affinity?" Magical affinities, the type of magic one is naturally inclined toward. Your mother had an affinity toward fire, while your father was more inclined toward air. "No, I don't." Tûjo frowns at you. "How old are you?" "Twenty-five, why?" "That's not possible," he says, scowling. "Everyone who has reached maturity has an affinity." "It's true for the general population," $xname interjects, "but not for the Crown. Or rather, not for the successor of the Crown." This is the first time you've heard of this; did your parents keep you in the dark about this, too? The thought is almost infuriating, to be kept from truths about yourself you have a right to, being infantilized to the point where the people who professed to protect you instead lied to you again and again. "You have a very particular magical signature," $xname continues, addressing you directly. "I haven't felt the like since... well, never mind that. In any case, it is possible for inner magic types to forge a signature, but even then it's unlikely an impostor would've known to lie about having no affinity." "What does that mean?" Heval demands, voice sounding strained. "Usually magical affinities reveal themselves when a child transitions into an adult, no?" $xname keeps staring up at the ceiling of $xtheir tent with $xtheir hands folded on $xtheir stomach, appearing thoughtful. "It's different for the successor. Their affinity doesn't reveal itself until they become the Crown." You sigh, frustrated. "Why have I never heard of this before?" "Most successors are in their early teenage years when they are found, when it's common not to have an affinity yet," $xname points out. "So it's not typically useful knowledge during a search and not widespread outside of magus circles." "That's not enough proof that $they<<if $pronouns is "theythem">>'re<<else>>'s<</if>> the Crown!" Heval suddenly erupts, throwing up their hands. "$cthey could've easily heard it from somewhere, or--" "That's why we're keeping the chains on, Heval," $xname interrupts, turning to look at Heval with a grin. "Take a deep breath, friend; I'm sure if $name <em>does</em> turn out to be the Crown, $they'll be more than willing to forgive you for all your hostility up until now." Heval sputters for a response, unable to come up with anything and the tent goes quiet. [[Continue|1.54.a]]"I didn't say that," $xname replies with a cheeky grin. "Unfortunately, $rtitle $rname's safety is still my priority." "What do you mean, <em>unfortunately</em>?" Heval mutters underneath their breath, but $xname ignores them. $cxthey lies back down on the bed, then asks you an unexpected question. "Tell me, do you have an affinity?" Magical affinities, the type of magic you're naturally inclined toward. Your mother had an affinity toward fire, while your father was more inclined toward air. "No, I don't." Tûjo frowns at you. "How old are you?" "Twenty-five, why?" "That's not possible," he says, scowling. "Everyone who has reached maturity has an affinity." "It's true for the general population," $xname interjects, "but not for the Crown. Or rather, not for the successor of the Crown." This is the first time you've heard of this; did your parents keep you in the dark about this, too? The thought is almost infuriating, to be kept from truths about yourself you have a right to, being infantilized to the point where the people who professed to protect you instead lied to you again and again. Meanwhile, both Heval and Tûjo say nothing in response to $xname, and you are equally unsure of how you could possibly respond to that. This has taken a turn for the truly bizarre; $xname was never meant to find out about your identity, but in the event that $xthey did you were fully convinced it would spell your doom. Instead, it seems $xthey actually believes that your eyes are real and on top of that wishes to help you because of it. You were so unprepared for this possibility that you don't even know how to process this development. "You have a very particular magical signature," $xname continues, addressing you directly though $xthey does not look at you. "I haven't felt the like since... well, never mind that. In any case, it is possible for inner magic types to forge a signature, but even then it's unlikely an impostor would've known to lie about having no affinity." "What does that mean?" Heval demands, voice sounding strained. "Usually magical affinities reveal themselves when a child transitions into an adult, no?" $xname keeps staring up at the ceiling of $xtheir tent with $xtheir hands folded on $xtheir stomach, appearing thoughtful. "It's different for the successor. Their affinity doesn't reveal itself until they become the Crown." You sigh, frustrated. "Why have I never heard of this before?" "Most successors are in their early teenage years when they are found, when it's common not to have an affinity yet," $xname points out. "So it's not typically useful knowledge during a search and not widespread outside of magus circles." "That's not enough proof that $they<<if $pronouns is "theythem">>'re<<else>>'s<</if>> the Crown!" Heval suddenly erupts, throwing up their hands. "$cthey could've easily heard it from somewhere, or--" "That's why we're keeping the chains on, Heval," $xname interrupts, turning to look at Heval with a grin. "Take a deep breath, friend; I'm sure if $name <em>does</em> turn out to be the Crown, $they'll be more than willing to forgive you for all your hostility up until now." Heval sputters for a response, unable to come up with anything and the tent goes quiet. [[Continue|1.54.a]]"You think I'm trying to trick you?" $xname says with amusement when $xthey notices your guarded tone. "Why would I do that?" $xname certainly appears to be a very straightforward person, keyword being <em>appears</em>. <<if $intu gte $intel>>Something tells you<</if>><<if $intel gt $intu>>You imagine<</if>> $xthey did not get this far as a mercenary by being recklessly honest with every stranger $xthey comes across. "I don't know," you answer, retorting with your own question. "Why would you think I'm the Crown? Like the others said, I could be an impostor." "Mostly a gut-feeling, among other things," $xname says, lying back down on the bed as $xthey continues to elaborate. "It is possible for inner magic types to forge a signature, but even then it's unlikely an impostor would've known to lie about having no affinity." "Everyone who has reached maturity has an affinity," Tûjo says to $xname, though his tone is more of a question than a stated contradiction. "It's true for the general population," $xname concedes, "but not for the Crown. Or rather, not for the successor of the Crown." This is the first time you've heard of this; did your parents keep you in the dark about this, too? The thought is almost infuriating, to be kept from truths about yourself you have a right to, being infantilized to the point where the people who professed to protect you instead lied to you again and again. "What does that mean?" Heval demands, voice sounding strained. "Usually magical affinities reveal themselves when a child transitions into an adult, no?" $xname keeps staring up at the ceiling of $xtheir tent with $xtheir hands folded on $xtheir stomach, appearing thoughtful. "It's different for the successor. Their affinity doesn't reveal itself until they become the Crown." You sigh, frustrated. "Why have I never heard of this before?" "Most successors are in their early teenage years when they are found, when it's common not to have an affinity yet," $xname points out. "So it's not typically useful knowledge during a search and not widespread outside of magus circles." "That's not enough proof that $they<<if $pronouns is "theythem">>'re<<else>>'s<</if>> the Crown!" Heval suddenly erupts, throwing up their hands. "$cthey could've easily heard it from somewhere, or--" "That's why we're keeping the chains on, Heval," $xname interrupts, turning to look at Heval with a grin. "Take a deep breath, friend; I'm sure if $name <em>does</em> turn out to be the Crown, $they'll be more than willing to forgive you for all your hostility up until now." Heval sputters for a response, unable to come up with anything and the tent goes quiet. [[Continue|1.54.a]]"I didn't say that," $xname replies with a cheeky grin. "Unfortunately, $rtitle $rname's safety is still my priority." "What do you mean, <em>unfortunately</em>?" Heval mutters underneath their breath, but $xname ignores them. "I am still waiting for you to start making sense, $xname," Tûjo says with a hint of impatience, and $xname shoots him an exasperated look. "Brother, if you keep that stern look on your face your heart might stop the day you finally smile," $xname warns, though it sounds more like a childish complaint with the way $xthey almost glares at Tûjo's interruption. "In any case, it is possible for inner magic types to forge a signature, but even then it's unlikely an impostor would've known to lie about having no affinity. That is why I'm inclined to believe our new friend here." Both Heval and Tûjo say nothing at first, and you are equally unsure of how you could possibly respond to that. This has taken a turn for the truly bizarre; $xname was never meant to find out about your identity, but in the event that $xthey did you were fully convinced it would spell your doom. Instead, it seems $xthey actually believes that your eyes are real and on top of that wishes to help you because of it. You were so unprepared for this possibility that you don't even know how to process this development. "Everyone who has reached maturity has an affinity," Tûjo speaks after a while, though his tone is more of a question than a stated contradiction. "It's true for the general population," $xname concedes, "but not for the Crown. Or rather, not for the successor of the Crown." This is the first time you've heard of this; did your parents keep you in the dark about this, too? The thought is almost infuriating, to be kept from truths about yourself you have a right to, being infantilized to the point where the people who professed to protect you instead lied to you again and again. "What does that mean?" Heval demands, voice sounding strained. "Usually magical affinities reveal themselves when a child transitions into an adult, no?" $xname keeps staring up at the ceiling of $xtheir tent with $xtheir hands folded on $xtheir stomach, appearing thoughtful. "It's different for the successor. Their affinity doesn't reveal itself until they become the Crown." You sigh, frustrated. "Why have I never heard of this before?" "Most successors are in their early teenage years when they are found, when it's common not to have an affinity yet," $xname points out. "So it's not typically useful knowledge during a search and not widespread outside of magus circles." "That's not enough proof that $they<<if $pronouns is "theythem">>'re<<else>>'s<</if>> the Crown!" Heval suddenly erupts, throwing up their hands. "$cthey could've easily heard it from somewhere, or--" "That's why we're keeping the chains on, Heval," $xname interrupts matter-of-factly, turning to look at Heval with a grin. "Take a deep breath, friend; I'm sure if $name <em>does</em> turn out to be the Crown, $they'll be more than willing to forgive you for all your hostility up until now." Heval sputters for a response, unable to come up with anything and the tent goes quiet. [[Continue|1.54.a]]<div id="1.1">@@.chaptertitleact0;PROLOGUE@@</div>@@.titleblack;Your Gold@@ You come home to the sound of screaming and the smell of smoke. From the edge of the forest you can see bright, flickering lights spreading across the farm, growing bigger and bigger. The setting sun soaks the scene in orange and red reflected vividly in your eyes, casting horrible shadows that stumble out of the burning house, howling and writhing in pain as they drop to the dew-covered grass. Young as you are--barely into your fifteenth year--you stand frozen, the hand holding the basket of berries you gathered squeezing so tightly your knuckles turn white. You take a deep breath, trying to stay calm; you were prepared for this. The thought that you should go look for your mother crosses your mind, but then a rider appears around the corner of the burning house, the hooves of their mount thundering across the ground and headed straight your way. For a moment all you see is the curved sword in their hand and you almost turn to run, until you look up to the rider’s face and realize it’s your mother, Nazire. She calls your name: <ul class="a"> <li><<click "View suggestions for gender-neutral names">><<toggleclass "#section13" "hidden">><</click>></li><div id="section13" class="hidden">&emsp;&emsp;&emsp;&emsp;[[Dîmen|0.2][$name to "Dîmen"]]; <em>a scenic sight, scenery</em> &emsp;&emsp;&emsp;&emsp;[[Havîn|0.2][$name to "Havîn"]]; <em>summer</em> &emsp;&emsp;&emsp;&emsp;[[Nîyaz|0.2][$name to "Nîyaz"]]; <em>intention, wish</em> &emsp;&emsp;&emsp;&emsp;[[Evîn|0.2][$name to "Evîn"]]; <em>love</em></div><li><<click "View suggestions for masculine names">><<toggleclass "#section14" "hidden">><</click>></li><div id="section14" class="hidden">&emsp;&emsp;&emsp;&emsp;[[Ardil|0.2][$name to "Ardil"]]; <em>heart fire</em> &emsp;&emsp;&emsp;&emsp;[[Belên|0.2][$name to "Belên"]]; <em>promise</em> &emsp;&emsp;&emsp;&emsp;[[Kevir|0.2][$name to "Kevir"]]; <em>stone</em> &emsp;&emsp;&emsp;&emsp;[[Dilovan|0.2][$name to "Dilovan"]]; <em>compassionate, loving</em></div><li><<click "View suggestions for feminine names">><<toggleclass "#section15" "hidden">><</click>></li><div id="section15" class="hidden">&emsp;&emsp;&emsp;&emsp;[[Şêrîn|0.2][$name to "Şêrîn"]]; <em>sweet, charming</em> &emsp;&emsp;&emsp;&emsp;[[Gulavî|0.2][$name to "Gulavî"]]; <em>from rose water</em> &emsp;&emsp;&emsp;&emsp;[[Rojda|0.2][$name to "Rojda"]]; <em>sunrise, a new day</em> &emsp;&emsp;&emsp;&emsp;[[Nazenîn|0.2][$name to "Nazenîn"]]; <em>graceful, coquettish</em></div><li><<click "Insert a custom name">><<toggleclass "#section16" "hidden">><</click>></li> <div id="section16" class="hidden"><<textbox "$name" $name>> \ <<button "Confirm">> <<set $name to $name.trim()>> <<if $name is "">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>Please enter a name.<</replace>> <<elseif $name is "Naza">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>This name is already in use.<</replace>> <<elseif $name is "Rona">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>This name is already in use.<</replace>> <<elseif $name is "Xelef">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>This name is already in use.<</replace>> <<elseif $name is "Xelara">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>This name is already in use.<</replace>> <<elseif $name is "Azad">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>This name is already in use.<</replace>> <<elseif $name is "Ashti">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>This name is already in use.<</replace>> <<elseif $name is "Rezan">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>This name is already in use.<</replace>> <<elseif $name is "Rozerin">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>This name is already in use.<</replace>> <<elseif $name is "Dara">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>This name is already in use.<</replace>> <<elseif $name is "Delal">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>This name is already in use.<</replace>> <<elseif $name is "Keko">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>This name is already in use.<</replace>> <<elseif $name is "Behram">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>This name is already in use.<</replace>> <<elseif $name is "Heval">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>This name is already in use.<</replace>> <<elseif $name is "Ishrah">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>This name is already in use.<</replace>> <<elseif $name is "Siham">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>This name is already in use.<</replace>> <<elseif $name is "Ezo">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>This name is already in use.<</replace>> <<elseif $name is "Kaja">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>This name is already in use.<</replace>> <<elseif $name is "Ziryan">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>This name is already in use.<</replace>> <<elseif $name is "Harun">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>No, that's your father's name.<</replace>> <<elseif $name is "Nazire">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>No, that's your mother's name.<</replace>> <<elseif $name is "Welat">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>This name is already in use.<</replace>> <<elseif $name is "Ferzan">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>This name is unabailable.<</replace>> <<elseif $name is "Farraj">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>This name is already in use.<</replace>> <<elseif $name is "Farrukh">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>This name is already in use.<</replace>> <<elseif $name is "Tavan">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>This name is already in use.<</replace>> <<elseif $name is "Huner">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>This name is already in use.<</replace>> <<elseif $name is "Piruz">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>This name is already in use.<</replace>> <<elseif $name is "Ferhat">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>This name is already in use.<</replace>> <<elseif $name is "Saheer">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>This name is already in use.<</replace>> <<elseif $name is "Vidarna">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>This name is already in use.<</replace>> <<elseif $name is "Ardashir">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>This name is already in use.<</replace>> <<elseif $name is "Zerya">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>This name is already in use.<</replace>> <<elseif $name is "Roshan">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>This name is already in use.<</replace>> <<elseif $name is "Vasha">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>This name is already in use.<</replace>> <<elseif $name is "Tirzal">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>This name is already in use.<</replace>> <<elseif $name is "Rozerîn">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>This name is already in use.<</replace>><<elseif $name is "Rêzan">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>This name is already in use.<</replace>><<elseif $name is "Tûjo">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>This name is already in use.<</replace>><<elseif $name is "Nis">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>This name is already in use.<</replace>><<elseif $name is "Qumrî">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>This name is already in use.<</replace>> <<elseif $name is "Şahmaran">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>This name is already in use.<</replace>> <<elseif $name is "Shahmaran">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>This name is already in use.<</replace>> <<elseif $name is "Şahmeran">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>This name is already in use.<</replace>> <<elseif $name is "Shahmeran">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>This name is already in use.<</replace>> <<elseif $name is "Ashadūna">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>You wish.<</replace>> <<elseif $name is "Kham">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>This name is already in use.<</replace>> <<elseif $name is "Viyan">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>This name is already in use.<</replace>> <<elseif $name is "Zîn">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>This name is already in use.<</replace>> <<elseif $name is "Mem">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>This name is already in use.<</replace>> <<elseif $name is "Ervin">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>This name is already in use.<</replace>> <<elseif $name is "Meryatum">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>This name is already in use.<</replace>> <<elseif $name is "Nitocris">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>This name is already in use.<</replace>> <<elseif $name is "Dila">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>This name is already in use.<</replace>> <<elseif $name is "Tujo">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>This name is already in use.<</replace>> <<elseif $name is "Ashaduna">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>This name is already in use.<</replace>> <<elseif $name is "Qumri">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>This name is already in use.<</replace>> <<elseif $name is "Nûdem">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>This name is already in use.<</replace>> <<elseif $name is "Kuvan">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>This name is already in use.<</replace>> <<elseif $name is "Keybanû">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>This name is already in use.<</replace>> <<elseif $name is "Keybanu">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>This name is already in use.<</replace>> <<elseif $name is "Zana">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>This name is already in use.<</replace>> <<elseif $name is "Elfesya">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>This name is already in use.<</replace>> <<elseif $name is "Sanazi">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>This name is already in use.<</replace>> <<elseif $name is "Mêrxas">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>This name is already in use.<</replace>> <<elseif $name is "Merxas">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>This name is already in use.<</replace>> <<elseif $name is "Lilan">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>This name is already in use.<</replace>> <<elseif $name is "Şanazî">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>This name is already in use.<</replace>> <<elseif $name is "Lîlan">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>This name is already in use.<</replace>> <<elseif $name is "Ezman">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>This name is already in use.<</replace>> <<elseif $name is "Irem">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>This name is already in use.<</replace>> <<elseif $name is "Gulveda">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>This name is already in use.<</replace>> <<elseif $name is "Narîn">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>This name is already in use.<</replace>> <<elseif $name is "Narin">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>This name is already in use.<</replace>> <<elseif $name is "Revîn">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>This name is already in use.<</replace>> <<elseif $name is "Revin">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>This name is already in use.<</replace>> <<elseif $name is "Sarya">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>This name is already in use.<</replace>> <<elseif $name is "Xanê">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>This name is already in use.<</replace>> <<elseif $name is "Xane">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>This name is already in use.<</replace>> <<elseif $name is "Girin">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>This name is already in use.<</replace>> <<elseif $name is "Vejan">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>This name is already in use.<</replace>> <<elseif $name is "Bazo">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>This name is already in use.<</replace>> <<elseif $name is "Karzan">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>This name is already in use.<</replace>> <<elseif $name is "Ciya">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>This name is already in use.<</replace>> <<elseif $name is "Çiya">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>This name is already in use.<</replace>> <<elseif $name is "Axin">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>This name is already in use.<</replace>> <<elseif $name is "Axîn">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>This name is already in use.<</replace>> <<elseif $name is "Apas">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>This name is already in use.<</replace>> <<elseif $name is "Asman">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>This name is already in use.<</replace>> <<elseif $name is "Atar">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>This name is already in use.<</replace>> <<elseif $name is "Zam">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>This name is already in use.<</replace>> <<elseif $name is "Zahhāk">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>This name is already in use.<</replace>> <<elseif $name is "Zahhak">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>This name is already in use.<</replace>> <<elseif $name is "Sraoša">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>This name is already in use.<</replace>> <<elseif $name is "Sraosa">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>This name is already in use.<</replace>> <<elseif $name is "Guhdar">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>This name is already in use.<</replace>> <<elseif $name is "Imanna">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>This name is already in use.<</replace>> <<elseif $name is "Imana">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>This name is already in use.<</replace>> <<elseif $name is "Essam">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>This name is already in use.<</replace>> <<elseif $name is "Faraj">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>This name is already in use.<</replace>> <<elseif $name is "Farida">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>This name is already in use.<</replace>> <<elseif $name is "Tarek">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>This name is already in use.<</replace>> <<else>> <<replace "#textbox-error">><</replace>> <<goto "0.2">> <</if>><</button>></div></ul><span id="textbox-error"></span>“$name, they’ve found us!” she calls as she comes to a halt beside you, sounding out of breath, eyes wide and wild and you realize her sword is covered in blood. “Get on, we have to keep moving!” She did not manage to kill them all, she explains to you while you ride behind her toward the nearest village. There will be more, as setting fire to the farm only slowed them down. It was sheer luck that you and your father weren’t there when the sect arrived, or this could have all ended very differently. You are not as shaken as you thought you would be. Your parents both prepared you for this possibility at a very early age; the farm was a temporary home, as most homes you have known. Even if you hadn’t been found, you and your family would've moved by the end of the week regardless. You sit by the campfire that night, the sound of the softly crackling flames and the songs of crickets the only thing to fill up the silence between you and your mother. Your father’s absence is somewhat concerning as he is the one that the sect is after, but he left to buy supplies from a nearby village. Hopefully the smoke from the burning farm will tip him off to the attack. It has been this way for as long as you can remember. You will settle somewhere remote, somewhere you can farm and provide for yourselves, but after a year or two the sect will find you again. This day is no different from the last. You gaze at your mother where she sits quietly beside you in front of the small fire, staring off into the darkness of the forest, and you ask her: <ul class="a"> <li>[[“What do we do now?”|0.3]]</li> <li>[[“Should we go look for father?”|0.3]]</li> <li>[[“How do they keep finding us?”|0.3]]</li> </ul> Your mother turns to you as her lips part to answer, but when her gaze lands on you she goes very, very still. Even in the orange light of the bonfire you can see the color drain out of her face, or perhaps it just seems that way due to how horrified she appears. “Mother?” you prompt her anxiously. “What's wrong?” She suddenly leans forward and cups your cheeks with both her hands, the calluses on her palm rough against your skin as she stares into your eyes. Whatever she sees takes her breath away. You hear it hitch in the back of her throat, her fingers pressing into your cheeks more tightly as you grab her wrists. You see a look on her face you have never seen before. She’s afraid. “Mother, you're hurting me!” you tell her, pulling her hands off you which start to tremble as soon as your mother sits back, eyes wide and unseeing as they stare into the fire. “It’s happened,” she whispers. “The Crown... the Crown is dead.” “What?" You stare at her, uncomprehending. How can the Crown be dead? The Empire isn’t at war with anyone and last you heard, the Crown was in perfect health. “How do you know?” “The Crown’s eyes,” your mother mutters, still not looking at you. “Just like he foretold... we have to go.” She suddenly stands up and flicks her wrist, the bonfire sizzling out at her gesture. “Wait, mother—” But she doesn’t listen to you, grabbing you by the arm and hauling you up to your feet. “We have to leave, immediately,” she says as she pulls you along to your horse. “Forget your father; now that the Crown is dead, they’ll come for you next.” “Me?” you protest, trying to yank your arm out of her grip but it’s too tight, so you brace your feet against the ground and force her to stop. “Why would they come for me? I thought they were after father, I don’t understand—” She lets go of your arm and grabs you by your shoulders instead, her breaths heavy through gritted teeth and her eyes wide. You see panic, desperation, resolve and most of all, sadness. “Your eyes, $name,” she says. “Your eyes are cursed.” [[End Prologue|1.0]] You were nervous for a while, but it seems that coming to $xname was the right decision after all. While you're not sure to what extent you can trust the people in this tent, you have a far better chance of reaching $rtitle $rname with the Crescent Blades on your side. Had it not been for you stumbling across $xname and having your eyes revealed, you may have never gotten that chance. The amount of coin you had was sizable, but $xname likely would not have trusted a stranger unwilling to reveal their identity or their purpose. Convincing $xthem of the legitimacy of your eye color was more than you could've hoped for, though you're careful not to examine the consequences too closely. What does it even mean to be chosen as the Crown? You push the thought back down from where it rose, keeping it stored away for another time. Before anything else, you need to speak to $rtitle $rname. As you decide on shelving the matter for another day, Tûjo has already gathered his thoughts and is the first one to speak. "What is your plan?" He stares directly at $xname. "The general's handpicked guards are nothing to scoff at." Tûjo's remark makes you remember the conversation you eavesdropped on earlier, and it occurs to you that if you're going to trust these people with your fate, you should probably inform them. "About that," you interject before $xname can reply, "I overheard the general talking to someone, back in the city." <<if $abeggar isnot true>>You recount everything you've heard with as much detail as possible, emphasizing Behram's involvement and General $dname's order to capture $xname, as well as the planned departure at dawn.<<else>>You didn't hear much and are uncertain how much of it will be useful to $xname, but you recount the snippets that you did overhear in their entirety, including the planned departure at dawn.<</if>> "The general is sending $aname?" Heval repeats sharply while Tûjo's gaze on you is even more intense than usual, and when you glance back at $xname you see $xthem sitting up. "That might be a problem," $xname admits reluctantly, $xtheir attempt at a carefree smile marred by the furrow in $xtheir brow. Now that even $xname looks worried, you're starting to grow anxious. You figured that $xname would have no problem in overpowering $aname. What are you missing, here? [[Continue|1.55.b]] You were nervous for a while, but it seems that coming to $xname was the right decision after all. While you're not sure to what extent you can trust the people in this tent, you have a far better chance of reaching $rtitle $rname with the Crescent Blades on your side. Had it not been for you stumbling across $xname and having your eyes revealed, you may have never gotten that chance. The amount of coin you had was sizable, but $xname likely would not have trusted a stranger unwilling to reveal their identity or their purpose. Convincing $xthem of the legitimacy of your eye color was more than you could've hoped for, though you're careful not to examine the consequences too closely. What does it even mean to be chosen as the Crown? You push the thought back down from where it rose, keeping it stored away for another time. Before anything else, you need to speak to $rtitle $rname. As you decide on shelving the matter for another day, Tûjo has already gathered his thoughts and is the first one to speak. "What is your plan?" He stares directly at $xname. "The general's handpicked guards are nothing to scoff at." Tûjo's remark makes you remember the conversation you eavesdropped on earlier, and it occurs to you that if you're going to trust these people with your fate, you should probably inform them. "About that," you interject before $xname can reply, "I overheard the general talking to someone, back in the city." <<if $abeggar isnot true>>You recount everything you've heard with as much detail as possible, emphasizing Behram's involvement and General $dname's order to capture $xname, as well as the planned departure at dawn.<<else>>You didn't hear much and are uncertain how much of it will be useful to $xname, but you recount the snippets that you did overhear in their entirety, including the planned departure at dawn.<</if>> "The general is sending $aname?" Heval repeats sharply while Tûjo's gaze on you is even more intense than usual, and when you glance back at $xname you see $xthem sitting up. "That might be a problem," $xname admits reluctantly, $xtheir attempt at a carefree smile marred by the furrow in $xtheir brow. Now that even $xname looks worried, you're starting to grow anxious. You figured that $xname would have no problem in overpowering $aname. What are you missing, here? [[Continue|1.55.a]]"You've never heard of $aname before," Tûjo deduces from your quizzical expression, and both Heval and $xname turn to you in disbelief. <<if $blunt gte $charm>>"No, I haven't," you confirm, seeing no point in denying the obvious.<<else>>"Should I have?" you reply, keeping a casual tone.<</if>> "Regardless, how much damage could a single soldier possibly do?" $xname laughs openly and you feel heat gathering in your cheeks, instinctually embarrassed as you <<if $intu gt $intel>>can sense<<else>>can tell from $xtheir reaction<</if>> that you said something rather ignorant. "$aname is not merely a single soldier," Heval grumbles moodily when $xname keeps on laughing, wiping tears from the corners of $xtheir eyes. "$cathey is the only one to have bested $xname in one-on-one combat." Your eyes grow wide. "But isn't $xname supposed to be--" "Undefeated?" $xname smirks wryly. "I used to be, until $aname came along. Of course I have won from $athem in the past, but the last time we fought it was a decisive victory in $atheir favor. It was the single greatest loss of my life." You try to wrack your brain about hearing anything of $xname's defeat in your travels, but you come up blank. "I've never heard anyone sing <em>that</em> tale before." "We were far away from prying eyes at the time," $xname replies. "It involved a cursed family tomb and a corpse summoner--the point is that for reasons I cannot fathom, $aname decided not to spread the news of my defeat. Hence, in the eyes of the public, I am still undefeated." At your troubled expression, $xname grins. "What are you looking so scared for? This is a good thing! In the long run, at least." "Uh, how?" "$cathey will serve as your Royal Protector, will $athey not?" Tûjo points out. Oh. You hadn't even considered that. "That's all fine and well," Heval says, a dubious tone to their voice, "but we'll still have to deal with $athem as well as $rtitle $rname's guards, and that sounds like a fool's errand if you ask me." "Not necessarily," $xname muses, rubbing $xtheir lips thoughtfully. "$name, you said $aname seemed unhappy with the general's orders?" <<if $abeggar isnot true>>"Yes," you answer, almost able to recall $aname's exact words. "$aname called you a hero to the people, and argued that arresting you would only create more chaos." That gets a smile out of $xname, though not the cocky one you've seen so far; if anything, $xthey almost looks bashful from the praise. "Really?" Tûjo snaps his fingers, getting $xname's attention. "Stay on topic." "Right," $xname says, clearing $xtheir throat. "In any case, I might be able to capitalize on $atheir reluctance. Tûjo, what is the most likely route the general will take to get $rtitle $rname to Zerat?" "Straight through the forest, skirting near the mountains," Tûjo says and $xname nods. "I'm leaving $name here in your care." $xthey turns to Heval. "$aname has probably figured out where we're camping by now and is lying in wait for an ambush, so I'll try and stall $athem as long as possible. Heval, you'll go with our people to distract $rtitle $rname's guards so that Tûjo and $name can get through to $rtitle $rname."<<else>>"The general sounded frustrated," you answer, trying to recall what little you've heard. "$aname stormed out of the barracks, too." $xname hums, then glances to you. "Might be that $athey's reluctant to capture me, but I wouldn't want to bet the Crown's life on it." You shift uneasily where you're seated on the ground, your chains rattling slightly with the movement. Being referred to as the Crown so casually, as if it is fact already, makes you uneasy. "Tûjo," $xname continues, not paying any mind to your discomfort. "What is the most likely route the general will take to get $rtitle $rname to Zeratun?" "Straight through the forest, skirting near the mountains," Tûjo says and $xname nods. "Then I'll leave $name in your care." $cxthey turns to Heval. "$aname has probably figured out where we're camping by now and is lying in wait for an ambush, so I'll try and stall $athem for as long as possible. Heval, you'll go with our people to distract $rtitle $rname's guards so that Tûjo and $name can get through to $rtitle $rname."<</if>> "Understood," Heval says, and just like that everything has been set in motion. [[Continue|1.56.a]]<<set $acodex to true>>[ <b>New [[Character Codex]] unlocked</b> ] "You look tired," $xname remarks, eyes flitting over your face before $xthey turns to Heval and Tûjo. "Time to let our guest catch some sleep, we'll be up early tomorrow." The command to leave the tent goes unspoken but is heard loud and clear as $xname's two righthand mercenaries get up. <<if $tujotrust is 10>>Unexpectedly, Tûjo inclines his head to you as he follows Heval outside. "Huh." $xname sounds slightly impressed. "Seems like Tûjo has taken a liking to you." You're unsure of how to respond, glancing down at your chained wrists as you try to figure out how you're going to manage sleeping like this.<<else>> You watch them leave, then look down at your chained wrists as you try to figure out how you're going to manage sleeping like this.<</if>> "Let me get that," $xname says when $xthey notices, getting up from the thick furs of $xtheir bed and kneeling down in front of you. At first you're focused on what $xtheir hands are doing with the chains, $xtheir fingers curling around the metal bands around your wrists, but as you look up at $xname, what should've been a quick glance turns into a stare. $cxtheir head is bent down as $xthey's focused on the chains, but with $xtheir face so close to yours--leaving a small space of mere inches--it gives you an opportunity to regard $xtheir <<if $xgender is "male">>handsome<<else>>beautiful<</if>> features more closely. You find an old scar beside $xtheir right eye that you didn't notice before, carved into $xtheir temple and shaped somewhat like a crescent. $cxtheir eyelashes are just as thick and long as they seemed from a distance, even more startling when $xname turns $xtheir attention back to you, eyes cut from emeralds peering through them to look right at you. "All done," $xthey says with a knowing smile, a touch of playfulness to it as you avert your gaze down to your wrists. The carved markings on the chains that glowed a soft purple before blink out, then flare up into a brighter pink, followed by a metallic unlocking sound and then the chains fall off your wrists entirely. "Better?" You meet $xname's eyes again and almost wish you hadn't, because they're mesmerizing and it's so difficult to look away a second time. You can almost feel $xtheir breath on your face, and you can't remember the last time anyone got this close to you. It's making your pulse quicken. The predominant thought going through your head at that moment is... <ul class="a"> <<if $xgender is "male">><li>[[How gorgeous Xelef is.|1.57.a.1][$xpoints += 1]]</li><<else>><li>[[How gorgeous Xelara is.|1.57.a.1][$xpoints += 1]]</li><</if>> <li>[[That you would like your personal space back.|1.57.a.2]]</li> </ul>$xname's smile widens, arch and cat-like as if $xthey knows exactly what you're thinking, but $xthey doesn't linger. $cxthey takes the chains with $xthem as $xthey rises back to $xtheir feet, gathering them up. You finally dislodge the words that got stuck in your throat. "Why did you unchain me?" "I'll be sleeping right outside," $xname says casually as $xthey drops the chains somewhere near the corner of the tent, then pulls one of the thick furs off $xtheir bed. "I've had plenty of time to become attuned to your magical signature, so if you try anything I'll sense it immediately. Don't tell Heval I took your chains off, though." That quickly, just by being in proximity to you? As you watch $xname drag the fur toward the entrance of the tent, you get a stark feeling that your real chains haven't been removed just yet. "Good night, Your Imperial Majesty," $xname says with some humor to $xtheir tone, or perhaps $xthey's amused at the bewildered look on your face. "Your Empire awaits at dawn." $cxthey doesn't wait for a reply, stepping outside and leaving you alone in the tent. Though whether you're <em>truly</em> alone is debatable, considering you can see $xname's shadow through the fabric of the tent as $xthey moves around to the left side, silhouette fading a little but still visible. At least $xthey won't be camped out right in front of the entrance. Your gaze is drawn toward the heap of furs left on $xname's bed, and you realize there is no other place for you to lie down. Whether you will even be able to fall asleep is doubtful; in the silence the merrymaking of the mercenaries is even louder than before. Certain that the noises will keep you awake, you reluctantly approach $xname's bed. Slipping off your cloak and kicking off your boots, you settle down on the furs and curl up on your side, trying to get comfortable if you're going to be lying here all night. Before you know it, the exhaustion from your eventful day washes over you like a wave, and as your eyes slip shut you are swept away in its tide, fast asleep. [[End Chapter|2.1]]$xname seems to be able to read the disinterest from your face as $xthey wordlessly pulls away and rises to $xtheir feet, allowing you the space to breathe without any further remark or sly smile. $cxthey takes the chains with $xthem as $xthey moves through the tent, gathering the rest up. Your tension eases at the distance put in between you, but only by a little. "Why did you unchain me?" "I'll be sleeping right outside," $xname says casually as $xthey drops the chains somewhere near a corner, then pulls one of the thick furs off $xtheir bed. "I've had plenty of time to become attuned to your magical signature, so if you try anything I'll sense it immediately. Don't tell Heval I took your chains off, though." That quickly, just by being in proximity to you? As you watch $xname drag the fur toward the entrance of the tent, you get a stark feeling that your real chains haven't been removed just yet. "Good night, Your Imperial Majesty," $xname says with some humor to $xtheir tone, or perhaps $xthey's amused at the bewildered look on your face. "Your Empire awaits at dawn." $cxthey doesn't wait for a reply, stepping outside and leaving you alone in the tent. Though whether you're <em>truly</em> alone is debatable, considering you can see $xname's shadow through the fabric of the tent as $xthey moves around to the left side, silhouette fading a little. At least $xthey won't be camped out right in front of the entrance. Your gaze is drawn toward the heap of furs still left on $xname's bed, and you realize there is no other place for you to lie down. Whether you will even be able to fall asleep is doubtful; in the silence the merrymaking of the mercenaries outside is even louder than before. Certain that the noises will keep you awake, you reluctantly approach $xname's bed. Slipping off your cloak and kicking off your boots, you settle down on the furs and curl up on your side, trying to get comfortable if you're going to be lying here all night. Before you know it, the exhaustion from your eventful day washes over you like a wave, and as your eyes slip shut you are swept away in its tide, fast asleep. [[End Chapter|2.1]]"You've never heard of $aname before," Tûjo deduces from your quizzical expression, and both Heval and $xname turn to you in disbelief. <<if $blunt gte $charm>>"No, I haven't," you confirm, seeing no point in denying the obvious.<<else>>"Should I have?" you reply, keeping a casual tone.<</if>> "Regardless, how much damage could a single soldier possibly do?" $xname laughs openly and you feel heat gathering in your cheeks, instinctually embarrassed as you <<if $intu gt $intel>>can sense<<else>>can tell from $xtheir reaction<</if>> that you said something rather ignorant. "$aname is not merely a single soldier," Heval grumbles moodily when $xname keeps on laughing, wiping tears from the corners of $xtheir eyes. "$cathey is the only one to have bested $xname in one-on-one combat." Your eyes grow wide. "But isn't $xname supposed to be--" "Undefeated?" $xname smirks wryly. "I used to be, until $aname came along. Of course I have won from $athem in the past, but the last time we fought it was a decisive victory in $atheir favor. It was the single greatest defeat of my life." You try to wrack your brain about hearing anything of $xname's defeat in your travels, but you come up blank. "I've never heard anyone sing <em>that</em> tale before." "We were far away from prying eyes at the time," $xname replies. "It involved a cursed family tomb and a corpse summoner--the point is that for reasons I cannot fathom, $aname decided not to spread the news of my defeat. Hence, in the eyes of the public, I am still undefeated." At your troubled expression, $xname grins. "What are you looking so scared for? This is a good thing! In the long run, at least." "Uh, how?" "$cathey will serve as your Royal Protector, will $athey not?" Tûjo points out. Oh. You hadn't even considered that. "That's all fine and well," Heval says, a dubious tone to their voice, "but we'll still have to deal with $athem as well as $rtitle $rname's guards, and that sounds like a fool's errand if you ask me." "Not necessarily," $xname muses, rubbing $xtheir lips thoughtfully. "$name, you said $aname seemed unhappy with the general's orders?" <<if $abeggar isnot true>>"Yes," you answer, almost able to recall $aname's exact words. "$aname called you a hero to the people, and argued that arresting you would only create more chaos." That gets a smile out of $xname, though not the cocky one you've seen so far; if anything, $xthey almost looks bashful from the praise. "Really?" Tûjo snaps his fingers, getting $xname's attention. "Stay on topic." "Right," $xname says, clearing $xtheir throat. "In any case, I might be able to capitalize on $atheir reluctance. Tûjo, what is the most likely route the general will take to get $rtitle $rname to Zerat?" "Straight through the forest, skirting near the mountains," Tûjo says and $xname nods. "I'm leaving $name here in your care." $xthey turns to Heval. "$aname has probably figured out where we're camping by now and is lying in wait for an ambush, so I'll try and stall $athem as long as possible. Heval, you'll go with our people to distract $rtitle $rname's guards so that Tûjo and $name can get through to $rtitle $rname."<<else>>"The general sounded frustrated," you answer, trying to recall what little you've heard. "$aname stormed out of the barracks, too." $xname hums, then glances to you. "Might be that $athey's reluctant to capture me, but I wouldn't want to bet the Crown's life on it." You shift uneasily where you're seated on the ground, your chains rattling slightly with the movement. Being referred to as the Crown so casually, as if it is fact already, is making you uneasy. "Tûjo," $xname continues, not paying any mind to your discomfort. "What is the most likely route the general will take to get $rtitle $rname to Zeratun?" "Straight through the forest, skirting near the mountains," Tûjo says and $xname nods. "Then I'll leave $name in your care." $cxthey turns to Heval. "$aname has probably figured out where we're camping by now and is lying in wait for an ambush, so I'll try and stall $athem for as long as possible. Heval, you'll go with our people to distract $rtitle $rname's guards so that Tûjo and $name can get through to $rtitle $rname."<</if>> "Understood," Heval says, and just like that everything has been set in motion. [[Continue|1.56.b]]<<set $acodex to true>>[ <b>New [[Character Codex]] unlocked</b> ] "You look tired," $xname remarks, eyes flitting over your face before $xthey turns to Heval and Tûjo. "Time to let our guest catch some sleep, we'll be up early tomorrow." The command to leave the tent goes unspoken but is heard loud and clear as $xname's two righthand mercenaries get up. <<if $tujotrust gte 10>>Unexpectedly, Tûjo inclines his head to you as he follows Heval outside. "Huh." $xname sounds slightly impressed. "Seems like Tûjo has taken a liking to you." You're unsure of how to respond, glancing down at your chained wrists as you try to figure out how you're going to manage sleeping like this.<<else>> You watch them leave, then look down at your chained wrists as you try to figure out how you're going to manage sleeping like this.<</if>> "Let me get that," $xname says when $xthey notices, getting up from the thick furs of $xtheir bed and kneeling down in front of you. At first you're focused on what $xtheir hands are doing with the chains, $xtheir fingers curling around the metal bands around your wrists, but as you look up at $xname, what should've been a quick glance turns into a stare. $cxtheir head is bent down as $xthey's focused on the chains, but with $xtheir face so close to yours--leaving a small space of mere inches--it gives you an opportunity to regard $xtheir features more closely. You find an old scar beside $xtheir right eye that you didn't notice before, carved into $xtheir temple and shaped somewhat like a crescent. $cxtheir eyelashes are just as thick and long as they seemed from a distance, even more startling when $xname turns $xtheir attention back to you, eyes cut from emeralds peering through them to look right at you. "All done," $xthey says with a knowing smile, a touch of playfulness to it as you avert your gaze down to your wrists. The carved markings on the chains that glowed a soft purple before blink out, then flare up into a brighter pink, followed by a metallic unlocking sound and then the chains fall off your wrists entirely. "Better?" You meet $xname's eyes again and almost wish you hadn't, because they're mesmerizing and it's so difficult to look away a second time. You can almost feel $xtheir breath on your face, and you can't remember the last time anyone got this close to you. It's making your pulse quicken. The predominant thought going through your head at that moment is... <ul class="a"> <<if $xgender is "male">><li>[[How gorgeous Xelef is.|1.57.b.1][$xpoints += 1]]</li><<else>><li>[[How gorgeous Xelara is.|1.57.b.1][$xpoints += 1]]</li><</if>> <li>[[That you would like your personal space back.|1.57.b.2]]</li> </ul>$xname's smile widens, arch and cat-like as if $xthey knows exactly what you're thinking, but $xthey doesn't linger. $cxthey takes the chains with $xthem as $xthey rises back to $xtheir feet, gathering them up. You finally dislodge the words that got stuck in your throat. "Why did you unchain me?" "We'll be sleeping in the same tent," $xname says casually as $xthey drops the chains somewhere near the corner of the tent, then pulls one of the thick furs off $xtheir bed. "I've had plenty of time to become attuned to your magical signature, so if you try anything, I'll sense it. Don't tell Heval I took off your chains, though." That quickly, just by being in proximity to you? As you watch $xname drag the fur over near the entrance of the tent, you get a stark feeling that your real chains haven't been removed just yet. "There." $xname pats the fur, smoothing it out. You regard the brown coat with some consideration, but then $xname sits down on top of it and starts taking off the leather pieces of armor strapped to $xtheir shoulders. "Aren't you going to sleep in your bed?" you ask, confused, and $xname pauses to give you a strange look, but then starts chuckling. "What?" "You're going to have a difficult time being the Crown with that attitude," $xname remarks with amusement, not explaining $xthemselves any further and at this point you feel too awkward to ask so you remain silent. "Are you going to change?" You glance down at your clothes, but you're quite used to sleeping in them since they're so thin. "No, I'll just take off my cloak." "Suit yourself," $xname says, though makes no effort to change out of $xtheir own clothes either once the armor pieces and the heavy boots are off. <<if $xgender is "female">>You notice she has let her hair down as well, no longer tied up in a large bun.<</if>> <<if $xgender is "female">>She gets to twining her mid-length, wavy black tresses into a single braid over her shoulder with deft fingers, gaze faraway as if lost in thought. You watch her for a while before you realize you're gawking at her again. It must be a habit for $xthem, a nightly ritual, and though you know it's silly you never expected to see $xthem doing such a normal, human thing.<<else>>He puts both hands through his hair, sweeping it back more evenly, then traces his fingers over his jawline and the lower half of his cheeks, likely checking his facial hair. You watch him for a while before you realize you're gawking at him again. His gaze is faraway as if he's lost in thought, so fortunately he didn't notice.<</if>> [[Continue|1.58.b]]$xname seems to be able to read the disinterest from your face as $xthey wordlessly pulls away and rises to $xtheir feet, allowing you the space to breathe without any further remark or sly smile. $cxthey takes the chains with $xthem as $xthey moves through the tent, gathering the rest up. Your tension eases at the distance put in between you, but only by a little. "Why did you unchain me?" "We'll be sleeping in the same tent," $xname says casually as $xthey drops the chains somewhere near the corner of the tent, then pulls one of the thick furs off $xtheir bed. "I've had plenty of time to become attuned to your magical signature, so if you try anything, I'll sense it. Don't tell Heval I took off your chains, though." That quickly, just by being in proximity to you? As you watch $xname drag the fur over near the entrance of the tent, you get a stark feeling that your real chains haven't been removed just yet. "There." $xname pats the fur, smoothing it out. You regard the brown coat with some consideration, but then $xname sits down on top of it and starts taking off the leather pieces of armor strapped to $xtheir shoulders. "Aren't you going to sleep in your bed?" you ask, confused, and $xname pauses to give you a strange look, but then starts chuckling. "What?" "You're going to have a difficult time being the Crown with that attitude," $xname remarks with amusement, not explaining $xthemselves any further and at this point you feel too awkward to ask so you remain silent. "Are you going to change?" You glance down at your clothes, but you're quite used to sleeping in them since they're so thin. "No, I'll just take off my cloak." "Suit yourself," $xname says, though makes no effort to change out of $xtheir own clothes either once the armor pieces and the heavy boots are off. <<if $xgender is "female">>You notice she has let her hair down as well, no longer tied up in a large bun.<</if>> <<if $xgender is "female">>She gets to twining her mid-length, wavy black tresses into a single braid over her shoulder with deft fingers, gaze faraway as if lost in thought. You watch her for a while before you realize you're gawking at her again. It must be a habit for $xthem, a nightly ritual, and though you know it's silly you never expected to see $xthem doing such a normal, human thing.<<else>>He puts both hands through his hair, sweeping it back more evenly, then traces his fingers over his jawline and the lower half of his cheeks, likely checking his facial hair. You watch him for a while before you realize you're gawking at him again. His gaze is faraway as if he's lost in thought, so fortunately for you he didn't notice.<</if>> [[Continue|1.58.b]]<<set $progress to "2">><div id="2.1">@@.chaptertitleact0;CHAPTER TWO@@</div>@@.titleblack;In Threads of Gold@@ The fires follow you. From the farm across the vast plains of Rojan, it burns through great oak trees as it leaves nothing but the dead ground and the carcasses of animals in its wake. It's a plague, living and breathing and hungering. You are in a fire temple that holds an altar to sacred flames, the same way your father, Harun, holds your small hand in his large one. "Many people come here in the winter," your father explains to you, voice hushed as you both watch the flames burn in the center of the temple. "Fire temples are always warm." You watch another visitor stand before the stone altar, then gasp in horror when they stretch out their hands into the flames. "Bavo, they--!" "It's alright," he shushes you, a steady grip on you to keep you put. "Just watch." Their hands do not burn. Your horror transforms into amazement as you watch the visitor stand there, eyes closed as the flames travel up their arms and yet leave their clothes untouched, sinking through the fabric into their body and disappearing entirely. They open their eyes and smile, bowing respectfully to the altar, before turning around and walking toward the doorway to leave again. They notice your stare and wink at you as they pass. "What did they do?" you wonder out loud, looking back toward the altar in wonder. "Perhaps they asked for warmth to carry them through their journey," your father speculates thoughtfully. "Most people are not magi and cannot summon fire or spirits by themselves, but must rely on temples like these." <<if $adven gte $caut>>You turn to your father, excited. "Can I pray to the fire too? <em>Please</em>?"<<else>>You turn to your father. "And it doesn't hurt?" "Not even a little bit." You nod, thinking, then ask, "Can I pray to the fire too?"<</if>> Your father smiles. "We do not pray to the fire, my dear. We form a concord with its spirit, but there is always an exchange involved." "Exchange?" "Spirits do not give so easily," your father explains. "After all, it is a piece of themselves that you're asking to take with you. If you wish to make use of their power, you must impress them." "How?" Your father hums for a moment, pondering before he answers. "Fire spirits are drawn to those who possess clarity. Someone who holds no secrets, and who is true to themselves." "Oh." You stare at the altar. "I don't know about that..." "Yes, I suppose you're still too young for a concord," your father admits, almost apologetic. "Fire spirits are very... fussy by nature, so not everyone can interact with their kind. But I believe you can do it. Once you are of age, I will take you here again." "Really?" You grin up at your father as the flames consume the temple around you. "You promise?" Your father smiles back down at you, blood pouring from his lips. "I promise." [[Continue|2.2]] A bit unsure, you get up off the ground and walk over to $xname's bed, your eyes darting furtively to where $xname is already stretched out atop $xtheir single fur coat, lying on $xtheir back again. Although you feel rather strange about sleeping in someone else's bed when the owner is sharing the same space as you, you're not about to decline the offer. You untie your cloak and loosely fold it up, setting it next to $xname's bed before you lower yourself down on it. It's quite warm, and what with the heat of summer you doubt you'll need a blanket. As you settle onto the furs, lying on your side, you realize you're facing $xname. $xname smiles when $xthey meets your eyes. "Sweet dreams, Your Imperial Majesty." <<if $blunt gte $charm>>You frown, rolling over without a reply and turn your back to $xname, laughing with delight at your terse response. The silence settles in slowly, even with the noises of merrymaking from the mercenaries in the background. You thought $xname's presence in the tent would make it harder to fall asleep, but when the exhaustion of the eventful day settles in you find it forms no obstacle. It washes over you like a wave as you're swept along in its tide, and before you know it your eyes slip shut.<<else>>You smile back in response, a touch sardonic before you roll over and turn your back to $xname. "Sweet dreams, Pale Sword." $xname snorts, but says nothing more. The silence settles in slowly, even with the noises of merrymaking from the mercenaries in the background. You thought $xname's presence in the tent would make it harder to fall asleep, but when the exhaustion of the eventful day settles in you find it forms no obstacle. It washes over you like a wave as you're swept along in its tide, and before you know it your eyes slip shut.<</if>> [[End Chapter|2.1]] You wake from your nightmare only to find the horrifying steel visage of a stranger hovering over you, two dark holes where their eyes should be. A scream leaves your lips before you can understand what's happening, and the scowling mask flinches backward. You try to put your hands up in self-defense, but realize belatedly you're chained up again. "Oh for--" Two gloved palms come up in a placating gesture. "It's me, Heval! I was just trying to wake you up!" You finally remember that Heval wears a helmet with a mask and your momentary fear gradually subsides again, replaced by embarrassment. You're not used to anyone waking you up, and no doubt your nightmare didn't help matters. Avoiding Heval's eyes on you, you prop yourself up a little on your elbows and glance around the tent. The dim light heralding a new dawn filters into a warmer color through the red fabric, and it's a lot more peaceful now compared to the jovial noises of mercenaries drinking and laughing from last night. The red of the tent feels suffocating the longer you look at it, a need to breathe fresh air growing in your chest. The color reminds you of blood and fire--you avert your gaze to look up at Heval and find them staring at you quietly, still kneeling in front of the bed of furs you're lying on. "You seem shaken," they note, the pause in their words sounding hesitant. "I did not mean to--" "I'm fine," you lie. Heval doesn't say anything more, instead reaching over to unhook your chains from the tent pole, and you think they probably don't believe you. You wouldn't either.<<if $tujotrust gte 5>> But before you can say anything else, an apology already budding between your lips, someone comes barreling through the entrance of the tent with a sword drawn the very next second. "$name!" It's Tûjo, looking ready to run someone through with the pointy end of his curved blade. "I heard- <em>Heval</em>?" "Sorry," you say, barely able to meet Tûjo's bemused gaze. "Heval just, um, startled me. Everything is fine." Tûjo glances between you and Heval, then promptly sheathes his sword and walks right out of the tent again.<</if>> [[Continue|2.3]] When you tell $xname what happened a little while later as you sit in front of the burning embers of a bonfire--keeping quiet about your nightmare, of course--both $xname<<if $outside is true>>, Şanazî and a few other mercenaries<<else>> and some of $xtheir mercenaries<</if>> erupt into howling laughter. Heval fumes as they sit to your left on the grass. "It's not that amusing!" "Oh, but it is!" $xname grins, sitting on your right and nudging you in the side with $xtheir elbow. "Your screaming woke up most of the camp, they all thought someone was getting murdered!" "How is that in any way worthy of a laugh?" Heval grumbles, arms crossed. "Don't look so sour," <<if $outside is true>>Şanazî, who sits next to Tûjo,<<else>>a petite mercenary with short bronze curls who sits next to Tûjo<</if>> teases them, then turns to you to say, "You should've seen $xname's face when $xthey heard you screaming." $xname's grin disappears, a look of affront aimed at <<if $outside is true>>Şanazî<<else>>the mercenary<</if>>. "<<if $outside isnot true>>Come now, Şanazî, <</if>>I was startled for a moment- no, half a moment! If even that!" "I saw you reach for your sword!" "It was a reflex," $xname replies defensively. "Then I sensed Heval in the tent and didn't even pull it from its sheath. You are exaggerating, girl." "Oh, sure." Şanazî all but rolls her eyes. "We'll pretend like you weren't about to storm the tent yourself<<if $tujotrust gte 5>> when Tûjo beat you to it<</if>>, <<if $xgender is "male">>grandpa<<else>>grandma<</if>>." "You are such a little brat!" "Am not!" $xname opens $xtheir mouth to retort, but then has to dodge an apple flying toward $xtheir head, barely catching it in $xtheir fingers. $cxthey looks at Tûjo, sitting there as if he hadn't just casually lobbed an apple at the Pale Sword's head. "Tûjo!" $xname exclaims, appearing delighted by the unexpectedly childish act. Even with Tûjo's face hidden underneath his scarf, you can somehow still sense him scowling. "It's too early for this nonsense." Clearly not a morning person. You watch the scene silently with an apple of your own in your hand, though you can't bring yourself to take a bite, your appetite lacking. The good-natured bickering and ribbing continues well into the sunrise as food is passed around and others slowly emerge from their tents to join breakfast. At some point $xname leaves your side to go around the camp, stopping to chat with every mercenary $xthey comes across, looking for all the world as carefree as a bird. The sounds and the conversations wash over you, your shoulders tense and jaw clenching as your thoughts linger on the nightmare. The phantom touch of your father's hand still clings to your skin, the warmth of his blood on your face, the heat of the flames licking at your feet--was his sacrifice worth it? Was your mother's life worth it? Or did they both die for nothing, now that these cursed eyes of yours have led you here? [[Continue|2.4]]"You should eat." This whole time you didn't realize Heval remained next to you, so lost in your own head that you almost forgot about the rest of the world. It moved on without you, sunlight slowly warming the air as it scatters through the trees, bird songs greeting the new day as the open clearing fills with movement. Tents are being taken down, the camp cleaned up around you while you are as a statue in front of the remains of bonfire. You watch one of the sellswords kick some dirt on top of it to extinguish the embers. "I'm not hungry," you respond lamely, staring down at the apple still gripped between your fingers. "A child's answer." You turn to Heval. <<if $blunt gt $charm>>"What did you just call me?"<<else>>"Excuse me?"<</if>> They're not even looking at you, their helmet aimed in $xname's direction as $xthey moves through the camp like flowing water- no, in $xtheir case it would be more apt to compare $xthem to a flame spreading across the open clearing. The people surrounding $xthem appear so much brighter when $xthey's near, a single grin from $xthem enough to coax smiles out of those near $xthem. You yourself only spent a very short while in $xname's company, but you can understand why. $cxtheir presence is a force of nature. "$xname never misses a meal," Heval says out loud, not tearing their gaze away from $xthem. "$cxthey never shows $xtheir fear, not out in the open. Do you know what would happen if $xthey did?" "What?" "The crew would start panicking," Heval answers. "They'd lose their nerve, and some might even abandon $xthem entirely." "That doesn't seem fair," you say, not liking where Heval is going with this. "$cxthey's only human." "It's $xtheir responsibility," Heval says. "$cxthey leads us and we follow, provided we have faith. Anything that would shake that faith is something $xname cannot afford, and neither can you." You look around you for the first time that day and notice the stares you're getting. Not curious ones like they were last night, but hesitant ones, skeptical ones, some even outright disdainful. The apple feels heavy on your palm. Suddenly Heval's hands clamp around your chains, the purple engravings burning pink again before the chains fall off your wrists once more. "Eat," Heval says as they gather up the chains. "You can't rule on an empty stomach." They get up off the ground and walk away, leaving you be. [[Continue|2.5]]<<if $charm gte $blunt>>You decide to at least take a few bites while you sit on the grass. Heval is right, you can no longer move through life as if you're invisible. You'll have a reputation to uphold now, and you can either choose to wield it or end up consumed by it. After you're done eating you decide to stretch your legs, maybe take a walk around the camp.<<else>>You give the apple to a mercenary who passes by you, indifferent to what they may think. Why should you care? You've never bothered putting up a polite front for anyone, and you're certainly not going to start now. If these people would get flighty just because you skipped a meal then you're not interested in being their damned Crown in the first place. You decide to stretch your legs instead, maybe take a walk around the camp.<</if>> As you survey your surroundings you don't see any familiar faces around, Heval long gone and $xname and Tûjo both absent. You don't see Şanazî<<if $outside isnot true>>, the cheeky mercenary from before,<</if>> anywhere either. You're surrounded by strangers. The thought puts you on edge as you wander toward the outskirts of the clearing out of habit, careful to stay out of everyone's way as the mercenaries continue to pack up. Most of them either give you a nod in passing or outright ignore you, and none of them so much as speak a word to you, which you find odd. Were they told not to talk to you, or is it because they think you might be the Crown? You walk for a while, hoping it might ease your worries but it only serves to make you even more restless instead. There are so many ways in which this could end up a disaster. You have no idea what you've gotten yourself into, putting your trust in total strangers out of desperation, going along with $xname's plan just because $xthey <<if $xpoints is 1>>batted $xtheir pretty eyelashes at you once.<<else>><em>appears</em> to know what $xthey's doing, but what if $xthey doesn't?<</if>> What if-- "There's no need to be so nervous." A sudden voice to your left nearly has you jumping out of your skin, a hearty laugh immediately giving away the owner as you press your hand over your chest, taking a deep breath to calm your racing heart. You turn to find $xname leaning casually against a tree with $xtheir arms crossed, emphasizing $xtheir large muscles. $cxthey's grinning at you, the shadows of the forest darkening $xtheir eyes to a deeper green. "$xname, really?" You frown disapprovingly at $xthem. "I know you did that on purpose." "My apologies," $xname replies without a hint of remorse, $xtheir grin lingering a touch longer before it fades, $xtheir gaze drifting toward the mercenaries packing up the camp behind you. "Are you ready to leave?" You glance over your shoulder to the camp, realizing that nearly all of it has already been cleaned up, saddled to packhorses and mules or loaded onto wagons. Is it time to go already? You thought you would have longer to prepare yourself; it feels as if mere seconds have passed from when you first woke up rather than a whole hour. "Having second thoughts?" $xname questions with arched brows. <ul class="a"> <li>[[You respond honestly. "I don't know. Maybe."|2.6.a][$blunt to $blunt + 25]]<<if $cheatsheet is true>> <em>+ Blunt</em><</if>></li> <li>[[You play it off. "Oh, no, merely thinking about all the ways in which this could go horribly wrong."|2.6.b][$charm to $charm + 25]]<<if $cheatsheet is true>> <em>+ Charming</em><</if>></li> </ul>"It's natural to have doubts," $xname tells you, turning to look out over the mercenaries behind you who have cleared up any trace of the camp that was standing here moments ago. "Any leader has them." $xname doesn't elaborate on what $xthey means, but you think you can guess from the way $xthey watches over $xtheir crew, Heval in the midst of the crowd giving out orders. If anything goes wrong today, if someone should die today, it'll be because $xname decided to take on this job. And you asked $xthem to. "You have doubts as well?" you question, pulling $xtheir attention back on you as $xthey gives you a long, weighing look. You can read very little from $xtheir expression; for someone who laughs so loudly, $xname is not nearly as open a book as $xthey appears. $cxthey's evaluating you, gaze examining your expression closely before $xthey gives you a look-over from head to toe. It almost makes you feel like a prize horse being judged on the market. "I won't lie and say this will be easy," $xname speaks eventually, features carefully neutral and you could not say what conclusion $xthey came to. "That would do you no favors. Just stay close to Tûjo and do whatever he tells you to do." "And everything will be alright?" you finish when $xname does not continue. The wry smile $xthey gives you doesn't inspire much confidence, but then $xthey reaches over and puts $xtheir hand on your shoulder, a reassuring squeeze through the fabric of your cloak. "We'll get you there," $xthey promises, speaking it into being as if it already happened, and despite all your misfortune up until now, hearing it from $xthem makes you want to believe it. "How are you so calm about this?" you ask, not finding any hint of nerves in either $xname's touch on your shoulder or $xtheir body language. $cxthey's utterly relaxed, if a bit more serious than what you've seen up until now. "A combination of experience, planning and insufferable arrogance," $xname replies with an easy smile, releasing $xtheir grip on you. "It's mostly the arrogance." <<if $kind gte $calc>>"You mean well-earned confidence." You pause and reassess. "Wait, did you just bait me for compliments?"<<else>>You almost open your mouth to assure $xname that $xthey's nowhere near arrogant when you realize what $xthey's doing. "Oh, very sly. You're just baiting me for compliments, aren't you?"<</if>> "Your Imperial Majesty!" $xname gasps with feigned indignance."I would never! Oh, for shame! But if you could throw in a line about my dashing good looks, I would appreciate it." You roll your eyes good-naturedly. "I'm sure you have enough people already telling you that on a daily basis. Should I call Tûjo and ask for his opinion?" "Ha, no, that won't be necessary." $xname shifts a little closer to you, a friendly distance near your personal space. "Not unless you would like a long list of all of my horrible habits and many flaws." <<if $blunt gt $charm>>"You're exaggerating," you accuse,<<else>>"I'm certain it's not that bad," you say,<</if>> watching $xname's hovering with some curiosity. From what you've seen so far, $xname tends to be physically affectionate with the people close to $xthem, but obviously you haven't earned that closeness yet. Or maybe it's because you're the Crown that $xthey's keeping a distance? "Perhaps <<if $blunt gt $charm>>a little<<else>>not<</if>>," $xname admits playfully, leaning toward you. "Though he refuses to tell me that I'm pretty, which I must say is really hurtful." <ul class="a"> <li>[['"Tragic."'|2.7.b]]</li> <li>[[You avert your gaze, your cheeks heating up. "Hmm."|2.7.a][$res += 25]]<<if $cheatsheet is true>> <em>+ Reserved</em><</if>></li> <li>[["I would love to tell you how pretty you are," you respond smoothly.|2.7.a][$flirt += 25]]<<if $cheatsheet is true>> <em>+ Flirtatious</em><</if>></li> </ul>$xname pushes off from the tree and uncrosses $xtheir arms, turning fully toward you while $xthey gives you a sympathetic smile. "I know the feeling," $xthey admits, casually leaning $xtheir forearm against the tree. You can't help your surprise. "You do?" "Of course." $xname looks at the mercenaries who have meticulously erased any signs of the camp that was standing here a short while ago, and are now clustered into small squads, standing around and waiting. You notice Heval with their heavy armor in the thick of it, seeming to be giving out orders to various groups while their subordinates listen attentively. $xname doesn't elaborate on what $xthey means, but you think you can guess from the way $xthey watches over $xtheir crew. If anything goes wrong today, if someone should die today, it'll be because $xname decided to take on this job. And you asked $xthem to. "Do you think we'll succeed?" you ask $xname, pulling $xtheir attention back on you. The wry look $xthey gives you doesn't inspire much confidence, but then $xthey reaches over and puts $xtheir hand on your shoulder, a reassuring squeeze through the fabric of your cloak. "We'll get you there," $xthey promises, speaking it into being as if it already happened, and despite all your misfortune up until now, hearing it from $xthem makes you want to believe it. "How are you so calm about this?" you ask, not finding any hint of nerves in either $xname's touch on your shoulder nor $xtheir body language. $cxthey's utterly relaxed, if a bit more serious than what you've seen up until now. "A combination of experience, planning and insufferable arrogance," $xname replies with an easy smile, releasing $xtheir grip on you. "It's mostly the arrogance." <<if $kind gte $calc>>"You mean well-earned confidence." You pause and reassess. "Wait, did you just bait me for compliments?"<<else>>You almost open your mouth to assure $xname that $xthey's nowhere near arrogant when you realize what $xthey's doing. "Oh, very sly. You're just baiting me for compliments, aren't you?"<</if>> "Your Imperial Majesty!" $xname gasps with feigned indignance."I would never! Oh, for shame! But if you could throw in a line about my dashing good looks, I would appreciate it." You roll your eyes good-naturedly. "I'm sure you have enough people already telling you that on a daily basis. Should I call Tûjo and ask for his opinion?" "Ha, no, that won't be necessary." $xname shifts a little closer to you, a friendly distance near your personal space. "Not unless you would like a long list of all of my horrible habits and many flaws." <<if $blunt gt $charm>>"You're exaggerating," you accuse,<<else>>"I'm certain it's not that bad," you say,<</if>> watching $xname's hovering with some curiosity. From what you've seen so far, $xname tends to be physically affectionate with the people close to $xthem, but obviously you haven't earned that closeness yet. Or maybe it's because you're the Crown that $xthey's keeping a distance? "Perhaps <<if $blunt gt $charm>>a little<<else>>not<</if>>," $xname admits playfully, leaning toward you. "Though he refuses to tell me that I'm pretty, which I must say is really hurtful." <ul class="a"> <li>[['"Tragic."'|2.7.b]]</li> <li>[[You avert your gaze, your cheeks heating up. "Hmm."|2.7.a][$res += 25]]<<if $cheatsheet is true>> <em>+ Reserved</em><</if>></li> <li>[["I would love to tell you how pretty you are," you respond smoothly.|2.7.a][$flirt += 25]]<<if $cheatsheet is true>> <em>+ Flirtatious</em><</if>></li> </ul>$xname looks taken aback by your dry response, then starts to laugh, shaking $xtheir head. "You will make a very cruel Crown," $xthey accuses you with humor. "I set you up perfectly, and you shot me down without hesitation! <<if $tujotrust gte 10>>No wonder Tûjo likes you.<</if>>" "What did you want me to say?" you reply, perhaps with a bit of intentional obliviousness. "Anything but <em>tragic</em>!" You shrug, barely suppressing your grin. "You'll survive." "I wouldn't be so sure." Tûjo appears from behind you, as silent as ever. You have half a mind to ask him how he keeps doing that, though you suspect you wouldn't get much of an answer even if you did. "You shouldn't underestimate $xname's penchant for melodrama," Tûjo cautions you in such a serious tone you're not certain if he's joking or if he's being sincere. "Five years ago a <<if $xgender is "male">>prince of Qathesh rejected his advances and<<else>>princess of Qathesh rejected her advances and<</if>> up until this very day $xthey refuses to buy linen from that region." $xname groans. "Please don't mention <<if $xgender is "female">>Nitocris<<else>>Meryatum<</if>>, my heart is still broken." "If my memory serves me right," Tûjo continues, "didn't <<if $xgender is "male">>he<<else>>she<</if>> become a priest<<if $xgender is "female">>ess<</if>>?" $xname groans even louder and buries $xtheir face into $xtheir hands. Though you can't read anything from Tûjo's eyes, he must be having quite a lot of fun prodding $xname. "Enough about that," $xname decides moodily, glaring at Tûjo. "Are you here solely to torment me or is there another reason for gracing us with your delightful presence?" "There is." Tûjo folds his hands behind his back, addressing $xname in a more even tone, the change in the atmosphere almost palpable from the way $xname straightens up and gives Tûjo $xtheir full attention. "The crew has their orders, we're ready to move out." $xname nods, $xtheir eyes flitting to you. "What about you?" This is it. <<if $adven gt $caut>>"Let's go," you answer, your nerves only serving to make you more eager for action.<</if>><<if $caut gt $adven>>"I'm as ready as I'll ever be," you answer, trying to keep a level head; nothing good can come from rushing into things blindly.<</if>> [[Continue|2.9]]<<if $flirt gt $res>>$xname is only briefly caught off guard by your flirtatious tone, quickly shifting into something more mischievous as $xthey tilts $xtheir head, a slight curve of $xtheir lips. "You don't have to tell me, $xnickname," $xname says, voice lowered to reach only your ears. "I can see it in the way you watch me." You bite your lower lip, heart beating a little faster when $xname's eyes flit to your mouth, watching intently as the soft skin catches on the edge of your teeth. "What, ah, what did you just call me?" you ask distractedly, then remember that $xthey also called you something like that the first time you met. $cxthey was flirting with you then as well, quite boldly considering you were mere strangers. It makes you wonder how honest $xname is being right now.<<else>>"My, you've gone so quiet all of a sudden," $xname teases, inching a little closer to you and your heart beats faster at the proximity, $xname standing near enough to touch. "Wouldn't you agree that I'm pretty?" "I..." Your tongue doesn't seem to want to cooperate, eyes darting here and there to avoid $xname's intense gaze on you. You dare a look at $xname's expression and find it a little bit different, the playful edge softened into something fonder. "You are so easy to tease, $xnickname," $xname says. "It almost makes me feel bad." "I'm- sorry, your what?" you question, then remember that $xthey also called you something like that the first time you met. $cxthey was flirting with you then as well, quite boldly considering you were mere strangers. It makes you wonder how honest $xname is being right now.<</if>> "Should I not call you that?" $xname asks, seeming considerate of your comfort. "I suppose you will be the Crown soon, so maybe--" <ul class="a"> <li>[['"No, I like it."'|2.8.a][$xpoints to $xpoints + 2]]</li> <li>[['"I would rather you stick to my name."'|2.8.b][$xpoints to $xpoints + 2]]</li> </ul>$xname appears pleased, a slight smile on $xtheir lips that eyes much more genuine than the typical smirk $xthey usually wears. "Good." <<if $flirt gt $res>>You find yourself smiling back without even realizing it, holding $xtheir gaze as you stare into each other's eyes for a moment that lasts too long to be entirely innocent. $xname parts $xtheir lips. "I--"<<else>>You look away again, unable to hold $xname's gaze, but you can still feel $xtheir eyes on you even as you stare down at the ground. "$name, I--"<</if>> "Of course you're acting inappropriately with the Crown." Whatever moment passes between you is interrupted by Tûjo, appearing from behind you and as silent as ever. You have half a mind to ask Tûjo how he keeps doing that, though you suspect you wouldn't get much of an answer even if you did. "I was not!" $xname protests, but $xthey is swiftly ignored. "Though I can't say I'm surprised," Tûjo continues, shooting $xthem a disbelieving look. "Wouldn't be the first time $xthey got caught up with royalty, though that usually doesn't end well." "What do you mean?" you ask before $xname can get a word out, interested in learning more. You've heard tales of $xname's romantic exploits, but it's impossible to know whether they were based on any sort of truth. "Five years ago a <<if $xgender is "male">>prince of Qathesh rejected his advances,"<<else>>princess of Qathesh rejected her advances,"<</if>> Tûjo explains. "Up until this very day $xthey refuses to buy any linen from that region, even though it used to be $xtheir favorite." $xname groans. "Please don't mention <<if $xgender is "female">>Nitocris<<else>>Meryatum<</if>>, my heart is still broken." "If my memory serves me right," Tûjo adds, "didn't <<if $xgender is "male">>he<<else>>she<</if>> become a priest<<if $xgender is "female">>ess<</if>>?" $xname groans even louder and buries $xtheir face into $xtheir hands. Though you can't read anything from Tûjo's eyes, he must be having quite a lot of fun prodding $xname. "Enough about that," $xname decides moodily, glaring at Tûjo. "Are you here solely to torment me or is there another reason for gracing us with your delightful presence?" "There is." Tûjo folds his hands behind his back, addressing $xname in a more even tone, the change in the atmosphere almost palpable from the way $xname straightens up and gives Tûjo $xtheir full attention. "The crew has their orders, we're ready to move out." $xname nods, $xtheir eyes flitting to you. "What about you?" This is it. <<if $adven gt $caut>>"Let's go," you answer, your nerves only serving to make you more eager for action.<</if>><<if $caut gte $adven>>"I'm as ready as I'll ever be," you answer, trying to keep a level head; nothing good can come from rushing into things blindly.<</if>> [[Continue|2.9]]<<set $xnickname to $name>><<set $cxnickname to $name>>"Of course," $xname aquiesces, flashing you a somewhat apologetic smile. "$name it is." "Huh." You're almost surprised at how easily $xname adapts to your request. "I was sure you would throw a fit." "Surely not!" $xname scoffs, but the impish crook in $xtheir grin betrays $xtheir mischief. "Though I cannot say that I'm not disappointed." "You'll get over it," you reply, smiling back a little. "I wouldn't be so sure." Tûjo appears from behind you, as silent as ever. You have half a mind to ask him how he keeps doing that, though you suspect you wouldn't get much of an answer even if you did. "You shouldn't underestimate $xname's penchant for melodrama," Tûjo cautions you in such a serious tone you're not certain if he's joking or if he's being sincere. "Five years ago a <<if $xgender is "male">>prince of Qathesh rejected his advances and<<else>>princess of Qathesh rejected her advances and<</if>> up until this very day $xthey refuses to buy linen from that region." $xname groans. "Please don't mention <<if $xgender is "female">>Nitocris<<else>>Meryatum<</if>>, my heart is still broken." "If my memory serves me right," Tûjo continues, "didn't <<if $xgender is "male">>he<<else>>she<</if>> become a priest<<if $xgender is "female">>ess<</if>>?" $xname groans even louder and buries $xtheir face into $xtheir hands. Though you can't read anything from Tûjo's eyes, he must be having quite a lot of fun prodding $xname. "Enough about that," $xname decides moodily, glaring at Tûjo. "Are you here solely to torment me or is there another reason for gracing us with your delightful presence?" "There is." Tûjo folds his hands behind his back, addressing $xname in a more even tone, the change in the atmosphere almost palpable from the way $xname straightens up and gives Tûjo $xtheir full attention. "The crew has their orders, we're ready to move out." $xname nods, $xtheir eyes flitting to you. "What about you?" This is it. <<if $adven gt $caut>>"Let's go," you answer, your nerves only serving to make you more eager for action.<</if>><<if $caut gte $adven>>"I'm as ready as I'll ever be," you answer, trying to keep a level head; nothing good can come from rushing into things blindly.<</if>> [[Continue|2.9]]<<unset $outside>>Tûjo takes you toward the Crescent Blades who are split up into two large groups, standing in sharp rectangle formations as well-trained as any army platoon. You see Heval at the very front of one group where $xname joins them, while Tûjo guides you to the back of the other group. Barely anyone speaks. It seems so quiet at first, but there's an undercurrent that becomes apparent to you the longer you observe the sellswords around you, so focused that none of them so much as glance in your direction when you join them in the back. You can almost feel it in the air, something restless and charged like right before a thunderstorm. $xname's voice rings out over the clearing. "Crescent Blades!" $xthey shouts. "Are you ready to save the Empire?" "<em>We are</em>!" the mercenaries cry out as one, some raising their weapons, and you flinch at the sudden burst of noise surrounding you. "Then march!" They move as one and you're thankful that there's no one behind you or they surely would've smacked right into you. Tûjo gives you a look from the corner of his eyes, wordlessly warning you to keep up, and you make sure to stick close to him as you follow the procession of mercenaries heading down a dirt path. The two groups each divide into rows of three, seeing as how the path is too narrow to maneuver otherwise, but as you watch them from behind you realize they move more easily than soldiers would. With the exception of Heval, most of their armors are light, meant to allow flexibility and movement. They don't get bogged down even amidst the dense terrain of a forest. You and Tûjo are at the very end, walking side by side. No one speaks, which doesn't help your nerves, but you're not keen on being the first to break the silence when everyone seems to be concentrating on a possible battle. It occurs to you that you don't have a plan for what you're going to do or say to $rtitle $rname once you meet $rthem, if you even get the opportunity. If all goes well there won't even be so much as a skirmish, but that seems too much to hope for. [[Continue|2.10]] The peaceful sounds of the forest are drowned out by the harsh thuds of boots against the dirt, steadily building like a drum. You start to keep count of the footsteps if only to keep yourself occupied, but your mind drifts too much. Are you going to need a weapon? Maybe you should ask for one, or maybe that will just make things worse. You want to make a good first impression, whatever that means—you’re the Crown, do first impressions even matter? Spirits, you’re the <em>Crown</em>. You don’t even know what you want to do once you ascend the throne. This journey started from blood, from fear, from the ingrained need to survive. You never asked for it, yet it was decided that it would be you regardless of what you wanted. What will you do with the throne? You could do anything. The thought is dizzying, so much power given to you when you’ve never known any, living the life of a refugee constantly on the run. It frightens you. What if you make a mistake? What if you misuse your power? What’s stopping you from destroying the Empire? “$name!” You spot $xname standing near the side of the path as the other mercenaries pass by, seeming to be waiting for you. [[Continue|2.11]] Tûjo guides you to $xthem and your gaze briefly falls on the pale white scimitar strapped to $xname’s waist. You walk up to $xthem, but as soon as you approach $xthey reaches out with $xtheir hand and flicks your forehead with a finger, a slight sting of pain on your skin as you flinch back. “Um, ow?” You rub the spot, frowning <<if $height is 'average' or $height is 'short' or $height is 'very short'>>up<</if>><<if $height is 'very tall'>>down<</if>> at $xname. “What was that for?” “You know,” $xname says casually, “I have no less then seventy mercenaries in my crew, seventy different people with their emotions and feelings chattering non-stop at me like overactive birds, and yet yours is a deafening screech that drowns them all out.” Tûjo raises a fist to his mouth that’s hidden behind his black scarf to smother a cough, one that sounds suspiciously like laughter. “You can <em>hear</em> me?” you ask anxiously. “Not literally, and that's not the point!” $xname sighs. “Didn’t I tell you before that there is no need to be nervous? You came to me for a reason, so trust me to do the job you <<if $hirexel is true>>hired me to do<<else>>asked me to do<</if>>. I need you clearheaded and calm if we’re to succeed.” It's true that being anxious isn't going to help you get through this, but $xname's words don't exactly reassure you either. “You really think $rtitle $rname’s guards would go that far to defend $rthem?” $xname does not respond to you, instead taking out a short dagger, its handle decorated with a rich pearl inlay, and offering it to you. “Just in case.” You take the dagger with some hesitation, fingers curling around the cold handle. Your mother taught you basic ways to strike an opponent if necessary, and in terms of magic, your father taught you how to <<if $magicpref is "inner">>harden your skin to withstand simple attacks.<<else>>erect a basic shield of magic to protect you from simple attacks.<</if>> Having an actual weapon in your hand is different, however. <<if $adven gt $caut>>Though you suppose it can’t be that hard to use a dagger. Aim and stab, right?<<else>>Merely holding the dagger makes you antsy<<if $kind gt $calc>>; you hope you won’t have to use it on anyone<</if>>.<</if>> [[Continue|2.12]]<<unset $hirexel>>“Did you find $aname?” Tûjo asks $xname as you slip the dagger away beneath your cloak, and $xname grins crookedly. “$cathey’s waiting for me, in fact.” $xname adjusts the dark leather vambraces on $xtheir forearms, something $xthey wasn’t wearing yesterday. It matches the greaves on $xtheir lower legs, and you can make out the image of a lion’s head bearing its fangs carved into both leather pieces. “Don’t get reckless,” Tûjo warns $xthem, to which $xthey huffs. “Tûjo, who do you think you’re talking to?” $xname claps him on his shoulder. “I can handle $aname. Take care of $name, would you?”<<if $xpoints is 3>> $xname then turns to you, smiling for a moment before $xthey bows low at the waist with one hand over $xtheir heart. “I’ll pray for your success,” $xname says, $xtheir eyes on you and you know that $xthey’s being truthful with you this time, not mocking you for a title you haven’t earned yet.<</if>> $cxthey turns away from both you and Tûjo, moving off the dirt path into the wilderness of the forest as $xthey smoothly slips into the shadows between the trees, and then $xthey’s gone. “Let’s catch up,” Tujo says, nodding with his head toward the marching mercenaries who have moved on without you. <<if $kind gte $calc>>“Will $xname be alright?” Tûjo glances at you from the corner of his eyes as you hurry along the path to rejoin the back of the second group. “$xname’s task is simple compared to ours.”<<else>>“Do you think $xname can win?” Tûjo glances at you from the corner of his eyes as you hurry along the path to rejoin the back of the second group. “$cxthey doesn’t need to win, $xthey only has to stall $aname.”<</if>> You fall silent and try not to get worked up by your nerves again, like $xname warned you, but it’s not as if you can help how fast your heart is beating. You try to control it through measured breaths as you walk, the pace slowing once you rejoin the other Crescent Blades. Just as you start to feel calmer, the group ahead of you splinters off. [[Continue|2.13]] Confused, you pause to look at what’s happening, but Tûjo doesn’t give you the opportunity as he grabs you by the elbow and pulls you along. The narrow dirt path you were on has led you onto the main road, often simply called the Crown’s Road, which cuts through Kartan’s Forest and heads into the province of Zerat. It connects to all the five major provincial capitals, including the Empire’s main capital, and you realize it would thus likely be used by $rtitle $rname to get back to Zerat as quickly as possible. That explains why Tûjo is dragging you into the bushes bordering the Crown’s Road. The other Crescent Blades are similarly hidden along both sides of the road, lying in wait for an ambush. One mercenary stands in front of the dirt path, lifting his hand up in a rising motion. Something seems to fade into existence, a shadow that gradually takes shape and color. A mirage of trees appears to cover up the opening to the dirt path, hiding it from sight. Illusory magic. You had no idea there were also highly trained magi among the Crescent Blades. You turn to Tûjo. “How do you know $rtitle $rname has yet to pass through here?” “$xname sent out a scout earlier.” Tûjo seems completely focused on the road, even as he answers your question. “So all we have to do is wait?” Whether Tûjo would have responded to you or not is something you’ll never know, as right at point you hear the unmistakable sound of hooves treading down the road. It’s coming from the far left, and sure enough as you lean forward to take a peek, you spot a glimpse of mounted soldiers riding ahead of what looks like a procession. “Tûjo, what is the plan?” you ask as calmly as you can, considering you don’t know what you’re supposed to do once the procession reaches you. “Do nothing,” Tûjo replies. “Not until I say so.” [[Continue|2.14]] The mounted soldiers at the front are quickly drawing closer, their horses moving with efficiency even with their riders clad in armor from head to toe. You wait with baited breath, keeping an eye on Tûjo beside you as the first soldiers reach the ambush point. They pass by, as do the mounted soldiers behind them. You catch the glare of golden armor and the edge of a red cloak, standing out among iron and silver, and you're not the only one who notices. “Blades, with me!” You recognize Heval’s voice, and then the mercenaries move. The ambush is so quick and so sudden you can barely keep up with what’s happening. The Crescent Blades jump out from their hiding spots onto the Crown’s Road, surrounding the procession. Some manage to yank riders down from their horses, while others use magic to trap the horses instead, tree roots shooting up from the ground or the earth itself twisting around their horses' legs. You see a flash of fire, a wall of flame erected to block the path. The soldiers are shouting, panicked at the sudden attack, but then you see the one with golden armor atop their black horse, their voice ringing out like thunder over the chaos. “GUARDS, ON ME!” You recognize that voice. “Tûjo, that’s—” “General $dname, I know.” Tûjo hasn’t moved from his position and so neither have you, both still hidden behind the bushes. “Don’t move yet.” You watch as the general rallies $dtheir soldiers, and only then do you notice someone else atop a gray spotted horse beside the General. It’s an unassuming slender figure, wearing the thick, red cloak you noticed before. They stay close to the general as the soldiers form a protective circle around them both, trying to drive the Crescent Blades away who are content to hang back now that they have the procession surrounded. [[Continue|2.15]] The general wears a golden helmet with a nose guard, one that doesn’t quite hide $dtheir features but in this chaos and from this distance you can’t make out much of what $dthey looks like. All you can tell is that $dthey’s swinging a heavy iron mace around that collides with the shield of a mercenary, toppling them over as if they were nothing. “HEVAL!” the general roars, having caught sight of Heval who watches the Crescent Blades slowly drive the procession into a corner—apparently they’re acquainted. “WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS?” “General $dname, didn’t it occur to you that we might hear about your order to arrest $xname?” Heval sneers, twirling a battle axe with twin blades shaped like crescents around in their hand. “You’ve gone too far this time.” General $dname’s demeanor changes, $dtheir rage cooling. “Then where is that damned thorn in my side? Where is $xname?” “Shit,” you hear Tûjo mutter from beside you. “$cdthey’s not buying it.” “Let us take you to $xthem,” Heval responds evenly. “We can talk this over and clear up this misunderstanding.” That seems to hit a nerve with the general, whose fury is almost palpable even from where you’re crouched dozens of feet away. “I WILL DO NO SUCH THING!” General $dname fumes. “If $xname wants to speak to me then $xthey should come here and face me $xthemselves! I refuse to—” Tûjo suddenly yanks on your arm again, dragging you out of the bushes. “Come!” As you follow him you notice that the wall of fire that someone had cast earlier to block off the main road has been extinguished. The red-cloaked rider from before, accompanied by several mounted soldiers, is now hurrying along the open road. You were so fixated on General $dname’s irate display that you did not notice them slip away. Was that intentional? “How are we going to catch them?” you call as you run after Tûjo as fast as you can, but you have no hope of catching up to horses. “Watch,” Tûjo says, and bends down low to smack his palm onto the dirt. From a distance you see massive tree roots burst out of the ground like before, coiling tightly around the horses, throwing off one of the soldiers while the other two quickly jump off. They help the red-cloaked rider dismount as well before they head off the main road into the dense forest. [[Continue|2.16]]“Hurry!” Tûjo says to you as you sprint after them together. The soldier that was thrown off their horse before and was left behind straightens up at your approach, unsheathing their sword and facing you. “You go no further!” Tûjo slows into a walk, ignoring the soldier and heading straight for the area where the red-cloaked rider as well as the other soldiers disappeared into the forest. “Halt!” the soldier cries out, but when Tûjo does not stop, they swing out with their sword aimed at the side of Tûjo’s neck. “I said—” Tûjo ducks so quickly you barely see him move, a solid punch straight to the soldier’s abdomen, right below the sheet metal plate covering their chest. The soldier doubles over in pain and falls to their knees with a wheeze, more tree roots bursting from the ground to trap their arms and legs. "W-wait!" they cry out, trying to fight the tree roots in vain as they're pinned down to the ground on their stomach. "Stop! I'm warning y-- mmph!" A tree root clamps down around their mouth, silencing them. “This way,” Tûjo says to you, giving you little time to gape at his display of competence as he takes you off the path into the forest. The both of you take up running again, leaving the soldier behind. Twigs snap and grass flattens beneath your feet as your legs move in between the bushes and you weave through the oak trees, keeping up relatively well with Tûjo's pace. If nothing else, all the traveling you've done until now has improved your stamina by quite an amount. You hop over a small patch of wildflowers to avoid trampling them as you continue to jog and look around, but you can't find any sign of the other soldiers or the red-cloaked figure. “The person with the red cloak,” you muse, your run tapering off as Tûjo slows down the pace until you're both walking. “Was that $rtitle $rname?” “We will find out shortly.” You open your mouth to ask Tûjo what he means when two figures dart out in front of you from behind the trees. Tûjo quickly unsheathes his short sword as he stands in front of you, blocking the soldiers. One has a short sword similar to Tûjo's while the other holds a bow and arrow, both pointed at Tûjo. “Back away, mercenary,” the sword wielder warns. “I’m not here for you,” Tûjo replies coolly, holding one hand behind his back as he faces the both of them with his sword in hand. “Where’s $rtitle $rname?” “That is none of your business!” “I believe $rthey would benefit greatly from meeting my <<if $tujotrust gte 10>>friend<<else>>acquaintance<</if>>,” Tûjo states, relaxing his stance and sheathing his sword again, likely to signal that he's not an enemy. “As would the Empire.” Both the sword wielder and the archer look at you<<if $caut gte $adven>>, their eyes on you making you stiffen in surprise. “Show them,” Tûjo tells you. You breathe in deep, gathering all the courage you have and trusting Tûjo to keep you safe, before you step forward and pull your hood down to reveal your eyes.<<else>>. Your turn to do your part, then, though you wish Tûjo would’ve given you a heads-up before throwing you in the deep end like this. Nevertheless you step forward, and pull your hood down to reveal your eyes.<</if>> [[Continue|2.17]] The sword wielder’s jaw slackens, their sword lowering slightly as they stare at you, dumbfounded. Their partner, the archer, keeps their bow trained on Tûjo but you see their eyes widen in equal measures of shock. “Do you understand now?” Tûjo says. “$rtitle $rname needs to—” The archer points their bow at you, their partner looking at them in confusion. “What—” You stand frozen. Time slows down as the archer fires their arrow aimed right between your eyes and you can’t seem to move. The only thought in your mind is that you’re going to die and it startles you how calmly you take it, how easily you embrace the idea as the arrow flies toward you. You’re going to die— A sword curved like a sickle cuts through the arrow, snapping it as if it were a twig. You stare at the broad back of another soldier having appeared seemingly out of nowhere, standing in front of you. <<if $abeggar is true>>Dark leather and silver scale, black cloth—you’ve seen this armor before.<<else>> The silver scale armor covering their torso is distinct from what the regular soldiers wear, though it's also more muted compared to General $dname's bright golden armor. Below the scale armor they wear an armored skirt, decorated with strips of leather hanging down a dark gray cloth belt, wrapped twice around their waist. Their legs are hidden in black cloth that looks a bit more tightly fit than the loose pants you're used to seeing. You glance further down and notice the dark metal sheets armoring their matching dark leather boots. It looks heavy, but they seem to carry it with ease.<</if>> “Ro-Royal Protector,” the soldier with the sword stammers, almost as flustered as you are at the sudden appearance. It’s $aname. [[Continue|2.18]] The archer slowly lowers their bow, jaw clenching in tension, while Tûjo tries to reach for his own short sword. $aname shifts to stand sideways and points $atheir blade at your throat, staring at Tûjo in warning. “Don’t.” Tûjo raises his hands, but you can read the tension in his posture, movements stiff as he stands motionless while watching $aname in turn. The archer’s gaze darts furtively between the two of them while the soldier with the sword still looks confused. At least you’re not dead. Yet. $aname turns $atheir head to face you, the edge of $atheir dark metal sickle sword cool against the skin of your neck, yet as you look at $athem you don’t feel threatened. Such kind eyes, finely-shaped and narrow with a soft brown color that appears light against $atheir complexion. It’s a strange thing to notice about someone who has a blade pressed to your throat, but you don’t sense any malice. Only a desire to protect. $catheir skin is a rich shade of black with a warm undertone, a natural glow to it like the sun gleaming off a smooth gemstone. It's just a tint lighter than $atheir hair<<if $agender is "male">>, tightly coiled curls trimmed down short while patches of dark facial hair cover his jawline, chin and the skin around his upper lip.<<else>>, her tresses separated into several locks braided close to her scalp in raised rows, going from above her forehead down to the back of her neck.<</if>> You note a pair of silver earrings in $atheir right ear, small and round but subtly present, glinting when the light catches the metal. The dimples in $atheir cheeks when $athey flashes you a mocking smile, the natural curve to $atheir full lips and wide, rounded nose contrasting with the defined angle of $atheir jawline; these are the kind of features that poets would exalt in lovesick verses. An easy, warm kind of beauty, one that nearly made you forget there’s still a sword in the way. $aname is <<if $height is 'tall'>>the same height as you<</if>><<if $height is 'average' or $height is 'short'>>somewhat taller than you<</if>><<if $height is 'very short'>>quite a bit taller than you<</if>><<if $height is 'very tall'>>shorter than you<</if>>, possessing a solid frame meant to carry the hefty silver scale armor on $athem with ease, though with how $athey reacted to the arrow you don't think $athey lacks for speed because of it. Once $athey speaks, the usual low tone of $atheir voice is sharpened into a threatening edge and there’s no hint of the drawling, bored manner you heard $athem speaking with back in Marabad. “You claim to be the Crown?” <ul class="a"> <li>[[You manage a smile, albeit a weak one. "Trust me, I would rather not be."|2.19][$charm to $charm + 25]]<<if $cheatsheet is true>> <em>+ Charming</em><</if>></li> <li>[[You simply nod, not sure what else you can say.|2.19][$blunt to $blunt + 25]]<<if $cheatsheet is true>> <em>+ Blunt</em><</if>></li> </ul>$aname hums briefly, looking at you critically before $athey appraises the two soldiers in front of you. $catheir gaze lingers on the archer who takes a small step away from $athem, as if physically pushed back by $aname’s stare. “It- it was an accident,” they exclaim nervously, fingers twitching around their bow. “I didn’t mean to—” $aname starts walking toward them and the archer goes straight into a panic, lifting their bow and aiming an arrow straight at $aname. “Have you lost your mind?” the other soldier exclaims in disbelief, distancing themselves from their partner. “Stay back!” the archer yells at $aname who ignores their warning and keeps walking toward them, causing the archer to stumble back as they barely keep from tripping over their own feet. “I’ll shoot! I’ll—” $aname smacks their bow aside and grabs them by their forehead, both $atheir palm and $atheir eyes lighting up a vivid blue. You feel the ripple of magic in the air like a cold chill, and after a long moment passes the unnatural glow fades. The archer goes slack, dropping like a sack of stones on the ground once $aname releases them. “What…” You swallow thickly. “What just happened?” $aname looks straight at you, the steely gaze from before replaced by one of casual disinterest. “You survived your first assassination attempt. Congratulations.” All you can do is stare as $aname seems to dismiss your presence immediately thereafter, turning to the other soldier who is equally stunned, if not more so than you. “Where is $rtitle $rname?” $aname asks in a bored tone, hooking $atheir sickle sword back on $atheir belt. “$crthey, uh, $rthey went on ahead,” the sword wielder replies, nervously tripping over their own words. “We- we were going to follow the river to the nearest outpost.” “Go join $rthem.” $aname’s focus drifts until it settles on Tûjo, though $athey continues to speak to the soldier. “We’ll follow once we sort this mess out.” “Yes, Royal Protector!” The soldier bows quickly to $athem, then hesitates when turning to you. “Uh… Your- Your Imperial Majesty.” They bow again to you, a bit stiffly as you can still see the confusion written on their face as they sheathe their sword and hurry along. [[Continue|2.20]]“I’ve had it up to here with $xname’s clever schemes,” $aname drawls the minute the soldier has left, looking over at Tûjo who crouches down next to the unconscious archer. “If $xthey wanted to lure the assassins out, $xthey could’ve done so without using the Crown as bait. As it is, there are yet more of these traitors to account for among the guard.” You perk up, looking from $aname to Tûjo in alarm. “Bait?” Tûjo doesn’t say anything when you look at him. In fact, he avoids eye-contact with you entirely as he rolls the archer over, taking away their bow and quiver of arrows as well as the dagger tucked into their belt. Instead of answering you, he responds solely to $aname. “The only way to expose the assassins is to take them by surprise, though such tactics wouldn’t have been necessary at all if you hadn’t let them infiltrate $rtitle $rname’s personal guard in the first place.” You are so utterly lost in this conversation. What are they talking about? Infiltrators among the Imperial Guard? Assassins? <em>What</em>? “<em>I</em> didn’t let anyone do anything, Tûjo,” $aname corrects him pointedly, and you get the sense these two know each other quite well. “$dname is in charge of appointing $rtitle $rname’s personal guards. I’ve had my doubts about some of $dtheir picks, but it was not my place to disagree.” Tûjo hums as he rises to his feet again, the bow and the quiver slung over his shoulder while he twirls the archer’s dagger with his hand. “Where is $xname?” $aname arches a single brow, watching the movements of the dagger. “Being stalled by the bandits you people failed to take care of, apparently. They crashed our duel.” “We were supposed to take out their main camp yesterday, but we were sidetracked by $name here,” Tûjo answers dryly, glancing at you as he slips the dagger into his belt. “$cthey showed up rather unannounced. As you can see.” “So I can.” $aname turns $atheir attention back on you, a dissatisfied pull of $atheir lips. You're expecting a sneer of some sort, so when $aname bends $atheir knee to you instead you're more than a little surprised. “My name is $aname Mirza and I go by $athey,” $athey says, $atheir head bowed and $atheir expression hidden, but the aloof tone of $atheir voice doesn’t exactly make you feel welcomed. “I will serve as your sword and as your shield, if you would have me.” <ul class="a"> <li><<if $agender is 'female'>>[[Accept; you'll win her over eventually.|2.21.a][$calc to $calc + 25]]<<else>>[[Accept; you'll win him over eventually.|2.21.a][$calc to $calc + 25]]<</if>><<if $cheatsheet is true>> <em>+ Calculated</em><</if>></li> <li>[[Decline; you haven't earned it yet.|2.21.b][$kind to $kind + 25]]<<if $cheatsheet is true>> <em>+ Kind</em><</if>></li> </ul>“I get the impression you’re not very happy with me,” you remark, unsure of how to feel about having a stranger serving you. You’ve never been served by anyone your entire life, and now you suddenly have a whole bodyguard to account for. “Why is that?” $aname is silent for a short time, then lifts $atheir head to peer up at you as $athey responds. “It’s nothing personal, and a matter that is best discussed another time. Regardless, I swear no harm will befall you so long as you are under my protection.” $cathey appears earnest and entirely serious. From how $athey overpowered the archer earlier you have no doubts about $atheir abilities, especially since $athey even defeated $xname once in single combat. <<if $kind gt $calc>>It just makes you uneasy to have someone serving you when they’re in any way reluctant about it. You would never want to make anyone do something for you against their will.<</if>><<if $calc gt $kind>>It just makes you skeptical to have someone serving you when they’re so reluctant. Can you really trust $aname’s word that $athey will protect you, given that?<</if>> “How do you know that I’m the Crown?” you ask, feeling the need to prod this stranger who you're expected to entrust your very life to. “That I’m not an impostor?” “$rtitle $rname shared $rtheir vision with me,” $aname answers plainly. “The one $rthey received from Lady Zerya, the previous Sorcerer, who in turn received it from Crown Ferzan right before he died. The details were a little... faded, since it was passed on from person to person, but I do believe it was your face that I saw.” That's a clear enough explanation. You sure wish someone had bothered to share that vision with $xname; it would've spared you an hour or three in chains. <<if $charm gte $blunt>>“In that case, ah…” You struggle with how to answer, never having done this before. “I’ll… submit to your… proposal?”<<else>>“So, uh, I have no idea how to respond to all this,” you say, figuring you’d rather be honest than accidentally embarrass yourself. “Try,” $aname says. Looks like you’re embarrassing yourself after all. “Then, I’ll… submit to your… proposal?”<</if>> You can feel Tûjo staring at you, and $aname presses $atheir lips together, trying not to break out into a laugh even while you can see the dimples forming in $atheir cheeks again. “I said that wrong, didn’t I?” you mutter, wishing you could transform into moss and become one with the forest floor. $aname rises back up to $atheir feet, taking a deep breath to collect $athemselves and smooth out $atheir expression before answering. “So very wrong.” “Sorry.” “No, you—” $aname raises a hand to $atheir head, resting it on the side of $atheir forehead as if $athey were overcome with a sudden headache. “I apologize?” $aname’s mouth doesn’t move but you hear a noise from $atheir throat, something between a deep hum and a groan. “The- phrasing isn’t the issue.” $aname looks at you with a mixture of despair and amusement. “You must never apologize to your servants, much less submit. Don’t ever use that word, under any circumstance.” “Okay, right.” You nod, still feeling lost<<if $kind gte $calc>> and not taking a liking to the idea of never apologizing to anyone, but if it's the usual decorum it's probably best to stick with it<</if>>. “Then what should I say?” “When someone pledges themselves to you,” $aname explains slowly, “simply state your acceptance. If you wish to be formal about it, you could use words like <em>allow</em> or <em>permit</em>. If they’re someone you respect you could say, <em>‘I would be honored’</em>, or something of the sort.” You hesitantly try again. “So, I accept your service? Or, I shall allow you to serve me?” “For example,” $aname agrees, then frowns deeply. “Why on earth am I teaching you etiquette?” <<if $charm gt $blunt>>“Because you’re a kind and helpful person?” you suggest, and actually manage to coax a slight smile out of $aname. “Or because I would rather not be embarrassed by my Crown.” You smile back playfully. “Ouch?”<<else>>“I’m not sure,” you consider, “but you’re quite good at it.” $aname snorts. “How ironic! If only $dname could hear this.”<</if>> [[Continue|2.22]]<<if $charm gte $blunt>>"I'm honored, really," you say for lack of a better word, and $aname lifts $atheir head to look up at you expectantly. "But I can't accept."<<else>>"I can't accept," you state without hesitation.<</if>> $aname's brows lower slowly, crinkling into a frown as if you were speaking a foreign language. "What?" "I'm not even the Crown yet," you reason as $aname gets up to $atheir feet, $atheir bewildered expression morphing into one of annoyance as you explain yourself. "I haven't even done anything to be worthy of--" "Your worthiness--or indeed, who you are as a person--has absolutely nothing to with whether you ought to be protected or not," $aname cuts in. "It's completely irrelevant." "How is it not relevant?" You gape at $atheir nearly apathetic response. "Look, I know you don't really want to serve me, I can see it written all over your face! Which is perfect, because I don't want to be served, so..." $aname raises $atheir hand to $atheir forehead as if overcome with a sudden headache. "That is not even in the vicinity of the point that I'm trying to make." "Oh, then please," you retort a little bit snappily, starting to feel equally irritated. "Enlighten me!" $aname smirks at you with derision, but then straightens out $atheir expression again. "It's my duty to protect you, that's all there is to it. If you wish to dismiss me because you find me inadequate, that's one thing, but I will not allow you to brush me aside merely out of some fanciful notion of selflessness." "Fanciful notion of--?" You almost rear back at the provocation. "I'm not trying to be selfless! It's not as if I have a death wish, I just don't want other people to- to die for me!" "Thereby risking your own life," $aname argues back. "If no one is allowed to die for you, who is going to protect you? What will happen to the Empire when yet <em>another</em> Crown is assassinated, have you thought about that?" You don't have a response for that, and as much as it bothers you, you know that $athey's right. The whole reason you wanted to meet $rtitle $rname in the first place was because you were running from assassins, wasn't it? You were so busy trying to survive that you didn't realize that your safety would require sacrifice on the parts of other people, barely even giving a thought to the consequences of becoming the Crown beyond wanting to stay alive. It's not entirely rational, maybe, but it doesn't sit well with you because people have <em>already</em> sacrificed themselves for you. Your parents both died for you, and even as you push the weight of that knowledge down, you still carry it with you. You will always carry it with you. "I'm sure this hasn't fully sunk in yet, but you are to be the Crown now," $aname continues sternly. "Your life is worth thousands, <em>hundreds</em> of thousands of lives, whether you like it or not." You inhale a deep breath, slightly shaky as the sweat starts to gather on your palms, trembling lightly as you move your arms to hug yourself and hide your hands, but $aname's eyes flash to your fingers and you know $athey caught their unsteadiness. "Is it so wrong to not want others to die for me?" you say quietly, the magnitude of what's happening fully hitting you for the first time. People are going to die for you, in your name, and there's nothing you can do about it. $aname regards you for a long moment, $atheir expression slowly softening as does $atheir voice when $athey answers you. "No, it's not wrong, not at all. But it is naive, and you cannot afford naivety anymore." $cathey's right. You know $athey's right, you just don't want to admit it. So you stay silent instead. [[Continue|2.22]] <<set $meta to true>><<set $aappearance to true>><<set $acodex to false>>[ <b>[[Relationships]] updated</b> | <b><<if $agender is 'male'>>[[Azad's Codex|P2]]<<else>>[[Ashti's Codex|P2]]<</if>> updated</b> ] “As educational as this has been,” Tûjo chimes in, “should we not join $rtitle $rname?” “Later.” $aname looks at you. “We should return to $dname and the other Crescent Blades first." You have to agree with $aname. Mainly because... <ul class="a"> <li>[[...you want to make sure they haven't started fighting.|2.23.a][$kind to $kind + 25]]<<if $cheatsheet is true>> <em>+ Kind</em><</if>></li> <li>[[...taking out the assassins hiding among the other guards is your top priority.|2.23.b][$calc to $calc + 25]]<<if $cheatsheet is true>> <em>+ Calculated</em><</if>></li> </ul>“Let’s return to the General,” you decide. “I want to make sure everyone is alright." $aname's lips bend into a faint smile, and you can't tell whether $athey's ridiculing you or amused by your reasoning. "How kind of you." "$cdthey is close by," Tûjo points out, <<if $tujotrust lte 5>>surprisingly <</if>>coming to your defense. “That is true,” $aname agrees, bending down and gathering up the unconscious archer, effortlessly slinging them over $atheir shoulder as $athey rights $athemselves again and addresses you. “But stay close to me; as I said before, there are still several assassins among $dname’s soldiers.” “Did you see their faces?” Tûjo questions. “I did.” $aname frowns, adjusting $atheir grip on the soldier slightly and tapping them on the back. “Our friend here knew of four others who have been keeping a close eye on $rtitle $rname’s search.” <<if $charm gte $blunt>>“I’m sorry,” you interrupt. “What did you see and how?”<<else>>“What are you two talking about?” you interrupt, glancing between the two of them.<</if>> $aname gestures in the direction leading back to the Crown’s Road, indicating that you should get going. $cathey falls into step beside you when you start walking, while Tûjo lingers behind you both. “You saw what I did to that archer, yes?” $aname reminds you. You nod. “Some sort of magic that made your eyes and hand glow.” “It did more than that.” $aname pushes aside a low hanging branch, holding it out of your way as you pass and you mumble a quiet thank you as $athey rejoins you. “The magic I used allowed me to sift through their memories.” Your eyes go wide, though it’s no surprise you’ve never heard of this type of magic before. All your father’s expertise amounted to temple rituals, particularly interactions with spirits rather than anything practical. “You can do that?” “It’s a highly advanced spell,” $aname considers. “Not one suited for combat situations since it leaves me vulnerable, but it makes interrogations much easier. Although memories can be... unreliable, at times.” “Does it hurt?” you ask with a note of <<if $caut gte $adven>>caution to your tone, imagining all the ways in which this sort of spell could go wrong<<else>>curiosity to your tone, imagining how useful this sort of spell could be<</if>>. “I only ask because the archer passed out afterwards.” “That was a separate bit of magic to put them to sleep,” $aname explains, taking the lead once the wild path between the trees narrows, guiding you through the green thickets. “The memory spell itself is painless. I could <em>make</em> it hurt, but that would be needless cruelty.” “How long did it take you to master it?” “I took to it quicker than most; I’ve always had a knack for inner magic.” $aname shrugs with $atheir unburdened shoulder. “But don’t ask me to start a fire, unless you want me to burn the whole forest down.” You figured $aname was an inner magic type<<if $inner is true>> just like you<</if>>, considering the nature of the spell. “Would it work on $xname?” $aname winces. “Tried that once, didn’t work out well for me.” “What happened?” “$cxthey turned the tables on me.” $aname appears both mildly impressed and irritated, looking ahead and as you follow $atheir gaze you notice the Crown’s Road has come into view again. “Turns out the spell is less effective against other inner magic types, especially those with mental defenses.” [[Continue|2.24]]“Let’s return to the General,” you decide. “We need to do something about these infiltrators before we go meet $rtitle $rname. I wouldn't want to be stabbed in the back." <<if $kind gt $calc>>$aname regards you with a considerate look. "That's surprisingly practical of you." You're not entirely sure that was a compliment, but you'll take it anyway. "Thank you." "It's also rather risky." There's the skepticism you were waiting for. "And I'm not sure you realize exactly how big of a risk it is." "I'll be there as well," Tûjo points out, <<if $tujotrust lte 5>>surprisingly <</if>>arguing in your favor. "Not to mention that $xname and the Crescent Blades will certainly look out for $them should it come to an attack." “Fair enough,” $aname agrees<<else>>"Did you take over $dname's post when I wasn't looking?" $aname drawls, though $athey seems more amused by your initiative than anything else. "Don't be so quick to play at being a strategist when you haven't even been properly crowned yet." "$cthey<<if $pronouns is 'theythem'>>'re<<else>>'s<</if>> not wrong, though," Tûjo points out, <<if $tujotrust lte 5>>surprisingly <</if>>supporting your reasoning. "Traipsing through the forest with known spies at our backs is asking for another attempt on $name's life." "I suppose you're right," $aname replies after some thought<</if>>, bending down and gathering up the unconscious archer, effortlessly slinging them over $atheir shoulder as $athey rights $athemselves again and addresses you. “But stay close to me, and don't try anything reckless on your own when we approach the soldiers.” <<if $adven gt $caut>>"When have I ever done anything reckless?" you quip, then notice Tûjo's unimpressed stare. "Uh, don't answer that."<<else>>You nod; you weren't planning on it anyway.<</if>> “Did you see their faces?” Tûjo questions $aname. “I did.” $aname frowns, adjusting $atheir grip on the soldier slightly and tapping them on the back. “Our friend here knew of four others who have been keeping a close eye on $rtitle $rname’s search.” <<if $charm gte $blunt>>“I’m sorry,” you interrupt. “What did you see and how?”<<else>>“What are you two talking about?” you interrupt, glancing between the two of them.<</if>> $aname gestures in the direction leading back to the Crown’s Road, indicating that you should get going. $cathey falls into step beside you when you start walking, while Tûjo lingers behind you both. “You saw what I did to that archer, yes?” $aname reminds you. You nod. “Some sort of magic that made your eyes and hand glow.” “It did more than that.” $aname pushes aside a low hanging branch, holding it out of your way as you pass and you mumble a quiet thank you as $athey rejoins you. “The magic I used allowed me to sift through their memories.” Your eyes go wide, though it’s no surprise you’ve never heard of this type of magic before. All your father’s expertise amounted to temple rituals, particularly interactions with spirits rather than anything practical. “You can do that?” “It’s a highly advanced spell,” $aname considers. “Not one suited for combat situations since it leaves me vulnerable, but it makes interrogations much easier. Although memories can be... unreliable, at times.” “Does it hurt?” you ask with a note of <<if $caut gte $adven>>caution to your tone, imagining all the ways in which this sort of spell could go wrong<<else>>curiosity to your tone, imagining how useful this sort of spell could be<</if>>. “I only ask because the archer passed out afterwards.” “That was a separate bit of magic to put them to sleep,” $aname explains, taking the lead once the wild path between the trees narrows, guiding you through the green thickets. “The memory spell itself is painless. I could <em>make</em> it hurt, but that would be needless cruelty.” “How long did it take you to master it?” “I took to it quicker than most; I’ve always had a knack for inner magic.” $aname shrugs with $atheir unburdened shoulder. “But don’t ask me to start a fire, unless you want me to burn the whole forest down.” You figured $aname was an inner magic type<<if $inner is true>> just like you<</if>>, considering the nature of the spell. “Would it work on $xname?” $aname winces. “Tried that once, didn’t work out well for me.” “What happened?” “$cxthey turned the tables on me.” $aname appears both mildly impressed and irritated, looking ahead and as you follow $atheir gaze you notice the Crown’s Road has come into view again. “Turns out the spell is less effective against other inner magic types, especially those with mental defenses.” [[Continue|2.24]] You step out onto the road right behind $aname, and when $athey turns to face you again you almost do a double take when you notice $atheir eyes are different. You thought they were soft brown before, but now you see a subtle shade of green in them. It's as if the color changed, shifting in the sunlight that filters brightly through the leaves of the trees around you now that you’re in a more open area. “Something wrong?” $aname asks when $athey notices you staring, but then the realization dawns on $athem and $athey smiles knowingly. “My eyes?” “I just thought they were brown before,” you state awkwardly. Eye color can be a touchy subject; you should know. “They’re a mix of green and brown,” $aname says, $atheir tone very matter-of-fact; $athey must be asked this question often when $athey meets new people. “The color can look different.” <ul class="a"> <li>[[“It suits you well.”|2.25.a]]</li> <li>[[“It's a pretty color,” you remark quietly, not used to giving people compliments but still wanting to.|2.25.b][$res += 25]]<<if $cheatsheet is true>> <em>+ Reserved</em><</if>></li> <li>[[“It looks beautiful in the light,” you say with an admiring smile, finding yourself staring.|2.25.c][$flirt += 25]]<<if $cheatsheet is true>> <em>+ Flirtatious</em><</if>></li> </ul>“So I hear,” $aname says, directing you down the road. It seems mostly empty, but as you start walking around the bend you catch the first glimpses of the signature black attires of the Crescent Blades. They all have their backs turned to you, no longer surrounding General $dname and $dtheir soldiers, and as you start walking faster to catch up you realize why. “My dear general!” $xname’s voice is unmistakable and soon you spot $xthem standing in front of $xtheir mercenaries, facing down the person in golden scale armor, General $dname. “This was all simply a misunderstanding!” The soldiers, like the mercenaries, have also taken their distance and together the two factions are watching their leaders interact. You don't sense any outright animosity in the air, not like would be palpable during the lead-up to a fight, but everyone still looks tense. You catch fingers twitching around weapons, restless daggers being flicked around in hands, feet shifting around on the ground. You don't think anyone wants to brawl, but soldiers and mercenaries are not the type to cower from a battle either. You mean to walk closer when $aname suddenly drags you to the side of the road, pulling you behind a tree as $athey drops the archer from $atheir shoulder into the bushes. “What?” You glance around to find Tûjo also hiding behind a tree. “Why are we hiding?” “Stay here,” $aname says. “I need to take out the assassins before they notice you.” $cathey doesn’t wait for your permission, taking off through the forest brush and as soon as $athey blends into the shadows, $athey disappears right before your eyes. You blink, peering around the corner of the tree, but you can’t find any trace of $athem anywhere. It’s just like when $athey suddenly appeared to save you from the arrow; $aname seemed to materialize from out of thin air back then as well. “Something the matter?” Tûjo remarks at seeing your bewildered expression. “No, nothing,” you reply, pulling back to watch $xname’s conversation with General $dname while you wonder how $aname is planning on taking out four soldiers amidst the crowd. [[Continue|2.26]]“I know,” $aname replies, a smile playing on $atheir lips with a flicker of interest in $atheir gaze as $athey watches you, though it disappears just as quickly. “Let's move on.” $cathey directs you down the road that seems mostly empty, but as you start walking around the bend you catch the first glimpses of the signature black attires of the Crescent Blades. They all have their backs turned to you, no longer surrounding General $dname and $dtheir soldiers, and as you start walking faster to catch up you realize why. “My dear general!” $xname’s voice is unmistakable and soon you spot $xthem standing in front of $xtheir mercenaries, facing down the person in golden scale armor, General $dname. “This was all simply a misunderstanding!” The soldiers, like the mercenaries, have also taken their distance and together the two factions are watching their leaders interact. You don't sense any outright animosity in the air, not like would be palpable during the lead-up to a fight, but everyone still looks tense. You catch fingers twitching around weapons, restless daggers being flicked around in hands, feet shifting around on the ground. You don't think anyone wants to brawl, but soldiers and mercenaries are not the type to cower from a battle either. You mean to walk closer when $aname suddenly drags you to the side of the road, pulling you behind a tree as $athey drops the archer from $atheir shoulder into the bushes. “What?” You glance around to find Tûjo also hiding behind a tree. “Why are we hiding?” “Stay here,” $aname says. “I need to take out the assassins before they notice you.” $cathey doesn’t wait for your permission, taking off through the forest brush and as soon as $athey blends into the shadows, $athey disappears right before your eyes. You blink, peering around the corner of the tree, but you can’t find any trace of $athem anywhere. It’s just like when $athey suddenly appeared to save you from the arrow; $aname seemed to materialize from out of thin air back then as well. “Something the matter?” Tûjo remarks at seeing your bewildered expression. “No, nothing,” you reply, pulling back to watch $xname’s conversation with General $dname while you wonder how $aname is planning on taking out four soldiers amidst the crowd. [[Continue|2.26][$apoints += 1]]$aname doesn't immediately respond, eyes flitting to you. "Hmm." "Hmm?" you repeat playfully, and $aname averts $atheir gaze, dodging your stare. $cathey seems a little awkward, and you wonder if you were being too forward. You didn't mean to scare $athem off or make $athem uncomfortable, but from the way $aname still lingers near you $athey doesn't appear outright bothered. Is $athey <em>shy</em>? "Thank you," $aname replies, still not able to hold your gaze as $athey briefly meets your eyes in a furtive glance before looking away again. "Let's move on." $cathey directs you down the road that seems mostly empty, but as you start walking around the bend you catch the first glimpses of the signature black attires of the Crescent Blades. They all have their backs turned to you, no longer surrounding General $dname and $dtheir soldiers, and as you start walking faster to catch up you realize why. “My dear general!” $xname’s voice is unmistakable and soon you spot $xthem standing in front of $xtheir mercenaries, facing down the person in golden scale armor, General $dname. “This was all simply a misunderstanding!” The soldiers, like the mercenaries, have also taken their distance and together the two factions are watching their leaders interact. You don't sense any outright animosity in the air, not like would be palpable during the lead-up to a fight, but everyone still looks tense. Fingers twitch around weapons, restless daggers flicked around in hands, feet shifting around on the ground. You don't think anyone wants to brawl, but soldiers and mercenaries are not the type to cower from a battle either. You mean to walk closer when $aname suddenly drags you to the side of the road, pulling you behind a tree as $athey drops the archer from $atheir shoulder into the bushes. “What?” You glance around to find Tûjo also hiding behind a tree. “Why are we hiding?” “Stay here,” $aname says. “I need to take out the assassins before they notice you.” $cathey doesn’t wait for your permission, taking off through the forest brush and as soon as $athey blends into the shadows, $athey disappears right before your eyes. You blink, peering around the corner of the tree, but you can’t find any trace of $athem anywhere. It’s just like when $athey suddenly appeared to save you from the arrow. It reminds you of how Tûjo tends to simply appear and disappear as well. “Something the matter?” Tûjo remarks at seeing your bewildered expression. “No, nothing,” you reply, pulling back to watch $xname’s conversation with General $dname while you wonder how $aname is planning on taking out four soldiers amidst this crowd. [[Continue|2.26][$apoints += 1]] You can’t see much of what’s actually happening on the road because of the mercenaries in the way, but $xname and $dname both speak so loudly that you at least overhear the conversation. “I’m running out of patience, $xname,” $dname threatens, and you catch shimmers of sunlight shining off $dtheir golden armor from between the crowd, the top half of $dtheir helmet sticking out due to $dtheir frankly ridiculous height. “Start talking.” “I would love to.” $xname sounds cheerfully blasé compared to the General’s gruff tones. “You see, about three days ago we were hired by Marabad’s steward to take care of the bandit problem that’s been plaguing Kartan’s Forest for a while now. Perhaps because a certain imperial army hasn’t been doing its job, hmm? Now, I’m not pointing any fingers, but it was hardly a difficult task. Indeed, when I found one of the bandit leaders he was little more than an emptyheaded brute who knew only how to flex his muscles. So, once I found him…” Listening to $xname chatter on about the bandits you realize halfway through $xthey’s stalling for time, seeing as how that has nothing to do with anything. Of course, General $dname wouldn’t know that, but $dthey doesn’t seem like the sort to suffer fools either. You doubt $xname will be able to keep this up for long. As you watch the backs of the mercenaries, you notice something blue flash in the midst of the crowd. It’s so quick that you think maybe it was just a trick of the light, or a bird flying by, but moments later you see it again, several feet to the left. You pin it down somewhere among General $dname’s soldiers, and when the blue light flashes a third time the soldiers start to notice something amiss. “General!” someone calls, interrupting $xname’s aimless story. “Is that $aname?” you whisper over to Tûjo. “How is no one seeing $athem?” “The same way you didn’t see $athem disappear earlier,” Tûjo answers cryptically, and you quickly turn your attention back to the soldiers. “What?” $dname asks impatiently, but then there’s a fourth flash of blue and the soldiers stir, crowd parting. “$aname! What’s the meaning of this?” You decide to leave your tree, carefully moving up a little closer to the commotion as you hide behind some bushes, trying to get a better view of what’s happening. The first thing you see are the unconscious bodies of four soldiers spread across the road, the other Imperial Guards surrounding them in a restless state of bewilderment, the hushed sound of muttering growing louder. $aname stands in the middle, not a single weapon unsheathed, looking like the most bored person in the world. [[Continue|2.27]]“$dname,” $aname greets, supremely unconcerned. “You’re welcome.” The general tries to pinch the bridge of $dtheir nose, realizes belatedly the noseguard of $dtheir helmet is in the way and settles for rubbing $dtheir eyes with $dtheir fingers instead. “Spirits grant me patience—what is this? Why did you do that?” “They’re spies,” $aname states. “Followers of Vidarna.” You lose your breath all at once, fire and blood flooding your vision. Part of you already knew when that archer aimed an arrow between your eyes, but hearing it confirmed out loud makes it so much more real. These are the people that killed your parents and would've killed you too, if it hadn’t been for $aname. General $dname stares at $aname and utters a single word. “How?” $aname’s eyes trail over the bushes until they find your hiding spot, catching your own with a meaningful look and you can tell that $athey’s waiting for you to reveal yourself. It’s not an easy thing for you to do, especially when you have to face someone as imposing as General $dname, but you trust that $aname meant it when $athey said $athey would protect you. <<if $xpoints is 3>> <<if $pass gte $ass>>You look over at $xname who meets your gaze, likely having sensed your approach. $cxthey smiles reassuringly; you're comforted by $xtheir presence, and feel a little braver.<<else>>You look over at $xname who meets your gaze, likely having sensed your approach. $cxthey raises $xtheir brows expectantly, as if daring you; it makes you feel bolder, wanting to rise to $xtheir unspoken challenge.<</if>><</if>> You brace yourself, a calming breath in and out, then stand up, stepping out from between the bushes in plain view. Your hood is down, your eyes shining in the sunlight and impossible to miss. There are gasps from among the soldiers and you don’t know where to look, but your gaze eventually settles on the equally bright golden gleam in front of you. [[Continue|2.28]] General $dname is turned toward you, $dtheir lips parting slightly in wordless astonishment at your appearance. $cdthey slowly removes $dtheir helmet, watching you silently just as you watch $dthem, surprised by what you find beneath the armor. From the angry shouting that you heard back at the barracks, you were expecting someone older and meaner looking. But while $dname does look severe--both in the sharp angles of $dtheir face and $dtheir statuesque posture--$dthey doesn't look like the cruel dictator you imagined. Certainly the scale armor appears intimidating, making General $dname look even taller and larger than $dthey already is. It seems heavier than what $aname is wearing, colored in gold rather than silver, the red cloth of General $dname's skirt and cape similar to what you've seen soldiers wear, though $dtheirs is more richly embroidered with golden threads. $cdthey has a natural gauntness in $dtheir cheeks that's emphasized by $dtheir distinct cheekbones and the broad and <<if $dgender is 'female'>>smooth<</if>><<if $dgender is 'male'>>strong<</if>> line of $dtheir jaw. $cdtheir <<if $dgender is 'male'>>close-cropped brown hair is almost dark enough to be black, his locks edging over his forehead in simple straight bangs.<<else>>hair is almost dark enough to be black, cut short to keep her tresses out of her face, her bangs swept sideways over her forehead.<</if>> The color of $dtheir eyes is even darker and more intense than $dtheir hair, nearly pure black. The skin around it looks like it has been tanned into a tawny brown, scarred from years in the sun and battered by arid winds. You notice a black mole beneath the corner of $dtheir left eye, a surprising touch of beauty in a face so stern. Harsh and rough and unyielding, a little like the cut of a mountain—or perhaps a volcano, considering $dtheir temper. It occurs to you that you should probably say something. <ul class="a"> <li>[[“Allow me to explain,” you say, figuring you should take charge on this.|2.29.a][$ass to $ass + 25]]<<if $cheatsheet is true>> <em>+ Assertive</em><</if>></li> <li>[[“Hello, I’m… well…” You gesture vaguely at your eyes, hoping someone else will spare you from having to speak.|2.29.b][$pass to $pass + 25]]<<if $cheatsheet is true>> <em>+ Passive</em><</if>></li> </ul><<if $caut gte $adven>>"I knew I had no chance of reaching $rtitle $rname on my own," you speak quickly, partly due to your nerves and partly because you half-expect General $dname to cut you off at any second to throw you in chains. "There are so many impostors around, and... well, I hired the Crescent Blades to help me. While $xname distracted you Tûjo was supposed to escort me to $rtitle $rname, and I revealed myself to $rtheir guards hoping they would let me pass. Then one of them tried to kill me." Spirits, public speaking always has a way of making you queasy. <<if $charm gt $blunt>>Charming a single person comes as easily as breathing to you, but addressing a huge group like this? Very much beyond what you're comfortable with.<</if>><<if $blunt gt $charm>>You prefer being direct and to the point when you're speaking to someone, which is hard to do when there's an entire group in front of you.<</if>><<else>>"I hired the Crescent Blades to help get me to $rtitle $rname," you state clearly, and though you've never spoken to such a huge group of people before, you don't feel nearly as nervous as you thought you'd be. "Unfortunately, when I revealed myself to $rtheir guards, one of them tried to kill me." If you're going to be the Crown, you suppose you ought to get used to public speaking quickly. <<if $charm gt $blunt>>Thanks to your welcome lack of nerves, the words flow as naturally and smoothly as ever.<</if>><<if $blunt gt $charm>>You keep it simple and to the point just as you prefer, not even a single stammer thanks to your welcome lack of nerves.<</if>><</if>> General $dname's dumbstruck stare shifts into an intensely attentive gaze during your explanation, which $dthey aims toward $aname once you finish speaking. "Is this true?" "Every word," $aname answers. "I caught the one who tried to kill $them." Tûjo walks through the bushes out onto the main road to join you, hand hooked into the back of the archer’s collar as he drags them over the ground and drops them in front of General $dname’s feet. General $dname kneels down and takes the helmet off the archer, brows twitching as $dtheir lips thin into a grim expression when $dthey sees the archer’s face. You catch a glimpse of something in $dtheir face as $dthey breathes the soldier's name, but it's gone too quickly for you to figure out what it means. “Nima.” “I went through their memories and identified these four as their co-conspirators,” $aname elaborates, gesturing to the soldiers lying unconscious around $athem. "But that's all I was able to identify, unfortunately." General $dname rises back to $dtheir feet with steel in $dtheir eyes and looks at $xname with accusation, as if it were $xname's fault somehow. “What do you have to say for yourself?” Considering that $xthey did use you as bait, as $aname described it, it might be at least partially $xname's fault. <<if $xpoints is 3>>You actually feel slighted by that, too. Why couldn't $xthey have just told you the truth? <</if>>You resolve to ask $xthem about it later, if you can catch $xthem in private. “What, like I’m going to indict myself for a crime?” $xname graces General $dname with a conceited smirk. “As I said, one big misunderstanding!” A disgusted noise passes General $dname’s lips. “<em>Ugh</em>.” $cdthey turns to face you again, brows knitted together and $dtheir helmet tucked underneath $dtheir arm--but then, just as $aname did, General $dname kneels before you. $cdtheir soldiers follow suit without hesitation. "Your Imperial Majesty," $dthey says with $dtheir head bowed, and you hear no mockery or indifference in $dtheir words; $dthey sounds utterly truthful when $dthey says the title, holding it between $dtheir lips as if it were something precious. "My name is $dname Sîdar, I go by $dthey. I am here to serve." It nearly sounds like a pledge of its own with how solemn $dthey is, all but throwing $dtheir life at your feet without hesitation. A sort of diligence and dedication that you feel entirely undeserving of. "Thank you," you manage to say, trying not to think of all the eyes on you, the Crescent Blades watching you, $xname and $aname watching you--the expectations of these soldiers, of General $dname, it casts such an enormous shadow you feel as if you are drowning in it. General $dname raises $dtheir head to look up at you, and maybe $dthey can read the discomfort from your face or your posture because $dthey immediately rises back to $dtheir feet again, which you appreciate. $cdtheir soldiers stand up again as well. But what $dthey says next doesn't make you feel any better. "We will escort you to $rtitle $rname," $dthey vows to you. "I swear to keep you safe. No one else shall so much as dare raise a finger in your direction." You have no idea how to reply to that. Does everything $dthey says have to sound so weighty? [[Continue|2.30]] General $dname continues to stare at you, dumbstruck, so $aname takes it upon $athemselves to introduce you properly to the rest of the soldiers. “Officially we will need $rtitle $rname to confirm $name's claim,” $athey speaks, turning toward the soldiers. “But when $they revealed $themselves earlier, one of the guards in charge of protecting $rtitle $rname tried to kill $them.” Tûjo walks through the bushes out onto the main road to join you, hand hooked into the back of the archer’s collar as he drags them over the ground and drops them in front of General $dname’s feet. General $dname kneels down and takes the helmet off the archer, brows twitching as $dtheir lips thin into a grim expression when $dthey sees the archer’s face. You catch a glimpse of something in $dtheir face as $dthey breathes the soldier's name, but it's gone too quickly for you to figure out what it means. “Nima.” “I went through their memories and identified these four as their co-conspirators,” $aname elaborates, gesturing to the soldiers lying unconscious around $athem before $athey addresses General $dname. “$xname’s intent was to stall you and draw the infiltrators out while Tûjo accompanied the Crown-to-be to speak to $rtitle $rname. Seeing as how $they <<if $pronouns is 'theythem'>>were<<else>>was<</if>> attacked on the way there, however...” General $dname rises back to $dtheir feet with steel in $dtheir eyes and looks at $xname with accusation, as if it were $xname's fault somehow. “Is this true?” Considering that $xthey did use you as bait, as $aname described it, it might be at least partially $xname's fault. <<if $xpoints is 3>>You actually feel slighted by that, too. Why couldn't $xthey have just told you the truth? <</if>>You resolve to ask $xthem about it later, if you can catch $xthem in private. “What, like I’m going to answer no?” $xname graces General $dname with a conceited smirk. “As I said, one big misunderstanding!” A disgusted noise passes General $dname’s lips. “<em>Ugh</em>.” $cdthey turns to face you again, brows knitted together and $dtheir helmet tucked underneath $dtheir arm--but then, just as $aname did, General $dname kneels before you. $cdtheir soldiers follow suit without hesitation. "Your Imperial Majesty," $dthey says with $dtheir head bowed, and you hear no mockery or indifference in $dtheir words; $dthey sounds utterly truthful when $dthey says the title, holding it between $dtheir lips as if it were something precious. "My name is $dname Sîdar, I go by $dthey. I am here to serve." It nearly sounds like a pledge of its own with how solemn $dthey is, all but throwing $dtheir life at your feet without hesitation. A sort of diligence and dedication that you feel entirely undeserving of. "Thank you," you manage to say, trying not to think of all the eyes on you, the Crescent Blades watching you, $xname and $aname watching you--the expectations of these soldiers, of General $dname, it casts such an enormous shadow you feel as if you are drowning in it. General $dname raises $dtheir head to look up at you, and maybe $dthey can read the discomfort from your face or your posture because $dthey immediately rises back to $dtheir feet again, which you appreciate. $cdtheir soldiers stand up again as well. But what $dthey says next doesn't make you feel any better. "We will escort you to $rtitle $rname," $dthey vows to you. "I swear to keep you safe. No one else shall so much as dare raise a finger in your direction." You have no idea how to reply to that. Does everything $dthey says have to sound so weighty? [[Continue|2.30]]$xname takes that moment to saunter up to stand beside General $dname, clapping $dthem on $dtheir shoulder. General $dname doesn't so much as flinch. You imagine if $xname had slapped a solid wall it would've had more of an effect, but $xname must be used to it because $xthey doesn't look remotely surprised by General $dname's lack of a reaction. "Stop being so grim, $dname," $xname tells $dthem. "Our darling Crown here looks like $they<<if $pronouns is 'theythem'>>'re<<else>>'s<</if>> just about ready to keel over, the poor thing." General $dname actually sputters at $xname's nonchalant remarks. "You- show some manners! This is our Crown you're ridiculing!" "Ridiculing?" $xname repeats sardonically. "I'm not ridiculing $them, I'm looking out for $them! Isn't that right, my love?" You kind of stand there, unable to respond to $xname's flirty wink as you're too fascinated and horrified by what's happening to General $dname's face. $cdtheir tan complexion is starting to gain a dark red flush from the blood rushing to $dtheir head, a vein swelling on $dtheir neck. $cdthey looks like $dthey's going to physically explode and you're genuinely concerned. "How <em>dare</em> you address $them with such familiarity!" General $dname shouts, posture tense from head to toe. "Have you no respect?" "Spirits, $dname, you've known $them for all but three seconds and you're already trying to defend $their honor." $xname openly rolls $xtheir eyes. "Don't you ever get sore from constantly walking around with a stick shoved up your--" "That's enough!" Heval comes bodily in between them, pushing them apart as they stand in the middle to separate them. "Chief, you really need to watch your tongue! General $dname, you're not doing a much better job of minding your manners. We're wasting time here, let's get going." General $dname turns away from $xname, grumbling something underneath $dtheir breath, while $xname sighs in a put-upon way and dramatically <<if $xgender is 'male'>>brushes a hand through his hair<<else>>sweeps a stray lock of hair out of her eyes<</if>>. $aname, who sidled up to you at some point during $dname and $xname's little squabble, meets your gaze and grins at you. "Never a lack of spectacle with those two around." "So I noticed," you reply, remaining slightly baffled at what you just witnessed, but from the lack of reactions of the soldiers and mercenaries they must be used to this from their leaders. [[Continue|2.31]] Double-click this passage to edit it. Double-click this passage to edit it.@@.chaptertitle;ASHADŪNA AND THE TRIBES OF SUR@@ @@.footnote;<b>Year 0 AE</b>; 553 years ago@@ Before Arsur came into existence, its lands were once a battleground between two wealthy dynasties with substantial territories, dominating the entire northwestern part of the continent of Hidica. In the north of Hidica—what is now known as the province of Rojan—was the Monarchy of Ardia, a land of stone and timber with a famed palace built into its hills. It was once a Surian tribe, but over the decades had merged with other tribes and settled itself as a nation with a single ruler at its head, King Ishtiveg. The other, still independent tribes of Sur in the region were seen by him as a threat, especially if they were to unite and start to claim land as Ardia had. It wasn't long into Ishtiveg's reign before he began subjugating each of the neighboring tribes one by one, until he had conquered all of Rojan. Meanwhile, in the center of Hidica, right above Qathesh—what is now known as Şevan—were the lands of Hathura, encompassing half of the Silent Desert and boasting a rich history compared to the relatively new Ardian lands. Its king, Fravastis, was descended from a long line of rulers, as Hathura was almost as old as Qathesh. Caught in between the power struggle of Ardia and Hathura were larger tribes of Sur that had settled the lands of what is now called the center region of Zerat, as well as parts of Avdin and Penawar. These desirable fertile lands, named the Valleys of Sur after the people who settled there, were seen as ripe for the picking by both Ardia and Hathura. This is where a majority of Surian tribes resided, especially after King Ishtiveg began his conquest; many had fled south. The tribes of Sur continued to be chased out of their territory over the course of multiple wars by both monarchies, yet caught between Ardia and Hathura they soon found they had been cornered by enemies on both sides. As King Ishtiveg made plans to swoop in and claim the rest of the lands before his rival could, his<<if $patricide is true>> cunning<</if>> youngest daughter had other plans. Ashadūna, famed for the remarkable golden eyes she was born with, was disowned by her father when he began his quest to conquer Rojan. <<if $patricide is true>>She had attempted to rally the nobility as well as the Ardian soldiers into a revolt and nearly succeeded, were it not for her father discovering her scheme prematurely.<<else>>She and her father had never gotten along, and their family feud eventually lead to her estrangement.<</if>> Once she was exiled,<<if $patricide is true>> her supporters rounded up and killed,<</if>> Ashadūna approached the tribes of Sur instead, and convinced them to form an alliance with her. She promised their civilians refuge if their formidable warriors would unite to aid her cause, and swore to return their lands to them if they helped her to dethrone her father and chase Hathura out of the Valleys of Sur. It took many years of negotiations and talks to gain the trust of various tribes, but once she accomplished this, Ashadūna lured her father out under the guise of begging for his forgiveness, and wanting to reconcile. <<if $patricide is false>>The leaders of the Surian tribes and several of her warriors ambushed the king and his supporters with the help of Ashadūna, killing them all in one fell swoop.<<else>>While the warriors of the Surian tribes ambushed Ishtiveg's armies, Ashadūna came face to face with her father. She deceived him into letting his guard down, and the king was killed.<</if>> Now, with the backing of hundreds of thousands from the tribes of Sur, Ashadūna claimed the throne of Ardia and amassed an army far beyond the capabilities of Hathura. The Valleys of Sur were now all allied with her. Nevertheless, King Fravastis insisted on war. This to the dismay of his people and dissatisfied nobles, who had long suffered under his endless and bloody rivarly with Ardia. There came a civilian uprising, supported by both the nobility and the military, succeeding where Ashadūna failed with her own father. King Fravastis was ousted by his own country, and executed by his own subjects. Queen Ashadūna, with an army of overwhelming might under her command, was expected to conquer Hathura. Instead, Ashadūna offered to make peace with Hathura instead, on the condition that it become a vassal state. It would retain its own leaders and decide on its own domestic matters, and if it were to conflict with other countries Ardia would aid it, but an Ardian satrap would oversee its affairs to account for taxes and tributes owed in exchange. As for the Valleys of Sur, after they united to ally with Ashadūna to defeat King Ishtiveg, they formed their own states of Zerat, Avdin and Penawar in order to deter any other invaders looking to conquer their lands. They were initially fully independent, but soon after their leaders eventually decided to agree to become vassal states to Queen Ashadūna as well. This was in exchange for protection against the looming threat of Thalloi cities from across the sea, as well as to prevent conflict and war from breaking out amongst each other, like what had happened with Ardia and Rojan's tribes. Thus, Ashadūna was not merely a queen anymore: Hathura and the Valleys of Sur united under her rule and she became the Crown of her own realm, the first to carry this title. Arsur was born. <<back>>@@.chaptertitle;THE WAR FOR THE CROWN@@ @@.footnote;<b>Year 311 AE - 317 AE</b>; starting 242 years ago@@ The Eleventh Crown, Zana, once had a vision of a young boy destined to become their successor. However, when they found the boy who was named Vidarna, they discovered he had an identical twin named Ardashir. It was impossible to say which boy Zana saw in their vision. Seeing as how no one would be able to tell which of the boys would inherit the golden eyes of the Crown until after Zana's death, Zana decided to mentor them both for the next eight years in the hopes of them being able to reign as Crowns together. Unfortunately, Zana's wish was not to be. For eleven generations the Crown had been a sole ruler, and even before that the nations that formed the foundation for Arsur were mainly monarchies, save only for the tribes of Sur. As such, while Ardashir and Vidarna grew up, nobles and satraps divided into two factions: those who supported Ardashir, and those who supported Vidarna. That one would prevail over the other seemed to be a foregone conclusion. Despite Zana's efforts to bridge the rivalry between the two siblings, once the Eleventh Crown passed away there was no one to prevent the outbreak of the brewing civil war, named by historians as the War for the Crown. Both men inherited Zana's golden eyes after their passing, but neither was willing to share his rule. After a year of bloody battles, Ardashir won the war following a crucial betrayal on Vidarna’s side, and tried to force his twin to give up his claim. Vidarna refused, and so it is said Ardashir kept him prisoner, unable to kill his own kin. The Followers of Vidarna, a sect that believes Vidarna was meant to be the true Twelfth Crown, insist that Ardashir had Vidarna secretly executed instead, as there are no records of Vidarna ever being seen by anyone following his imprisonment. <<back>>@@.chaptertitle;THE LAND OF IVIA@@ @@.footnote;<b>Year 489 AE</b>; 64 years ago@@ @@.chaptertitle;THE ASSASSINATION OF CROWN FERZAN@@ @@.footnote;<b>Year 538 AE</b>; 15 years ago@@[ <b>[[Relationships]] updated</b> | <b><<if $dgender is 'male'>>[[Dara's Codex|G2]]<<else>>[[Delal's Codex|G2]]<</if>> updated</b> ]<<set $metd to true>><<set $dappearance to true>><<set $dcodex to false>> General $dname turns to one of $dtheir soldiers as $dthey puts $dtheir helmet back on, gesturing to the spies that were knocked out by $aname. "Get these traitors to the dungeons in Marabad, and take as many soldiers as you need. We'll question them once we return; make sure the road to the Royal Palace has been cleared by then." "Yes, General!" Meanwhile $xname has turned toward $xtheir own mercenaries, instructing the Crescent Blades to return to Marabad as well, albeit for different reasons. “Drinks are on me! Tonight, we dine like Crowns!” The Crescent Blades cheer—you spot Şanazî whooping, punching both her fists in the air—before joining the small contingent of Imperial Guards, a few offering to help tie up the spies. Compared to the animosity between the two leaders, their subordinates seem to get along just fine. “Tûjo, Heval.” $xname turns to address $xtheir two most trusted companions, and you still have no idea which one of them ranks higher. “Accompany them, would you? Make sure they don’t go trashing the city in a drunken stupor.” “Not everyone is as poorly disciplined as you are, chief,” Heval notes in a deadpan voice as you shift a little closer to the conversation, looking on curiously. “Remember Khid?” “The port city?” you ask, trying to map out where it is. The western edge of Rojan, at the coast. You don’t remember much of it since you were very little when you visited last, but it is one of many ports from which trade with the city-states of Thallos flows constantly from across the sea. “$cxthey was so drunk that $xthey got into a brawl at one of the teahouses in Khid,” Tûjo says. “Needless to say, we were kicked out.” “That doesn’t sound that unusual,” $aname comments, voicing your own thoughts. “$cxthey slapped the teahouse owner in the face and tried to duel him,” Tûjo continues. “With a fish.” Admittedly, duel-by-fish may be <em>slightly</em> unusual. $aname's eyebrows shoot up. “With a—?” $xname laughs a little, rubbing the back of $xtheir neck with a surprising amount of embarrassment, and you suspect it’s mostly because of $aname being present. “It seemed like a perfectly reasonable idea at the time.” You hear Heval sigh deeply from underneath their helmet. “Let’s go, Tûjo.” They both turn to you, bowing their heads respectfully. <<if $tujotrust gte 5>>“Asman watch over you, Your Imperial Majesty,” Tûjo adds before he follows Heval to join the Imperial Guards and the Crescent Blades on their way to Marabad. Considering how perilous your life has been thus far you’re not certain how much protection can truly expect from the Spirit of Sky, but you appreciate the sentiment.<<else>>“Asman watch over you, Your Imperial Majesty,” Heval adds before they follow Tûjo to join the Imperial Guards and the Crescent Blades on their way to Marabad. Considering how perilous your life has been thus far you’re not certain how much protection can truly expect from the Spirit of Sky, but you appreciate the sentiment.<</if>> [[Continue|2.32]] Once they’ve left $xname looks at you expectantly. “Time to meet $rtitle $rname, then?” “Do <em>not</em> tell me you are coming along,” General $dname agonizes, joining the three of you in a small circle with $dtheir arms crossed over $dtheir chest. A sizable portion of Imperial Guards yet remain—you do a quick count of twenty people—waiting for the four of you to get moving. The others are already heading down the Crown’s Road, most of the spies tied up and slung over the backs of horses for convenience. “$dname, sweet bane of my existence, I know you despise me—” General $dname makes a face at the sarcastic endearment, “—but surely you would not deny the Crown additional protection?” “$cxthey makes a good point,” $aname notes, General $dname’s glare turning on $athem, but then $dthey glances at you and lets out a deep exhale. “Very well,” $dthey gives in, jaw clenching as if the very words bring $dthem physical pain before $dthey eases and speaks to you. "Your Imperial Majesty, do you know how to ride a horse?" "Not exactly," you reply, as you would ride on a cart with either your father or your mother holding the reins whenever you needed to travel. The few times you did ride a horse as a child, you'd been riding behind one of your parents. "I prefer to walk, in any case." "Are you certain?" Seeing that you're not going to budge, General $dname nods reluctantly. “I understand. I will lead the way—with your permission, Your Imperial Majesty.” <<if $charm gte $blunt>>“Of course,” you answer with a friendly smile, and General $dname stares at you, looking almost befuddled by your easygoing demeanor. “Go ahead.” “Right, yes, I’ll just—” $cdthey nods, turning to the soldiers who are left.<<else>>“Yes, of course,” you answer, a little puzzled by the request. “Go ahead, you’re much more capable of leading everyone than I am.” “That is very high praise,” the general says with a befuddled look. “I have not yet earned—” “$dname,” $xname cuts $dthem off, amused. The general shoots another glare $xtheir way, but does eventually turn to the soldiers who are left.<</if>> “Imperial Guards, we march for Kartan’s Outpost!” “Yes, general!” If the Crescent Blades were orderly, the Imperial Guards are the very embodiment of discipline with how quickly and neatly they fall in line. It’s to be expected with trained soldiers of the imperial army, but it says a lot about the way General $dname runs $dtheir subordinates. "Aren't you two going to ride a horse?" you ask $aname and $xname. "If you're walking, I'm walking," $aname replies easily, not seeming bothered by the prospect. You look over at $xname, whose smile stretches a bit too tight, seeming cynical. "I'm not very fond of the beasts." [[Continue|2.33]] Falling into step behind General $dname, you find $aname flanking your right while $xname flanks your left, the Imperial Guards marching behind you. It gives you a very direct view of General $dname’s armored back, and you notice a scar on the back of $dtheir neck. It’s thin but very pale, standing out against the General’s darker skintone, running in a horizontal straight line across $dtheir skin. An odd place for a scar. You wonder how $dthey got it, or who $dthey got it from. “$rtitle $rname will be thrilled to see you,” $aname says to you while you follow the Crown’s Road, passing by the bushes $rtitle $rname escaped through earlier. “Though I have to wonder, why didn’t you try to find $rthem earlier? It’s been ten years since—” $aname glances at $xname, a strange pause in $atheir sentence. “Since we lost the previous Crown.” You look over at $xname, but $xthey appears unbothered, facing straight ahead while you walk. “I was curious about that too,” $xname admits, “but I figured it had something to do with the Followers of Vidarna.” “It does,” you respond, but that’s where you stop, unable to go any further. “I’d… I’d rather not talk about it. At least, not right now.” You haven’t had any time to process your parents’ deaths, and you’re afraid to grieve. Afraid of the memories it might bring back. The night it happened is a blur, blank spaces in between—you bore witness to it. You <em>know</em> you saw it, saw everything, but you don’t remember it. One moment you were inside an abandoned house deep within the forest, having dinner with your mother and father, and the next you’re holding your father in your arms as he speaks his last words to you, bleeding out on the floor. You don’t even know what happened to your mother except that you heard her fall, screaming and then nothing. Silence. All you can recall after that is that you ran for what felt like hours, until you reached the nearest village and passed out due to sheer exhaustion. The villagers had to carry your unconscious body to the local healer, where you woke up the next day, still in shock. It’s a wonder the assassins didn’t finish you off back then, but perhaps there were too many witnesses around. [[Continue|2.34]]“My apologies,” $aname says, and you feel $atheir eyes on your face even as you don’t have the energy to meet $atheir gaze. “I didn’t mean to pry.” “It’s alright.” “I bet the first thing you’ll do once you reach the Royal Palace is have a long nap,” $xname remarks, trying to change the subject and lighten the mood. “That’s what I would do, anyway.” “Not bathe?” $aname glances back at you. “Ah… no offense.” “It’s fine.” You try not to cringe. “I know I probably don’t smell great.” Bathing in a cold river doesn’t exactly leave you smelling like flowers. Your father was a very hygienic man—you always wondered how he ever fell in love with your mother when she was always covered elbow-deep in dirt from farming—who passed much of his cleanliness onto you, but out in the wild there aren’t many opportunities for keeping clean. “Oh, please, you smell like roses to me,” $xname replies. “Have you ever shared a tent with a bunch of sweaty mercenaries? The stench would knock you out.” You look at $xname in confusion. “But you don’t usually share your tent, do you?” “Only when I’m feeling lonely.” <<if $res gte $flirt>>Did $xthey just imply— Your cheeks warm and $xname snickers at you, thoroughly amused.<<else>>You quirk your mouth up into a slight smile, intrigued by the innuendo, and $xname winks at you. $cxthey sounds like $xthey knows how to have a great time.<</if>> “I know for a fact you don’t sleep with your own mercenaries,” $aname intervenes, dispelling the notion, <<if $res gt $flirt>>though you’re already starting to feel your ears burning<<else>>to your disappointment<</if>>. “It’s a terrible idea.” “You’re right,” $xname admits, but then grins slyly. “Note that I never said it was <em>my</em> mercenaries I was sharing my tent with.” [[Continue|2.35]] Banter aside, as you walk the road you realize you don’t know much about either $aname or $xname. Well, you know <em>about</em> $xname, obviously, but you have no idea how much of the stories are true and how much is exaggerated. You don’t really know anything about $xthem beyond that, and you know even less about $aname since you’ve only just met. In which case, you figure you might as well fill the time with some conversation, especially since the two of them appear to have known each other for a long time. Or they’re rather familiar with each other, at the very least. You think of a question to ask. <ul class="a"> <li>[['"How long have you two known each other?"'|2.36.a]]</li> <li><<if $xgender is 'male' and $agender is 'male'>>[['"So, Xelef, about that time Azad beat you in a fight..."'|2.36.b][$xpoints += 1]]<</if>><<if $xgender is 'female' and $agender is 'female'>>[['"So, Xelara, about that time Ashti beat you in a fight..."'|2.36.b][$xpoints += 1]]<</if>><<if $xgender is 'male' and $agender is 'female'>>[['"So, Xelef, about that time Ashti beat you in a fight..."'|2.36.b][$xpoints += 1]]<</if>><<if $xgender is 'female' and $agender is 'male'>>[['"So, Xelara, about that time Azad beat you in a fight..."'|2.36.b][$xpoints += 1]]<</if>></li> <li><<if $agender is 'male'>>[["How did you become the Royal Protector, Azad?"'|2.36.c][$apoints += 1]]<<else>>[["How did you become the Royal Protector, Ashti?"'|2.36.c][$apoints += 1]]<</if>></li> </ul><<set $shamkurstory to true>>“Far too long, if you ask me,” $aname drawls, and $xname feigns hurt at the snide remark, pressing a hand to $xtheir chest. “$aname, you wound me!” $cxthey wipes a non-existent tear from the corner of $xtheir eye before turning to you to answer your question. “Five years, give or take.” $aname scoffs. “As I said, far too long.” You get the impression $xname would have reached over and playfully shoved $aname if you hadn’t been standing in between them. “What have I ever done to deserve such cruel words, hmm?” “Someone needs to make sure your arrogance doesn’t get the better of you,” $aname replies casually, looking up at the sky and lifting a hand to shield $atheir eyes from the sunlight. When you follow $atheir gaze you see why; many large clouds are visible in the distance, slowly rolling in over the forest. “I don’t remember asking you to do that for me,” $xname complains, a little bit childishly. Putting $atheir hand down and looking away from the sky, $aname grins at $xname. “You didn’t, I volunteered.” $xname throws up $xtheir hands in exasperation. “As if Heval and Tûjo aren’t bad enough!” “So, how did you first meet?” you cut in, pulling their attention back toward you before they devolve into more banter, even if it is entertaining to watch. $xname hums. “It was probably…” “The ghouls in Shamkur?” $aname suggests. “Eugh, yes.” $xname rubs $xtheir arms up and down, as if overcome with a sudden chill. “Spirits, I <em>hate</em> ghouls.” “Ghouls?” you repeat. “As in, plural?” You know of ghouls, spirits of people who could not find their peace once dead, possessing a dead body and devouring the flesh of the living instead. They’re usually known to be solitary creatures most often found in the desert. You’re thankful you’ve never encountered one in person. “There were fifty of them at least,” $xname recalls. “A massive fight had broken out in the city of Shamkur a while ago. There were disagreements between nobility about who was supposed to be the next steward, since the province of Şevan didn’t have a Mîr to choose someone for the role. A lot of people died, and some of those people ended up turning into ghouls.” “There’s no Mîr in Şevan?” you repeat, confused. “Why not?” $xname and $aname exchange a glance before $aname explains: “The Crown is the only one who can choose a Mîr, and in Şevan, the Mîr is the only one who can appoint stewards to the cities. Şevan’s previous Mîr passed away from old age six years ago; the whole province has been in turmoil ever since.” “Oh.” That means it’s up to you to choose a Mîr. “I see.” It’s not as if you want someone to hold your hand and tell you what decisions to make, that would be no different than becoming a figurehead for someone else’s agenda, but you are so far removed from the realm of politics that you have no idea where you would even start. “In any case,” $aname says, thankfully shifting the topic back to address your original question. “I was a lieutenant in the Imperial Army back then and got sent out to Shamkur to deal with the ghouls together with my unit. The problem proved too much for us to handle alone, so a noble from Shamkur hired the Crescent Blades to lend a hand.” “And that’s how we met,” $xname finishes, flashing $aname a teasing smile. “We briefly worked together to clear out all the ghouls. $aname here was shaking in $atheir boots, since $athey’d never fought a ghoul before.” “What an outrageous claim,” $aname retorts in a bored tone, though the amused look in $atheir eyes betrays $athem. “Are you sure you’re not projecting, $xname? I very clearly recall you lopping a ghoul’s head off and shrieking when you got its pus on your clothes.” $xname shudders. “Don’t- remind me—” “Didn’t it get in your hair as well?” “Stop it!” $xname now does reach over behind you to shove $aname. “You stop that right now! You’re so obnoxious sometimes!” $aname laughs, swaying a bit to the side from $xname’s push before drifting back to walk beside you again, while $xname frantically <<if $xgender is 'male'>>sweeps his hands through every inch of his hair<<else>>slides her hands over her hair and feels out her bun<</if>>, as if ghoul pus could appear out of nowhere. “$xname isn’t very fond of the undead,” $aname quietly advises you while you watch $xname continue to prod at $xtheir hair. “What about you?” you inquire. “Do you mind the undead?” “I’m not particularly frightened by them,” $aname considers. “But I wouldn't go out of my way to seek them out, either. They're merely a pest.” [[Continue|2.37]]<<unset $abeggar>><<unset $xstory>>The road to the outpost ends up being shorter than you expected, or perhaps it merely feels that way with how easily the conversation between $aname and $xname flows. You don’t participate much, having too much on your mind now that you’re all but guaranteed to be officially recognized as the Crown. As you let the two of them talk, the sound of their chatter passing through you like empty noise, you try to enjoy the scenery of the forest around you. A small patch of singing flowers among irises and tulips catches your eye, the deep blue flowers with their bell-shaped petals chiming softly whenever the breeze makes them sway. Such magical flowers are hardly an uncommon sight in the forest, though it’s not often that you’ll find any near human roads. “Want to pick one?” $aname suggests when $athey catches you staring. “Better not,” $xname advises with a slightly playful smile as you pass by the flowers. “Wouldn’t want to upset a peri.” Kartan’s Forest used to be unfriendly to humans, you remember your father telling you. Centuries ago, before the Arsurian Empire even existed, it was the sole domain of all kinds of magical creatures, chiefly among those being peris: winged spirits known for causing mischief, and naturally adept with wielding magic far more than the average human. It wasn’t until the famed magus Kartan established a treaty with the peris that the forest became safe to cross for humans, who started calling it Kartan’s Forest as a result. Apparently the peris that live here call it by another name entirely, though you’re not sure what it is. “I’ve picked singing flowers before,” you say to $xname. “Never had a peri bother me over it.” “What?” $xname frowns. “Every time I’ve tried to pick a flower I’ve had one of those oversized little insects come out of nowhere to hex me!” “Maybe they just don’t like you,” $aname proposes, amused. “Don’t be absurd.” $xname spreads out $xtheir arms. “<em>Everybody</em> likes me.” “I’m starting not to.” “$aname, beloved, you wound me!” “Oh, look, we’ve arrived.” $aname refuses to even look at $xname’s pouting, $atheir expression completely apathetic while you barely hold back a chuckle. You follow $atheir gaze to notice a fairly large wooden building a small distance away, two watchtowers a bit further down on either side of the road and you can just about make out two soldiers occupying them. As you approach with General $dname at the front, the door of the outpost opens and a soldier comes hurrying out to greet you. [[Continue|2.38]]<<set $xstory to true>>“Why would you bring that up?” $xname bemoans. “Do you hate me? Is that it?” “I just wanted to know more about it,” you reply with an innocent look. “You mentioned a tomb and a corpse summoner, so I thought it would make a good story.” “Oh, it’s an excellent story,” $aname agrees, grinning broadly. “Allow me to—” “No, no!” $xname glares at $aname, though without any real heat. “If anyone is going to sing about my defeat, it’ll be me!” “Fine.” $aname looks briefly disappointed, but then adds, “Please don’t actually start singing.” $xname glances behind $xthem at the soldiers marching a small distance away from you. “There aren’t any other inner magic types in the Imperial Guard, are there?” “None with sensory abilities,” $aname answers. “Why? Are you worried about them finding out?” “No, but <em>you</em> clearly are.” “There’s some truth to that,” $aname admits, turning serious for a moment. “The people of Arsur needed a hero to rally behind, with the Crown being absent. It wouldn't do for me to gloat about my victory and damage your reputation, considering. That’s all there is to it.” <<if $abeggar isnot true>> You’re not entirely sure it was such a purely calculated move on $aname’s part, considering the way you overheard $athem defending $xname to General $dname back in Marabad, but you’re not about to point that out.<</if>> “Well, now that the Crown has been found,” $xname says, “will you start telling the story?” $aname remains silent, averting $atheir gaze for a moment. “Why don’t you tell it to $them first?” $athey deflects, nodding toward you. $xname smiles in a self-satisfied way, as if that were the only answer $xthey needed, before turning to you. “I was hired by a wealthy noble to recover a few precious heirlooms that were mistakenly buried in a tomb. Unfortunately, the story about the heirlooms quickly spread, drawing interest from more unsavory types who thought it a good idea to rob it.” "Is that how the corpse summoner got involved?” “I thought he was just your average tomb robber.” $xname grimaces at whatever memory that passes through $xtheir mind, frowning at it. “I didn’t count on having to fight the near-decomposed corpse of a grandmother. And to complicate matters even more, the Imperial Army showed up.” “Why?” you question. “This sounds like a family matter.” “The problem was that the heirlooms the noble wanted so much had already been promised to the Empire in his grandmother’s will,” $xname clarifies moodily. “A fact which he neglected to inform me of when I took the job, the jackal.” “You can leave your possessions for the Empire to take ownership of?” “Of course.” “The heirlooms were magical artifacts,” $aname says, filling in the gaps for you. “As a magus, she wanted to donate them to the School of Zeratun for the students there. I was ordered to collect the heirlooms and transport them to the city, but $xname refused to cooperate.” $xname shrugs, unaffected by $aname’s critical tone. “The deception wasn’t severe enough for me to go back on my word, plus there was good gold in it. In the end it turned into a three-way battle between me, $aname and the corpse summoner. Though I must note that if it hadn’t been for my loathing of all things undead, I absolutely would have won!” “Of course you would have,” $aname says with a mocking smile. “Except you couldn’t sense—” “Shush!” $xname reaches out a hand as if wanting to place it over $aname’s mouth but falling short of reaching $athem since you’re standing in between them. “Don’t tell $them! I want to see the surprise on $their face the first time $they <<if $pronouns is 'theythem'>>see<<else>>sees<</if>> me fight.” $aname’s look of exasperation says all it needs to, though $xname seems unbothered by it. It does interest you in knowing how far $xname’s sensory abilities truly go, though $xthey appears insistent on having it be a surprise. “Have the two of you fought since?” you ask curiously. $aname and $xname exchange a look. “No,” $xname says, a mischievous grin starting to unfurl on $xtheir lips. “But if you wanted a rematch, $aname—” “I refuse.” “What? Come on!” “I have no reason to fight you,” $aname answers curtly. “Unless you’re prepared to threaten $name’s life, don’t expect me to indulge you.” $xname grumbles, kicking at a small rock lying on the road and watching it bounce down the dirt. “You know I would never go that far.” [[Continue|2.37]]<<set $astory to true>>“It’s not a very interesting story,” $aname answers. “I was one of the many to apply, though there wasn’t any indication that the Crown would be found anytime soon. The Mîr of the province of Avdin, Lîlan, sponsored me and then $dname appointed me.” That does sound fairly simple, though you suspect there's more to it than that. "Avdin?" you question, trying to remember what you were taught about Arsur's smallest region, laid at the coast. "Is that your home province?" "It is." A flicker of a smile flits over $aname's face, one with genuine warmth. "I was raised in a small town near the beaches of Ilwan, the capital. My mother was a simple fisher when she met my father. She moved us to Ilwan when I was old enough." "What about your father?" $aname's expression shutters and you instantly know you asked the wrong thing. "He took good care of us." "Ah." You stay silent for a moment, not sure what to say. $catheir reaction has definitely piqued your interest in wanting to know more, but it would be rude to keep prodding when you're barely even acquainted. "Way to make things uncomfortable," $xname says to $aname with a wry look, receiving a mild glare in return. “So, uh, why did you apply?” you ask to change the subject and leave the awkward atmosphere behind. “You said yourself that there was no certainty that you’d have a Crown. Why did anyone apply, for that matter?” “The role of the Royal Protector is meant to be an apolitical position,” $aname explains while blatantly ignoring $xname, looking up at the sky and shielding $atheir eyes with a hand from the sunlight; large clouds are visible in the distance, slowly rolling in toward the forest. “However, in the absence of a Crown, the vacuum of power might allow for that to change, should the Royal Protector possess the ambition for it. “Now that you’re here, I no longer have to listen to any of $dname’s orders.” $aname puts $atheir hand down and casts a glance at $dname’s back. “I can even command $dname as well as the Imperial Army, but only in matters concerning your immediate safety as the Crown.” “In theory, $aname could even confine <em>you</em> should $athey have reasonable suspicion that you’re about to harm yourself,” $xname chimes in. “But no Royal Protector has ever had the nerve to exercise that power.” “I can see why someone would want it, then.” Though you don’t hope $aname will ever decide it necessary to confine you, even if you can’t think of a reason for why on earth you would ever put yourself in needless danger. <<if $caut gte $adven>>Then again, you already did by going to $xname in the first place, so perhaps there is a point to that rule.<<else>>...Well, maybe you can think of one or two reasons, but still!<</if>> “Do you know why General $dname selected you?" you ask as a follow-up. "Not that I doubt your abilities. I’m only curious.” “Aside from my superiority as a warrior, mainly my independence,” $aname answers, refreshingly straightforward. “I’m not beholden to anyone, nor do I have any political aspirations.” “$aname is somewhat notorious for being impossible to bribe,” $xname comments, almost impressed as $xthey looks over at $aname. “The last person who tried ended up nearly choking on their coins.” “Even thinking to approach me with such a ridiculous offer is an insult.” $aname frowns deeply, mood darkening just from the topic being brought up. “Discouraging future attempts called for a heavy hand.” Mulling this over, the way $aname has been behaving so casually around General $dname is starting to make sense now. After all, General $dname isn’t actually $aname’s superior; if anything it sounds like they’re equally ranked with a few exceptions according to the circumstances. “You know, you never answered my first question,” you point out when you realize as much. “Why did you, specifically, apply?” $aname averts $atheir gaze briefly, seeming in thought, before $athey looks at you and says, “I felt like it.” You arch your brows. “It was on a whim?” “I suppose.” <<if $blunt gt $charm>>“I don’t think I believe that,”<<else>>”I suspect there’s more to the story,”<</if>> you reply, somewhat incredulously. Who would apply for such an important position without at least thinking it through? There must be a reason that $athey doesn’t want to share with you. “Believe what you will.” $aname shrugs, and from $atheir nonchalant dismissal you can tell you won’t get anything out of $athem. “I’d rather be a bodyguard than a bureaucrat or a soldier.” $xname opens $xtheir mouth to say something when $aname sees it and cuts in with a sharp, “Or a mercenary, for that matter.” “One day you’ll come around,” $xname insists, though $xthey deflates slightly with disappointment, then looks at you. “Not that I’d want to poach $athem from you- well, actually, I do. But I can wait. Once the empire is stable again you won’t have any need for a Royal Protector, no?” “Don’t be absurd,” $aname says. “The Crown will always need protection.” “Oh, come on!” $xname all but pleads. “You would make such a great Crescent Blade! Think about it! We have a <em>really</em> good banner.” “The day I take orders from you is the day the Armas Mountains topple over,” $aname scoffs. You consider asking $aname about $atheir reluctance when you first met earlier, about how $athey appeared displeased with you, but if $aname is dodging such a simple question as to why $athey applied for the position, you doubt you’d get a straight answer out of $athem for anything else. If you really want the truth, it looks like you'll have to earn $atheir trust first. [[Continue|2.37]]“General!” The soldier—the sword wielder you recognize from before—presses their palm over their heart and bows in greeting. “At ease, Ziryan.” General $dname looks right past them to the outpost. “Where’s $rtitle $rname?” “$crthey’s inside, general,” the soldier answers. “$crthey’s, uh, boiling water for tea.” “Tea?” General $dname repeats sharply, then sighs. “In any case, tell $rthem—” “<em><<if $rgender is 'male'>>RÊZAN<<else>>ROZERÎN<</if>></em>!” $xname shouts at the top of $xtheir lungs. “COME OUTSIDE, WE’VE FOUND THE CROWN FOR YOU!” Both you and $aname flinch hard when $xname suddenly starts shouting, and then $aname hurls out a string of curses as $xname bursts into laughter, though you only catch the latter half. “Spirits spit on the grave of whoever birthed your cursed bloodline, $xname!” “I’m sorry!” $xname does not look sorry, reaching over and putting $xtheir hands on $aname's shoulders, who turns $atheir back and tries to walk away. “$aname, I’m sorry, I swear—" General $dname presses a hand over $dtheir eyes, looking like $dthey’s trying very hard not to lose $dtheir temper, which is good because you’ve heard $dthem shout and it's even louder than $xname. No one needs that right now. You rub at your ear, trying to make sure you haven’t gone deaf, when the door to the outpost opens once more. Your whole body goes tense when you see who steps outside. $rtitle $rname. [[Continue|2.39]] You see long fabrics dyed in shades of red, the top layer an open coat of burgundy that looks more expensive than anything you've ever owned, tied down at the waist by a belt of large, golden coins. The belt compliments the necklace of smaller coins covering $rtitle $rname's chest, as well as matching $rtheir thick, golden ringed earrings. The luxurious coat covers the sheer, flowing fabric of a lighter dress worn underneath, richly embroidered with golden lines and dots at the hem, the dress pooling around $rtheir feet. Your attention finally shifts from the lavish garments to the person wearing them, and once your gaze settles on $rtheir face, all the jewelry and the clothes are immediately forgotten. The first thing you notice are the defined peaks of $rtheir lips, a touch of red from painted ocher. It's surrounded by the warm tone of flawless brown skin, cupped by a distinct chin, a soft and youthful complexion. $crtheir thick, black hair is parted in the middle and falls down straight to $rtheir hips like a sleek curtain. It looks lustrous and well-maintained despite the simplicity of the style, contrasting with the heavy accessories covering $rtheir body. When you look up at $rtheir eyes you find them already aimed at you, hues of glacial gray like mirrors reflecting back at you, the color emphasized by the black soot painted on $rtheir lower lashline. "It's you," $rtitle $rname breathes quietly, $rtheir voice naturally hushed. "You're here." $crthey takes several slow steps forward, captivated by you as if you're the only thing $rthey can see. You find yourself similarly unable to look away from $rthem as $rthey approaches you, $rtheir brows drawn together almost as if $rthey's in pain. $rtitle $rname stands still in front of you for what feels like the longest time. You don't know what to do, what you should say, and then $rthey suddenly falls down to a knee before you and takes your hand in $rtheirs. "I searched for so long," $rthey says with a tremor in $rtheir voice, pressing $rtheir forehead against the back of your hand in prostration. "One fruitless effort after another, a whole string of failures following me wherever I went... I was almost ready to give up hope, and yet here you are. You found me." $crthey looks up at you and you are at a loss; no one has ever looked at you like this before. "<em>You</em> found <em>me</em>," $rtitle $rname repeats, a smile blooming on $rtheir face as $rthey bows $rtheir head to you in deference while keeping hold of your hand, $rtheir skin soft and smooth against yours. "My Crown." Everyone and everything around you has gone silent, as if the forest itself is watching the two of you. You don’t know what you could possibly tell $rthem, and just as you try to think of something, $rtitle $rname rises back to $rtheir feet, meeting your stare with a gentle smile. Although it disappears as soon as $rthey regards the others surrounding you. [[Continue|2.40]]$xname steps forward, bowing with a flourish of $xtheir hand. “My $rtitle $rname, may I just say—” “I have never in my life,” $rtitle $rname interrupts coldly, “witnessed such a spectacular fiasco.” You hear $aname sigh deeply from beside you as you watch $xname wince slightly and straighten up again, thought $xthey keeps $xtheir head bowed. “In my defense, this was all very… ah, improvised, and…” $rtitle $rname raises $rtheir palm, and $xname falls silent. “Don’t take me for a fool, $xname, I know exactly what you were up to.” A guilty look flashes across $xname’s face, though $xthey evens it out and lifts $xtheir head to meet $rtitle $rname’s stony stare. “Then you understand I was only acting in the Crown’s best interest.” You glance between the two of them in confusion as you’re starting to lose track of what they’re talking about, but then $rtitle $rname clears it up for you in $rtheir next scornful words to $xname. “Oh, please.” $rtitle $rname narrows $rtheir eyes. “You don’t think anyone truly believes that, do you? I allowed those spies to infiltrate for a reason, though it matters little now that you’ve ruined it all to sate your personal vendetta. Do not for a moment try to pretend otherwise.” “You allowed for it?” $aname cuts in, sounding about as stunned as you feel while your eyes flit to $xname, wondering what vendetta $rtitle $rname could be referencing. “Why on earth would you do that?” “It was the easiest way to keep the Followers of Vidarna off my back while I searched for the Crown,” $rtitle $rname answers simply. “We fed them false information for months. It was the perfect plan, until <em>you</em> went and foiled it.” We? Who is ‘we’? Without waiting for a reply from $aname or $xname, $rtitle $rname turns to General $dname. “What of you, $dname? This was originally your idea.” Oh. [[Continue|2.41]]<<set $question1 to false>><<set $question2 to false>><<set $question3 to false>><<set $question4 to false>>“<em>What</em>?” $aname exclaims, turning to General $dname in shock and you think you even see a hint of betrayal in $atheir expression. “$dname, you planned this?” “I should’ve known.” $xname glares openly at $dname. “Of course you would.” “While I don’t condone $aname acting alone in this matter, I believe I would’ve decided to apprehend the spies regardless,” General $dname speaks with a neutral tone, two hands folded behind $dtheir back and you think you may have completely misjudged the general’s temperament. “The circumstances changed. With the Crown found, it would’ve only been a matter of time before the spies made an attempt on $their life; there was too much risk in keeping the Followers around.” $rname lifts $rtheir fingers to $rtheir face, tapping them to $rtheir chin in thought. “You may have a point. $aname certainly was only doing $atheir duty as the Royal Protector, and I cannot fault $athem for that.” “How gracious of you,” $aname sneers, voice dripping with sharp sarcasm, looking almost as upset as $xname. “I thank you for your understanding.” Clearly both seem to have reasons to detest the Followers of Vidarna, and while you know why <em>you</em> hate them, you wonder why the two of them do. $rtitle $rname appears irritated, shooting $aname an unamused look before $rthey takes a deep breath and turns to you once more. “Please forgive me for that horribly rude display, my Crown,” $rthey says, speaking to you in soft tones even while $rtheir eyes take in every detail of your face and you can’t tell what $rthey’s thinking. Are you everything $rthey hoped for, or an utter disappointment? <<if $blunt gte $charm>>“It’s fine,” you answer, not sure what to make of $rthem yet, though you wish these people could ease up on the decorum. <<else>>“You don’t need to apologize,” you answer with a reassuring smile, wishing these people could ease up a little on the decorum. <</if>>It’s making you feel like you were raised in a barn, which… granted, you <em>were</em>, but that doesn’t mean they need to overdo it to this extent. “Regardless, I will watch my tone from now on,” $rtitle $rname resolves, appearing embarrassed. “Allow me to formally introduce myself: my name is $rname, and I go by $rthey. I will serve as your sorcerer and advisor. Please do not hesitate to ask me for anything you may need.” $crthey’s quite formal, but at least this introduction is not as overwhelming as General $dname’s passionate declaration. It’s more measured and graceful, but it seems natural rather than carefully practiced. <ul class="a"> <li><<if $rgender is 'female'>>[[Propriety aside, you would really prefer it if she used your name.|2.42.a]]<<else>>[[Propriety aside, you would really prefer it if he used your name.|2.42.a]]<</if>></li> <li><<if $rgender is 'female'>>[[You don’t mind the title, if that’s how she wants to address you.|2.42.b]]<<else>>[[You don’t mind the title, if that’s how he wants to address you.|2.42.b]]<</if>></li> </ul><<set $rnickname to $name>><<set $crnickname to $name>>“Well, to start,” you consider, “can I ask you to call me by my name? It’s $name, and I go by $they.” $rtitle $rname appears surprised, but then smiles warmly. “Of course, but only if you would do me the same honor, $name.” “That seems fair to me,” you reply easily, finding your own smile tugging at your lips before you can help it. “Thank you, $rname.” $rname appears genuinely pleased, a joyful crinkle of $rtheir eyes as $rthey holds your gaze and it feels so natural, which is strange, because you're not used to looking people in the eyes. Yet around $rname, you feel so immediately at ease. “If you are done,” $aname chimes in, startling you as you had nearly completely forgotten that you were not alone. “Might I suggest you move this conversation indoors?” You glance around, realizing that at some point during your exchange with $rname, General $dname ordered the Imperial Guard to move on. You catch some of the soldiers heading inside the wide and low section attached to the outpost building, likely barracks, while the remainder of the Imperial Guard set up along the road. General $dname $dthemselves has wandered off to join the soldiers by the road, seeming to be briefing the group. $aname and $xname, on the other hand, have lingered by your side and watched your conversation with $rname. “That would be best,” $rname agrees with $aname’s somewhat terse suggestion, looking at you. “Shall we?” <<if $blunt gt $charm>>You nod and walk beside $rthem as $rthey leads you toward the outpost building, $aname trailing behind you.<<else>>“By all means.” You walk beside $rthem as $rthey leads you toward the outpost building, $aname trailing behind you.<</if>> It’s at that point you notice that $xname isn’t following you, and you stop to look questioningly over your shoulder at $xthem. “You go on ahead,” $xthey says. “I think I’ll stay out here and pester $dname some more.” <<if $blunt gte $charm>>“Have fun,” you offer wryly, and $xname winks at you. “I always do!”<<else>>You raise your brows at $xthem. "Try not to cause any more <em>misunderstandings</em>, would you?" "Can't make any promises," $xname replies with a wink.<</if>> [[Continue|2.43]] <<set $rnickname to "my Crown">><<set $crnickname to "My Crown">><<if $charm gte $blunt>>"It's a true pleasure to finally meet you, $rtitle $rname," you say, not needing to fake the relief that shines through in your smile.<<else>>"I'm glad to finally meet you, $rtitle $rname," you say, the relief in your chest making it easier to breathe. You hadn't even realized how tense you were from the stress.<</if>> "My name is $name, and I go by $they." $rtitle $rname smiles warmly at you. “I feel very much the same, my Crown. Also, there's no need for you to use my title; $rname will suffice." “If that's what you want,” you reply easily, finding your own smile tugging at your lips before you can help it. “$rname, then.” $rname appears genuinely pleased, a joyful crinkle of $rtheir eyes as $rthey holds your gaze and it feels so natural, which is strange, because you're not used to looking people in the eyes. Yet around $rname, you feel so immediately at ease. “If you are done,” $aname chimes in, startling you as you had nearly completely forgotten that you were not alone. “Might I suggest you move this conversation indoors?” You glance around, realizing that at some point during your exchange with $rname, General $dname ordered the Imperial Guard to move on. You catch some of the soldiers heading inside the wide and low section attached to the outpost building, likely barracks, while the remainder of the Imperial Guard set up along the road. General $dname $dthemselves has wandered off to join the soldiers by the road, seeming to be briefing the group. $aname and $xname, on the other hand, have lingered by your side and watched your conversation with $rname. “That would be best,” $rname agrees with $aname’s somewhat terse suggestion, looking at you. “Shall we?” <<if $blunt gt $charm>>You nod and walk beside $rthem as $rthey leads you toward the outpost building, $aname trailing behind you.<<else>>“By all means.” You walk beside $rthem as $rthey leads you toward the outpost building, $aname trailing behind you.<</if>> It’s at that point you notice that $xname isn’t following you, and you stop to look questioningly over your shoulder at $xthem. “You go on ahead,” $xthey says. “I think I’ll stay out here and pester $dname some more.” <<if $blunt gte $charm>>“Have fun,” you offer wryly, and $xname winks at you. “I always do!”<<else>>You raise your brows at $xthem. "Try not to cause any more <em>misunderstandings</em>, would you?" "Can't make any promises," $xname replies with a wink.<</if>> [[Continue|2.43]][ <b>Relationships updated</b> | <b><<if $rgender is 'female'>>[[Rozerîn's Codex|S2]]<<else>>[[Rêzan's Codex|S2]]<</if>> updated</b> ]<<set $metr to true>><<set $rappearance to true>><<set $rcodex to false>> As soon as you enter the outpost building $aname closes the door shut behind you while you cast your eyes around the bare interior. It's furnished with only the most basic of wooden chairs, tables, and a large desk near the back covered with a giant map. You notice stairs going up to the second floor, and another door that must lead to the connected barracks where some of the Imperial Guard just went. $rname gestures toward the small square table near the windows surrounded by four chairs, and the three of you take a seat. “We have so much to discuss,” $rname starts after you’ve sat down, folding $rtheir hands on top of the table across from you as $rtheir smile from before seems to have lingered on $rtheir lips. “This is hardly the place to be sharing anything of a sensitive nature, but before we return to the royal palace, is there anything you’d like to ask me? Perhaps I should explain what happens next?” That does seem like a good place to start, though you could also ask $rthem about quite a number of other things first. You start by asking $rthem… <ul class="a"> <li>[[...about the Followers of Vidarna that infiltrated the Imperial Guard.|2.44.a]]</li> <<if $rgender is 'female'>><li>[[...about how her search was going before you found her.|2.44.b]]</li><li>[[...more about herself, since you’d like to get to know her better.|2.44.c]]</li><li>[[...about what happens next, as she suggested.|2.44.d]]</li><<else>><li>[[...about how his search was going before you found him.|2.44.b]]</li><li>[[...more about himself, since you’d like to get to know him better.|2.44.c]]</li><li>[[...about what happens next, as he suggested.|2.44.d]]</li><</if>> </ul><<set $question1 to true>>"You mentioned before that you and General $dname allowed the Followers of Vidarna to infiltrate the Imperial Guard," you recall, watching $rname's expression carefully as you build up to your question, but $rname looks perfectly composed. <<if $charm gte $blunt>>"Can you explain more about that?"<<else>>"How?"<</if>> "I would also like to know," $aname joins in with a frosty look aimed at $rname. "As well as why you didn't think to inform me, the Royal Protector." "Much like with $xname, your personal history convinced me it was better to leave you in the dark." $rname's composure doesn't so much as waver while $rthey explains $rtheir reasoning in cool tones, chin raised with a hint of defiance as $rthey meets $aname's glare. "As it did not concern the Crown's immediate safety, neither I nor General $dname saw reason to inform you." "You--" $aname stops $athemselves, a frustrated clench of $atheir jaw before $athey leans back into $atheir chair with a deep exhale. "You may have a point. I have a... difficult time keeping a cool head, where the Followers are concerned." "Which is understandable," $rname considers, easing up slightly. "At least you are not as bad as $xname. I have the utmost faith you will keep <<if $rnickname is "my Crown">>the Crown<<else>>$name<</if>> safe from the Followers, precisely for that reason." Although your curiosity is piqued, you hesitate to ask $aname about $atheir "personal history", especially since $athey's pointedly looking away from you. It must be a very sensitive subject. $aname doesn't look at $rname either for that matter, but nods in acknowledgment, and $rname turns back to you to answer your question. "How much do you know about the Followers of Vidarna?" $rthey asks. You know a lot more than $rthey likely suspects that you do, but you're curious to see how $rthey would explain it to you. "Assume I know about as much as the average person." "In that case, I'll start from the beginning." $rname takes a quiet breath before $rthey begins to speak. "There is a sizable portion of Arsurians who believe that two centuries ago, the famed warrior Vidarna was denied his rightful place as the Twelfth Crown in favor of his twin brother, Ardashir. Among those Arsurians is a small section calling themselves the Followers of Vidarna, who resent the current line of Crowns descended from Ardashir." That is an accurate, if very general, summary. Though the Followers of Vidarna go much further than merely resent the Crowns; the corpses of your parents prove that much. You wish you knew how they--as well as your parents--figured out you would be next in line. "They're not as small as you might think," you reply grimly. $rname frowns. "You've had dealings with them before?" When you stay silent, $rname briefly hesitates but then thankfully chooses to move on. "In any event, Lady Zerya was already keeping a close eye on them by the time I came to be under her tutelage. They are a far more dangerous group than the public knows. If word ever got out how they--" "They assassinated Crown Ferzan, didn't they?" $rname falls silent, both $rthey and $aname staring at you in shock. "How did you know that?" $aname asks tightly. "That's supposed to be secret, I can count on <em>one hand</em> how many people in the Empire are aware of that." You glance toward the door leading to the barracks, and $rname notices, following your gaze and $rtheir brows raise slightly in understanding. "Let's table that particular conversation until we're at the Royal Palace," $rthey says to $aname, who appears reluctant but does let the topic drop. "As I was saying, we've been keeping an eye on them for years, identifying various members as they've tried to recruit more people for their cause. It was the simplest thing to allow them to slip in the ranks; their successful assassination of Crown Ferzan has made them arrogant." "They never got suspicious?" you wonder. "What kind of information were you feeding them?" "Mostly I tried to keep them busy, having them guard empty buildings and trivial meetings, things of that nature," $rname recounts. "General $dname fed them concerns about other soldiers becoming radicalized into Followers, goading them into trying to recruit them. The supposedly radicalized soldiers were, of course, really spies working for us all along." That is not insignificant. "You've infiltrated them?" "Not as deeply as I would like," $rname admits with a sigh. "The inner circle is still closed to us, but hopefully we'll have a breakthrough soon." <<if $calc gt $kind>>The way $rname has explained it makes sense to you and you can't say you wouldn't have done the same thing if you'd been in $rtheir position. Some might take offense at the level of secrecy involved, but to you it sounds like a necessity when dealing with a sect of this level.<<else>>While $rname does make sense and you understand $rtheir reasoning, you can't say you agree with the way $rthey lied to $aname about it. Even if $aname has personal issues with the Followers, $athey still deserved to know.<</if>> "I appreciate you telling me all this," you say<<if $question2 is false or $question3 is false or $question4 is false>>, trying to think of the next thing you want to ask $rthem. <ul class="a"> <<if $rgender is 'female'>><<if $question2 is false>><li>[[Ask her about her search was going before you found her.|2.44.b]]</li><</if>><<if $question3 is false>><li>[[Ask her about herself, since you’d like to get to know her better.|2.44.c]]</li><</if>><<if $question4 is false>><li>[[Ask her about what happens next, as she suggested.|2.44.d]]</li><</if>><<else>><<if $question2 is false>><li>[[Ask him about his search was going before you found him.|2.44.b]]</li><</if>><<if $question3 is false>><li>[[Ask him more about himself, since you’d like to get to know him better.|2.44.c]]</li><</if>><<if $question4 is false>><li>[[Ask him about what happens next, as he suggested.|2.44.d]]</li><</if>><</if>></ul><</if>><<if $question2 is true and $question3 is true and $question4 is true>>. "I don't have any more questions." [[Continue|2.45]]<</if>><<set $question2 to true>>"Were you really going to give up the search?" you ask $rthem, and $rthey appears almost apologetic for it. "Not give up," $rthey clarifies. "A brief pause to clear my mind." "$crthey really needed it." $aname appears serious, but you catch the smile in the corner of $atheir mouth. "No amount of sleep could fix that." $cathey gestures to the skin beneath $rname's eyes and you only then notice the dark circles. "Beauty blemishes were the least of my worries," $rname replies, but then adds, "Although they do my skin no favors." "We couldn't have that," $aname agrees sarcastically and $rname shoots $athem a sharp glance. $aname clears $atheir throat and sits up a little straighter. "$crthey would've picked up the search again, regardless." "Yes." $rname gives you that look again, as if $rthey's trying to memorize your face, or convince $rthemselves that you're real. After a moment $rthey averts $rtheir eyes and lowers them to $rtheir hands folded on the table, $rtheir head slightly bowed. "I would have." <<if $kind gte $calc>>"It must've been hard," you say, feeling the need to comfort $rthem. "I wouldn't have blamed you if you'd given up."<<else>>"I wouldn't have held it against you had you given up," you tell $rthem, and you mean it. "It would've been perfectly reasonable."<</if>> "There were times where I feared that perhaps you had died and that's why neither Lady Zerya or I could find you," $rname admits quietly, then lifts $rtheir gaze to meet yours again, a little less melancholy. "But I held hope. I would've searched for you my whole life if I had to." The smile that then flourishes on $rtheir face is soft but radiant. "And now, here you are." <ul class="a"> <li>[['"Fortunately for both of us."'|2.44.b.3]]</li> <li>[[Your cheeks heat, but you manage a smile back.|2.44.b.1][$rpoints += 2]]<<if $cheatsheet is true>> <em>+ Reserved</em><</if>></li> <li>[["I'm glad I found you," you reply, a slow smile spreading on your face in response.|2.44.b.2][$rpoints += 2]]<<if $cheatsheet is true>> <em>+ Flirtatious</em><</if>></li> </ul><<set $question3 to true>><<if $blunt gte $charm>>"I'd like to know more about you," you say, and $rname looks a little taken aback.<<else>>"I'd like to get to know you better," you say with a friendly smile. "Why don't you tell me more about yourself?"<</if>> "Me?" $crthey considers you with a slight furrow between $rtheir brows, but then nods. "What do you wish to know?" <<if $charm gte $blunt>>"Let's start easy." <</if>>You think of a basic question. "Where are you from?" $rname doesn't answer immediately, seeming in thought at first, and $rtheir tone is hesitant when $rthey replies. "I'm not certain where I was born, but I remember growing up an orphan in Marabad." "You don't know who your parents are?" "No," $rname says bluntly, but $rthey doesn't look upset at your for asking. "I had others to take care of me, but they weren't much better off than I was. It was a small family, Uncle Faraj and his niece and nephew. We weren't blood-related and they didn't have much, but they still shared everything they had with me." "They sound like very kind people," you remark, though you wonder how anyone could be so poor in a city like Marabad. Wherever you went you saw wealth flaunted in the architecture lining the streets, every stone meticulously laid. A single thread of the banners hanging from the Royal Palace could probably feed a family for a year. You yourself could be considered to have grown up poor by some, having always been on the run, but you never considered yourself such, mostly because you didn't have anyone to compare it to. It wasn't until your parents took you into the towns and villages that you realized how odd your upbringing was. "The kindest," $rname says, gaze distant. "I noticed my talent for magic far outpaced that of my peers at a very young age, and so I tried to apply to the School of Marabad. I hoped by becoming a magus and finding a wealthy patron, I could finally repay all that they'd done for me, but... the school rejected my application." Your jaw almost drops. "What? Why?" "$crthey wasn't one of the <em>chosen</em>," $aname scoffs, but when you stare at $athem in confusion, $athey blinks. "Don't tell me you don't know?" "Know about what?" While your parents did educate you in various subjects, they mostly neglected to tell you about how society actually functions, leaving you ignorant to most things others would consider common knowledge. It's starting to make you feel a little embarrassed. "It's not officially a rule," $rname explains, exchanging a look with $aname. "The school, or any profession for that matter, is supposed to select its students based solely on merit. It's inspired by the way the Crown is chosen, hence the term. But usually, if you don't already know an influential magus who can vouch for you, it's impossible to get into the school. That's what happened to me. "They rejected me, justifying it by saying that I wasn't one of the chosen." $rname frowns deeply, an edge of bitterness in the pull of $rtheir mouth. "I believed them, like everyone else. I thought fate had already decided for me, and went back to performing magic on the streets for coin." "Is that when Lady Zerya found you?" you guess, and $rthey smiles. "It was," $rname speaks with fondness; you can tell Lady Zerya meant a lot to $rthem. "Somehow she recognized my skill the moment she saw me perform, but she didn't whisk me away to the Royal Palace immediately. No, instead she paid a very formal visit to uncle Faraj, asking for his permission and offering a sizable monthly stipend for the family in my absence. My poor uncle, I thought he was going to faint!" You can only imagine his shock. "Do they still live in Marabad?" "They do, though their house is <em>much</em> bigger now." $rname smiles at you. "I'd love to introduce you sometime." <<if $adven gt $caut>>That sounds nice, better than being holed up in a Royal Palace doing... whatever a Crown is supposed to do<<else>>That actually makes you a little nervous, but you can't deny that you're curious to meet them<</if>>. "Did you ever go back to the school that rejected you?" $rname's smile fades. "No, I left that behind me." "Well, that's a lie," $aname declares, saying to you, "The first thing $rthey did once $rthey became Lady Zerya's student was invite the head of the school to the Royal Palace to make him grovel." "I asked for an apology," $rname corrects clippedly, trying to look dignified as $rthey straightens $rtheir posture and smoothes out the fabric of $rtheir coat. "I did not explicitly tell him to kiss the ground at my feet, it was not <em>my</em> fault he interpreted it that way." "You hinted at it." "Perhaps." $rname grins a little with a gleam in $rtheir eye, and you make a note never to cross $rthem. "So, was that enough about me to sate your curiosity, $rnickname?" "For now," you reply<<if $question1 is false or $question2 is false or $question4 is false>>, trying to think of the next thing you want to ask $rthem, which is... <ul class="a"> <<if $question1 is false>><li>[[...about the Followers of Vidarna that infiltrated the Imperial Guard.|2.44.a]]</li><</if>><<if $rgender is 'female'>><<if $question2 is false>><li>[[...about how her search was going before you found her.|2.44.b]]</li><</if>><<if $question3 is false>><li>[[...more about herself, since you’d like to get to know her better.|2.44.c]]</li><</if>><<if $question4 is false>><li>[[...about what happens next, as she suggested.|2.44.d]]</li><</if>><<else>><<if $question2 is false>><li>[[...about how his search was going before you found him.|2.44.b]]</li><</if>><<if $question3 is false>><li>[[...more about himself, since you’d like to get to know him better.|2.44.c]]</li><</if>><<if $question4 is false>><li>[[...about what happens next, as he suggested.|2.44.d]]</li><</if>><</if>></ul><</if>><<if $question1 is true and $question2 is true and $question4 is true>>. "Thank you for answering my questions, I think I'm done asking for today." [[Continue|2.45]]<</if>><<set $question4 to true>>"It would be good to know what to expect," you say<<if $caut gte $adven>>, already feeling your nerves building from the thought of returning to Marabad as the Crown<<else>>, feeling the nerves but not being deterred by them<</if>>. "I'm not going to be coronated immediately, am I?" "Since there are currently no immediate emergencies that require the official authority of the Crown, no," $rname clarifies formally, though the implication that there are non-immediate emergencies that are expected soon does not escape your notice. "But it should still happen as soon as possible, considering the state of the Empire." The state of the Empire. You barely know the state of the province of Rojan, how are you supposed to oversee a land as huge as Arsur? Five separate provinces, all with their own problems and history? "Is it that bad?" you venture, perhaps somewhat naively as you can already foresee the disaster that's waiting for you. The Empire has gone ten years without a Crown, a whole decade. Spirits know how much damage that must've done. "Briefing you about it is one of the first things we'll be doing once we get to the Royal Palace, in fact," $rname says and you already feel overwhelmed. "Following that, I've already prepared multiple tutoring schedules and classes depending on your level of education, not to mention that the local nobility will swarm to the palace for a meeting with you, and we must make a formal declaration, perhaps organize a banquet, invite all the Mîrs, definitely the foreign ambassadors--" Now your head is starting to spin. You take a breath, but it doesn't help. Ten thousand breaths probably wouldn't help, at this point. "$rtitle $rname," $aname interferes, to your relief. "One thing at a time, for all our sakes?" $rname appears flustered, eyes flicking from you to $aname, then back to you again. "Forgive me, $rnickname, I got a little too- carried away." $aname snorts. "You don't say?" "All that aside," $rname continues, ignoring $aname and addressing you, leaning forward over the table as $rthey gazes into your eyes and you tense a little in anticipation. "The absolute first thing I would like to do once we get back and you've had a day to rest, is... I would like to get to know you better." That's not what you expected, but it does sound like a much better way to start your reign than jumping straight into the deep end. "Really?" You look over at $aname, but $athey merely shrugs. "That's all?" "It's of no small importance, $rnickname," $rname reasons, as if it were a matter of logic. "How can I serve you to the best of my ability if I do not know you? If I do not know your needs, your thoughts, your psyche?" "That sounds intimate," $aname quips with a bored expression, $atheir tone barely more than a drawl. "Should I let you two have the room?" $rname glares at $athem<<if $rpoints gt 0>><<if $flirt gt $res>>, though you take an immediate liking to $aname's implication<<else>> while you try and fail not to think about $aname's implication<</if>><</if>>. "Charming as always." $aname leans back into $atheir chair, taunting $rthem with a smirk. <<if $kind gte $calc>>"It sounds fun," you say to try and cut off an argument in the making, and $rname appears puzzled. "I mean, getting to know each other better. Not just you getting to know me." "Ah." $rname smiles lightly, small but genuine. "Yes, I'm looking forward to it." So are you, strangely.<<else>>"It makes sense," you say to try and cut off an argument in the making, and you're already mulling over topics you definitely want to avoid. "I will try to let things happen naturally," $rname says. "I can be a little overeager, as you might have noticed, and would not want to force you to tell me anything you did not want to." That does reassure you a little bit.<</if>> <<if $question1 is false or $question2 is false or $question3 is false>>"I have another question for you," you start, opting to ask $rthem... <ul class="a"> <<if $question1 is false>><li>[[...about the Followers of Vidarna that infiltrated the Imperial Guard.|2.44.a]]</li><</if>><<if $rgender is 'female'>><<if $question2 is false>><li>[[...about how her search was going before you found her.|2.44.b]]</li><</if>><<if $question3 is false>><li>[[...more about herself, since you’d like to get to know her better.|2.44.c]]</li><</if>><<else>><<if $question2 is false>><li>[[...about how his search was going before you found him.|2.44.b]]</li><</if>><<if $question3 is false>><li>[[...more about himself, since you’d like to get to know him better.|2.44.c]]</li><</if>><</if>></ul><</if>><<if $question1 is true and $question2 is true and $question3 is true>>"Thank you for telling me all this," you decide when you can't think of anything more to ask. "I don't have any other questions." [[Continue|2.45]]<</if>>$rname appears just as bashful as you, not able to hold eye-contact anymore and so $rthey looks away, fiddling with the coins on $rtheir necklace as the smile lingers on $rtheir lips. You wish you could say something, but you can't seem to find the words; you're too distracted by $rname's long, elegant fingers, tracing the edge of a coin. $aname coughs, breaking up the atmosphere, and $rname almost startles as if $rthey'd forgotten that $rthey was in a conversation. $crthey looks at you again, shyly peeking at you through $rtheir eyelashes. "Did you have any other questions?" <<if $question1 is false or $question3 is false or $question4 is false>>Your next question is... <ul class="a"> <<if $question1 is false>><li>[[...about the Followers of Vidarna that infiltrated the Imperial Guard.|2.44.a]]</li><</if>><<if $rgender is 'female'>><<if $question3 is false>><li>[[...more about herself, since you’d like to get to know her better.|2.44.c]]</li><</if>><<if $question4 is false>><li>[[...about what happens next, as she suggested.|2.44.d]]</li><</if>><<else>><<if $question3 is false>><li>[[...more about himself, since you’d like to get to know him better.|2.44.c]]</li><</if>><<if $question4 is false>><li>[[...about what happens next, as he suggested.|2.44.d]]</li><</if>><</if>></ul><</if>><<if $question1 is true and $question3 is true and $question4 is true>>"No," you answer. "That's all I wanted to know." [[Continue|2.45]]<</if>><<set $flirt += 25>>$rname glances away, shyly brushing a lock of hair behind $rtheir ear, and you watch as it slides smoothly over the expensive fabric of $rtheir coat, exposing the lovely stretch of skin on the side of $rtheir neck and suddenly your mouth is dry. "For the good of the Empire, of course," you add belatedly, finding yourself staring at $rthem, at the shine of light in $rtheir gray eyes and the soft look in them. "Of course," $rname agrees quickly, nodding to $rthemselves and smoothing out $rtheir composure. "For the Empire. Now, was there anything else you wanted to ask me?" <<if $question1 is false or $question3 is false or $question4 is false>>Your next question is... <ul class="a"> <<if $question1 is false>><li>[[...about the Followers of Vidarna that infiltrated the Imperial Guard.|2.44.a]]</li><</if>><<if $rgender is 'female'>><<if $question3 is false>><li>[[...more about herself, since you’d like to get to know her better.|2.44.c]]</li><</if>><<if $question4 is false>><li>[[...about what happens next, as she suggested.|2.44.d]]</li><</if>><<else>><<if $question3 is false>><li>[[...more about himself, since you’d like to get to know him better.|2.44.c]]</li><</if>><<if $question4 is false>><li>[[...about what happens next, as he suggested.|2.44.d]]</li><</if>><</if>></ul><</if>><<if $question1 is true and $question3 is true and $question4 is true>>"No," you answer. "That's all I wanted to know." [[Continue|2.45]]<</if>><<unset $question1>><<unset $question2>><<unset $question3>><<unset $question4>>"Is everything a little bit clearer for you now?" $rname looks genuinely concerned. "Perhaps I could--" $aname exhales a sigh that sounds like it was drawn from the very depths of $atheir chest. "Please, my <<if $rgender is 'male'>>lord<<else>>lady<</if>>, have mercy." <<if $charm gt $blunt>>"You explained everything perfectly," you reassure $rname<<else>>"Everything is perfectly clear," you tell $rname honestly<</if>>, and $rthey breaks away from frowning at $aname to give you a pleased smile. "Besides, if I think of any other questions, I can always ask you them later on." "As you say, $rnickname." $rname rises from $rtheir seat and you follow $rtheir example. "Shall we get going then?" "What about your precious tea?" $aname inquires dryly, lifting $athemselves from $atheir chair a moment later. "Are you certain you can survive without it?" Not even $xname dared to act so casually with $rname, yet $aname seems a lot more familiar with $rthem. Which makes sense, considering the two of them must be around each other a lot more. "How many times do I have to ignore you before you stop being so annoying?" $rname wonders out loud, exasperated. "A few more times than <em>that</em>, my <<if $rgender is 'female'>>lady<<else>>lord<</if>>." $aname grins, and you suspect $athey must get a real thrill out of disregarding any and all authority. "If I don't keep you honest, who will?" Unexpectedly, $rname actually smiles affectionately at $athem. "You are lucky I have a soft spot for you, Mirza." "That I am." "$crnickname." $rname gestures respectfully toward the door. "After you." [[Continue|2.46]]"Indeed," $rname agrees pleasantly. "I must say, your timing couldn't have been more perfect, though it was quite daring of you to approach $xname for help." "I'd call it foolish." $aname shakes $atheir head. "I do hope this isn't how you plan to behave as the Crown, or I'll have my work cut out for me." "Isn't that what you're being paid for?" you point out<<if $charm gte $blunt>> sweetly<</if>>, and $aname huffs a laugh. "True enough." <<if $question1 is false or $question3 is false or $question4 is false>>That being said, you try to think of another question to ask $rname. <ul class="a"> <<if $question1 is false>><li>[[Ask about the Followers of Vidarna that infiltrated the Imperial Guard.|2.44.a]]</li><</if>><<if $rgender is 'female'>><<if $question3 is false>><li>[[Ask her more about herself, since you’d like to get to know her better.|2.44.c]]</li><</if>><<if $question4 is false>><li>[[Ask about what happens next, as she suggested.|2.44.d]]</li><</if>><<else>><<if $question3 is false>><li>[[Ask him more about himself, since you’d like to get to know him better.|2.44.c]]</li><</if>><<if $question4 is false>><li>[[Ask about what happens next, as he suggested.|2.44.d]]</li><</if>><</if>></ul><</if>><<if $question1 is true and $question3 is true and $question4 is true>>With that conversation ended you decide that you've learned enough for now, and are ready to move on to the Royal Palace. "That's all I needed to know," you tell $rname. "I have no more questions." [[Continue|2.45]]<</if>> As you take the lead to walk out the building, $rname continues to make conversation. "This is the first time in history that a Crown has sought out the Sorcerer rather than the other way around," $rthey comments. "I believe it is a good sign for things to come." "A good sign?" $aname repeats sardonically, stretching $atheir arms wide once you step outside<<if $apoints gte 0>>, not that you're staring at the way the light plays off the smooth skin of $atheir muscles, or anything<</if>>. "Did you miss the part where $they nearly got assassinated, or...?" "Oh, hush!" A dark cloud drifts overhead, blocking out the sun as a chilly wind sweeps across the forest. You shiver, glancing up at the sky. The blue of it is still visible through the gaps in the clouds, but the change in the air is palpable; it's probably going to rain soon. You look across the Crown's Road where you find General $dname standing close to $xname, speaking in hushed tones while the Imperial Guard is spread out and idling as they wait. The scowl on the General's face and the smirk on $xname's is a clear indication of how that particular conversation is going. "Are you cold, $rnickname?" $rname questions, noticing the way you're hugging yourself and rubbing your arms. <<if $charm gte $blunt>>"I'll be fine." You tug your cloak tighter around yourself and flash $rthem a smile.<<else>>"Nothing I can't handle." You tug your cloak a little tighter around yourself.<</if>> At that point both General $dname and $xname notice the three of you standing outside the outpost building, and General $dname hisses a few last words at an amused $xname before $dthey turns away and walks toward you. "We should move out now in case we get caught in a possible storm," $aname remarks. "Our destination is Marabad, I presume?" General $dname approaches, standing beside $rname and throwing $aname a bemused look. "Marabad?" "Our Crown is exhausted," $rname says and you self-consciously touch your cheek, wondering if you really look that miserable. "$cthey<<if $pronouns is 'theythem'>>'re<<else>>'s<</if>> in no condition to spend several days on the road to Zeratun." From the way General $dname immediately concedes once $dthey takes the time to observe you, you have to conclude the state of your appearance is... dire. "Point taken," General $dname says, then addresses you. "Though I must insist you ride a horse this time, Your Imperial Majesty. Behind someone else, if not by yourself." You sigh, unable to protest due to the soreness in your feet. "Fine." [[Continue|2.47]] General $dname whistles--and amazingly, even $dtheir <em>whistling</em> is loud--over at two Imperial Guards hanging around the small stables beside the outpost building. You recognize the black horse and the gray spotted horse, the ones General $dname and $rname were riding before. The Imperial Guards perk up as General $dname gestures with a hand toward the horses, then immediately head into the stables. "I'll ready the rest of the guard," General $dname states, then bows to you and marches off again before you can even get a word out. You frown slightly as you watch $dtheir retreating back. "Unfriendly, isn't $dthey?" You look up to find $xname sauntering over to you, casting a derisive glance at General $dname. "Only toward you," $aname retorts nonchalantly and $xname huffs, placing $xtheir hands on $xtheir hips and trying to stare $aname down who ignores $xthem completely. The Imperial Guards approach, leading four horses toward you, including $rname's and General $dname's horses. "$dname is exceptionally focused and dedicated," $rname says to you as you watch $aname take the reins of one of the horses, one with a brown coat. "$cdthey may come across as a bit stiff because of it, but I'm certain $dthey will warm to you quickly." You hope so; having the general of your own army dislike you would be a bad way to start off your rule. "Who would you like to ride behind, $name?" $aname asks, $rname arching $rtheir brows high at the casual use of your first name, but it's not as if you mind. "Me or $rname?" You look at $xname in question. "Definitely not me," $xname says, glancing at the horses and subtly taking a step back. "I think I'll ride behind someone else." "Can you also not ride a horse?" $rname asks you, appearing thoughtful as $rthey takes the reins of $rtheir own horse from the Imperial Guard. "Hmm, I'll have to plan some lessons for that as well." You look between $aname and $atheir brown horse and $rname and $rtheir gray spotted horse. Then again, there's also a third horse, one with a white coat and a light mane who appears to be without a rider entirely. You could try riding that one by yourself, as well. <ul class="a"> <<if $rgender is 'female'>><li>[[Ride behind Rozerîn.|2.48.a][$rpoints += 2]]</li><<else>><li>[[Ride behind Rêzan.|2.48.a][$rpoints += 2]]</li><</if>> <<if $agender is 'female'>><li>[[Ride behind Ashti.|2.48.b][$apoints += 2]]</li><<else>><li>[[Ride behind Azad.|2.48.b][$apoints += 2]]</li><</if>> <li>[[Try riding alone.|2.48.c]]</li> </ul><<set $ridebehindr to true>>"I'll ride behind $rname," you decide, noticing that the Imperial Guards are all starting to gather on the Crown's Road now with General $dname at the helm, one of the soldiers guiding $dtheir horse to $dthem once you've made your choice. "As you wish," $rname says with a pleased smile, mounting $rtheir own horse gracefully and keeping hold of the reins, preventing it from moving around too much for your benefit. <<if $caut gte $adven>>After hesitating briefly, you approach the horse with caution. It turns it head slightly as if to give you a curious look, but doesn't otherwise respond to your presence. <<else>>Sizing up the horse, you approach it calmly and it turns its head a little as if to give you a curious look, but doesn't otherwise respond to your presence.<</if>> "Would you like a boost?" $rname asks, and without waiting for your reply, $rthey holds $rtheir palm out over the side of $rtheir horse. The earth beside the horse cracks and shoots up from the ground in a small, raised platform for you to step on, shaped into <<if $height is "short" or $height is "very short" or $height is "average">>two steps<<else>>a single step<</if>>. $crtheir horse must be used to magic, because much like before, it barely responds to the noise or the tremble beneath it. You stare at the platform, bewildered. Usually one would need direct contact with the earth to shape it, but $rname did it without even having both feet on the ground. Using the platform, you mount the horse much more easily than you would've without it, and settle behind $rname. The horse moves around a little once you're seated, but seems otherwise unaffected by your combined weight. You hesitate to even touch $rname let alone hold onto $rthem, as the dirt on your fingers would likely stain $rtheir beautiful coat, but falling off the horse isn't an option either. You reluctantly place your hands around $rname's sides, your touch as light as you can make it. "Hold on a little more tightly, $rnickname," $rname instructs you kindly. "I won't mind, don't worry." <<if $flirt gte $res>>"If you're sure," you reply as a mischievous smile begins to form on your lips, figuring that there is a bright side to this awkward situation. You scoot a little closer to $rthem, wrapping your arms snugly around $rtheir soft waist, though you pull back a little when you notice $rthem tensing. "I'm sorry, was that too tight?" "No, not at all, I was merely..." $rname pauses, seeming at a loss for words. "Surprised. I was surprised, that's all. We should join the others."<<else>>"If you're sure," you reply, wondering how you're going to survive the trip to Marabad this way. You keep a polite gap between the two of you, but lean forward a little to wrap your arms more securely around $rtheir soft waist. "Is this alright?" $rname doesn't respond. "Um, $rname?" "Hm... what? Oh!" $rname sounds flustered. "Yes, that's- fine. We should join the others."<</if>> $crthey directs the horse toward the Crown's Road, to join the Imperial Guards gathered there, leading you toward the center of the formation lined up there. $aname follows you on $atheir own horse, Imperial Guards both behind you and in front of you now, though there are a lot fewer of them than there were before. [[Continue|2.49.a]]<<set $ridebehinda to true>>"I'll ride behind $aname," you decide, noticing that the Imperial Guards are all starting to gather on the Crown's Road now with General $dname at the helm, one of the soldiers guiding $dtheir horse to $dthem once you've made your choice. "Obviously," $aname says, mounting $atheir own horse effortlessly, though you're not sure if $athey actually owns it or if it's a random horse that $athey's borrowing. $cathey watches you expectantly. "Well?" <<if $caut gte $adven>>After hesitating briefly, you approach the horse with caution. It barely reacts to your presence. <<else>>Sizing up the horse, you approach it calmly, though it barely reacts to your presence.<</if>> $aname holds out $atheir hand to you<<if $height is "short" or $height is "very short">>, reaching down low due to your short height<</if>>, and as $athey helps you mount you feel the strength in $atheir arm when $athey pulls you up. You get the impression that even if you weren't putting any effort into it, $aname could've easily hauled you up on $atheir own. The horse moves around a little once you're sitting behind $aname, but seems otherwise unaffected by your combined weight. You place your hands lightly around $aname's sides, mostly covered by the cold metal of $atheir armor, though that grip tightens quickly when $aname directs the horse toward the Crown's Road, to join the Imperial Guards gathered there. $aname notices your grip and sighs, reaching down to grab one of your hands and pulling them around $athemselves more securely. "You'll fall off if you don't hold on properly." <<if $flirt gte $res>>Well, in that case... Wrapping your arms snugly around $aname's waist from behind, you lean lightly toward $atheir armored back<<if $height is "tall" or $height is "very tall">> and even consider resting your chin on top of $atheir shoulder, but that would be taking it too far<</if>>. "Like this?" You can hear a quiet intake of breath, one that even the indifferent tone of $aname's voice can't cover up. "That's- fine."<</if>><<if $res gt $flirt>>You're still a bit hesitant, but only because you don't want to make $aname uncomfortable in any way. If $athey says it's alright, though... Making sure there's still a polite gap between the two of you, you wrap your arms more securely around $aname's waist from behind. "Is this okay?" "...Perfect," $aname states after an odd pause, and you wish you could see $atheir expression right now.<</if>> $cathey leads you toward the center of the formation lined up on the Crown's Road, $rname following you on $rtheir own horse. There are Imperial Guards both behind you and in front of you now, though there are a lot fewer of them than there were before. [[Continue|2.49.b]]<<set $ridealone to true>>"I can ride alone," you decide, noticing that the Imperial Guards are all starting to gather on the Crown's Road now with General $dname at the helm, one of the soldiers guiding $dtheir horse to $dthem once you've made your choice. You spot $xname sitting behind one of the Imperial Guards, grinning with $xtheir arms draped around the soldier's waist, pressed close together. The soldier is flushed from the neck up but looks very pleased and even a little smug with $xname riding behind them. <<if $xpoints gte 0>> Not that you care, because you don't--even if you kind of wish you'd properly learned how to ride a horse, now.<</if>> "Are you certain?" $aname asks, frowning. "I thought you didn't know how to ride?" "I've never done it alone before," you clarify. $aname nods, though $athey still seems skeptical. "That should make it a little bit easier, I suppose." <<if $adven gt $caut>>As if to make a point, you walk right up to the riderless white horse, trying not to flinch when it moves its head a little at your approach<<if $height is "short" or $height is "very short">>, but that's where you run into a big problem. You're too short to mount it. $aname chuckles as $athey walks over, giving you a consoling pat on the shoulder as $athey stands beside the horse, holding out $atheir hands clasped together to give you a boost. With $atheir help you manage to mount it, if in the most ungraceful and embarrassing way possible.<<else>>. When the horse keeps still, you place your foot in the stirrup and lift yourself up, mounting it more smoothly than you expected.<</if>><</if>><<if $caut gte $adven>>You regard the riderless white horse and approach it cautiously, brushing your hand over the soft coat covering its neck<<if $height is "short" or $height is "very short">>, but that's where you run into a big problem. You're too short to mount it. $aname chuckles as $athey walks over, giving you a consoling pat on the shoulder as $athey stands beside the horse, holding out $atheir hands clasped together to give you a boost. With $atheir help you manage to mount it, if in the most ungraceful and embarrassing way possible.<<else>>. You place your foot in the stirrup, and after taking a deep breath lift yourself up, mounting it more easily than you anticipated.<</if>><</if>> "It seems there was nothing to worry about," $rname compliments you with a smile before mounting $rtheir own horse in one fluid, graceful motion, even with $rtheir dress. $aname follows suit, effortless and familiar; it makes your own attempt look clumsy in comparison. "Let's get going, then." [[Continue|2.49.c]] With some effort you manage to direct your horse toward the formation of Imperial Guards lined up on the Crown's road, following $aname who leads you there while $rname rides behind you. At least the journey back to Marabad should be much shorter now that you're on horseback; it's certainly going to be a reprieve for your feet, though you're not sure about your thighs. "Nervous?" $aname asks as you take your place in the center of the Imperial Guards, surrounding you from the front and behind you, while General $dname is at the very head of it. $aname flanks your left, while $rname flanks your right. <<if $blunt gte $charm>>"Slightly," you confess, remembering the enormous crowd back in Marabad that gathered outside the Royal Palace's gates.<<else>>"Not any more than usual," you reply in an attempt at humor, though it falls a little flat when you remember the enormous crowd in Marabad that gathered outside the Royal Palace's gates.<</if>> Will the crowd be there again once you return? General $dname did order the other group in charge of delivering the spies to clear out the road to the Royal Palace, but they couldn't prevent a leak before. There's a sizable chance that someone will talk and the whole city will gather once more to witness your arrival. The mere idea of that many people watching you makes you lightheaded. As General $dname announces your departure back to Marabad, you try to ease your grip on the reins that are clenched tightly in your fists. "There's no need to fret," $rname says as $rthey gives you an encouraging smile. "We'll be with you." "And if you need to throw up at any point," $aname adds, "please do it <em>away</em> from my side." "$aname!" You breathe a laugh, the tension in your body seeping away, your jaw unclenching and your hands relaxing as you look ahead, toward the direction where Marabad awaits your return. You won't have to face it alone. [[End Chapter|3.1c]] At least the journey back to Marabad should be much shorter now that you're on horseback; it's certainly going to be a reprieve for your feet, though you're not sure about your thighs. "Nervous?" $aname asks. <<if $blunt gte $charm>>"Slightly," you confess, remembering the enormous crowd back in Marabad that gathered outside the Royal Palace's gates.<<else>>"Not any more than usual," you reply in an attempt at humor, though it falls a little flat when you remember the enormous crowd in Marabad that gathered outside the Royal Palace's gates.<</if>> Will the crowd be there again once you return? General $dname did order the other group in charge of delivering the spies to clear out the road to the Royal Palace, but they couldn't prevent a leak before. There's a sizable chance that someone will talk and the whole city will gather once more to witness your arrival. The mere idea of that many people watching you makes you lightheaded. As General $dname announces your departure back to Marabad, you try to ease the stiffness in your shoulders and your neck. "Anyone would feel nervous in your shoes," $aname says, $atheir own composure helping you feel calmer. "But you won't have to go through those city gates on your own. If you become overwhelmed, just hold onto me. I'll get you through it." $cathey's right. The tension in your body dissipates slightly, your jaw unclenching and your shoulders relaxing as you look past $athem and ahead, toward the direction where Marabad awaits your return. You won't have to face it alone. [[End Chapter|3.1b]] At least the journey back to Marabad should be much shorter now that you're on horseback; it's certainly going to be a reprieve for your feet, though you're not sure about your thighs. "How are you feeling?" $rname asks. <<if $blunt gte $charm>>"A little nervous," you confess, remembering the enormous crowd back in Marabad that gathered outside the Royal Palace's gates.<<else>>"Like a walking heart attack waiting to happen," you reply in an attempt at humor, though it falls a little flat when you remember the enormous crowd in Marabad that gathered outside the Royal Palace's gates.<</if>> Will the crowd be there again once you return? General $dname did order the other group in charge of delivering the spies to clear out the road to the Royal Palace, but they couldn't prevent a leak before. There's a sizable chance that someone will talk and the whole city will gather once more to witness your arrival. The mere idea of that many people watching you makes you lightheaded. As General $dname announces your departure back to Marabad, you try to ease the stiffness in your shoulders and your neck. "It's natural to be nervous," $rname says, $rtheir soft, reassuring voice making you feel a little better, like a skittish animal being soothed. "Just remember, I am here for you. I will walk beside you every step of the way." $crthey's right. The tension in your body dissipates slightly, your jaw unclenching and your shoulders relaxing as you look past $rthem and ahead, toward the direction where Marabad awaits your return. You won't have to face it alone. [[End Chapter|3.1a]]<<set $progress to "3">><div id="3.1a">@@.chaptertitleact0;CHAPTER THREE@@</div>@@.titleblack;Tying Your Hands@@ The Crown’s Road makes your travel back to Marabad go much more smoothly compared to the hours you spent wandering around the forest on foot. Though you can’t say it’s entirely comfortable, either. <<if $res gte $flirt>>Your hands haven’t moved from $rname’s waist, leaving you very aware of the distance between you whenever the horse’s gallop shifts you a little closer toward $rthem. You think you must look rather stiff sitting behind $rthem,<<else>>Your arms haven’t moved from where they’re comfortably curled around $rname’s waist, though you make sure not to sit too close to $rthem. The two of you probably look quite snug together,<</if>> but none of the others around you appear to notice; $aname and General $dname are both looking straight ahead, and $xname seems too busy chatting up the rider $xthey's sharing a horse with to pay you any mind. It’s not just your hold on $rname that has you feeling <<if $res gte $flirt>>nervous<<else>>distracted<</if>>. $crtheir hair is long enough that it isn’t blowing back into your face, but as you sit behind $rthem you think you detect a hint of flowery perfume, if not from $rtheir hair then perhaps $rtheir clothes. “We should arrive in less than an hour,” $rname informs you and you realize you’ve been silent for quite a while as you’ve been riding behind $rthem. $crtheir voice is raised, just about audible over the sound of dozens of hooves treading the ground. Briefly, you consider your combined weight atop the mount. “Will your horse be alright?” “Of course she will.” $rname reaches down and pats the side of $rtheir horse’s neck, who seems to have no issue keeping up with the others even with two people on its back. “These aren’t ordinary horses.” “What kind of breed are they?” “I’m not sure,” $rname responds thoughtfully. “Though breed is not what I meant. They may not look like it at first glance, but these horses are… well, let me show you.” You watch $rthem lean down, lining up with $rtheir horse, and<<if $caut gte $adven>> to your alarm<</if>> you realize $rthey’s let go of the reins. “$rname, what are you—” “Hold on tight,” is the only warning $rthey gives you before a jolt travels through your body and locks your arms around $rtheir waist. It quickly dims into an odd buzzing sound between your ears and leaves you fascinated by the strange sensation that hums through your body. It feels familiar—$rname’s magic, flowing through you from where your hands rest over $rtheir stomach. But you’re not the only one affected by it. The horse speeds forward as if it were carried by the wind and you notice sparks dancing across its body, shuddering up your legs, but it doesn’t hurt. It’s pure energy, and before you know it you’ve left the Imperial Guards behind you. “$rname!” You’re breathless, unable to do anything but hold onto $rthem as the trees around you pass by so fast you can barely keep up. You raise a hand, watching purple tendrils of lightning dance off your fingertips. “How- what—” $crthey laughs, a grin on $rtheir face as $rthey looks over $rtheir shoulder at you. “Isn’t it wonderful?” “$rtitle $rname!” you hear General $dname call after you. “Please slow down and remain behind me, it is not safe!” You hear $rname sigh and after a moment the sparks disappear and the horse slows down again to a normal pace, allowing the Imperial Guards to catch up with you. The energy you felt flowing through you ebbs away, though you still feel more invigorated than you did before. “Did you just use magic?” you ask in disbelief. “On your horse?” “Not quite.” $rname sounds surprised by your confusion. “I created a bond between my magic and hers, guiding its combined force and allowing her to run faster without expending too much energy. She can do it on her own as well, but she saves it for when she’s in danger. Have you never seen an animal use magic before?” <<if $charm gte $blunt>>“Is that so strange?”<<else>>“No.”<</if>> You wonder if this is another one of those things you missed out on during your childhood or if it’s because $rname is so accustomed to magic. “<<if $blunt gt $charm>>My family steered clear of both people and animals, in general<<else>>I can’t say I’ve ever seen a mouse breathe fire, or something of the sort<</if>>.” “Animal magic is typically much more subtle and used more sparingly than what humans are accustomed to seeing,” $rname explains. “These horses are special because they have a particular aptness for channeling inner magic, making them much sturdier and quicker, but most animals possess at least some amount of magical ability. Have you never seen a bird stun its prey with a cry?” You remember witnessing an eagle do that to paralyze a snake as a child, <<if $intel gte $intu>>but you didn’t think anything of it; you just assumed the snake had gone limp from fear. “I always thought eagles could do that without magic.”<<else>>thinking it unusual since you hadn’t seen anything like it before but you had no way of knowing what it truly was; your parents certainly didn’t think it important enough to inform you. “I have, but I couldn’t tell that it was using magic.”<</if>> “Scholars have long observed this specific type of magic ability across many different species, it is truly fascinating.” You worried your lack of knowledge and your questions might annoy someone of $rname’s caliber, but $rthey seems more than happy to answer you. “It’s most often utilized by birds of prey. Lions and wolves have been known to use it as well, albeit not while hunting. One can imagine such a cry or roar would attract unwanted attention very quickly….” $crthey pauses there, sounding a little embarrassed when $rthey speaks again. “Forgive me, it seems I'm rambling.” <ul class="a"> <li>[[Change the subject.|3.2a.2]]</li> <li><<if $rgender is 'female'>>[[Reassure her.|3.2a.1][$rpoints += 1]]<<else>>[[Reassure him.|3.2a.1][$rpoints += 1]]<</if>></li> </ul><<set $progress to "3">><div id="3.1b">@@.chaptertitleact0;CHAPTER THREE@@</div>@@.titleblack;Tying Your Hands@@ The Crown’s Road makes your travel back to Marabad go much more smoothly compared to the hours you spent wandering around the forest on foot. Though you can’t say it’s entirely comfortable, either. <<if $res gte $flirt>>You find it easy to keep a good grip on $aname’s waist with your hands, seeing as how $athey’s covered in armor and probably doesn’t even feel you holding onto $athem.<<else>>You still have your arms curled around $aname’s waist, not that it’s entirely smooth with the scale armor covering $atheir torso.<</if>> Though, in truth, your seating positions aren’t the main thing on your mind. $aname hasn’t spoken a single word to you since you began the trip back to Marabad. You’re trying to figure out whether it’s because $athey dislikes you or simply because $athey’s naturally quiet, but it’s hard to tell with someone you’ve just met. You attempt a conversation. “How long until we arrive?” “An hour or so,” $aname answers, voice raised to be audible over the sound of dozens of hooves treading the ground. The silence between you resumes anew and you take it as a sign of disinterest from $athem, until $athey suddenly asks, “Are you tired?” “A little,” you respond. “But I’ll be fine. Will your horse be alright, with the two of us riding it?” “The horses used by the Imperial Guards are no mere pack animals.” “Oh.” $cathey doesn’t sound snide or derisive, merely as if $athey’s stating a simple fact, but you don’t quite know how to respond so you try for another question. “Are they a special type of breed?” “No,” $aname replies. “It’s not because of their breeding; these horses can carry far more and run much faster due to their use of magic.” “Magic?” You raise your brows, glancing down at the unassuming brown horse you’re sitting on. “This horse can do magic?” “Not the type you’re thinking of.” $aname lets out a breath that sounds somewhat like a laugh, albeit an unintentional one. “These horses naturally use inner magic to increase their physical abilities, much like human soldiers do.” “Are the Imperial Guards the only ones to use them?” “Such horses tend to be uncommon, just as how magi among humans are uncommon,” $aname considers. “There are elite cavalry forces within the Imperial Army to use them as well, but human magic is the preferred method for warfare.” $cathey certainly sounds as if $athey has studied the topic. “You haven’t fought in a war before, have you?” “There haven’t been any to fight,” $aname recalls. “Not since the revolt in Ivia, and even that could hardly be classified as a war.” “Ivia,” you repeat slowly, trying to map where its land is. You may not have been taught much worldly things, but geography was crucial knowledge when being on the run. “To the northwest of Rojan, right? Connected by the Armas Mountains?” “Yes.” $aname does not sound surprised, which is relieving in a way; at least $athey doesn’t assume you to be completely clueless. “Its status as a territory of the Empire has been uncertain for as long as I can remember, but somehow we’ve managed to avoid an all-out war by the skin of our teeth.” $cathey looks over $atheir shoulder at you, as much as $athey can with you sitting right behind $athem. “You do not seem very well-informed, generally speaking. Why is that?” “I haven’t had a very usual upbringing.” To put it mildly. “I know how to survive, but that’s about it.” “I thought so.” $aname looks back ahead of $athem again. “The average person would’ve winced at the mere mention of Ivia. It's a sensitive subject, I wouldn't recommend bringing it up in polite conversation.” “Yet you did,” you point out. “Is this a polite conversation?” $aname sounds amused. “Pardon me, <<if $blunt gt $charm>>I didn't think you the type, but I’ll watch my words from now on<<else>>I’ll watch my words from now on<</if>>.” You raise your brows, your eyes glancing at $atheir round silver earrings glinting whenever it catches a stray ray of sunlight, though those are becoming fewer and fewer as clouds overhead travel closer. "Somehow I doubt that," you remark, having witnessed $aname show very little consideration to rank or station so far. Perhaps $atheir own status as Royal Protector allows $athem to treat others as equals. You admittedly don't have much knowledge about how the hierarchy within the Crown's rule works. "I am glad you don't seem to care much for royal decorum," $aname says. "I get scolded for that enough as it is." <<if $charm gt $blunt>>"I can't imagine why," you tease,<<else>>"I can imagine," you state dryly,<</if>> hearing $aname huff with amusement in front of you. "If it pleases you, I could spend the rest of the journey spouting insincere compliments at you instead," $aname suggests. <ul class="a"> <li>[[Laugh, but change the subject.|3.3b]]</li> <li>[[“You don’t have to do that, I’d rather you be honest with me.”|3.2b][$apoints += 1]]</li> </ul><<set $progress to "3">><div id="3.1c">@@.chaptertitleact0;CHAPTER THREE@@</div>@@.titleblack;Tying Your Hands@@ The Crown’s Road makes your travel back to Marabad go much more smoothly compared to the hours you spent wandering around the forest on foot. Riding the horse on your own isn't as difficult as you thought it would be. It is a familiar motion to you, and as you travel the road and time wears on, you quickly grow accustomed to steering your horse, not that it's particularly challenging. Aside from the occasional bend, most of it is a straight path. In terms of the formation you're in, you still find yourself at the very center of it with $aname silently flanking your right, though $rname has moved back to ride behind you, with several guards surrounding you from every side. There's not much opportunity or desire for conversation. The ride helps clear your mind, though that also has the adverse effect of reminding you of what lies at the end of this road. You're not ready for it, but then again, can anyone be ready for something like this? As you silently muse on your very near future, a soldier pulls up their horse to ride beside you, catching your attention as they break the formation. It’s the sword wielder from before, the one whose partner nearly assassinated you. If you remember right, General $dname called them Ziryan. They have their helmet off, revealing the thick mess of brown curls atop their head, spilling out from under a thick red bandana wrapped around their forehead. It bounces along with the gait of their horse, making you wonder how they manage to fit all that under their helmet without it getting uncomfortable. <<if $charm gt $blunt>>"Hello there," you greet them in a friendly manner,<<else>>"Hello," you greet them plainly,<</if>> voice raised over the noise of hooves thundering over the ground. You try not to have your teeth clatter while you speak. Ziryan deeply inclines their head to you while keeping an eye on the road. “Your Imperial Majesty, forgive me, but I only wished to give you my humblest apologies for drawing my sword on you earlier. If- if I had known—” <<if $kind gte $calc>>“It’s alright,” you reassure them quickly. “I don’t hold it against you.”<<else>>“As you said, you had no way of knowing until I revealed myself,” you reply casually, knowing that earning the favor of your guards can only benefit you. “No harm done.”<</if>> Ziryan’s tight grip on their reins visibly relaxes as they bow their head again to you. “Thank you, Your Imperial Majesty, I am not worthy. I shall return to my duties, with your leave.” They look at you expectantly, and you realize they’re waiting for you to dismiss them. <<if $blunt gte $charm>> “Ah…” You clear your throat. “You are dismissed, guard.” Ziryan stares at you, and you think you see their lips twitch, but they smooth out their expression and nod in response before falling back with their horse again, somewhere in the line of Imperial Guards riding behind you.<<else>>“Go on, then,” you say, though you shoot them a smile. “Back to your guarding, or whatever it is you lot do.” Ziryan stares at you as they hide their laugh in twisting lips and a cough. They smooth out their expression and nod in response before falling back with their horse again, somewhere in the line of Imperial Guards riding behind you.<</if>> [[Continue|3.2c]]<div align='center'>@@.chaptertitle;A TALE OF CROWNS@@</div> <p style="margin-left:10%; margin-right:10%;"><em>Your parents murdered and the previous Crown of the Arsurian Empire assassinated, you find yourself on the run from unseen enemies snapping at your heels. As if trying to survive wasn't difficult enough, to make matters worse, your eyes have turned gold. Only the Crown of the Empire has golden eyes.</em></p> @@.titlepurple4;<b>A Tale of Crowns</b>@@ is a high fantasy love story set against the backdrop of an ancient setting, inspired by the Middle East during classical antiquity and incorporating Kurdish influences. The game has many features and highlights, including: <ul class="a"> <li>An intricate fantasy setting influenced by Kurdish culture, written by a Kurdish woman</li> <li>Detailed appearance and personality customization for your Crown</li> <li>Four different love interests, whose genders will adapt to fit your Crown's sexuality</li> <li>A dedicated route for each love interest, where romance intertwines with the plot</li> <li>A big cast of characters, with plenty of opportunity to build friendships</li> <li>Impactful choices with lasting consequences, leading to different endings</li></ul>Will you maintain your rule as the Crown, or will you lead to the downfall of an empire? This story is a work in progress and will periodically update with new chapters. Check the store page on itch.io or the tumblr blog for the latest developments. <b><u>IMPORTANT</u>: It is recommended that you download your save files with <em>"Save To Files"</em> to ensure you don't lose them in future chapter updates! You can find the option at the bottom of the save menu. This also works on mobile. Preferably, play this game through a browser only!</b> <b>Content warnings</b>: Depictions of violence, death, trauma, body horror, implied sexual content, and animal cruelty. Safe to play for those 16 years and older. [[Begin the game|1.a]]“It’s fine, I actually learned a lot,” you say, though you try to think of a different subject to talk about, <<if $kind gte $calc>>hoping to alleviate $rtheir embarrassment<<else>>perhaps one that involves more practical information<</if>>. As you do, a soldier pulls up their horse to ride beside you, catching your attention. It’s the sword wielder from before, the one whose partner nearly assassinated you. If you remember right, General $dname called them Ziryan. They have their helmet off, revealing the thick mess of brown curls atop their head, spilling out from under a thick red bandana wrapped around their forehead. It bounces along with the gait of their horse, making you wonder how they manage to fit all that under their helmet without it getting uncomfortable. “Something the matter, guard?” $rname inquires coolly. Ziryan’s eyes flit between you and $rname, occasionally glancing back toward the road. “No, my <<if $rgender is 'female'>>lady<<else>>lord<</if>>, I only wished to offer $ctheir Imperial Majesty my sincerest apologies for drawing my sword on $them earlier. If- if I had known—” <<if $kind gte $calc>>“It’s alright,” you reassure them quickly. “I don’t hold it against you.”<<else>>“ As you said, you had no way of knowing until I revealed myself,” you reply casually, knowing that earning the favor of your guards can only benefit you. “No harm done.”<</if>> Ziryan’s tight grip on their reins visibly relaxes as they bow their head deeply to you. “Thank you, Your Imperial Majesty, I am not worthy.” “You are fortunate our Crown is so forgiving, guard,” $rname comments with nonchalance, not even bothering to look at them. “I know of Mîrs who would not hesitate to remove you from your post for such a transgression.” “It is as you say, $rtitle $rname,” Ziryan agrees, eyes back on the road but their head still bowed in embarrassment. “I shall return to my duties, with your leave.” They look back toward you, and you realize they’re waiting for you to dismiss them. [[Continue|3.4a]]<<if $res gte $flirt>>“You weren’t rambling at all,” you reassure $rthem. “It was very informative, thank you for being so patient with me. I’ve lived a very… sheltered life until now.” $rname briefly turns $rtheir head to shoot you a smile over $rtheir shoulder. “Think nothing of it. Being reminded of the simpler things is refreshing.” “I’ll be sure to ask you many more simple questions, then,” you reply, finding yourself smiling back at $rthem, though $rthey’s already turned to look ahead again. <<if $blunt gte $charm>>“But don’t come complaining to me once you grow tired of it.”<<else>>“As many as it takes to keep you refreshed.”<</if>> $rname laughs, a small sound kept soft. <<if $blunt gte $charm>>“I won’t, I promise.”<<else>>“How very thoughtful.”<</if>> There’s a brief silence between you, before $rthey says, “I don’t usually talk this much.” “Why not?” you ask $rthem curiously. “Most of the time I'm addressing political matters, or trying to solve yet another problem. There aren't many opportunities for me to simply... talk with someone, and I almost feared I'd forgotten how.” $rname’s voice lowers, maybe out of embarrassment, and you have to lean in a little more to make out what $rthey’s saying. “But it’s the strangest thing… even though we just met, I feel at ease with you." You realize you’re nearly close enough to where your chest just barely grazes against the coat falling down $rtheir back, and you lean away a little, conscious about the distance. “I know what you mean. I feel the same.” “You do?” $rname brushes a lock of $rtheir hair behind $rtheir ear and you catch the glint of a golden armband dangling around $rtheir wrist, there and gone with the quick motion. “That’s… good. I’m glad.”<<else>>”There’s no need to apologize,” you reassure $rthem, feeling a smile forming on your lips before you can help it. “You weren't rambling. In fact, it’s a pleasure listening to you speak; I can tell how passionate you are about the subject.” You meant to be flirtatious, but it surprises you how genuine your words feel to you as you say them. From how $rname shyly bends $rtheir head down, $rthey must be able to tell how much you meant it, too. “Thank you. I don’t usually talk this much.” “Why not?” you ask $rthem curiously. “I certainly enjoy talking to you.” “Most of the time I'm addressing political matters, or trying to solve yet another problem. There aren't many opportunities for me to simply... talk with someone, and I almost feared I'd forgotten how.” $rname sounds slightly flustered. You wish you could see $rtheir face. “But it’s the strangest thing… even though we just met, I feel at ease with you.” “I feel the same,” you confess. “You do?” $rname brushes a lock of $rtheir hair behind $rtheir ear and you catch the glint of a golden band around $rtheir wrist, there and gone with the quick motion. “That’s… good. I’m glad.”<</if>> [[Continue|3.3a.1]] As you ready to say something more to keep the conversation going, a soldier pulls up their horse to ride beside you, catching your attention. It’s the sword wielder from before, the one whose partner nearly assassinated you. If you remember right, General $dname called them Ziryan. They have their helmet off, revealing the thick mess of brown curls atop their head, spilling out from under a thick red bandana wrapped around their forehead. It bounces along with the gait of their horse, making you wonder how they manage to fit all that under their helmet without it getting uncomfortable. “Something the matter, guard?” $rname inquires coolly. Ziryan’s eyes flit between you and $rname, occasionally glancing back toward the road. “No, my <<if $rgender is 'female'>>lady<<else>>lord<</if>>, I only wished to offer $ctheir Imperial Majesty my sincerest apologies for drawing my sword on $them earlier. If- if I had known—” <<if $kind gte $calc>>“It’s alright,” you reassure them quickly. “I don’t hold it against you.”<<else>>“As you said, you had no way of knowing until I revealed myself,” you reply, thinking it prudent to avoid any harsh judgments toward one of the people in charge of keeping you safe. “No harm done.”<</if>> Ziryan’s tight grip on their reins visibly relaxes as they bow their head deeply to you. “Thank you, Your Imperial Majesty, I am not worthy.” “You are fortunate our Crown is so forgiving, guard,” $rname comments with nonchalance, not even bothering to look at them. “I know of Mîrs who would not hesitate to remove you from your post for such a transgression.” “It is as you say, $rtitle $rname,” Ziryan agrees, eyes back on the road but their head still bowed in embarrassment. “I shall return to my duties, with your leave.” They look back toward you, and you realize they’re waiting for you to dismiss them. [[Continue|3.4a]]<<if $blunt gte $charm>> “Ah…” You clear your throat. “You are dismissed, guard.” Ziryan stares at you, and you think you see their lips twitch, but they smooth out their expression and nod in response before falling back with their horse again, somewhere in the line of Imperial Guards riding behind you. “Wasn’t that a little harsh?” you ask $rname once the guard is out of earshot. “It was an honest mistake.” “Ziryan is one of our newest appointees, only recently nominated,” $rname replies factually. “I like to keep them on their toes, especially now that you’re here. The Imperial Guards will have very little room for error.”<<else>>“Go on, then,” you say, though you shoot them a smile. “Back to your guarding, or whatever it is you lot do.” Ziryan stares at you as they hide their laugh in twisting lips and a cough. They smooth out their expression and nod in response before falling back with their horse again, somewhere in the line of Imperial Guards riding behind you. “Were you being serious?” you ask $rname once the guard is out of earshot. “Yes.” $rname certainly sounds serious. “Ziryan is one of our newest appointees, only recently nominated. Now that you’re here, the Imperial Guards will have very little room for error.”<</if>> “Who is in charge of them?” $rname glances over $rtheir shoulder at you. “Well, you, of course.” “Oh.” That hadn’t occurred to you yet. “And aside from me?” “That would be $aname.” $rname looks over to where $aname rides a few feet ahead of you, right behind General $dname. “Both the Imperial Guards and the Royal Protector are nominated by the Mîrs and usually appointed by the Crown, but since we didn’t have one, the task fell to $dname instead.” So, $aname was nominated by $atheir Mîr and appointed by $dname. <<if $intel gte $intu>>How does one even make appointments? Based on what criteria?<<else>>How did $dname make that decision? How will you, once you’re officially the Crown?<</if>> You don’t know anything about how the Empire functions, how are you supposed to choose? It hits you then, an ache so sharp it surprises you because you thought you had already moved past it. You wish your parents were here. [[Continue|3.5a]]<<if $intel gte $intu>>“What’s the difference between a Mîr and a regular satrap, anyway?” you wonder out loud, trying to distract from the tightness in your chest. “I know they all used to be called satraps a few centuries ago, but I never understood where the change came from.”<<else>>“When did satraps end up becoming Mîrs, anyway?” you wonder out loud, trying to distract from the tightness in your chest. “It sounds like a much more elevated position, but their role is still the same, isn’t it?”<</if>> Your parents certainly wouldn’t have any answers for you on matters like these, as the workings of royal houses and society in general was usually beyond them. Sometimes you forget you weren’t the only person isolated from the rest of the world; your parents were as well. $rname laughs. “$crnickname, are you certain you would like to spend the ride to Marabad discussing the politics of terminology? Your tutors can answer these questions much better than I can, I’m afraid it isn’t my area of expertise.” “Right, I’ll just…” You feel a yawn coming up, too quickly for you to suppress. “Sorry.” “Tired?” $rname sounds concerned. “We’ll be there soon, try and rest. As much as you can on a horse, in any case.” <em>Soon</em>, $rthey said. <<if $caut gte $adven>>You didn’t know how much you truly dreaded that word until you heard it a moment ago, but the prospect of facing a city full of people looking toward you as their new ruler has you feeling slightly queasy. <<if $charm gt $blunt>>Not that you’ll ever show it.<</if>><<else>>You didn’t know how much you truly anticipated that word until you heard it a moment ago; the prospect of facing a city full of people looking toward you as their new ruler has you feeling slightly restless, excited by the possibilities.<</if>> There was a time you weren’t on the run, when you were very young. Too young to form any lasting memories beyond little glimpses you sometimes catch in your dreams, when you aren’t having a nightmare. Your mother used to speak of it, of the small patch of land she owned where she thought she would settle down and live out the rest of her life alone, until she met your father and had you. For a while, the three of you were happy; you can almost remember the village where you and your mother would sell your produce when you were little, while your father would attend to the village’s only temple of worship as its priest. But one day, that changed. You were younger than ten years old, you think, maybe seven or eight, but you clearly recall the night you were whisked out of bed by your father while your mother hurriedly gathered some bags. And now you’re whisked away again, off to a palace that is now yours, in a city that you are now the master of. <<if $caut gte $adven>>Part of you desperately wants to run, but you are so <em>tired</em> of running.<<else>>In spite of it all, you almost feel eager at the prospect.<</if>> [[Continue|3.6a]] The scenery of the forest passes you by in a blur now that $rname is no longer keeping you distracted with $rtheir conversation, but you’re too exhausted to think of any more questions to ask. The only thing keeping you from falling off the horse is <<if $caut gt $adven>>the anxiety at the thought<<else>>anticipation<</if>> of returning to Marabad and having people know who you are. You wandered the forest for so long in search of $xname that the hours started feeling like days, but now your destination seems all too eager to greet you. $rname guides $rtheir horse around the bend in the road, revealing the stone of the city walls peering back at you in the distance. It stands like a towering monolith, especially now that you have a view of it from afar. The trees on either side of you obscure most of the stretch of wall you know is there, but even this far away the looming metal of the gates look like teeth. “$rname,” you say, fingers squeezing lightly around $rtheir waist when you notice the guards stationed outside—eight of them, six more than there were when you left last night. “Should I hide my eyes?” “If you wish,” $rthey answers thoughtfully. “There would be no shame in it and I would never judge you for it, but it is a personal decision. One I will leave up to you.” <ul class="a"> <li>[[Hide them; you are too anxious to face the crowds this soon.|3.7a.1][$caut to $caut + 25]]<<if $cheatsheet is true>> <em>+ Cautious</em><</if>></li> <li>[[Show them; you are not afraid.|3.7a.2][$adven to $adven + 25]]<<if $cheatsheet is true>> <em>+ Adventurous</em><</if>></li> </ul> You can’t do it, not now, not when you haven’t had the chance to gather your thoughts. Your body feels like it’s about to fall apart, your mind is a haze of barely suppressed emotions cracking gently through the thin shell you’ve built to keep yourself safe. The trees around you taper away until you’ve left the forest and the wide open space of the grass fields around you has your stomach twisting in on itself. You snatch the hood of your cloak up, pulling down as far as it will go over your head until you can’t see the approaching walls of Marabad anymore. A soft hand presses gently over the one you have curled around $rname’s waist. “Close your eyes,” $rthey says, “and hold onto me.” You wish you were above it, but you aren’t, not when you hear the sound. Crowds, shouting against the walls like a horrible tide crashing against the rocks. Panic tightens in your chest, solidifies into something cold and hard until it’s difficult to breathe. You squeeze your eyes shut just as you hear the horrible groan of the iron gates, fading away into the screaming. Names are all you can make out, $rname’s name and then $xname’s name too, barely distinguishable from the cheering and the yelling surrounding you from every side. You feel shame when you shift your hold on $rname and wrap your arms around $rthem more firmly, but you have no other choice. You’re afraid to let $rthem go and become lost to the noise surrounding you in the darkness of your eyelids, so you press your forehead against $rtheir shoulder. A moment later, $rtheir hand envelops your own where it rests on $rtheir belly. $crthey squeezes your fingers once and keeps $rtheir hand there. You breathe easier, just a little bit. After a while you start to pay attention to the sound the hooves of the horses make; you can tell when the dirt road changes into stone and back again. Focusing on that sound makes it easier to ignore the crowds around you. The horses slow down a little, angling slightly upwards—up a hill, most likely—but then they resume at the same speed again with ease. “We’re almost there,” you hear $rname say and you squeeze $rtheir hand back to let $rthem know you’ve heard $rthem. Daring a peek from over $rname’s shoulder, the first thing you see are the colors. Luxurious finery and glimmering jewels among ragged cotton stained with dust and dirt, plain dresses and elaborate headpieces, red-painted lips and mud smudged across cheeks, dark and light and bright and oh <em>so</em> loud. “$rtitle $rname!” “$crthey’s returned, thank the Spirits $rthey’s returned!” Hands, reaching past the guards trying to force the crowds back, as futile as trying to imprison the waves of a sea. $rname’s horse is slowed down among the commotion, trying to get past the people pushing in toward you from every side. The Imperial Guards on either side of you form a kind of barrier, shielding you from the onlookers fighting for your attention and perhaps beyond it all, that’s what strikes you the most. The desperation. [[Continue|3.8a.1]] You have to; if not now, then when? You’ve spent your entire life hiding in the darkness, hidden away until you forgot what it was like to look someone in the eyes and you’re tired of it. After all these years, there’s nothing more you crave than the sunlight. The trees around you taper away until you’ve left the forest and the wide open space of the grass fields around you has you breathing more easily, like a weight that had been sitting on your chest this entire time finally dropped away. The wind blows across your face, the rays of the sun soak into your eyes and you wish you could capture this moment in a bottle to hold onto forever. “I won’t hide,” you decide. “Not anymore.” “As you wish,” $rname replies, but then motions one of the Imperial Guards toward $rthem with $rtheir hand. Once the guard has pulled up beside you on their horse, $rthey says, “Let the guards know that the Crown will not be hiding $their eyes.” The guard bows their head. “Yes, my <<if $rgender is 'female'>>lady<<else>>lord<</if>>.” You watch them hurry ahead on their horse, toward the city gates in the distance that gradually draw closer and closer. <<if $kind gte $calc>>”If it’s a bother, perhaps I should hide them after all,” you offer when you realize how much more difficult you’ve made the situation for the guards in charge of protecting you. $rname turns $rtheir head toward you to smile at you. “Your consideration speaks well of you, but there’s no need. It is their duty to protect you; they may as well become accustomed to it early.”<<else>>“Will they be able to handle it?” you wonder when you realize how much your appearance will likely affect the crowds in Marabad. “There’s hardly any time for the guards to prepare.” “I am thankful for your prudence, but there’s no need to worry, $rnickname,” $rname reassures you. “It is their duty to protect you at a moment’s notice; they may as well become accustomed to it early.”<</if>> $crthey pauses. “Besides, there are many more people protecting you than mere city guards. If not the Imperial Guards and General $dname, then surely $aname or $xname will keep you safe, and if all else fails, there’s still me.” As you near the city gates and the echoes of the crowds first reach your ears, you begin to think you might need as much protection as $rname is offering you. It is a deafening sound. Even the horrible groan of the iron gates, pulled upward to allow you to pass through, quickly fades away into the screaming. As soon as the gates are opened, people begin to stream outward like a river flooding past its banks. There are people everywhere, crying out in an indistinguishable cacophony. Names are all you can make out, $rname’s name and then $xname’s name too, barely distinguishable from the cheering and the yelling surrounding you from every side. You see so many colors. Luxurious finery and glimmering jewels among ragged cotton stained with dust and dirt, plain dresses and elaborate headpieces, red-painted lips and mud smudged across cheeks, dark and light and bright and oh so loud. “$rtitle $rname!” “$crthey’s returned, thank the Spirits $rthey’s returned!” Hands, reaching past the guards trying to force the crowds back, as futile as trying to imprison the waves of a sea. $rname’s horse is slowed down among the commotion, trying to get past the people pushing in toward you from every side. The Imperial Guards on either side of you form a kind of barrier, shielding you from the onlookers fighting for your attention and perhaps beyond it all, that’s what strikes you the most. The desperation. [[Continue|3.8a.2]] The golden gates of the Royal Palace are there to greet you when you become brave enough to look past $rname, and you cling to their image as the horse carries you toward them, slowly but surely. Something grabs at the edge of your cloak and your heart skips in fear, but when you turn around you see dirt stained beneath fingernails, belonging to a hand of a child who looks much younger than you. “Please, $rtitle $rname!” It was not you who they were looking for, but you’re struck by the strength of their grip, as if they were afraid of drowning were they to let go of your cloak. $rname turns $rtheir head, frowning when $rthey can’t quite turn enough to see what’s going on. “Who is that?” “You must do something about the steward,” the child begs, staring up at you with wide, desperate eyes. “After everything he’s done—" One of the city guards grabs them by their elbow, dragging them away. “Get away from there, you insolent child!” You open your mouth to call the guard off, but before you have a chance both the child and the guard are swallowed up by the chaos sweeping the streets and $rname’s horse has already moved on. “$rname, did you hear that?” you ask $rthem. “That child, they said something about the steward of Marabad.” $rname shakes $rtheir head, and you hear the screech of the gates opening to let you pass. “Tell me about it later,” $rthey replies and you can barely hear $rthem over the din of the crowd that seems to shout even louder now that you’ve almost reached your destination. “Stay back!” You watch the city guards try their best to keep the citizens at bay—one of them even uses magic to summon a translucent shield, the blue tinge glowing softly in the sunlight as it stands as a barrier between the guard and the citizens pounding their fists and slapping their palms against it. The sight disappears as soon as you pass underneath the golden gates, hanging menacingly above your head as if you were traveling into the belly of a beast through its mouth. When you finally lay eyes on the front of the Royal Palace in front of you, you realize that comparison may actually be rather apt. [[Continue|3.9a.1]] You remember catching a glimpse of the pillars and the roof of the palace before, but seeing it unobstructed by the walls surrounding it is an entirely different experience. It stands on a raised platform, stone steps leading up to the massive pillars topped by the statues of snakes you noticed before. Now that you can see it in its entirety, you realize the palace is not so much a single building as it is a complex of multiple buildings connected together by the apadana and its impressive columns; it is an audience hall that would make even the richest Thalloi rulers envious. There are details, carved reliefs of images around the edge of the flat roof that you can barely make out. People and animals, snakes being predominant, as well as carvings of what you assume to be the Armas Mountains that always loom in the distance. The swirling patterns on the red banners hanging down between the fluted columns give off a serpentine impression as well. Turning your attention back to the overall architecture, the sides of the palace complex stretch out to the east and to the west behind the apadana, enclosed by walls with open windows rather than an open hall supported by columns. There is greenery surrounding it as well, carefully planted grass and bushes and flowers, many roses of reds and pinks in particular. Stationary guards stand watch at the edge of it, but you spot a lone soldier on patrol here as well, following the stone path that leads toward the western part of the palace that seems to go on forever. How big is this palace? You have the feeling you’ve barely caught a glimpse of its full size. $rname guides your horse to the side, and you tear your gaze away from the gargantuan palace to notice the large stables built near the walls, blinking when you suddenly see all the people either hurrying around or standing perfectly still. The guardsmen, who belong to the latter group, wear uniforms in the same style—a wide, formless robe hanging down their torso, over the long skirt covering their legs—though the patterns and colors are different from soldier to soldier. They all however hold spears and large shields in a rounded rectangular shape, similar to what you’ve seen the armored guards on the outside of the palace wield. Some of them hold daggers and short blades that are tucked into a cloth belt wrapped around their waist, held right below their chest instead of near their hip. Compared to the people hurrying around, who you assume to be servants, the guardsmen look far more colorful. The servants are all dressed in white, though the form of their garments varies. Some wear long, loose robes while others wear long dresses, or shorter dresses with pants underneath. “$crnickname?” You look back at $rname again who has turned $rtheir head to look at you expectantly, and you realize $rthey's waiting for you to dismount. The Imperial Guards around you have all already gotten off and are either leading their horses into the stables or handing them off to the stable hands. “Oh!” You hurriedly get off the horse first, feeling a bit unsteady on your feet when you land on the ground, but thankfully your thighs aren’t too sore. $rname follows suit, dismounting elegantly as the coins on $rtheir belt and $rtheir necklace jingle slightly; if pure wealth could be captured in a sound, you think it would be that. [[Continue|3.10a.1]] It is almost strange how easily you become accustomed to the mass of people around you. Or perhaps it’s not that you’re becoming used to it, but rather that your mind simply cannot process the amount of people present. There are so many of them, and yet you can’t make out a single face. You hear only the noise, you see only the colors. They may as well be phantoms. It’s when someone first notices your eyes that things change. “Is that—” “Those eyes!” “They’re riding behind $rtitle $rname, does that mean…?” For one instant, you can almost hear the silence beneath the whispers that travel through the crowd. The shouting lowers to build into something much greater, and as you look around you suddenly feel $rname’s hand grab onto yours. You shift your grip, wrapping your fingers around $rtheirs, hoping to ground $rthem as $rthey has grounded you, when the first shout shatters everything into pieces. “<em>IT’S THE CROWN!</em>” It’s an explosion erupting into your ears; you’ve never seen or heard anything like it before. The whole city screams at the top of its lungs, as if the very walls and the arches and the buildings and the hills and the stones were built upon were all crying out to you. You squeeze $rname’s hand as tightly as $rthey squeezes yours, your heart pounding like a drum in your chest, and yet you’ve never felt so alive. Around you the city guards are employing magic to keep the citizens at bay. You see several translucent shields erected between the guards and the crowd like small walls, their blue-tinged glow lighting up the streets. It keeps much of the crowd pushed back, but not all of it. Something grabs at the edge of your cloak. You quickly turn around you see dirt stained beneath fingernails, belonging to a hand of a child who looks much younger than you. “Please, Your Majesty!” You’re struck by the strength of their grip, as if they were afraid of drowning were they to let go of your cloak, and when you meet their gaze their lower lip trembles. They look so small, standing below you. “If- if you are truly the Crown, you must do something about the steward,” the child begs, staring up at you with wide, desperate eyes. “After everything he’s done—" One of the city guards grabs them by their elbow, dragging them away. “Get away from there, you insolent child!” You open your mouth to call the guard off, but before you have a chance both the child and the guard are swallowed up by the chaos sweeping the streets and $rname’s horse has already moved on. You wish you could've asked for the child's name. “$rname, did you hear that?” you ask $rthem, turning back to sit straight behind $rthem. “That child, they said something about the steward of Marabad.” $rname shakes $rtheir head, and you hear the screech of the gates opening to let you pass. “Tell me about it later,” $rthey replies and you can barely hear $rthem over the din of the crowd that seems to cry out even louder now that you’ve almost reached your destination. “Stay back!” You watch the city guards try their best to keep the citizens at bay—one of them even extends their magic shield into a wall, connecting with the shield of the guard standing beside them. As the wall forms, citizens pound their fists and slap their palms against it. One of them tries to climb over it, lifted by the others. You watch in amazement as the protester manages to haul their arms over the edge of the see-through wall, spotting you on your horse behind $rname and crying out to you. You wish you could hear what they are saying, but you can't understand a single word from among the noise filling the city. All you can see is the way the protester's arms reach out to you, much like the child who clung to your cloak earlier. The sight disappears as soon as you pass underneath the golden gates, hanging menacingly above your head as if you were traveling into the belly of a beast through its mouth. When you finally lay eyes on the front of the Royal Palace in front of you, you realize that comparison may actually be rather apt. [[Continue|3.9a.2]] As you try to think of something to say to keep the conversation going, a soldier pulls up their horse to ride beside you, catching your attention. It’s the sword wielder from before, the one whose partner nearly assassinated you. If you remember right, General $dname called them Ziryan. They have their helmet off, revealing the thick mess of brown curls atop their head, spilling out from under a thick red bandana wrapped around their forehead. It bounces along with the gait of their horse, making you wonder how they manage to fit all that under their helmet without it getting uncomfortable. “Guard," $aname greets them neutrally, merely just to acknowledge their existence and nothing more. Ziryan’s eyes flit between you and $aname, occasionally glancing back toward the road, before they deeply incline their head to $aname. “Royal Protector, I only wished to offer $ctheir Imperial Majesty my sincerest apologies for drawing my sword on $them earlier. If- if I had known—” <<if $kind gte $calc>>“It’s alright,” you reassure them quickly. “I don’t hold it against you.”<<else>>“As you said, you had no way of knowing until I revealed myself,” you reply casually, knowing that earning the favor of your guards can only benefit you. “No harm done.”<</if>> Ziryan’s tight grip on their reins visibly relaxes as they bow their head deeply to you. “Thank you, Your Imperial Majesty, I am not worthy.” They raise their head again and peer uncertainly toward $aname, who does not look at them when $athey says, "Back to your post, guard." Ziryan lightly inclines their head and pulls their horse away, back into formation where they were riding a few feet behind you. [[Continue|3.4b]]“Give it a few days,” $aname replies in a nonchalant tone, though you catch the edge of a smile dimpling $atheir cheek. “You’ll come to regret telling me that soon enough.” <<if $charm gte $blunt>>“Have you always been this… ah—” “Irreverent?” $aname suggests. “Disrespectful? Impertinent? Don’t misunderstand, unlike $xname I don’t find any particular joy in mocking those of a higher station—this is how I speak to my equals as well—but it’s only…”<<else>>“You might be more blunt than I am,” you note dryly, drawing a chuckle from $aname. “Don’t misunderstand,” $athey says. “Unlike $xname I don’t find any particular joy in mocking those of a higher station, but it’s only…”<</if>> “Only?” $aname hesitates briefly. “I usually speak informally with others.” <<if $intel gte $intu>>The odd choice of wording does not escape your notice. What does $aname mean with <em>usually</em>?<<else>>The way $athey shifts around uneasily on the horse does not escape your notice. What’s making $athem so uncomfortable about the topic?<</if>> “Even the Mîr who nominated you?” you question. “Do they not take offense at being addressed as an equal?” “I suppose not.” $aname’s ambiguous answer isn’t entirely helpful, but you would not want to force $athem to talk about something $athey doesn’t wish to speak of. Though in your silence, $athey must’ve sensed your lingering interest, because then $athey says, “Do remember that you are my Crown, so you can rest assured I will inform you about my personal circumstances should the need ever arise.” “But there’s no need for it now,” you infer. “No,” $aname confirms. “It wouldn’t change anything, and… I’d rather not speak of it, if I can avoid it.” You think on it for a while, then nod. <<if $blunt gte $charm>>“I understand. I won’t push you for an answer, or hold it against you.”<<else>>“I know all about not wanting to speak about certain things, so don’t worry. I won’t mistrust you because of it.”<</if>> In front of you, $aname’s shoulders ease and you only then realize how tense $athey’s been during the entire conversation. The relief is almost palpable in $atheir voice when $athey responds. “Thank you.” [[Continue|3.3b]]"Ziryan is fortunate," $aname muses after the soldier has left you two alone, or as alone as you can be with Imperial Guards surrounding you on nearly every side. "You could easily dismiss them from your service for such a transgression, should you want to." <<if $kind gte $calc>>You shrug. "They made an honest mistake and their intentions were pure; they were just trying to keep $rtitle $rname safe." "Mercy it is." $aname is silent for a moment. "Is that the kind of ruler you wish to be? A merciful one?"<<else>>You smile lightly. "No point in agitating the people in charge of keeping me safe when I haven't even been formally crowned yet." "A wise decision." $aname is silent for a moment. "Is that the kind of ruler you wish to be? A wise one?"<</if>> <<if $intel gt $intu>>"I don't know if that's what I <em>wish</em> to be," you consider thoughtfully. "I haven't even had a chance to learn what it means to be the Crown yet. It's simply what comes most naturally to me." "It might be why you were chosen," $aname offers. "Though only the Spirits would know with certainty."<<else>>"I think so," you answer, going off what your gut tells you. "If that's what I am, then that's what I'll be." "I suppose you would be," $aname comments, quiet for a while as if pondering your words. "Perhaps that's why you were chosen, though only the Spirits would know with certainty."<</if>> It's not something you've given much thought to, considering your circumstances. "What kind of ruler would you want me to be, $aname?" $aname turns $atheir head slightly to glance at you, seeming not to have expected the question. $cathey looks ahead of $athemselves again, taking the time to think before $athey says, with some uncertainty, "The kind this Empire needs, though I could not tell you what that is." It's a conundrum. Were you chosen because of who you were, or because of destiny? Is your path laid in stone, or changeable? Would you have been chosen if you had been raised with different values, grown a completely different personality from the one you have now? It hits you then, an ache so sharp it surprises you because you thought you had already moved past it. You wish your parents were here. [[Continue|3.5b]] Much of the rest of your ride with $aname passes in silence, but it does not feel as uncomfortable as it did before. You're starting to learn that perhaps $aname simply enjoys the silence, which you appreciate, especially considering how tired you are. When you start to yawn, $aname breaks the silence. "Rest your head on my shoulder if you're tired," $athey tells you. "Though I'm not sure how comfortable it'll be." <<if $res gte $flirt>>"Oh!" You're surprised by the offer. "That's alright, I'm not--"<<else>>You arch both brows at the offer, feeling a mischievous smile pull at your lips. "Are you sure that's appropriate? What would other people--"<</if>> "My Crown," $aname interrupts, and you realize it's the first time $athey's called you that, the purposeful use of the title creating some distance between you<<if $res gte $flirt>> that sets you more at ease yet makes you more uncomfortable at the same time<</if>>. "I insist." You eye the thick shoulder piece with its silver scales with <<if $res gte $flirt>>apprehension, but the thought of letting your head rest is difficult to resist<<else>>a frown, feeling mildly disappointed<</if>>. <<if $res gte $flirt>>"Okay."<<else>>"Fine."<</if>> Bending forward a little, you lean your temple against $aname's armored shoulder. The metal from the silver scales feel harsh but cool against your skin, and you exhale in relief at being able to give your body some reprieve. Before you know it your eyes fall shut, the rhythmic sounds of the hooves from the horses on the earth allowing you to empty your mind from any stressful thoughts and simply listen. "Try not to fall asleep," $aname cautions you, $atheir voice lowered. "You might tumble off the horse, and I'm not in a position to catch you if you do." "Mmm," is your only reply, and you hear $aname chuckle before a hand wraps around yours, pulling your arm around $atheir waist more tightly. You barely even react, too tired to bother now that you've closed your eyes. The world seems so much softer from behind your eyelids. <<if $caut gte $adven>>Seeing as how you'll be facing a city full of people looking toward you as their new ruler very soon, you'll need all the rest you can get. Being hunted for so long has taken its toll on your health.<<else>>As tired as your body is, your mind is less so; the prospect of facing a city full of people looking toward you as their new ruler has you feeling slightly restless, excited by the possibilities. Still, being hunted for so long has taken its toll on your health.<</if>> There was a time you weren’t on the run, when you were very young. Too young to form any lasting memories beyond little glimpses you sometimes catch in your dreams, when you aren’t having a nightmare. Your mother used to speak of it, of the small patch of land she owned where she thought she would settle down and live out the rest of her life alone, until she met your father and had you. For a while, the three of you were happy; you can almost remember the village where you and your mother would sell your produce when you were little, while your father would attend to the village’s only temple of worship as its priest. But one day, that changed. You were younger than ten years old, you think, maybe seven or eight, but you clearly recall the night you were whisked out of bed by your father while your mother hurriedly gathered some bags. And now you’re whisked away again, off to a palace that is now yours, in a city that you are now the master of. <<if $caut gte $adven>>Part of you desperately wants to run, but you are so <em>tired</em> of running.<<else>>In spite of it all, you almost feel eager at the prospect.<</if>> [[Continue|3.6b]] You somehow manage to keep yourself awake, mostly thanks to the <<if $caut gt $adven>>the anxiety at the thought<<else>>anticipation<</if>> of returning to Marabad and having people know who you are. Having walked the forest for so long in search of $xname, the hours started feeling like days, but now your destination seems all too eager to greet you. $aname guides $atheir horse around the bend in the road, the movement causing you to open your eyes. You lift your head off $aname's shoulder to look ahead of you, spotting the stone of the city walls peering back at you in the distance. It stands like a towering monolith, especially now that you have a view of it from afar. The trees on either side of you obscure most of the stretch of wall you know is there, but even this far away the looming metal of the gates look like teeth. A thought occurs to you. “$aname,” you say, fingers squeezing lightly around $atheir hand still linked with yours when you notice the guards stationed outside—eight of them, six more than there were when you left last night. “Should I hide my eyes?” “It would make travel through the city safer," $aname replies. "Then again, the citizens have been waiting for a Crown for quite a long time. Either way, I cannot make the decision for you." <ul class="a"> <li>[[Hide them; you are too anxious to face the crowds this soon.|3.7b.1][$caut to $caut + 25]]<<if $cheatsheet is true>> <em>+ Cautious</em><</if>></li> <li>[[Show them; you are not afraid.|3.7b.2][$adven to $adven + 25]]<<if $cheatsheet is true>> <em>+ Adventurous</em><</if>></li> </ul> You can’t do it, not now, not when you haven’t had the chance to gather your thoughts. Your body feels like it’s about to fall apart, your mind is a haze of barely suppressed emotions cracking gently through the thin shell you’ve built to keep yourself safe. The trees around you taper away until you’ve left the forest and the wide open space of the grass fields around you has your stomach twisting in on itself. You snatch the hood of your cloak up, pulling down as far as it will go over your head until you can’t see the approaching walls of Marabad anymore. $aname's hand holding yours feels like an anchor in the midst of a storm at sea, and you feel $atheir fingers squeeze reassuringly around yours. “It's alright,” $athey promises you. "I won't let anything happen to you." You want to believe $athem, but your faith wavers when you hear the sound. Crowds, shouting against the walls like a horrible tide crashing against the rocks. Panic tightens in your chest, solidifies into something cold and hard until it’s difficult to breathe. You squeeze your eyes shut just as you hear the horrible groan of the iron gates, fading away into the screaming. Names are all you can make out, $rname’s name and then $xname’s name too, barely distinguishable from the cheering and the yelling surrounding you from every side. You feel shame when you shift your hold on $aname and wrap your arms around $athem more firmly, but you have no other choice. You’re afraid to let $athem go and become lost to the noise surrounding you in the darkness of your eyelids, so you press your forehead against $atheir shoulder again. Somehow, above the horrible sound of the crowds, you hear $aname's voice in a soothing murmur. "I've got you," $athey says with another squeeze around your hand, and this time, you believe $athem. After a while you start to pay attention to the sound the hooves of the horses make; you can tell when the dirt road changes into stone and back again. Focusing on that sound makes it easier to ignore the crowds around you. The horses slow down a little, angling slightly upwards—up a hill, most likely—but then they resume at the same speed again with ease. “We’re almost there,” you hear $aname say and you squeeze $atheir hand back to let $athem know you’ve heard $athem. Daring a peek from over $aname’s shoulder, the first thing you see are the colors. Luxurious finery and glimmering jewels among ragged cotton stained with dust and dirt, plain dresses and elaborate headpieces, red-painted lips and mud smudged across cheeks, dark and light and bright and oh <em>so</em> loud. “$rtitle $rname!” “$crthey’s returned, thank the Spirits $rthey’s returned!” Hands, reaching past the guards trying to force the crowds back, as futile as trying to imprison the waves of a sea. $aname’s horse is slowed down among the commotion, trying to get past the people pushing in toward you from every side. The Imperial Guards on either side of you form a kind of barrier, shielding you from the onlookers fighting for your attention and perhaps beyond it all, that’s what strikes you the most. The desperation. [[Continue|3.8b.1]] You have to; if not now, then when? You’ve spent your entire life hiding in the darkness, hidden away until you forgot what it was like to look someone in the eyes and you’re tired of it. After all these years, there’s nothing more you crave than the sunlight. The trees around you taper away until you’ve left the forest and the wide open space of the grass fields around you has you breathing more easily, like a weight that had been sitting on your chest this entire time finally dropped away. The wind blows across your face, the rays of the sun soak into your eyes and you wish you could capture this moment in a bottle to hold onto forever. “I won’t hide,” you decide. “Not anymore.” “I understand,” $aname replies, but then motions one of the Imperial Guards toward $athem with $atheir hand. Once the guard has pulled up beside you on their horse, $athey says, “The Crown will not be hiding $their eyes. Warn the city guards, they will need to take additional security measures.” The guard bows their head. “Yes, Royal Protector.” You watch them hurry ahead on their horse, toward the city gates in the distance that gradually draw closer and closer. <<if $kind gte $calc>>”If it’s a bother, perhaps I should hide them after all,” you offer when you realize how much more difficult you’ve made the situation for the guards in charge of protecting you. $aname turns $atheir head toward you. “You're the Crown, nothing you could ever do or want would be considered a bother to anyone.”<<else>>“Will they be able to handle it?” you wonder when you realize how much your appearance will likely affect the crowds in Marabad. “There’s hardly any time for the guards to prepare.” “Your concern is not necessary,” $aname reassures you, albeit bluntly. “To protect you, even at a moment's notice, is their duty as guards.”<</if>> $cathey pauses. “But should all else fail, I will be your shield.” As you near the city gates and the echoes of the crowds first reach your ears, you begin to think you might need as much protection as $aname is offering you. It is a deafening sound. Even the horrible groan of the iron gates, pulled upward to allow you to pass through, quickly fades away into the screaming. As soon as the gates are opened, people begin to stream outward like a river flooding past its banks. There are people everywhere, crying out in an indistinguishable cacophony. Names are all you can make out, $rname’s name and then $xname’s name too, barely distinguishable from the cheering and the yelling surrounding you from every side. You see so many colors. Luxurious finery and glimmering jewels among ragged cotton stained with dust and dirt, plain dresses and elaborate headpieces, red-painted lips and mud smudged across cheeks, dark and light and bright and oh so loud. “$rtitle $rname!” “$crthey’s returned, thank the Spirits $rthey’s returned!” Hands, reaching past the guards trying to force the crowds back, as futile as trying to imprison the waves of a sea. $aname’s horse is slowed down among the commotion, trying to get past the people pushing in toward you from every side. The Imperial Guards on either side of you form a kind of barrier, shielding you from the onlookers fighting for your attention and perhaps beyond it all, that’s what strikes you the most. The desperation. [[Continue|3.8b.2]] You remember catching a glimpse of the pillars and the roof of the palace before, but seeing it unobstructed by the walls surrounding it is an entirely different experience. It stands on a raised platform, stone steps leading up to the massive pillars topped by the statues of snakes you noticed before. Now that you can see it in its entirety, you realize the palace is not so much a single building as it is a complex of multiple buildings connected together by the apadana and its impressive columns; it is an audience hall that would make even the richest Thalloi rulers envious. There are details, carved reliefs of images around the edge of the flat roof that you can barely make out. People and animals, snakes being predominant, as well as carvings of what you assume to be the Armas Mountains that always loom in the distance. The swirling patterns on the red banners hanging down between the fluted columns give off a serpentine impression as well. Turning your attention back to the overall architecture, the sides of the palace complex stretch out to the east and to the west behind the apadana, enclosed by walls with open windows rather than an open hall supported by columns. There is greenery surrounding it as well, carefully planted grass and bushes and flowers, many roses of reds and pinks in particular. Stationary guards stand watch at the edge of it, but you spot a lone soldier on patrol here as well, following the stone path that leads toward the western part of the palace that seems to go on forever. How big is this palace? You have the feeling you’ve barely caught a glimpse of its full size. $rname guides your horse to the side, and you tear your gaze away from the gargantuan palace to notice the large stables built near the walls, blinking when you suddenly see all the people either hurrying around or standing perfectly still. The guardsmen, who belong to the latter group, wear uniforms in the same style—a wide, formless robe hanging down their torso, over the long skirt covering their legs—though the patterns and colors are different from soldier to soldier. They all however hold spears and large shields in a rounded rectangular shape, similar to what you’ve seen the armored guards on the outside of the palace wield. Some of them hold daggers and short blades that are tucked into a cloth belt wrapped around their waist, held right below their chest instead of near their hip. Compared to the people hurrying around, who you assume to be servants, the guardsmen look far more colorful. The servants are all dressed in white, though the form of their garments varies. Some wear long, loose robes while others wear long dresses, or shorter dresses with pants underneath. “$crnickname?” You look back at $rname again who has turned $rtheir head to look at you expectantly, and you realize $rthey's waiting for you to dismount. The Imperial Guards around you have all already gotten off and are either leading their horses into the stables or handing them off to the stable hands. “Oh!” You hurriedly get off the horse first, feeling a bit unsteady on your feet when you land on the ground, but thankfully your thighs aren’t too sore. $rname follows suit, dismounting elegantly as the coins on $rtheir belt and $rtheir necklace jingle slightly; if pure wealth could be captured in a sound, you think it would be that. [[Continue|3.10a.2]]“Will you not take off your hood?” $rname suggests. “You are safe from the crowds here.” Glancing behind you to the golden gates you just rode through, you realize $rthey’s right. The gates have closed shut again after you passed them, though you notice a faint golden glow to them that there wasn’t before. For some reason the citizens pushing up against the gate aren’t able to touch it, let alone exert force onto it. “It’s enchanted,” $rname helpfully supplies when $rthey notices you staring. “The gate will project an invisible shield should anyone try to force their way through it.” <<if $blunt gte $charm>>Nodding to show you’ve understood, you slip the hood of your cloak off your head and turn to face the Royal Palace once more.<<else>>“I see.” You slip the hood of your cloak off your head, turning to face the Royal Palace once more.<</if>> It looks so massive, you cannot imagine what you’re supposed to do with all that space. $rname smiles brightly at you when you catch $rtheir gaze, already pinned on you, and $rthey gestures toward the palace with $rtheir hand as if to show it off. “Impressive, is it not? Would you care for a closer look?" “Wait for me, now.” $xname saunters unhurriedly toward you from the direction of the stables, followed closely by General $dname who aims a glare at the back of $xname's head. You look around for $aname, and flinch in surprise when you turn to your left and find $athem already standing there with $atheir hands behind $atheir back, standing a polite distance away from your personal space. “Did I startle you?” $aname’s expression seems completely neutral, though you swear you see the corner of $atheir mouth twitch. “My apologies.” You frown at $athem. “How do you keep doing that?” $aname smiles enigmatically, perhaps a touch smug, but does not reply. [[Continue|3.11]]“What are you coming along for, $xname?” $rname questions, pulling your attention back to $xname and General $dname. “That’s what I want to know.” General $dname looks thoroughly annoyed with $xname’s presence, swatting away an arm $xname tries to throw around $dtheir upper back. “For the celebration, naturally,” $xname says, unaffected by General $dname’s rejection. “There <em>will</em> be a celebration now that the Crown has arrived, no? How could I possibly miss out on that?” “Not tonight.” $rname regards you with some worry furrowed between $rtheir brows. “Our Crown needs some rest first, I think. How about a bath?” That sounds <em>heavenly</em>-- “Perfect!” $xname agrees, turning to you with a grin. “You won’t mind if I stay over for a night or two, will you?<<if $xpoints gt 0>> I am <em>very</em> good at warming beds.” <<if $res gt $flirt>>$cxthey winks, causing a heart palpitation in your chest. Who does that with a mere <em>wink</em>?<<else>>$cxthey winks and you arch an amused brow, smiling despite yourself.<</if>><<else>> Plenty of space for little old me, I’d say.”<</if>> Without even waiting for your answer, $xname pats you on the shoulder and swaggers off toward the apadana. $aname sighs, $rname rolls $rtheir eyes and General $dname lifts $dtheir head to face the sky while mumbling a few words, one of them sounding suspiciously like “strangle”. “Shall we, then?” $rname says, and you take a deep breath as you look up at the palace that towers over you, wondering if you’re worthy to fill it. Whether you are or you aren’t, it’s not something you can avoid now that you’ve reached this point. You take your first step. [[Continue|3.12]]$rname walks on your right while $aname flanks your left, General $dname trailing a step behind you as you head toward the stone stairs. When a pair of servants stop to greet your companions, likely having recognized them, they both halt dead in their tracks at the sight of your eyes. You note they’re carrying a thick, colorful cloth not unlike the ones hanging down the edge of the palace’s roof, between the columns. “Back to your duties,” $rname orders, startling them out of their shock and the two deeply bow their heads before scurrying off again, casting wayward glances back at you. General $dname huffs. “Now you can be sure the entire palace will hear of the Crown’s arrival within the hour.” “All the better,” $rname replies, unconcerned. “They should know who their new master is as soon as possible.” Right, you’re going to be served now. By people- no, by strangers who will cook your food for you, clean for you and attend to your every whim without complaint. The thought is outright bizarre, and difficult to parse as you begin the surprisingly long walk to the audience hall. You’ve seen paintings of various palaces before, but none of them did any justice to what it truly looks like to see one with your own eyes. “How many servants are there?” you wonder out loud as you eventually reach the short stairs and start climbing its stone steps. $rname answers. “In this Royal Palace? Currently a hundred or so.” You nearly trip over a step. “A hundred?” “Have you seen the size of it?” $aname points out to you. “It takes at least a hundred people to keep it clean and maintain it, and that’s when there isn’t a Crown present. Past Crowns have been known to amass several hundreds of people in their service.” Casting a curious glance back to the front of the palace, you only intended on seeing whether the servants are still hurrying around. Could there really be a hundred of them here? It did look busy at first glance, busier than you’d expected. You nearly freeze in place when you realize no one is running around anymore. Buckets of water, brooms, cloths in need of cleaning, even a small cart full of fresh fruit—the servants that were carrying them have all abandoned them in favor of standing around and staring at you, clustered in small groups as they whisper among each other. A few are even chatting to a guard standing watch at the bottom of the stairs, and others have approached the Imperial Guards who are still at the stables, likely to fill them in on why $rname has returned. Your companions take note as well. “An hour, you said?” $aname mutters dryly to General $dname, who scowls at the gossiping servants who seem fascinated by you, but are much too fearful to approach. “I’ll take care of this,” $rname reassures you, placing a hand on your arm before turning to the servants and the lone guard guilty of being distracted by them. $crthey clears $rtheir throat and opens $rtheir mouth, but does not manage to speak as a voice from behind you interrupts. [[Continue|3.13]]"What's all this commotion?" You turn around to see someone dressed in white approaching the top of the stairs, stepping out of the shade inside the apadana and passing by the columns. At first you think it must be a servant, but from the way the other servants and the guards go silent at their appearance they must be someone of some importance. Considering the wide, golden band of their necklace and the matching gold bracelets and earrings they’re wearing, you assume that whoever they are, they aren’t a mere servant. They certainly look quite a bit older than the others with their gray hair thinning at the edges, but their amber brown skin has few wrinkles and blemishes, the most prominent ones the laugh lines at the corners of their olive green eyes. It makes it difficult to guess how old they are. “Keko,” $aname greets them with a smile, which they return as well as a bow at their waist. Turning to you, $aname gestures for you to walk up the stairs as $athey introduces them, “This is Master Keko, the head servant in charge of the Royal Palace in Marabad. He has faithfully served both Crown Ferzan as well as the Crown before him. You won’t find anyone better.” You step up to the top of the stairs until you’re level with Keko who has held his bow, his head still lowered in front of you. “I am honored to receive such kind words,” Keko replies dutifully. “Keko,” $aname says, speaking in a formal tone, “you stand before your new ruler, the Twenty-First of $their line, Crown $name.” “Chosen Crown,” Keko speaks, not moving an inch from his bow. “Your arrival will bring this nation much joy. After ten long years of being without a master, I thank you, and I welcome you to this palace with great relief.” You glance at $aname, then back at Keko. <ul class="a"> <li>[[You smile. “Thank you for the kind reception. I will try my best to live up to your expectations.”|3.14b][$charm to $charm + 25]]<<if $cheatsheet is true>> <em>+ Charming</em><</if>></li> <li>[[“Hello.”|3.14a][$blunt to $blunt + 25]]<<if $cheatsheet is true>> <em>+ Blunt</em><</if>></li> </ul>$aname subtly looks away and presses $atheir hand over $atheir mouth to hide $atheir smile while $rname’s brows arch up to $rtheir hairline and General $dname simply stares blankly at you. “Should I have said something more?” you ask plainly, looking around at your companions before your gaze lands on Keko, who has straightened up from his bow and is smiling at you. “Not at all, Your Imperial Majesty,” he responds warmly. “I am reminded of our late Crown Ferzan, in fact. He was also not someone to waste words.” “That’s putting it nicely,” $aname murmurs. “You must have just returned from quite the journey,” Keko continues, politely ignoring $aname’s comment. “Would you prefer to retire to your rooms early?” Your first instinct is to look at <<if $apoints gt $rpoints>>$aname<<else>>$rname<</if>> for what to do, but this isn’t something <<if $apoints gt $rpoints>>$athey<<else>>$rthey<</if>> can decide for you. “I’d like a bath first,” you state, though you’re somewhat afraid you might actually fall asleep while bathing with how tired you feel. Keko bows deeply. “Of course, my Crown.” He turns toward the nearest servants at the bottom of the stairs who have been looking on—and doubtlessly listening in as well—while you were making your introductions. Folding his hands in front of him, Keko looks out over the front of the palace. “At my old age my eyes must be deceiving me, as I could not imagine witnessing servants loitering when there are chores to be done,” he says, speaking kindly, but his eyes razor sharp. The servants nearly all incline their heads, a few among them muttering apologies before picking up their discarded items and hurrying along. [[Continue|3.15]] Though General $dname looks on indifferently to the exchange, $rname shoots you an approving smile, which means that at the very least you can manage a simple introduction to your servants. “As you can see, Keko,” $aname comments dryly, “we’ve ended up with quite the amiable Crown this time around.” “Was the previous Crown not amiable?” you question, looking between $aname and Keko, the latter of which straightens up from his bow with a slight smile. “Crown Ferzan possessed many exceptional talents,” Keko answers diplomatically. “But as a former army commander, his patience for social etiquette was not among them.” “Ah.” You nod, wondering what it would’ve been like to meet Crown Ferzan. If he hadn’t been assassinated, he would’ve been the one to receive you at the Royal Palace. “You must have just returned from quite the journey,” Keko says when you remain silent. “Would you prefer to retire to your rooms early?” Your first instinct is to look at <<if $apoints gt $rpoints>>$aname<<else>>$rname<</if>> for what to do, but this isn’t something <<if $apoints gt $rpoints>>$athey<<else>>$rthey<</if>> can decide for you. “Could you have someone draw a bath for me?” you ask, though you’re somewhat afraid you might actually fall asleep while bathing with how tired you feel. “I’d like to clean up before resting.” Keko bows deeply. “Of course, my Crown.” He turns toward the nearest servants at the bottom of the stairs who have been looking on—and doubtlessly listening in as well—while you were making your introductions. Folding his hands in front of him, Keko looks out over the front of the palace. “At my old age my eyes must be deceiving me, as I could not imagine witnessing servants loitering when there are chores to be done,” he says, speaking kindly, but his eyes are razor sharp. The servants nearly all incline their heads, a few among them muttering apologies before picking up their discarded items and hurrying along. [[Continue|3.15]] <<if $blunt gt $charm>>[ <b><em>@@.stattext;Blunt@@</em> character trait has been locked in.</b> ]<<else>>[ <b><em>@@.stattext;Charming@@</em> character trait has been locked in.</b> ]<</if>> “I should mention, <<if $rgender is 'female'>>Lady Sorcerer<<else>>Lord Sorcerer<</if>>, that the steward is waiting for you in the reception hall,” Keko says to $rname, whose expression immediately cools into an icy look at the mention of Marabad’s steward. “He apparently had some urgent matters to discuss regarding the treasury.” “I will get rid of him,” $rname replies. “Make sure he does not hear the news of our arrival; Crown $name does not need that vulture circling around $them when $they <<if $pronouns is 'theythem'>>haven’t<<else>>hasn’t<</if>> had a chance to recuperate.” <<if $rpoints gt 0>>$rname’s gaze softens again when $rthey<<else>>$rname<</if>> turns to you. “Please excuse me, $rnickname, I will return to you shortly. Keko will attend to you in the meantime.” <<if $blunt gte $charm>>You nod<<else>>“Until later,” you reply,<</if>> watching as $rname gives you a slight bow before parting from you, heading further into the audience hall with $rtheir outer robe fluttering behind $rthem. You didn’t realize how staggeringly huge the apadana really was until watching $rname move through it. On its own, it looks like the largest building you’ve seen in the city so far; it would easily fit several houses in it. $rname treads the stone tiles of the floor, decorated with patterns of red and gold, and walks toward a tall gate fit for a giant. That must lead to what you assume is the residential area, walled off from the open hall “I must also leave you for a short time,” $aname announces. “The Imperial Guard requires instruction now that you’re here. You’ll be safe enough with Keko, though perhaps $dname should keep you company as well, just in case?” “Me?” General $dname says, unable to contain $dtheir surprise though $dthey quickly schools $dtheir features. “Of course, if that’s what the Crown requires.” If you wanted to feel as secure as possible, especially after that attempt on your life a mere few hours ago, you suppose it would be a good idea to have someone like General $dname around. Then again, you could also go look for $xname instead. After some thought, you choose… <ul class="a"> <li><<if $dgender is 'male'>>[[…General Dara.|3.16a][$dpoints += 3]]<<else>>[[…General Delal.|3.16a][$dpoints += 3]]<</if>></li> <li><<if $xgender is 'male'>>[[…Xelef.|3.16b][$xpoints += 1]]<<else>>[[…Xelara.|3.16b][$xpoints += 1]]<</if>></li> </ul>"If you don't mind," you start, looking at General $dname who inclines $dtheir head. "Of course." Up until now, you haven’t had a chance to speak much to General $dname. Namely because $dthey has been keeping $dtheir distance from you, though you figure that’s to be expected. $cdthey probably doesn’t know what to make of you yet. You appeared so suddenly before $dthem as the Crown, the one person $dthey and everyone else had been waiting on for ten years; it must have been quite the shock. You yourself haven’t even processed it yet. “Your Imperial Majesty?” General $dname gives you a dubious look, and you realize you’ve just been standing there staring at $dthem, lost in thought. <<if $charm gt $blunt>>“Oh, don’t mind me,” you say quickly, hiding your embarrassment with an easy smile and a wave of your hand even while you feel an ache building between your ears from the exhaustion. “I became lost in a fog for a moment there! I must be more tired than I thought.”<<else>>“I’m tired,” you state honestly, rubbing your forehead with your fingers as you can feel an ache building between your ears. “Can I lie down somewhere?”<</if>> “Allow me to show you to a sitting area,” Keko suggests. “Would you like one in the shade, or in the sunlight? Perhaps one with a view of one of the gardens?” <<if $charm gt $blunt>>”The nearest one is fine, thank you,”<<else>>“Whichever one is nearer,”<</if>> you answer while wondering how many sitting areas and rooms this palace complex has, to allow you a choice like that. “As you wish.” Keko inclines his head. “If you would follow me, Your Imperial Majesty.” He turns and walks into the audience hall which you hadn’t even truly looked at before, aside from its size. While it looks clean, it is completely bare of any furniture. The most interesting thing about it are its columns, though even those don’t possess any details of note aside from the craftsmanship of its carvings. “Is this hall not in use anymore?” you ask, thinking Keko might answer, but it’s General $dname who does. “Not since Crown Ferzan passed,” $dthey says, walking a single step behind you as you both follow Keko through the apadana. “It was where the Crown would typically accept tributes from their subjects, namely the Mîrs of the provinces and the stewards of major cities. It was often used for the Fire Festival as well.” A sizable new year’s festival would certainly fit between the columns of this hall, though clearly meant only for the most important people in the Empire. “Do all Royal Palaces have an apadana such as this one?” “No,” General $dname replies. “Only the Throne of Ashadūna and the Seat of the Crown do.” You frown. <<if $blunt gt $charm>>“The what?”<<else>>“I’m not sure I know what you mean.”<</if>> General $dname looks at you questioningly, before spreading out $dtheir arm and gesturing to the hall. “This palace is also called the Throne of Ashadūna, after the First Crown who built it, while the Royal Palace in Zeratun is called the Seat of the Crown. They are the most historically significant, and the most grandiose.” You think you detect a hint of disdain there, but $dtheir tone is even and you can’t make out much of $dtheir expression, which seems to be stuck in a perpetual but subtle frown. [[Continue|3.17a]]"I'll go look for $xname," you decide, and General $dname nods. "In that case, I should join $aname and the Imperial Guards." $cdthey inclines $dtheir head in a short bow. "Your Imperial Majesty." You watch General $dname turn around and walk away, yet you find yourself already musing about what $xname is up to. It's not strange for you to wonder; you would say you know $xname the best out of everyone else currently at the palace, though that isn't saying all that much considering you've only met each other a day ago. Even so, you have a general idea of what you can expect from $xname, and if you're completely honest you're curious to find out more. What you witnessed at the Crescent Blades camp the other day, the way $xname seemed to draw people toward $xthemselves merely by being around--you find you're not immune to its effects, even when $xname isn't present. Perhaps it's a foolish thought on your part. $cxthey's a mercenary and you were a client, nothing more. But after being alone for so long, is it so bad to long for a connection with someone? “Your Imperial Majesty?” Keko prompts you, and you realize you’ve just been standing there staring off into the distance, lost in thought. <<if $charm gt $blunt>>“Oh, don’t mind me,” you say quickly, hiding your embarrassment with an easy smile and a wave of your hand even while you feel an ache building between your ears from the exhaustion. “I became lost in a fog for a moment there! I must be more tired than I thought.”<<else>>“I’m tired,” you state honestly, rubbing your forehead with your fingers as you can feel an ache building between your ears. “Can I lie down somewhere?”<</if>> “Allow me to show you to a sitting area,” Keko suggests. “Would you like one in the shade, or in the sunlight? Perhaps one with a view of one of the gardens?” <<if $charm gt $blunt>>”The nearest one is fine, thank you,”<<else>>“Whichever one is nearer,”<</if>> you answer while wondering how many sitting areas and rooms this palace complex has, to have a choice like that. “As you wish.” Keko inclines his head. “If you would follow me, Your Imperial Majesty.” He turns and walks into the audience hall which you hadn’t even truly looked at before, aside from its size. While it looks clean, it is completely bare of any furniture. The most interesting thing about it are its columns, though even those don’t possess any details of note aside from the craftsmanship of its carvings. “Is this hall not in use anymore?” you ask. “Not since Crown Ferzan's time,” Keko answers as you follow him through the apadana. “It is where the Crown is meant to accept tributes from their subjects, namely the Mîrs of the provinces and the stewards of major cities. It was also often used for the fire festival as well.” A sizable new year’s festival would certainly fit between the columns of this hall, though clearly meant only for the most important people in the Empire. “Do all Royal Palaces have an apadana such as this one?” “Ah, no,” Keko replies. “The Throne of Ashadūna and the Seat of the Crown are the only royal residences that do.” You frown. <<if $blunt gt $charm>>“The what?”<<else>>“I’m not sure I know what you mean.”<</if>> "Forgive my poor manners, Your Imperial Majesty," Keko says after a slight pause, probably beginning to realize how sheltered you are. “This palace is named the Throne of Ashadūna, after the First Crown who built it, while the palace in Zeratun is called the Seat of the Crown. It is also more commonly known as the Imperial Palace, to distinguish it from the other palaces spread around the Empire.” Good to know, you suppose. [[Continue|3.17b]] The golden gates of the Royal Palace are there to greet you when you become brave enough to look past $aname, and you cling to their image as the horse carries you toward them, slowly but surely. Something grabs at the edge of your cloak and your heart skips in fear, but when you turn around you see dirt stained beneath fingernails, belonging to a hand of a child who looks much younger than you. “Please, wait!” You’re struck by the strength of their grip, as if they were afraid of drowning were they to let go of your cloak. "Don't worry," $aname assures you, apparently already aware of the child as $athey motions at one of the city guards. "They're harmless." You want to ask how $athey's so sure of that, but the expression on the child's face catches your attention. “You must do something about the steward,” the child begs, staring up at you with wide, desperate eyes. “After everything he’s done—" One of the city guards grabs them by their elbow, dragging them away. “Get away from there, you insolent child!” You open your mouth to call the guard off, but before you have a chance both the child and the guard are swallowed up by the chaos sweeping the streets and $aname’s horse has already moved on. “$aname, did you hear that?” you ask $athem. “That child, they said something about the steward of Marabad.” “I'm not surprised,” $athey replies cryptically and you can barely hear $athem over the din of the crowd that seems to shout even louder now that you’ve almost reached your destination. “Stay back!” You watch the city guards try their best to keep the citizens at bay—one of them even uses magic to summon a translucent shield, the blue tinge glowing softly in the sunlight as it stands as a barrier between the guard and the citizens pounding their fists and slapping their palms against it. The sight disappears as soon as you pass underneath the golden gates, hanging menacingly above your head as if you were traveling into the belly of a beast through its mouth. When you finally lay eyes on the front of the Royal Palace in front of you, you realize that comparison may actually be rather apt. [[Continue|3.9b.1]] You remember catching a glimpse of the pillars and the roof of the palace before, but seeing it unobstructed by the walls surrounding it is an entirely different experience. It stands on a raised platform, stone steps leading up to the massive pillars topped by the statues of snakes you noticed before. Now that you can see it in its entirety, you realize the palace is not so much a single building as it is a complex of multiple buildings connected together by the apadana and its impressive columns; it is an audience hall that would make even the richest Thalloi rulers envious. There are details, carved reliefs of images around the edge of the flat roof that you can barely make out. People and animals, snakes being predominant, as well as carvings of what you assume to be the Armas Mountains that always loom in the distance. The swirling patterns on the red banners hanging down between the fluted columns give off a serpentine impression as well. Turning your attention back to the overall architecture, the sides of the palace complex stretch out to the east and to the west behind the apadana, enclosed by walls with open windows rather than an open hall supported by columns. There is greenery surrounding it as well, carefully planted grass and bushes and flowers, many roses of reds and pinks in particular. Stationary guards stand watch at the edge of it, but you spot a lone soldier on patrol here as well, following the stone path that leads toward the western part of the palace that seems to go on forever. How big is this palace? You have the feeling you’ve barely caught a glimpse of its full size. $aname guides your horse to the side, and you tear your gaze away from the gargantuan palace to notice the large stables built near the walls, blinking when you suddenly see all the people either hurrying around or standing perfectly still. The guardsmen, who belong to the latter group, wear uniforms in the same style—a wide, formless robe hanging down their torso, over the long skirt covering their legs—though the patterns and colors are different from soldier to soldier. They all however hold spears and large shields in a rounded rectangular shape, similar to what you’ve seen the armored guards on the outside of the palace wield. Some of them hold daggers and short blades that are tucked into a cloth belt wrapped around their waist, held right below their chest instead of near their hip. Compared to the people hurrying around, who you assume to be servants, the guardsmen look far more colorful. The servants are all dressed in white, though the form of their garments varies. Some wear long, loose robes while others wear long dresses, or shorter dresses with pants underneath. “Are you planning on getting down any time soon?” You look back at $aname again who has turned $atheir head to look at you expectantly, and you realize $athey's waiting for you to dismount. The Imperial Guards around you have all already gotten off and are either leading their horses into the stables or handing them off to the stable hands. “Oh!” You hurriedly get off the horse first, feeling a bit unsteady on your feet when you land on the ground, but thankfully your thighs aren’t too sore. $aname follows suit, dismounting in such a fluid motion that you can't help but stop and stare for a moment. $catheir movements and the control $athey has of $atheir body is effortless, making you wonder how much $athey must have trained over the years. [[Continue|3.10b.1]] You remember catching a glimpse of the pillars and the roof of the palace before, but seeing it unobstructed by the walls surrounding it is an entirely different experience. It stands on a raised platform, stone steps leading up to the massive pillars topped by the statues of snakes you noticed before. Now that you can see it in its entirety, you realize the palace is not so much a single building as it is a complex of multiple buildings connected together by the apadana and its impressive columns; it is an audience hall that would make even the richest Thalloi rulers envious. There are details, carved reliefs of images around the edge of the flat roof that you can barely make out. People and animals, snakes being predominant, as well as carvings of what you assume to be the Armas Mountains that always loom in the distance. The swirling patterns on the red banners hanging down between the fluted columns give off a serpentine impression as well. Turning your attention back to the overall architecture, the sides of the palace complex stretch out to the east and to the west behind the apadana, enclosed by walls with open windows rather than an open hall supported by columns. There is greenery surrounding it as well, carefully planted grass and bushes and flowers, many roses of reds and pinks in particular. Stationary guards stand watch at the edge of it, but you spot a lone soldier on patrol here as well, following the stone path that leads toward the western part of the palace that seems to go on forever. How big is this palace? You have the feeling you’ve barely caught a glimpse of its full size. $aname guides your horse to the side, and you tear your gaze away from the gargantuan palace to notice the large stables built near the walls, blinking when you suddenly see all the people either hurrying around or standing perfectly still. The guardsmen, who belong to the latter group, wear uniforms in the same style—a wide, formless robe hanging down their torso, over the long skirt covering their legs—though the patterns and colors are different from soldier to soldier. They all however hold spears and large shields in a rounded rectangular shape, similar to what you’ve seen the armored guards on the outside of the palace wield. Some of them hold daggers and short blades that are tucked into a cloth belt wrapped around their waist, held right below their chest instead of near their hip. Compared to the people hurrying around, who you assume to be servants, the guardsmen look far more colorful. The servants are all dressed in white, though the form of their garments varies. Some wear long, loose robes while others wear long dresses, or shorter dresses with pants underneath. “Are you planning on getting down any time soon?” You look back at $aname again who has turned $atheir head to look at you expectantly, and you realize $athey's waiting for you to dismount. The Imperial Guards around you have all already gotten off and are either leading their horses into the stables or handing them off to the stable hands. “Oh!” You hurriedly get off the horse first, feeling a bit unsteady on your feet when you land on the ground, but thankfully your thighs aren’t too sore. $aname follows suit, dismounting in such a fluid motion that you can't help but stop and stare for a moment. $catheir movements and the control $athey has of $atheir body is effortless, making you wonder how much $athey must have trained over the years. [[Continue|3.10b.2]]“You can take off your cloak now,” $aname prompts. “You'll be safe here." Glancing behind you to the golden gates you just rode through, you realize $athey’s right. The gates have closed shut again after you passed them, though you notice a faint golden glow to them that there wasn’t before. For some reason the citizens pushing up against the gate aren’t able to touch it, let alone exert force onto it. “Protected with magic,” $aname supplies when $athey notices you staring. “Invisible shields will keep anyone from doing damage.” <<if $blunt gte $charm>>Nodding to show you’ve understood, you slip the hood of your cloak off your head and turn to face the Royal Palace once more.<<else>>“I see.” You slip the hood of your cloak off your head, turning to face the Royal Palace once more.<</if>> It looks so massive, you cannot imagine what you’re supposed to do with all that space. When you look at $aname you see $athem surveying the palace with a critical eye, which is not what you were expecting. When $athey notices you staring, $athey smiles with a faintly mocking twist to $atheir lips and says, "Much too gaudy for my tastes." Before you can reply, you are joined by the others. “Wait for me, now!” $xname saunters unhurriedly toward you from the direction of the stables, followed closely by General $dname who aims a glare at the back of $xname's head. You look around for $rname, spotting $rthem following the other two a moment later. "How was your journey?" $rthey asks you immediately, concern visible on $rtheir face. "I hope the crowds weren't too unpleasant." "I'm just glad it's over with," you answer honestly, and $rname smiles with sympathy. [[Continue|3.11]] You glance behind you to the golden gates you just rode through, wondering how they're managing to keep out so many people. The gates have closed shut again after you passed them, though you notice a faint golden glow to them that there wasn’t before. For some reason the citizens pushing up against the gate aren’t able to touch it, let alone exert force onto it. “It’s enchanted,” $rname helpfully supplies when $rthey notices you staring. “The gate will project an invisible shield should anyone try to force their way through it.” <<if $blunt gte $charm>>Nodding to show you’ve understood, you turn to face the Royal Palace once more.<<else>>“I see.” You turn to face the Royal Palace once more.<</if>> It looks so massive, you cannot imagine what you’re supposed to do with all that space. $rname smiles brightly at you when you catch $rtheir gaze, already pinned on you, and $rthey gestures toward the palace with $rtheir hand as if to show it off. “Impressive, is it not? Would you care for a closer look?" “Wait for me, now.” $xname saunters unhurriedly toward you from the direction of the stables, followed closely by General $dname who aims a glare at the back of $xname's head. You look around for $aname, and flinch in surprise when you turn to your left and find $athem already standing there with $atheir hands behind $atheir back, standing a polite distance away from your personal space. “Did I startle you?” $aname’s expression seems completely neutral, though you swear you see the corner of $atheir mouth twitch. “My apologies.” You frown at $athem. “How do you keep doing that?” $aname smiles enigmatically, perhaps a touch smug, but does not reply. [[Continue|3.11]] You glance behind you to the golden gates you just rode through, wondering how they're managing to keep out so many people. The gates have closed shut again after you passed them, though you notice a faint golden glow to them that there wasn’t before. For some reason the citizens pushing up against the gate aren’t able to touch it, let alone exert force onto it. “Protected with magic,” $aname supplies when $athey notices you staring. “Invisible shields will keep anyone from doing damage or getting past.” <<if $blunt gte $charm>>Nodding to show you’ve understood, you turn to face the Royal Palace once more.<<else>>“I see.” You turn to face the Royal Palace once more.<</if>> It looks so massive, you cannot imagine what you’re supposed to do with all that space. When you look at $aname you see $athem surveying the palace with a critical eye, which is not what you were expecting. When $athey notices you staring, $athey smiles with a faintly mocking twist to $atheir lips and says, "Much too gaudy for my tastes." Before you can reply, you are joined by the others. “Wait for me, now!” $xname saunters unhurriedly toward you from the direction of the stables, followed closely by General $dname who aims a glare at the back of $xname's head. You look around for $rname, spotting $rthem following the other two a moment later. "How was your journey?" $rthey asks you immediately, concern visible on $rtheir face. "I hope the crowds weren't too unpleasant." "I'm just glad it's over with," you answer honestly, and $rname smiles with sympathy. [[Continue|3.11]] It is almost strange how easily you become accustomed to the mass of people around you. Or perhaps it’s not that you’re becoming used to it, but rather that your mind simply cannot process the amount of people present. There are so many of them, and yet you can’t make out a single face. You hear only the noise, you see only the colors. They may as well be phantoms. It’s when someone first notices your eyes that things change. “Is that—” “Those eyes!” “They’re riding behind the Royal Protector, does that mean…?” For one instant, you can almost hear the silence beneath the whispers that travel through the crowd. The shouting lowers to build into something much greater, and as you look around you suddenly feel $aname's hand squeeze around yours. "There's no going back," you hear $athem say. "Just remember that I'm with you." It's a good thing $athey reassures you then, because the very next moment, your life changes forever. “<em>IT’S THE CROWN</em>!” It’s an explosion erupting into your ears; you’ve never seen or heard anything like it before. The whole city screams at the top of its lungs, as if the very walls and the arches and the buildings and the hills and the stones were built upon were all crying out to you. You squeeze $aname’s hand tight, your heart pounding like a drum in your chest, and yet you’ve never felt so alive. Around you the city guards are employing magic to keep the citizens at bay. You see several translucent shields erected between the guards and the crowd like small walls, their blue-tinged glow lighting up the streets. It keeps much of the crowd pushed back, but not all of it. Something grabs at the edge of your cloak. You quickly turn around you see dirt stained beneath fingernails, belonging to a hand of a child who looks much younger than you. “Please, Your Majesty!” You’re struck by the strength of their grip, as if they were afraid of drowning were they to let go of your cloak, and when you meet their gaze their lower lip trembles. They look so small, standing below you. "Don't worry," $aname assures you, apparently already aware of the child as $athey motions at one of the city guards. "They're harmless." You want to ask how $athey's so sure of that, but the expression on the child's face pulls your attention back to her. “If- if you are truly the Crown, you must do something about the steward,” the child begs, staring up at you with wide, desperate eyes. “After everything he’s done—" One of the city guards grabs them by their elbow, dragging them away. “Get away from there, you insolent child!” You open your mouth to call the guard off, but before you have a chance both the child and the guard are swallowed up by the chaos sweeping the streets and $aname’s horse has already moved on. You wish you could've asked for the child's name. “$aname, did you hear that?” you ask $athem, turning back to sit straight behind $athem. “That child, they said something about the steward of Marabad.” $aname nods, and you hear the screech of the gates opening to let you pass. “I'm not surprised,” $athey replies cryptically and you can barely hear $athem over the din of the crowd that seems to cry out even louder now that you’ve almost reached your destination. “Stay back!” You watch the city guards try their best to keep the citizens at bay—one of them even extends their magic shield into a wall, connecting with the shield of the guard standing beside them. As the wall forms, citizens pound their fists and slap their palms against it. One of them tries to climb over it, lifted by the others. You watch in amazement as the protester manages to haul their arms over the edge of the see-through wall, spotting you on your horse behind $aname and crying out to you. You wish you could hear what they are saying, but you can't understand a single word from among the noise filling the city. All you can see is the way the protester's arms reach out to you, much like the child who clung to your cloak earlier. The sight disappears as soon as you pass underneath the golden gates, hanging menacingly above your head as if you were traveling into the belly of a beast through its mouth. When you finally lay eyes on the front of the Royal Palace in front of you, you realize that comparison may actually be rather apt. [[Continue|3.9b.2]] Conversation stalls there as you’re unsure what to ask $dthem. $xname appeared to know how to crack through General $dname’s stoic appearance with $xtheir teasing words, but you don’t know the general well enough to try joking around with $dthem in the same manner. Although, $dthey did seem flustered when you made a comment to $dthem before. You wish you could remember what you said. <<if $kind gt $calc>>At the very least, you decide to show your appreciation to General $dname for agreeing to stay with you. Keko seems nice enough, but you’ve only just met and you’re not sure how comfortable you’d be on your own. While it’s true that you also met the general only a very short while ago, the sincere vow $dthey made to keep you safe—as dramatic as it was—did set you at ease. <<else>>At the very least, showing some appreciation to General $dname may be wise; as the Crown, it’ll be imperative for you to build good relationships with people in high position such as the General of the Imperial Army. $cdthey will be one of the people closest to you, after all.<</if>> <<if $charm gt $blunt>>“I hope I’m not keeping you from any important business, seeing as how you are the Empire’s General,” you say, drawing a startled look from $dthem. “I thank you for keeping me company, all the same.”<<else>>“Thank you for staying with me,” you say outright, drawing a startled look from $dthem.<</if>> “It’s not—” General $dname clears $dtheir throat. “Not an issue. It is my duty to ensure your safety. I may not be an Imperial Guard, but there is no one more important to me than you.” <<if $res gt $flirt>>You avert your gaze, unsure where to look and your face feels flush with heat, even more so when Keko shoots a long look at the both of you over his shoulder, and a moment later General $dname appears to realize the way $dtheir words came across. “As the Crown,” $dthey corrects quickly, shoulders stiff with tension. “I did not mean to imply--” “Yes, right.” You’re unsure where to look, sneaking a glance at General $dname’s face only to see that $dthey’s avoiding your eyes as well. “It’s fine, I know what you meant.” Keko averts his gaze when you look at him, pretending as if he hadn’t been curiously looking on, though you very clearly hear him muse, “Ah, to be young again!”<</if>><<if $flirt gt $res>>Oh, how darling. “My, my,” you say, the mischievous curve in your lips widening into a smile. “You are quite forward, general! I do expect you to catch me if I end up swooning in your arms now.” General $dname’s eyes widen in realization. “That was not—” You lift your palm and $dtheir mouth snaps closed. “Say no more, you'll ruin the moment." Watching General $dname’s neck up to $dtheir cheeks slowly turn a darker shade is a treat, but at this point even Keko takes pity on $dthem. “Your Imperial Majesty, I implore you not to tease the poor general too much,” Keko says to you, his tone respectful though as he glances over his shoulder at you, you catch a playful twinkle in his eyes emphasized by his crow’s feet. “We have need of $dthem yet.” You tuck away your grin and nod, like a very serious person. “I will try my best.”<</if>><<if $res eq $flirt>>Your brows arch slowly on your forehead at the response for what was truthfully a benign comment on your end. Keko shoots a long look at the both of you over his shoulder, and a moment later General $dname appears to realize the way $dtheir words came across. “As the Crown,” $dthey corrects quickly, shoulders stiff with tension. “I did not mean to imply—” “Don’t worry, general,” you reassure, though you can’t help but smile a little as your lips curve with humor, especially as General $dname continues to avoid your gaze. “I know what you meant.” Keko looks away when you glance at him, pretending as if he hadn’t been watching curiously, though you very clearly hear him muse, “Ah, to be young again!”<</if>> General $dname’s sigh following that can only be described as the hollow sound of wind rushing through a cave as $dthey hides $dtheir eyes behind $dtheir hand, rubbing at $dtheir forehead. “At least $xname isn’t here.” The throwaway remark catches your attention. <ul class="a"> <li><<if $dgender is 'male' and $xgender is 'male'>>[[Ask him about his relationship with Xelef.|3.18a.1][$adven to $adven + 25]]<</if>><<if $dgender is 'female' and $xgender is 'female'>>[[Ask her about her relationship with Xelara.|3.18a.1][$adven to $adven + 25]]<</if>><<if $dgender is 'male' and $xgender is 'female'>>[[Ask him about his relationship with Xelara.|3.18a.1][$adven to $adven + 25]]<</if>><<if $dgender is 'female' and $xgender is 'male'>>[[Ask her about her relationship with Xelef.|3.18a.1][$adven to $adven + 25]]<</if>><<if $cheatsheet is true>> <em>+ Adventurous</em><</if>></li> <li>[[Keep quiet; it may be a sensitive subject.|3.18a.2][$caut to $caut + 25]]<<if $cheatsheet is true>> <em>+ Cautious</em><</if>></li> </ul><<if $charm gt $blunt>>“I don’t mean to pry,” you start, taking a nonchalant tone even as General $dname’s attention focuses back on you. “It’s only, you and $xname seem to have quite the antagonistic relationship. Did something happen in your past?” “Nothing in particular,” $dthey answers. “We simply don’t get along.”<<else>>“Why do you hate $xname so much?” you ask $dthem outright, and General $dname does a doubletake at the sudden question, but $dtheir surprise doesn’t last long. “Hate is too strong of a word,” $dthey answers. “We simply don’t get along.”<</if>> You suppose some people are naturally incompatible, but the way General $dname immediately turns $dtheir gaze away from you after answering your question makes you wonder if there isn’t something else going on. But before you can think of a way to question $dthem further, you notice you’ve almost arrived at the tall doorway leading into the rest of the palace complex. It is an incredibly tall, stone gate, with colorful reliefs carved around it. Keko guides you through it, but you halt near the right side of it to study the engravings. You see the image of a tall figure, holding a golden staff and dressed in red long robes, so detailed that you can even make out the golden jewelry around their neck and decorating their headwear. Their dark hair is quite long, trailing behind them as they’re followed by smaller figures with outstretched hands dressed in white robes, holding what looks like baskets. Likely servants. The figure also has golden eyes. The inscription below the carving catches your attention. You read through the short lines of the familiar—if archaic—Ardian script, but there are two others below that you recognize but cannot read. <em>“Ashadūna, the Crown of the Empire, beloved by the Spirits, Mother of the Mountains, built this palace,”</em> you recite, then give Keko and General $dname a curious look. “Why is it also written in Hathur and Surrian?” “Hathura and the tribes of Sur are what formed the foundation for the Empire,” Keko clarifies patiently. “While the names of their lands have changed over time, their people, as well as their languages, still exist.” “Do you not know the history?” General $dname questions. “Vaguely.” With only the limited knowledge of your parents to go off of, you hesitate to go too much into depth. “Crown Ashadūna prevented a war by uniting the lands of Ardia, Hathura and the tribes of Sur into… well, the Empire we live in now.” “That would be the simplified version,” General $dname considers. “I suppose your tutors will teach you the rest soon enough.” [[Continue|3.19a]] You decide to stay quiet about the topic, using the time of your walk through the enormous audience hall to look around instead. The way the sunlight plays off the columns and falls across the stone tiles lends to the majesty of the palace. Many Crowns before you have walked this hall, and it feels a little surreal. Almost mythical figures you have only heard of in stories and history retold, and now you're here walking the very same path. Before you know it you’ve almost arrived at the tall doorway leading into the rest of the palace complex. It is an incredibly tall, stone gate, with colorful reliefs carved around it. Keko guides you through it, but you halt near the right side of it to study the engravings. You see the image of a tall figure, holding a golden staff and dressed in red long robes, so detailed that you can even make out the golden jewelry around their neck and decorating their headwear. Their dark hair is quite long, trailing behind them as they’re followed by smaller figures with outstretched hands dressed in white robes, holding what looks like baskets. Likely servants. The figure also has golden eyes. The inscription below the carving catches your attention. You read through the short lines of the familiar—if archaic—Ardian script, but there are two others below that you recognize but cannot read. <em>“Ashadūna, the Crown of the Empire, beloved by the Spirits, Mother of the Mountains, built this palace,”</em> you recite, then give Keko and General $dname a curious look. “Why is it also written in Hathur and Surrian?” “Hathura and the tribes of Sur are what formed the foundation for the Empire,” Keko clarifies patiently. “While the names of their lands have changed over time, their people, as well as their languages, still exist.” “Do you not know the history?” General $dname questions. “Vaguely.” With only the limited knowledge of your parents to go off of, you hesitate to go too much into depth. “Crown Ashadūna prevented a war by uniting the lands of Ardia, Hathura and the tribes of Sur into… well, the Empire we live in now.” “That would be the simplified version,” General $dname considers. “I suppose your tutors will teach you the rest soon enough.” [[Continue|3.19a]]<<if $caut gt $adven>>[ <b><em>@@.stattext;Cautious@@</em> character trait has been locked in.</b> ]<<else>>[ <b><em>@@.stattext;Adventurous@@</em> character trait has been locked in.</b> ]<</if>> Passing through the gates, you step into a large but simple rectangular hall without any furniture to speak of, although there is plenty to look at. There are other tall gates almost identical to the one behind you going straight ahead, as well as on your left and on your right. The floor, much like the one in the apadana displays tiles arranged into the shape of a single large, golden sun at the center of the room. Meanwhile the ceiling of the room is quite high up, high enough to allow plenty of space for the two long red banners hanging above two of the gates. The banner on your right displays the golden image of the Arsur Empire, the familiar eye with the sun as its pupil. Meanwhile the banner on your left shows a black symbol you recognize as being Rojan’s and by extension Marabad’s, a snake wrapped around a mountain. The interior thus far is certainly much more colorful compared to the even-toned beige and white exterior. Keko stands in the middle of the hall, right on top of the sun, and gestures to the gates one by one as he begins to explain. “The northern gate leads to the record rooms, the library and the offices of the highest officials and scholars in Rojan appointed by you. “The western gate leads to your personal vault, the armory, the guard barracks and the servant’s quarters. “The eastern gate leads to the throne room as well as your private residence, including the kitchens, rooms for esteemed guests and visiting dignitaries, and a personal temple attended by priests for you to make use of should you wish.” <<if $charm gt $blunt>>”That’s… quite a lot,” you reply, stupefied at the implication of the size of this palace complex. “I have a <em>personal temple</em>?”<<else>>“I’ve already forgotten half of what you’ve said,” you state in a deadpan tone, “except… I have a <em>personal temple</em>?”<</if>> “It can be repurposed depending on your preference,” Keko answers. “The Nineteenth Crown used it as a Water Temple as he enjoyed studying and conversing with the water spirits within, if memory serves me right. Some Crowns less inclined toward the magical have been known to use it as a personal space for meditation instead, such as Crown Ferzan. Others yet have used it for spiritual purposes, such as prayer.” “I see.” Yet another thing you’ll have to think about, now that you’re Crown. “I suppose I can go sit down somewhere in my own residence?” “This way, Your Imperial Majesty,” Keko responds, motioning toward the eastern gate before he takes the lead and you follow him. [[Continue|3.20a]] You were expecting a hallway, anticipating more walking, but as soon as you turn your attention toward the eastern gate, without even passing through it you can see it isn’t a hallway that’s awaiting you. Instead it is the single largest and most imposing room you’ve ever been in, though it is only a quarter of the size of the audience hall at the entrance. “This is the palace’s reception hall,” Keko duly informs you as he leads your feet down a short set of stairs and onto a plush and intricately woven red carpet that you feel bad for even stepping on at all. The carpet stretches nearly the entirety of the reception hall, which looks more like a throne room were it not for the massive stairs diverging north and another set that continues east. There are large red columns framing the stairs that lead north, stretching all the way up to the ceiling, where the snake busts you’ve seen before are colored blue, contrasting with the red in a way that makes the hues burst. The stairs leading east, on the other hand, have shorter and thicker columns to leave space for carvings on the wall above it. The corridor itself is guarded by two massive bronze statues of winged beasts on either side, their bodies shaped like lions while their heads are of eagles, peering through stone eyes as if keeping watch on the reception hall. The carvings on the walls remind you of the gates you just passed, depicting richly colored images of royal figures dressed in reds and golds. You feel supremely out of place. “Are those shirdals?” you ask Keko, pointing at the two statues. “Indeed, Your Imperial Majesty,” Keko answers. “They live at the top of the Armas Mountains, but I believe the palace will suffice with an artistic rendition.” “Where does that corridor lead?” “Your personal residence and the guest rooms, which includes the royal gardens and private baths.” Keko pauses. “The northern corridor here leads on to the throne room. The two are connected by a smaller corridor only for you to use, to allow you to travel quickly between your rooms and the throne room.” You find the split between the two sections a bit odd. “Is there any reason why the throne room and my personal rooms weren’t built closer together?” Keko and General $dname exchange a look. “The throne room is absurdly huge,” General $dname states when Keko remains silent. “This reception used to be the throne room in Crown Ashadūna’s time, but Crowns after her expanded the palace over time to suit their tastes.” “I would not recommend heading to the throne room if Your Imperial Majesty wishes to rest,” Keko comments politely. You agree, and Keko leads you up the stairs heading east, into your personal residence. [[Continue|3.21a]] Every room seems to be more decadent than the next. The smaller entrance hall greeting you ahead of the rest of your personal rooms seems to be a miniature version of the larger reception hall, but it may as well have been gilded entirely from gold. The hallway that follows has large, open windows on either side, displaying the royal gardens that Keko mentioned before that are filled with the most carefully and beautifully arranged flowers and flowering trees that you’ve ever seen. Ponds run along either side, neatly constructed on the edge of stone pathways and you wonder if there’s any fish in the water or if it’s just for decoration. Perhaps one could swim in it on a hot day, or would that be unbecoming? But then what’s the point of all that water if you can’t fish or swim in it? Keko leads you into the first room you come across at the end of the hallway which, much like everything else in this palace, is simultaneously foreign and familiar. You recognize the low table in the corner of the room, large, soft cushions arranged around it for people to sit on. Most teahouses in smaller towns and villages use furniture like this, as chairs and higher tables are more often reserved for wealthier places. There are low couches near the walls as well, for lying down or more comfortable sitting. What you don’t recognize are the expensive purple fabrics on the pillow, the intricate weaving of the rugs covering the floor and hanging off the walls, the craftsmanship of the wood that details expertly carved curves into the legs of the couches and the table, golden statuettes almost casually placed on shelves filled with handsomely bound tomes you would be scared to so much as touch for fear of staining them. You are so taken by the richness of the room that you only notice the two servants near the windows when one of them almost drops the rolled up curtain they’d been carrying at the sight of you. “Would you like something to drink while you wait for your bath, Your Imperial Majesty?” Keko asks you, ignoring the two servants who watch with wide eyes. Now that he’s asked, you realize you are rather thirsty. “Tea would be nice.” “What kind of flavor would you like?” You stare at Keko in bewilderment. “Just… normal tea?” “Black tea, then.” Keko smiles and turns to General $dname. “And you, General?” “The same,” General $dname answers curtly, gazing around the room with faint curiosity. “Very well.” Keko turns toward the two servants near the windows. “Did you hear that? The servants straighten up, one of them clutching the roll of curtain they’d been replacing tightly to their chest as they simultaneously bow. “Yes, head servant, at once!” You shuffle out of the doorway to let them through and watch somewhat confused as they continue to bow profusely in your direction as they pass you—one of them nearly trips over the rug in the hallway in their hurry to get out. One would think you were a monstrous man-eater out for their flesh with how quickly they scramble to leave now that you’ve arrived. “I suppose I should get used to that,” you mutter as you walk into the room, deciding to settle down in the very corner beside the window, on top of a pillow by the table. With your back comfortably pressed against a wall and the doorway clearly visible in your line of sight, you feel much more at ease. General $dname settles down beside you, to your surprise. There is still a pillow in between you, so you don’t feel literally backed into the corner, but much like you $dthey leans back against the wall and appears to ease a little. “Please don’t hold it against them, Your Imperial Majesty,” Keko asks you kindly. “None of us could have anticipated your arrival. It will take us poor servants some time to adjust.” “You seem to be adjusting just fine,” you point out, and Keko smiles enigmatically. “Such is the benefit of experience that comes with my old age, my Crown,” he answers. “With your permission, I shall take my leave to prepare your bath.” “Go ahead.” Keko bows once, deeply, before straightening up again and departing the room a moment later, leaving you alone with General $dname. [[Continue|3.22a]] General $dname looks at you. “What do you think of the palace so far?” You are somewhat startled when $dthey is the first to make conversation. From what little you know of $dthem so far, you assumed $dthey would prefer silence. $cdtheir tone is rather brusque, but you can tell from the way $dthey looks at you—giving you $dtheir full attention while patiently waiting for an answer—that it’s not out of disrespect, but rather the way $dthey naturally speaks. <<if $charm gt $blunt>>“It’s quite big, isn’t it?” you reply in a lighthearted manner, glancing around the opulent sitting room. “I’m at a loss for what to do with all this space, to be honest.”<<else>>“I have no idea what I’m supposed to do with all this space,” you answer bluntly, glancing around the opulent sitting room.<</if>> “I imagine you can do whatever you damn well wish with it,” General $dname replies thoughtlessly, before a look of horror crosses $dtheir face. “I mean- please forgive my vulgar language—” <<if $charm gt $blunt>>You laugh. “Don’t worry about it! I wasn’t exactly raised by royalty myself, and I’m glad you’re comfortable enough to speak naturally around me.”<<else>>“It’s fine,” you state, smiling lightly. “I prefer it to all the flowery speak I’ve been hearing up until now.”<</if>> General $dname gives you a doubtful look. “Nevertheless, as your general I cannot be seen acting improperly toward you; it would be all but giving permission to others to do the same.” You consider $dtheir words with some thought, then look around the empty room. “Then, what about when we’re alone?” “I suppose that’s less of an issue,” General $dname admits, shifting around a little uncomfortably where $dthey sits cross-legged on the pillow, as if having just realized that there’s no one else in the room but the two of you. Which is also what you realize the very same moment. <ul class="a"> <li>[[Keep it friendly.|3.23a.1]]</li> <li>[[Look away, feeling shy.|3.23a.2][$dpoints += 2]]</li> <li>[[Tease a little.|3.23a.3][$dpoints += 2]]</li> </ul> The atmosphere becomes tense, a little uneasy now that you sit in the silence hanging between the two of you. You avert your gaze down to your lap, partly irritated that you’re so easily affected by something so minor, and partly embarrassed by your own shyness. Why is this so hard? You were speaking to $dthem without any issue before, but now it seems your mouth has clamped shut and refuses to open. The mere implication of being alone with someone—an <em>attractive</em> someone—in a room holds such power over you that you are overcome with a faint sense of helplessness and frustration. You wish you could say something, but your mind is completely blank. Instead you simply sit there, feeling the sunlight pouring through the window radiating warmth onto the skin of your cheeks, already burning from the blood rushing to your face. General $dname is just as quiet as you are, perhaps uninterested in continuing the conversation. You dare a glance at $dthem, expecting to find $dthem staring off into the room, which is why you freeze when you see $dtheir earth-dark eyes are on you instead. $cdthey’s staring at you, but startles belatedly when $dthey finds you staring back at $dthem. Quickly looking away, $dthey crosses $dtheir arms over $dtheir chest. “Your complexion. It looks pleasing.” Dumbstruck, you press a hand to your cheek, not even realizing you’re doing it until General $dname’s eyes flit to your fingers and you see $dthem swallow before looking away again. You quickly remove your hand from your face. “Thank you,” you murmur, looking back down at your lap again<<if $hairstyle is "shoulder-length" or $hairstyle is "down to your waist" or $hairstyle is "down to your hips" or $hairstyle is "locs">> your hair falling in between the two of you like a <<if $hairstyle is "locs">>roped <</if>>curtain<</if>>. $cdthey thinks your complexion is pleasing. It is such a stiff, almost curt compliment, but it was so very genuine, that look in $dtheir eyes as if $dthey could sit there and stare at you forever. "I hope that was permissible for me to say," General $dname speaks after a moment of silence. "It was just an observation, nothing more. I would never want to make you uncomfortable, or abuse the situation." You pause at that statement. "If anything, would it not be easier for me to abuse the situation than you?" Only now are the consequences of your new title beginning to sink in, not just for yourself but also for your interactions with others. What if you, even be it unintentionally, ended up pressuring someone into doing something they didn't want? Made them uneasy without knowing it, because they'd be too afraid to speak up? The sudden shift in your status and all that it changes is almost difficult to wrap your mind around, but it is something you will have to be conscious of from now on. General $dname frowns slightly. "I suppose. It is not a thought that has ever occurred to me." Of course it hasn't, why would it? Who in the Empire would be in the position to take advantage of a general, the highest ranking military official? It could be possible for someone else to do so, but it would be easiest for the Crown. "Maybe it should," you point out to General $dname. "I would not want to make you uncomfortable either, and I promise to be mindful of that." For a moment, General $dname stares at you again, but there's a look of wonder to $dtheir gaze now. "You are being considerate of me?" $cdthey trails off briefly, averting $dtheir gaze. "You are too kind, Your Imperial Majesty." [[Continue|3.24a][$res to $res + 175]] <<if $res gt $flirt>>[ <b><em>@@.stattext;Reserved@@</em> character trait has been locked in.</b> ]<<else>>[ <b><em>@@.stattext;Flirtatious@@</em> character trait has been locked in.</b> ]<</if>> It is at this point the servants return, both holding a metal tray and seeming slightly out of breath as if they had run the whole way to fetch your tea as quickly as humanly possible. You recall Keko telling you that the kitchens should be in this part of the palace complex as well, so hopefully they didn't have to run too far. "Your- Your Imperial Majesty!" The one on the left holds two cups of tea, while the one on the right carries a plate of fruit and a small basket of bread. They both bow as best they can while holding their respective items, and you notice the one on the right is shaking, if the rattling of the plate of fruit on their tray is any indication. General $dname raises both brows at the servants but makes no further comment. <ul class="a"> <li>[[Compliment the servants; treating them kindly would be wise.|3.25a.1][$calc to $calc + 25]]<<if $cheatsheet is true>> <em>+ Calculated</em><</if>></li> <li>[[Thank them and tell them to take it easy; you do not want them to be afraid.|3.25a.2][$kind to $kind + 25]]<<if $cheatsheet is true>> <em>+ Kind</em><</if>></li> </ul><<set $flirt += 75>>“I hope you don’t mind being alone with me, general,” you say, twisting your tone into something considerate even while a mischievous grin forms on your face and General $dname narrows $dtheir eyes at you in suspicion. You do mean it, which is probably why General $dname is having such a difficult time trying to figure out your intentions. “Why would I mind?” $dthey questions you dubiously, frowning slightly when you place your elbow on the table to lean a little closer, though you make sure not to breach $dtheir personal space. While $dthey doesn’t move away from you, the way $dtheir eyes widen slightly is quite rewarding. “Because of propriety, of course,” you answer, keeping the serene smile on your face even as the corner of your mouth curls a little with amusement. “Are you implying something improper is happening?” General $dname says, offended. “Your Imperial Majesty, I am the very picture of proper! I would never abuse such a situation.” “What if I’m a willing participant?” you remark almost casually, and General $dname’s slightly-widened-eyes turn into the size of saucers. "Hypothetically." “A willing participant in <em>what</em>?” $dthey all but shouts. “Nothing is happening here! Hypothetically or otherwise! I have never-!” General $dname’s verbal flailing causes you to quickly pull away. You meant to test $dtheir boundaries, see how much teasing would be alright for you to do, but it appears the general's tolerance is even lower with you than it is with $xname, although the result is slightly different. Rather than get angry, General $dname is having a meltdown instead. "I'm sorry," you say with sincerity, realizing that the idea of General $dname abusing such a situation, as $dthey mentioned earlier, is unlikely for more than one reason. "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. It was a thoughtless jest." Were you anyone else, it might have been different, but you're the Crown now. The single most powerful person in the Empire, even above a general. Only now are the consequences of your new title beginning to sink in, not just for yourself but also for your interactions with others. What if you, even be it unintentionally, ended up pressuring someone into doing something they didn't want? Made them uneasy without knowing it, because they'd be too afraid to speak up? The sudden shift in your status and all that it changes is almost difficult to wrap your mind around, but it is something you will have to be conscious of from now on. You notice the silence that has fallen between you two and assume you've truly gone and made General $dname uneasy, when you see the way $dthey's staring at you. $cdtheir gaze is filled with something akin to wonder, captivated by something $dthey sees in you, but $dthey startles belatedly when $dthey finds you staring back at $dthem. “Something on my face?” you tease. “No.” $cdthey quickly looks away, crossing $dtheir arms over $dtheir chest. "Nothing. It was nothing." When the general continues to avoid your gaze, the smile falters on your face. "Tell me honestly, does the teasing bother you?" General $dname makes a curt and dismissive gesture with $dtheir hand. "If it did, you would know." "Oh?" Your smile brightens again with the reassurance. "That is good to know. Even so, I promise to be more mindful of it in the future." "You are being considerate of me." General $dname speaks slowly, with that same look of wonder on $dtheir face again. "That is not necessary." You frown deeply. "It's <em>very</em> necessary, all the more because I'm the Crown." General $dname appears bashful again as $dthey avoids your eyes. "You are too kind, Your Imperial Majesty." [[Continue|3.24a][$flirt to $flirt + 175]] As you cross the enormous audience hall with Keko walking a step ahead of you, you wonder if it really is possible to get to know $xname in the way you want to. $cxthey's a little like a story in that way, the ones told by skilled orators either through music or through spoken word. You don't know where the story is from, or why it is structured the way it is, only that it is being told. Like a performance, maybe. $xname might be a performer. It looks so natural, the way $xthey is, but for someone like you <<if $adven gt $caut>>who has so longed to be able to express yourself freely but not being permitted to, you almost feel envious<<else>>who has had to hide for most of your life and has grown used to the shadows, you can hardly grasp how $xname could <em>enjoy</em> the light the way $xthey does<</if>>. So, you conclude, $xthey must be putting on a show. It's a flimsy theory, held together only by your own perspective of the world, but it's also your excuse to wander a little closer, to test with your own hands whether the flame is really as hot as it seems or if it's simply an imitation. You glance ahead at your guide who seems content to let conversation rest in silence, and you suppose if you were truly curious you could ask Keko what he knows about $xname. But is it safe to show your interest? $xname is beloved by the people, not the upper classes. You've seen wanted posters of $xthem around in a few towns in Rojan, always put up by some furious noble $xname personally slighted. You wouldn't want to start any undue rumors. <ul class="a"> <<if $xgender is 'male'>><li>[[Ask Keko about Xelef.|3.18b.1][$adven to $adven + 25]]<<if $cheatsheet is true>> <em>+ Adventurous</em><</if>></li><li>[[Keep quiet; it may be a sensitive subject.|3.18b.2][$caut to $caut + 25]]<<if $cheatsheet is true>> <em>+ Cautious</em><</if>></li><<else>><li>[[Ask Keko about Xelara.|3.18b.1][$adven to $adven + 25]]<<if $cheatsheet is true>> <em>+ Adventurous</em><</if>></li><li>[[Keep quiet; it may be a sensitive subject.|3.18b.2][$caut to $caut + 25]]<<if $cheatsheet is true>> <em>+ Cautious</em><</if>></li><</if>> </ul><<if $charm gt $blunt>>“Say, Keko,” you start, taking a nonchalant tone as Keko glances over his shoulder at you. “What can you tell me about $xname?”<<else>>“Keko, what do you know about $xname?” you ask Keko outright, and he glances over his shoulder at you with slightly raised brows, but at least doesn't look judgmental.<</if>> "Only what is most widely known, Your Imperial Majesty," Keko answers simply as he faces forward again. "$cxthey is a very famous mercenary, one of great skill. The Crescent Blades, though few in number, are an army in their own right." "But you haven't had any personal dealings with $xname?" There's a slight pause. "No, Your Imperial Majesty. Might I inquire about the nature of your curiosity?" <<if $charm gt $blunt>>"You probably haven't heard, but $xname was the one who helped me find $rtitle $rname," you explain. "Without $xthem I wouldn't be here right now."<<else>>"$xname helped me find $rtitle $rname," you explain. "Without $xthem I wouldn't be here right now."<</if>> "Ah, how fortuitous!" Keko looks back to smile at you. "Then the Empire owes $xthem a great debt. I assume your intention is to reward $xthem for this deed?" "I was thinking about it," you admit, especially now that you have the treasury of the wealthiest nation in the world at your disposal, although $xname <em>did</em> also use you for $xtheir own purposes. You haven't forgotten that little fact, yet. But before you can think of a way to question Keko further, you notice you’ve almost arrived at the tall doorway leading into the rest of the palace complex. It is an incredibly tall, stone gate, with colorful reliefs carved around it. Keko guides you through it, but you halt near the right side of it to study the engravings. You see the image of a tall figure, holding a golden staff and dressed in red long robes, so detailed that you can even make out the golden jewelry around their neck and decorating their headwear. Their dark hair is quite long, trailing behind them as they’re followed by smaller figures with outstretched hands dressed in white robes, holding what looks like baskets. Likely servants. The figure also has golden eyes. The inscription below the carving catches your attention. You read through the short lines of the familiar—if archaic—Ardian script, but there are two others below that you recognize but cannot read. <em>“Ashadūna, the Crown of the Empire, beloved by the Spirits, Mother of the Mountains, built this palace,”</em> you recite, then give Keko a curious look. “Why is it also written in Hathur and Surrian?” “Hathura and the tribes of Sur are what formed the foundation for the Empire,” Keko clarifies patiently. “While the names of their lands have changed over time, their people, as well as their languages, still exist. How much do you know of the history of the founding of the Empire, my Crown?” “Only a little.” With only the limited knowledge of your parents to go off of, you'd rather not go too much into depth, but you are certain about what you <em>do</em> know. “Crown Ashadūna prevented a war and united the lands of Ardia, Hathura and the tribes of Sur into… well, the Empire we live in now.” “Yes, fundamentally you are correct,” Keko answers. “Rest assured your tutors will do their very best to teach you everything else." [[Continue|3.19b]] You decide to stay quiet about the topic, using the time of your walk through the enormous audience hall to look around instead. The way the sunlight plays off the columns and falls across the stone tiles lends to the majesty of the palace. Many Crowns before you have walked this hall, and it feels a little surreal. Almost mythical figures you have only heard of in stories and history retold, and now you're here walking the very same path. Before you know it you’ve almost arrived at the tall doorway leading into the rest of the palace complex. It is an incredibly tall, stone gate, with colorful reliefs carved around it. Keko guides you through it, but you halt near the right side of it to study the engravings. You see the image of a tall figure, holding a golden staff and dressed in red long robes, so detailed that you can even make out the golden jewelry around their neck and decorating their headwear. Their dark hair is quite long, trailing behind them as they’re followed by smaller figures with outstretched hands dressed in white robes, holding what looks like baskets. Likely servants. The figure also has golden eyes. The inscription below the carving catches your attention. You read through the short lines of the familiar—if archaic—Ardian script, but there are two others below that you recognize, but cannot read. <em>“Ashadūna, the Crown of the Empire, beloved by the Spirits, Mother of the Mountains, built this palace,”</em> you recite, then give Keko a curious look. “Why is it also written in Hathur and Surrian?” “Hathura and the tribes of Sur are what formed the foundation for the Empire, united by the ancient Monarchy of Ardia,” Keko clarifies patiently. “While the names of their lands have changed over time, their people, as well as their languages, still exist.” “Hmm." You eye the engravings curiously for a moment longer, before you and Keko move on. [[Continue|3.19b]]<<if $caut gt $adven>>[ <b><em>@@.stattext;Cautious@@</em> character trait has been locked in.</b> ]<<else>>[ <b><em>@@.stattext;Adventurous@@</em> character trait has been locked in.</b> ]<</if>> Passing through the gates, you step into a large but simple rectangular hall without any furniture to speak of, although there is plenty to look at. There are other tall gates almost identical to the one behind you going straight ahead, as well as on your left and on your right. The floor, much like the one in the apadana displays tiles arranged into the shape of a single large, golden sun at the center of the room. Meanwhile the ceiling of the room is quite high up, high enough to allow plenty of space for the two long red banners hanging above two of the gates. The banner on your right displays the golden image of the Arsur Empire, the familiar eye with the sun as its pupil. Meanwhile the banner on your left shows a black symbol you recognize as being Rojan’s and by extension Marabad’s, a snake wrapped around a mountain. The interior thus far is certainly much more colorful compared to the even-toned beige and white exterior. Keko stands in the middle of the hall, right on top of the sun, and gestures to the gates one by one as he begins to explain. “The northern gate leads to the record rooms, the library and the offices of the highest officials and scholars in Rojan appointed by you. “The western gate leads to your personal vault, the armory, the guard barracks and the servant’s quarters. “The eastern gate leads to the throne room as well as your private residence, including the kitchens, rooms for esteemed guests and visiting dignitaries, and a personal Spirit Temple attended by priests for you to make use of should you wish.” <<if $charm gt $blunt>>”That’s… quite a lot,” you reply, stupefied at the implication of the size of this palace complex. “I have a <em>personal temple</em>?”<<else>>“I’ve already forgotten half of what you’ve said,” you state in a deadpan tone, “except… I have a <em>personal temple</em>?”<</if>> “It can be repurposed depending on your preference,” Keko answers. “The Nineteenth Crown used it as a Water Temple as he enjoyed studying and conversing with the water spirits within, if memory serves me right. Some Crowns less inclined toward the magical have been known to use it as a personal space for meditation instead, such as Crown Ferzan. Others yet have used it for spiritual purposes, such as prayer.” “I see.” Yet another thing you’ll have to think about, now that you’re Crown. “I suppose I can go sit down somewhere in my own residence?” “This way, Your Imperial Majesty,” Keko responds, motioning toward the eastern gate before he takes the lead and you follow him. [[Continue|3.20b]] You were expecting a hallway, anticipating more walking, but as soon as you turn your attention toward the eastern gate, without even passing through it you can see it isn’t a hallway that’s awaiting you. Instead it is the single largest and most imposing room you’ve ever been in, though it is only a quarter of the size of the audience hall at the entrance. “This is the palace’s reception hall,” Keko duly informs you as he leads your feet down a short set of stairs and onto a plush and intricately woven red carpet that you feel bad for even stepping on at all. The carpet stretches nearly the entirety of the reception hall, which looks more like a throne room were it not for the massive stairs diverging north and another set that continues east. There are large red columns framing the stairs that lead north, stretching all the way up to the ceiling, where the snake busts you’ve seen before are colored blue, contrasting with the red in a way that makes the hues burst. The stairs leading east, on the other hand, have shorter and thicker columns to leave space for carvings on the wall above it. The corridor itself is guarded by two massive bronze statues of winged beasts on either side, their bodies shaped like lions while their heads are of eagles, peering through stone eyes as if keeping watch on the reception hall. The carvings on the walls remind you of the gates you just passed, depicting richly colored images of royal figures dressed in reds and golds. You feel supremely out of place. “Are those shirdals?” you ask Keko, pointing at the two statues. “Indeed, Your Imperial Majesty,” Keko answers. “They live at the top of the Armas Mountains, but I believe the palace will suffice with an artistic rendition.” “Where does that corridor lead?” “Your personal residence and the guest rooms, which includes the royal gardens and private baths.” Keko pauses. “The northern corridor here leads on to the throne room. The two are connected by a smaller corridor only for you to use, to allow you to travel quickly between your rooms and the throne room.” You find the split between the two sections a bit odd. “Is there any reason why the throne room and my personal rooms weren’t built closer together?” “The throne room is quite large,” Keko replies after some thought. “This reception used to be the throne room in Crown Ashadūna’s time, but Crowns after her expanded the palace over time to suit their tastes. In any event, I would not recommend heading to the throne room if Your Imperial Majesty wishes to rest." You agree, and Keko leads you up the stairs heading east, into your personal residence. [[Continue.|3.21b]] Every room seems to be more decadent than the next. The smaller entrance hall greeting you ahead of the rest of your personal rooms seems to be a miniature version of the larger reception hall, but it may as well have been gilded entirely from gold. The hallway that follows has large, open windows on either side, displaying the royal gardens that Keko mentioned before that are filled with the most carefully and beautifully arranged flowers and flowering trees that you’ve ever seen. Ponds run along either side, neatly constructed on the edge of stone pathways and you wonder if there’s any fish in the water or if it’s just for decoration. Perhaps one could swim in it on a hot day, or would that be unbecoming? But then what’s the point of all that water if you can’t fish or swim in it? Keko leads you into the first room you come across at the end of the hallway which, much like everything else in this palace, is simultaneously foreign and familiar. You recognize the low table in the corner of the room, large, soft cushions arranged around it for people to sit on. Most teahouses in smaller towns and villages use furniture like this, as chairs and higher tables are more often reserved for wealthier places. There are low couches near the walls as well, for lying down or more comfortable sitting. What you don’t recognize are the expensive purple fabrics on the pillow, the intricate weaving of the rugs covering the floor and hanging off the walls, the craftsmanship of the wood that details expertly carved curves into the legs of the couches and the table, golden statuettes almost casually placed on shelves filled with handsomely bound tomes you would be scared to so much as touch for fear of staining them. You are so taken by the richness of the room that you only notice the two servants near the windows when one of them almost drops the rolled up curtain they’d been carrying at the sight of you. “Would you like something to drink while you wait for your bath, Your Imperial Majesty?” Keko asks you, ignoring the two servants who watch with wide eyes. Now that he’s asked, you realize you are rather thirsty. “Tea would be nice.” “What kind of flavor would you like?” You stare at Keko in bewilderment. “Just… normal tea?” “Black tea, then.” Keko smiles and turns toward the two servants near the windows. “Did you hear that? The servants straighten up, one of them clutching the roll of curtain they’d been replacing tightly to their chest as they simultaneously bow. “Yes, head servant, at once!” You shuffle out of the doorway to let them through and watch somewhat confused as they continue to bow profusely in your direction as they pass you—one of them nearly trips over the rug in the hallway in their hurry to get out. One would think you were a monstrous man-eater out for their flesh with how quickly they scramble to leave now that you’ve arrived. “I suppose I should get used to that,” you mutter as you<<if $pass gt $ass>> hesitantly<</if>> walk into the room, deciding to settle down in the very corner beside the window, on top of a pillow by the table. With your back comfortably pressed against a wall and the doorway clearly visible in your line of sight, you feel much more at ease. “Please don’t hold it against them, Your Imperial Majesty,” Keko asks you kindly. “None of us could have anticipated your arrival; it will take us poor servants some time to adjust.” “You seem to be adjusting just fine,” you point out, and Keko smiles enigmatically. “Such is the benefit of experience that comes with my old age, my Crown,” he answers. “With your permission, I shall take my leave to prepare your bath.” “Go ahead.” Keko bows once, deeply, before straightening up again and departing the room a moment later, leaving you alone. Though, your solitude does not last very long. [[Continue|3.22b]] What feels like mere moments after Keko has left, someone else appears through the open doorway of the sitting area. "There you are!" $xname strides inside with an air of complete ease, somehow appearing natural both in the wilderness of a forest as well as surrounded by the wealth of a room like this. It is a stark contrast to you, who feels foreign and out of place, ill at ease sitting on something more expensive than your clothes. "I heard you were looking for me," $xname comments as $xthey sits down directly across the table from you on top of a pillow, elbows leaning onto the carefully polished wood. "Two servants panicking about getting tea for the Crown tipped me off. Did you miss me already?" You smile a little. "Am I that obvious?" "It's not as if you're trying your best to hide it," $xname points out playfully. "Not that I can fault you. With company like mine, what else could a Crown want for?" <<if $charm gt $blunt>>"Tea sounds pretty good."<<else>>"Tea, probably."<</if>> $cxthey snorts. "I'm more partial to beer, myself." You figured as much. "A big drinker, are you?" <<if $xgender is 'male'>>"A big <em>everything</em>, really," $xname responds, wiggling his eyebrows with exaggeration at you and you barely smother your laughter. "Did you just call yourself a big cock?" you say,<<if $res gt $flirt>> too amused to get flustered by the implication as you otherwise might,<</if>> and the grin disappears from $xname's face. "Wait--" The realization dawns on him, though his smile returns to his face when you start laughing even harder than before. "Hold on, hold on now! You know that's not what I meant!"<<else>>"Naturally," $xname responds, a mischievous curl to her lips as she wiggles her brows with exaggeration. "I can go <em>all night long</em>." You pause<<if $res gt $flirt>>, too amused by the implication to get flustered as you otherwise might have--it helps that $xname is making a joke of it as well<</if>>. "So, you're addicted to beer, is what you're saying?" "Wait--" $xname frowns as she realizes it, but smiles again when you start to laugh. "Hold on, hold on now! You know very well that's not what I meant!"<</if>> "Oh, I'm sure." You're about ready to let it go, but then it occurs to you that this gives you an opportunity to tease $xname back a little, should you wish to. <ul class="a"> <li>[[Perfect.|3.23b.2][$flirt += 175]]<<if $cheatsheet is true>> <em>+ Flirtatious</em><</if>></li> <li>[[You could not; the very thought makes you tense up with nerves.|3.23b.1][$res += 175]]<<if $cheatsheet is true>> <em>+ Reserved</em><</if>></li> <li>[[You would rather keep things friendly.|3.23b.3]]</li> </ul> The conversation between you two was flowing so nicely, but when the silence falls and you ponder over $xname's flirtatious comments, you find yourself retreating. When it comes to romance you have always been shy, and having to hide for the majority of your life hasn't helped with that. Casual teasing is not something you're used to, especially the kind you're not entirely certain is honest. "What's wrong, $xnickname?" $xname says, noticing how quiet you've suddenly gotten. You avert your gaze. "Nothing, I was only... thinking." "Hmm." $xname falls silent, and when you glance at $xthem you see the beginnings of a smile forming on $xtheir face as $xthey looks at you. "You look pretty when you're thinking." <<if $charm gt $blunt>>It's terrible. Where the words usually flow so easily from you, you now find yourself at a loss on what to say, where to look, what to do with your hands--you're flailing, eyes shifting around the room, looking anywhere but at the stunning mercenary eyeing you from across the table.<<else>>You remain quiet as the blood rushes through your cheeks, frozen like a statue on your seat. It's not as if you're much of a talker usually, preferring to get straight to the point, but the problem here is that you're not sure that there is a point to get to beyond blurting out an embarrassing admission about how talking to a gorgeous mercenary makes you nervous.<</if>> "I apologize." Your temporary panic simmers down at the unexpected words, and you work up the courage to look $xname in the eyes. "I've made you uncomfortable," $xthey observes with a regretful smile.<<if $charm gt $blunt>> "No, it's..." You flounder, your usual charm faltering as you're not sure how to put it into words, but then it occurs to you--didn't you <em>already</em> put it into words?<</if>> You take a deep, steadying breath<<if $charm gt $blunt>> and try again<</if>> to speak. "I'm shy. That's all. I don't know what to say or do when someone<<if $charm gt $blunt>>, ah,<</if>> compliments me in<<if $charm gt $blunt>>... in<</if>> that way." Thumbing at the edge of the table, you notice a small scratch in the wood which seems absolutely fascinating compared to facing the intent gaze pinned on you. "I don't mind," you continue quietly. "The flirting, that is. So long as you're not expecting a coherent response." The subtle sound of a chuckle tempts you into looking, and you find $xname's elbow resting on the table with $xtheir chin resting in $xtheir hand, watching you with a soft smile. "What?" you say bemusedly, wondering what you could've done to deserve such a look. $xname sighs. "You are a treasure." "I-" Your cheeks glow with heat. "I'm sorry?" "How am I supposed to sleep at night?" $xname continues, a tone of accusation though $xthey keeps smiling at you and it's starting to mess with your head. "Knowing that the Crown is such a darling thing, it'll make me want to take $aname's job from $athem!" "Please don't," you emphasize, somewhat worried $xthey actually might, which draws a laugh out of $xname. "I would never," $xname promises solemnly, though you spot the mischief glinting in $xtheir eyes. "Though you make it a very tempting idea." [[Continue|3.24b]]"You're rather bold, aren't you?" you remark playfully, though you can't help but be slightly impressed at how completely immune $xname seems to be to any rules of decorum. So far, most other people you've met--with the exception of $aname perhaps--and revealed your eyes to have immediately begun to treat you with deference befitting your station. $xname, however? Even before you revealed your eyes to $xthem, $xthey has acted no differently around you than $xthey has with $xtheir mercenaries. It's reassuring, in a way. "Do you mind?" $xname questions, lips curving in something almost like a challenge, and <<if $adven gt $caut>>you've never been one to back away from those<<else>>while you're not typically the adventurous sort, you are quite confident when it comes to flirtation<</if>>. <<if $charm gt $blunt>>"Does it look like I do?" you reply,<<else>>"Not at all," you say,<</if>> reflecting $xname's challenging tone back at $xthem. "Though you'll have to try harder than that to impress me." $xname chuckles, a low but pleasant sound. "For you, I'll try my very best." You smile, and then you're almost surprised at how much <em>fun</em> you're having. Even when your parents were still alive entire days would pass without you laughing once, a fact your mother often lamented. She always would try to get you to laugh, until one day she was gone and with her so did any joy you had left. Being here in the palace now, finally where you're supposed to be, you cannot help but hope that maybe things will get better.<<if $caut gt $adven>> That's not to say that your guard is down, however, as even now--perhaps especially now--you prefer to be cautious, but it feels good to have a reason to smile again.<</if>> "Thank you, $xname," you say with such a naked sincerity that it surprises you as much as it does $xname, equally shining through in your smile. "This was just what I needed." "Oh, well..." $xname laughs a little, averting $xtheir eyes from you almost suddenly, and perhaps you're projecting but $xthey almost seems flustered. It is rather subtle, but the restless sort of way $xname glances at you and then away again is much less composed than $xthey usually is. "I'm sure I don't deserve such gratitude, but you're welcome all the same." [[Continue|3.24b]] Lighthearted banter aside, you're not interested in pursuing anything of a romantic nature. It's not the time for it, especially considering you haven't had a chance to adjust to your new life yet. While you wanted to chat more with General $dname to get to know $dthem better, right now all you want is to drink some tea and have a nice conversation with another person without complicating things. That's not to say you have no desire for romance whatsoever. It's simply been so very low on your list of priorities that you don't even know what romance would look like for you. Nevertheless, you have had some romantic encounters in the past; you did occasionally visit a village, after all, even while hiding from the Followers of Vidarna. Running into people of your age was unavoidable, though such moments were too few and far in between to call notable. Even if everything else is in doubt, at the very least you know yourself. As such, if this situation with General $dname <em>had</em> been romantic, you most likely would've... <ul class="a"> <li>[[...felt shy and looked away.|3.24a][$res to $res + 175]]<<if $cheatsheet is true>> <em>+ Reserved</em><</if>></li> <li>[[...had some fun flirting.|3.24a][$flirt to $flirt + 175]]<<if $cheatsheet is true>> <em>+ Flirtatious</em><</if>></li> </ul> Lighthearted banter aside, you're not interested in pursuing anything of a romantic nature. It's not the time for it, especially considering you haven't had a chance to adjust to your new life yet. While you wanted to chat more with $xname to get to know $xthem better, right now all you want is to drink some tea and have a nice conversation with another person without complicating things. That's not to say you have no desire for romance whatsoever. It's simply been so very low on your list of priorities that you don't even know what romance would look like for you. Nevertheless, you have had some romantic encounters in the past; you did occasionally visit a village, after all, even while hiding from the Followers of Vidarna. Running into people of your age was unavoidable, though such moments were too few and far in between to call notable. Even if everything else is in doubt, at the very least you know yourself. As such, if this situation with $xname <em>had</em> been romantic, you most likely would've... <ul class="a"> <li>[[...felt shy and looked away.|3.24b][$res to $res + 175]]<<if $cheatsheet is true>> <em>+ Reserved</em><</if>></li> <li>[[...had some fun flirting.|3.24b][$flirt to $flirt + 175]]<<if $cheatsheet is true>> <em>+ Flirtatious</em><</if>></li> </ul><<if $res gt $flirt>>[ <b><em>@@.stattext;Reserved@@</em> character trait has been locked in.</b> ]<<else>>[ <b><em>@@.stattext;Flirtatious@@</em> character trait has been locked in.</b> ]<</if>> It is at this point the servants return, both holding a metal tray and seeming slightly out of breath as if they had run the whole way to fetch your tea as quickly as humanly possible. You recall Keko telling you that the kitchens should be in this part of the palace complex as well, so hopefully they didn't have to run too far. "Your- Your Imperial Majesty!" The one on the left holds two cups of tea, while the one on the right carries a plate of fruit and a small basket of bread. They both bow as best they can while holding their respective items, and you notice the one on the right is shaking, if the rattling of the plate of fruit on their tray is any indication. $xname appears amused at the servants, but makes no comment. <ul class="a"> <li>[[Compliment the servants; treating them kindly would be wise.|3.25b.1][$calc to $calc + 25]]<<if $cheatsheet is true>> <em>+ Calculated</em><</if>></li> <li>[[Thank them and tell them to take it easy; you do not want them to be afraid.|3.25b.2][$kind to $kind + 25]]<<if $cheatsheet is true>> <em>+ Kind</em><</if>></li> </ul><<if $charm gt $blunt>>"You did well," you say to the trembling servant, smiling reassuringly. "Thank you for bringing my tea, I'm surprised you managed not to spill anything with how much you must have hurried." While you don't understand the reverence these people are showing you, that won't prevent you from taking advantage of it as best you can. You didn't survive this long from being squeamish of using others, and while you may have gained some protection from the assassins after your life, you're not naive enough to believe everything will go smoothly from this point on. You'll need every advantage that you can get, and befriending the palace's servants--who are everywhere and see everything while being ignored by those considered above them--seems like it would be invaluable to you. "It- it is my pleasure to serve you, Your Imperial Majesty," the servant stammers, sounding overwhelmed by your words as they keep their head bowed steadfast. "Can I convince you to join me at the table?" you suggest.<<else>>"Are you alright?" you ask the trembling servant. "Yes, Your Imperial Majesty, I'm fine!" You hum, keeping your expression unaffected and neutral even as you're entirely unconvinced of the servant's flailing excuses. "Thank you for the tea, you look like you really hurried trying to get it to me." While you don't understand the reverence these people are showing you, that won't prevent you from taking advantage of it as best you can. You didn't survive this long from being squeamish of using others, and while you may have gained some protection from the assassins after your life, you're not naive enough to believe everything will go smoothly from this point on. You'll need every advantage that you can get, and befriending the palace's servants--who are everywhere and see everything while being ignored by those considered above them--seems like it would be invaluable to you. "It- it is my pleasure to serve you, Your Imperial Majesty," the servant stammers, sounding overwhelmed by your words as they keep their head bowed steadfast. Deciding this is as good an opportunity to get them on your side, you say, "Come sit down."<</if>> The servants look up at you in surprise, though at least you've gotten them to break their bow. You notice General $dname staring at you with a frown from the corner of your eyes, and you wonder if $dthey disapproves of your approach. "We could not possibly, Your Imperial Majesty," the servant holding the fruit sputters, the same one who was trembling before. "For us to share a table with you--it is not done!" <<if $charm gt $blunt>>"According to whom?" you reply politely. "Is it written into law?"<<else>>"Says who?" you question. "The law?"<</if>> "Well, no," the servant admits nervously. <<if $charm gt $blunt>>"If it makes you uncomfortable, then please feel free to leave," you clarify. "I just thought I'd like to get to know you better, that's all. Before I was chosen as the Crown, I was a farmer's <<if $pronouns is "hehim">>son<</if>><<if $pronouns is "sheher">>daughter<</if>><<if $pronouns isnot "hehim" and $pronouns isnot "sheher">>child<</if>>, you see, and all of this is still so unfamiliar to me." Your words may be truthful, but that doesn't mean they're not a convenient means to get these servants to relate to you; they're likely not from wealthy families, considering their rank, so you figure bonding over similarities in your background is your best bet.<<else>>"Look," you state, "I might be the Crown now, but before that, I was a commoner. My mother was a farmer, and I used to get my hands dirty helping her all the time. All of this- the bowing and the titles, I'm not used to it." Your words be truthful, but that doesn't mean they're not a convenient means to get these servants to relate to you; they're likely not from wealthy families, considering their rank, so you figure bonding over similarities in your background is your best bet.<</if>> "Truly?" The servant holding the tea, who had been quiet until then, gazes at you with a newfound understanding. "My uncle and his family are farmers too." You smile, this time in relief as the servant slowly approaches the table, setting down the tea. They glance at you with some hesitance, and when you nod, they give you a small smile back and sit down across from you, shifting the long hem of their white dress out the way as they do. "Ishrah!" the other servant hisses, almost flinching when you glance over at them. "Don't be so uptight, Siham," Ishrah responds cheerfully. "The Crown asked us, so I'm sure it's fine." "Your name is Ishrah, then?" you note. "Yes, Your Imperial Majesty." They bow their head. "I go by she." She looks quite young, perhaps younger than twenty now that you get a good look at her. Her complexion is smooth and light, dotted with freckles across her nose and cheeks while her dark eyes appear almost black in her youthful face, long locks of dark red curls neatly pinned back in a low ponytail. <<if $charm gt $blunt>>"It's a very pretty name," you comment, causing the young servant to blush a little. "My name is $name, but I understand you could not easily call me that."<<else>>"I'm $name," you reply, thinking it only fair to give your name in exchange for theirs. "Though I suppose you couldn't call me that."<</if>> "Crown $name, then?" Ishrah suggests thoughtfully. "Would that be a fitting compromise, Your Imperial Majesty?" <<if $charm gt $blunt>>"Yes!" you all but exclaim, relieved to be free from your official address with at least one servant. "Much better."<<else>>"<em>Anything</em> but 'Your Imperial Majesty' is an improvement," you state, relieved to be free from your official address with at least one servant.<</if>> "What's wrong with the formal address?" General $dname questions, bemused. "It is the proper form." You wave your hand as a response, causing $dthem to huff, before turning to the other servant named as Siham before. "What about you?" you say. "Would you not like to join, like your friend here?" Siham glances toward the door, then back at Ishrah, and after some hesitation and shuffling around they finally approach the table, setting down the tray of fruit and bread and taking a seat beside Ishrah who grins brightly at them. They appear slightly older than Ishrah, perhaps more approaching your age. Unlike their companion, their eyes are brighter in the blue of their irises, though their skin is browner and tanner than Ishrah's, and their dark hair is neatly shaved, as short as can be without being completely bald. "My name is Siham, Your Imperial Majesty," they speak, though they do not meet your gaze. "I go by they, or he." "Will you not call me Crown $name, then?" "No, Your Imperial Majesty," Siham answers quickly. "I would not want to be scolded by Your Imperial Majesty's head servant, Your Imperial Majesty." <<if $blunt gt $charm>>You stare at them. "Are you taking the piss?" Ishrah bursts into giggles, very poorly hiding her laughter behind her hands, and General $dname, who had just been taking a sip from $dtheir tea, almost chokes on it at hearing your language.<<else>>You stare at them. "Are you teasing me on purpose, Siham?"<</if>> Siham looks horrified<<if $charm gt $blunt>> at the implication<</if>>. "I- I would not dream of it, Your Imperial Majesty!" [[Continue|3.26a]]<<if $charm gt $blunt>>"There's no need to be so nervous," you say to the trembling servant, smiling reassuringly. "Thank you for bringing my tea, but in the future, please take your time. Waiting a little won't kill me!" All of this is so new to you. Being attended to like this by total strangers who look at you with a mixture of awe and intimidation is so bizarre, and rather uncomfortable. It feels unequal, because by its very nature it <em>is</em> unequal, and you're not used to that. You're not sure you even want to get used to it. You'd rather have friends. The two servants exchange looks while still lowered in their bows, presenting the trays of food and drink to you like an offering. They appear unsure of your words at best. Your smile falters a little, but then you clear your throat and try again to set them at ease. "Please, put the trays down! Would you perhaps like to sit with us?"<<else>>"Are you alright?" you ask the trembling servant. "Yes, Your Imperial Majesty, I'm fine!" You frown slightly, unconvinced. "Thanks for the tea, but next time, take it easy. I don't mind waiting." The two servants exchange looks while still lowered in their bow and presenting the trays of food and drink to you like an offering. They appear unsure of your words at best. Starting to grow uneasy with these two people frozen like statues in front of you in some sort of perpetual bow, you say, "Do you want to sit down, or are you going to keep bowing at me for an eternity?"<</if>> The servants look up at you in surprise, though at least you've gotten them to break their bow. You notice General $dname staring at you with a frown from the corner of your eyes, and you wonder if $dthey disapproves of your approach. "We could not possibly, Your Imperial Majesty," the servant holding the fruit sputters, the same one who was trembling before. "For us to share a table with you--it is not done!" <<if $charm gt $blunt>>"According to whom?" you reply politely. "Is it written into law?"<<else>>"Says who?" you question. "The law?"<</if>> "Well, no," the servant admits nervously. <<if $charm gt $blunt>>"If it makes you uncomfortable, then please feel free to leave," you clarify. "I just thought I'd like to get to know you better, that's all. Before I was chosen as the Crown, I was a farmer's <<if $pronouns is "hehim">>son<</if>><<if $pronouns is "sheher">>daughter<</if>><<if $pronouns isnot "hehim" and $pronouns isnot "sheher">>child<</if>>, you see, and all of this is still so unfamiliar to me."<<else>>"Look," you state, "I might be the Crown now, but before that, I was a normal person. My mother was a farmer, I used to get my hands dirty helping her all the time. All of this- bowing and the titles, I don't get it and I'm not used to it.<</if>> "Truly?" The servant holding the tea, who had been quiet until then, gazes at you with a newfound understanding. "My uncle is a farmer!" You smile, this time in relief as the servant slowly approaches the table, setting down the tea. They glance at you with some hesitance, and when you nod, they give you a small smile back and sit down across from you, shifting the long hem of their white dress out the way as they do. Having done your best to be ignored by others, being treated with such reverence is jarring to say the least. It makes you uneasy, to hold such power over people due to conditions you had no control over, that you didn't choose let alone ask for. Reverence is uncomfortably close to fear, and you don't want anyone to fear you. "Ishrah!" the other servant hisses, almost flinching when you glance over at them. "Don't be so uptight, Siham," Ishrah responds cheerfully. "The Crown asked us, so I'm sure it's fine!" "Your name is Ishrah, then?" you note. "Yes, Your Imperial Majesty!" They bow their head. "I go by she." She looks quite young, perhaps younger than twenty now that you get a good look at her. Her complexion is smooth and light, dotted with freckles across her nose and cheeks while her dark eyes appear almost black in her youthful face, long locks of dark red curls neatly pinned back in a low ponytail. <<if $charm gt $blunt>>"It's a very pretty name," you comment, causing the young servant to blush a little. "My name is $name- but I understand you could not easily call me that."<<else>>"I'm $name," you reply, thinking it only fair to give your name in exchange for theirs. "Though I guess you couldn't call me that."<</if>> "Crown $name, then?" Ishrah suggests thoughtfully. "Would that be a fitting compromise, Your Imperial Majesty?" <<if $charm gt $blunt>>"Yes!" you all but exclaim, relieved to be free from your official address with at least one servant. "Much better!"<<else>>"<em>Anything</em> but 'Your Imperial Majesty' is an improvement," you state, relieved to be free from your official address with at least one servant.<</if>> "What's wrong with the formal address?" General $dname questions, bemused. "It is the proper form." You wave your hand as a response, causing $dthem to huff, before turning to the other servant named as Siham before. "What about you?" you say. "Would you not like to join, like your friend here?" Siham glances toward the door, then back at Ishrah, and after some hesitation and shuffling around they finally approach the table, setting down the tray of fruit and bread and taking a seat beside Ishrah who grins brightly at them. They appear slightly older than Ishrah, perhaps more approaching your age. Unlike their companion, their eyes are brighter in the blue of their irises, though their skin is browner and tanner than Ishrah's, and their dark hair is neatly shaved, as short as can be without being completely bald. "My name is Siham, Your Imperial Majesty," they speak, though they do not meet your gaze. "I go by they, or he." "Will you not call me Crown $name, then?" "No, Your Imperial Majesty," Siham answers quickly. "I would not want to be scolded by Your Imperial Majesty's head servant, Your Imperial Majesty." <<if $blunt gt $charm>>You stare at them. "Are you taking the piss?" Ishrah bursts into giggles, very poorly hiding her laughter behind her hands, and General $dname, who had just been taking a sip from $dtheir tea, almost chokes on it at hearing your language.<<else>>You stare at them. "Are you teasing me on purpose, Siham?"<</if>> Siham looks horrified<<if $charm gt $blunt>> at the implication<</if>>. "I- I would not dream of it, Your Imperial Majesty!" [[Continue|3.26a]] It is at this point that Keko returns to the room, bushy eyebrows arching up in surprise at the sight of Siham and Ishrah sitting at the table. The two of them freeze for a moment at the sight of him, then simultaneously jump to their feet. “Master Keko, we didn’t mean to—” “We were just about to leave—” “Oh, do calm down,” Keko says with a laugh. “If the Crown $themselves permitted you to sit down, I am in no position to scold you.” Ishrah eases up with a relieved sigh, though Siham looks less convinced as they shift around uneasily on their feet. Keko turns to you. “Your bath is ready, Your Imperial Majesty.” He glances at the two servants present, a smile spreading on his lips. “Why don’t you two accompany the Crown?” “Us?” Siham says with surprise. Ishrah, on the other hand, smiles brightly. “Of course, we’d be honored to!” You suppose whether being escorted by Keko or by other servants doesn’t make much of a difference. At least they’ve all been pleasant and welcoming so far, though you suppose they wouldn’t have much choice in the matter. That’s still a strange thought to consider; others being <em>obligated</em> to pay you deference. “Do you mind?” you ask General $dname, who waves $dtheir hand dismissively. “Go on,” $dthey says, arms crossed and back straight as $dthey sits in perfect form on the pillow. “I will wait here.” “Right this way, Your Imperial Majesty,” Siham says as they and Ishrah take the lead out of the room. You follow along, getting an encouraging smile from Keko when you pass him and leave the room to enter into the long corridor you came from. [[Continue|3.27]]<<if $charm gt $blunt>>"You did well," you say to the trembling servant, smiling reassuringly. "Thank you for bringing my tea, I'm surprised you managed not to spill anything with how much you must have hurried." While you don't understand the reverence these people are showing you, that won't prevent you from taking advantage of it as best you can. You didn't survive this long from being squeamish of using others, and while you may have gained some protection from the assassins after your life, you're not naive enough to believe everything will go smoothly from this point on. You'll need every advantage that you can get, and befriending the palace's servants--who are everywhere and see everything while being ignored by those considered above them--seems like it would be invaluable to you. "It- it is my pleasure to serve you, Your Imperial Majesty," the servant stammers, sounding overwhelmed by your words as they keep their head bowed steadfast. "Can I convince you to join me at the table?" you suggest.<<else>>"Are you alright?" you ask the trembling servant. "Yes, Your Imperial Majesty, I'm fine!" You hum, keeping your expression unaffected and neutral even as you're entirely unconvinced of the servant's flailing excuses. "Thank you for the tea, you look like you really hurried trying to get it to me." While you don't understand the reverence these people are showing you, that won't prevent you from taking advantage of it as best you can. You didn't survive this long from being squeamish of using others, and while you may have gained some protection from the assassins after your life, you're not naive enough to believe everything will go smoothly from this point on. You'll need every advantage that you can get, and befriending the palace's servants--who are everywhere and see everything while being ignored by those considered above them--seems like it would be invaluable to you. "It- it is my pleasure to serve you, Your Imperial Majesty," the servant stammers, sounding overwhelmed by your words as they keep their head bowed steadfast. Deciding this is as good an opportunity to get them on your side, you say, "Come sit down."<</if>> The servants look up at you in surprise, though at least you've gotten them to break their bow. You notice $xname staring at you from the corner of your eyes, appearing amused for some reason, and you wonder if it is the mocking kind. You hope not. "We could not possibly, Your Imperial Majesty," the servant holding the fruit sputters, the same one who was trembling before. "For us to share a table with you, it is not done!" <<if $charm gt $blunt>>"According to whom?" you reply politely. "Is it written into law?"<<else>>"Says who?" you question. "The law?"<</if>> "Well, no," the servant admits nervously. <<if $charm gt $blunt>>"If it makes you uncomfortable, then please feel free to leave," you clarify. "I just thought I'd like to get to know you better, that's all. Before I was chosen as the Crown, I was a farmer's <<if $pronouns is "hehim">>son<</if>><<if $pronouns is "sheher">>daughter<</if>><<if $pronouns isnot "hehim" and $pronouns isnot "sheher">>child<</if>>, you see, and all of this is still so unfamiliar to me." Your words may not be a lie, but that doesn't mean they're a convenient means to get these servants to relate to you either; they're likely not from wealthy families, considering their rank, so you figure bonding over similarities in your background is your best bet.<<else>>"Look," you state, "I might be the Crown now, but before that, I was a normal person. My mother was a farmer, I used to get my hands dirty helping her all the time. All of this- bowing and the titles, I don't get it and I'm not used to it." Your words may not be a lie, but that doesn't mean they're a convenient means to get these servants to relate to you either; they're likely not from wealthy families, considering their rank, so you figure bonding over similarities in your background is your best bet.<</if>> "Truly?" The servant holding the tea, who had been quiet until then, gazes at you with a newfound understanding. "My uncle is a farmer!" You smile, this time in relief as the servant slowly approaches the table, setting down the tea. They glance at you with some hesitance, and when you nod, they give you a small smile back and sit down across from you, shifting the long hem of their white dress out the way as they do. "Ishrah!" the other servant hisses, almost flinching when you glance over at them. "Don't be so uptight, Siham," Ishrah responds cheerfully. "The Crown asked us, so I'm sure it's fine!" "Your name is Ishrah, then?" you note. "Yes, Your Imperial Majesty!" They bow their head. "I go by she." She looks quite young, perhaps younger than twenty now that you get a good look at her. Her complexion is smooth and light, dotted with freckles across her nose and cheeks while her dark eyes appear almost black in her youthful face, long locks of dark red curls neatly pinned back in a low ponytail. <<if $charm gt $blunt>>"It's a very pretty name," you comment, causing the young servant to blush a little. "My name is $name, but I understand you could not easily call me that."<<else>>"I'm $name," you reply, thinking it only fair to give your name in exchange for theirs. "Though I guess you couldn't call me that."<</if>> "Crown $name, then?" Ishrah suggests thoughtfully. "Would that be a fitting compromise, Your Imperial Majesty?" <<if $charm gt $blunt>>"Yes!" you all but exclaim, relieved to be free from your official address with at least one servant. "Much better!"<<else>>"<em>Anything</em> but 'Your Imperial Majesty' is an improvement," you state, relieved to be free from your official address with at least one servant.<</if>> "Agreed," $xname chimes in with a grin. "It's so dreadfully formal. And boring!" "I think it being formal is the point," you comment <<if $charm gt $blunt>>with some humor<<else>>dryly<</if>>, before turning to the other servant named as Siham before. "What about you?" you say. "Would you not like to join, like your friend here?" Siham glances toward the door, then back at Ishrah, and after some hesitation and shuffling around they finally approach the table, setting down the tray of fruit and bread and taking a seat beside Ishrah who grins brightly at them. They appear slightly older than Ishrah, perhaps more approaching your age. Unlike their companion, their eyes are brighter in the blue of their irises, though their skin is browner and tanner than Ishrah's, and their dark hair is neatly shaved, as short as can be without being completely bald. "My name is Siham, Your Imperial Majesty," they speak, though they do not meet your gaze. "I go by they, or he." "Will you not call me Crown $name, then?" "No, Your Imperial Majesty," Siham answers quickly. "I would not want to be scolded by Your Imperial Majesty's head servant, Your Imperial Majesty." <<if $blunt gt $charm>>You stare at them. "Are you taking the piss?" Ishrah bursts into giggles, very poorly hiding her laughter behind her hands while you hear $xname snort loudly at your choice of words.<<else>>You stare at them quizzically. "Are you teasing me on purpose, Siham?" "Just look at them," $xname says with amusement. "Does it seem like they're capable of teasing?"<</if>> Siham<<if $charm gt $blunt>>, as $xname pointed out,<</if>> appears horrified<<if $charm gt $blunt>> at the implication<</if>>. "I- I would not dream of it, Your Imperial Majesty!" [[Continue|3.26b]]<<if $charm gt $blunt>>"There's no need to be so nervous," you say to the trembling servant, smiling reassuringly. "Thank you for bringing my tea, but in the future, please take your time. Waiting a little won't kill me!" The two servants exchange looks while still lowered in their bow and presenting the trays of food and drink to you like an offering. They appear unsure of your words at best. Your smile falters a little, but then you clear your throat and try again to set them at ease. "Please, put the trays down! Would you perhaps like to sit with us?"<<else>>"Are you alright?" you ask the trembling servant. "Yes, Your Imperial Majesty, I'm fine!" You frown slightly, unconvinced. "Thanks for the tea, but next time, take it easy. I don't mind waiting." The two servants exchange looks while still lowered in their bow and presenting the trays of food and drink to you like an offering. They appear unsure of your words at best. Starting to grow uneasy with these two people frozen like statues in front of you in some sort of perpetual bow, you say, "Do you want to sit down or are you going to keep bowing at me for an eternity?"<</if>> The servants look up at you in surprise, though at least you've gotten them to break their bow. You notice $xname staring at you from the corner of your eyes, appearing amused for some reason, and you wonder if it is the mocking kind. You hope not. "We could not possibly, Your Imperial Majesty," the servant holding the fruit sputters, the same one who was trembling before. "For us to share a table with you--it is not done!" <<if $charm gt $blunt>>"According to whom?" you reply politely. "Is it written into law?"<<else>>"Says who?" you question. "The law?"<</if>> "Well, no," the servant admits nervously. <<if $charm gt $blunt>>"If it makes you uncomfortable, then please feel free to leave," you clarify. "I just thought I'd like to get to know you better, that's all. Before I was chosen as the Crown, I was a farmer's <<if $pronouns is "hehim">>son<</if>><<if $pronouns is "sheher">>daughter<</if>><<if $pronouns isnot "hehim" and $pronouns isnot "sheher">>child<</if>>, you see, and all of this is still so unfamiliar to me."<<else>>"Look," you state, "I might be the Crown now, but before that, I was a normal person. My mother was a farmer, I used to get my hands dirty helping her all the time. All of this- bowing and the titles, I don't get it and I'm not used to it.<</if>> "Truly?" The servant holding the tea, who had been quiet until then, gazes at you with a newfound understanding. "My uncle is a farmer!" You smile, this time in relief as the servant slowly approaches the table, setting down the tea. They glance at you with some hesitance, and when you nod, they give you a small smile back and sit down across from you, shifting the long hem of their white dress out the way as they do. "Ishrah!" the other servant hisses, almost flinching when you glance over at them. "Don't be so uptight, Siham," Ishrah responds cheerfully. "The Crown asked us, so I'm sure it's fine!" "Your name is Ishrah, then?" you note. "Yes, Your Imperial Majesty!" They bow their head. "I go by she." She looks quite young, perhaps younger than twenty now that you get a good look at her. Her complexion is smooth and light, dotted with freckles across her nose and cheeks while her dark eyes appear almost black in her youthful face, long locks of dark red curls neatly pinned back in a low ponytail. <<if $charm gt $blunt>>"It's a very pretty name," you comment, causing the young servant to blush a little. "My name is $name- but I understand you could not easily call me that."<<else>>"I'm $name," you reply, thinking it only fair to give your name in exchange for theirs. "Though I guess you couldn't call me that."<</if>> "Crown $name, then?" Ishrah suggests thoughtfully. "Would that be a fitting compromise, Your Imperial Majesty?" <<if $charm gt $blunt>>"Yes!" you all but exclaim, relieved to be free from your official address with at least one servant. "Much better!"<<else>>"<em>Anything</em> but 'Your Imperial Majesty' is an improvement," you state, relieved to be free from your official address with at least one servant.<</if>> "Agreed," $xname chimes in with a grin. "It's so dreadfully formal. And boring!" "I think it being formal is the point," you comment <<if $charm gt $blunt>>with some humor<<else>>dryly<</if>>, before turning to the other servant named as Siham before. "What about you?" you say. "Would you not like to join, like your friend here?" Siham glances toward the door, then back at Ishrah, and after some hesitation and shuffling around they finally approach the table, setting down the tray of fruit and bread and taking a seat beside Ishrah who grins brightly at them. They appear slightly older than Ishrah, perhaps more approaching your age. Unlike their companion, their eyes are brighter in the blue of their irises, though their skin is browner and tanner than Ishrah's, and their dark hair is neatly shaved, as short as can be without being completely bald. "My name is Siham, Your Imperial Majesty," they speak, though they do not meet your gaze. "I go by they, or he." "Will you not call me Crown $name, then?" "No, Your Imperial Majesty," Siham answers quickly. "I would not want to be scolded by Your Imperial Majesty's head servant, Your Imperial Majesty." <<if $blunt gt $charm>>You stare at them. "Are you taking the piss?" Ishrah bursts into giggles, very poorly hiding her laughter behind her hands while you hear $xname snort loudly at your choice of words.<<else>>You stare at them quizzically. "Are you teasing me on purpose, Siham?" "Just look at them," $xname comments with amusement. "Does it seem like they're capable of teasing?"<</if>> Siham<<if $charm gt $blunt>>, as $xname pointed out,<</if>> appears horrified<<if $charm gt $blunt>> at the implication<</if>>. "I- I would not dream of it, Your Imperial Majesty!" [[Continue|3.26b]] It is at this point that Keko returns to the room, bushy eyebrows arching up at the sight of Siham and Ishrah sitting at the table. The two of them freeze for a moment at the sight of him, then simultaneously jump to their feet. “Master Keko, we didn’t mean to—” “We were just about to leave—” “Oh, do calm down,” Keko says with a laugh. “If the Crown $themselves permitted you to sit down, I am in no position to scold you.” Ishrah eases up with a relieved sigh, though Siham looks less convinced as they shift around uneasily on their feet. Keko turns to you. “Your bath is ready, Your Imperial Majesty.” He glances at the two servants present, a smile spreading on his lips. “Why don’t you two accompany the Crown?” “Us?” Siham says with near disbelief. Ishrah, on the other hand, smiles brightly. “Of course, we’d be honored to!” You suppose whether being escorted by Keko or by other servants doesn’t make much of a difference. At least they’ve all been pleasant and welcoming so far, though you suppose they wouldn’t have much choice in the matter. That’s still a strange thought to consider; others being <em>obligated</em> to pay you deference. “Do you mind?” you ask $xname, who arches $xtheir brows. “No, but I don't suppose I can convince you to let me tag along?” $xthey remarks casually, <<if $res gt $flirt>>then starts to laugh when $xthey notices the way you avert your eyes<<else>>though $xtheir smile gains a bit of an edge when you level $xthem with a challenging look<</if>>. "Manners, $xname," Keko says wearily, and to your surprise $xname actually sits up a little bit straighter, the grin fading from $xtheir face. "Sorry, Master Keko." “Right this way, Your Imperial Majesty,” Siham says, pulling your attention away from the curious scene as they and Ishrah take the lead out of the room. You follow along, getting an encouraging smile from Keko when you pass him and leave the room to enter into the long corridor you came from. [[Continue|3.27]] In terms of facial hair, you... [[...have none.|1.11][$facialhair to 'none']] [[...are clean shaven.|1.11][$facialhair to 'shaven']] [[...have a stubble.|1.11][$facialhair to 'stubble']] [[...have a beard.|1.11][$facialhair to 'beard']] [[...have a goatee.|1.11][$facialhair to 'goatee']] [[...have a moustache.|1.11][$facialhair to 'moustache']] [[...have sideburns.|1.11][$facialhair to 'sideburns']] Over the years, you have also accumulated a few scars on your body, though most are small and unremarkable. As for your face, you have... [[...a scar through your eyebrow.|1.12][$scar to 'eyebrow']] [[...a scar on your cheek.|1.12][$scar to 'cheek']] [[...a scar across your nose.|1.12][$scar to 'nose']] [[...a scar on your chin.|1.12][$scar to 'chin']] [[...a scar on your temple.|1.12][$scar to 'temple']] [[...managed to avoid gaining any scars there.|1.12][$scar to 'none']] Instead of going back the way you came, however, Siham and Ishrah lead you further down the seemingly endless hallway, their long white robes fluttering behind them, barely grazing the ground as they walk ahead of you. Their garments are pristine compared to your tattered and muddied cloak, not to mention the coarse linen you wear underneath stained with dirt and sweat. <<if $blunt gt $charm>>“Do you have spare clothes that I could wear?”<<else>>“If it’s not too much to ask, could I have a change of clothes after my bath?”<</if>> you say, and both Siham and Ishrah look over their shoulder at you in surprise. They exchange glances with each other, and Ishrah giggles. Even Siham looks amused before he turns his head back around to look in front of him again while Ishrah's gaze lingers on you. “Naturally,” Ishrah answers, her eyes casting a thoughtful look over your current attire. “We can fetch you any manner of clothing you desire, Crown $name, though we will have to tailor them to your measurements later.” <<if $height is 'short' or $height is 'very short'>>Unsurprising, considering how short you are.<</if>><<if $height is 'tall' or $height is 'very tall'>>Unsurprising, considering how tall you are.<</if>><<if $height is 'average'>>You suppose that’s only reasonable, though with how average you are of stature most clothes should fit you relatively well.<</if>> “Do you have any preferences, Your Imperial Majesty?” Siham asks. “We have many types of robes and dresses. Or trousers and tunics.” That is a question that requires some thought on your part. Up until now you made do with whatever clothes you could find, focused on practicality rather than aesthetics, but now you have a choice on what to wear, how to present yourself to others. <ul class="a"> <li>[[You ask for long robes, typically seen as more masculine clothing.|3.28][$clothing to 'robes']]</li> <li>[[You ask for a long dress with a sash, typically seen as more feminine clothing.|3.28][$clothing to 'dress']]</li> <li>[[You ask for a pair of shalwar—wide pants cuffed at the ankles—and a tunic to wear on top. These are not particularly feminine or masculine.|3.28][$clothing to 'shalwar']]</li> </ul>“As you wish,” Siham replies in acknowledgment, at which point he and Ishrah come to a stop in front of two wide, stone doors. You notice the figures of snakes carved across them, as if to bar others from entry as they block the doors from swinging open. “Please stand back, Crown $name,” Ishrah requests as both she and Siham stand off to the right side of the door, and though confused, you do as she asks and take a step back from the doors. You notice a small panel on the right side, inscribed with an old sigil that you don’t recognize, looping like two coiling snakes. Ishrah fishes for something in the pocket of her robe, pulling out a long rope with several small, stone tablets hanging off it. All of them are inscribed with sigils as well. She takes the one that matches the snake sigil on the wall, and presses her stone tablet to it. The moment she does, a bright yellow light flashes from between the tablet and the panel before the stone snakes come to life, their eyes glowing the same yellow. They slither back to unbar the doors before they then both swing open on their own. Instead of a chamber, as you expected, you find yourself in front of a set of stairs leading below the ground. The walls on either side of you are decorated with paintings of golden snakes slithering downwards, against the backdrop of what you assume to be the Armas Mountains. “The baths are in the cellar?” you question as Siham heads down the stone steps, prompting you to follow them with Ishrah right behind you. The moment you step through the threshold, the stone doors close up behind you again. “Underground it is easier to retain heat in winter and remain cool in the summer,” Siham answers. You suppose that make sense as you glance over your shoulder at Ishrah, noticing her slipping the string with tablets back into the pocket of her robe. <<if $adven gt $caut>>“The tablet you used, was that a magic key?”<<else>>"What was that tablet you used on the door?"<</if>> you question, fascinated. You’ve never seen such sigils used before, though you have heard of them; they are very expensive to buy if one does not know how to create their own, which would require an even more expensive education in magic. <<if $adven gt $caut>>“Yes, it was!” Ishrah says brightly as Siham leads the way into the chamber below. "It's much safer than a regular old lock and key. The most important rooms in the palace are guarded this way. Ah, we're almost at the baths!"<<else>>"It functions as a key, Your Imperial Majesty," Siham answers promptly as he leads the way down the stairs. You notice he is much less nervous interacting with you when answering your questions. “Especially one meant to guard the royal bathing chambers. The baths are right ahead.”<</if>> The chamber you step into at the bottom of the stairs appears to be an undressing room of sorts with a large, vaulted ceiling. There are open closets with many towels and what you assume are bathing robes stacked onto the shelves, the tiles on the floor depicting many flowers, while the walls are painted to resemble what appear to be the hills of Marabad. A touch of lavender blends in with a fresh, herbal scent that permeates the chamber, though you can’t seem to spot the source of it. Your gaze drifts over several elegant couches and stone benches covered with soft mats in the surprisingly large room. [[Continue|3.29]] You, frankly, don’t know what you’re supposed to be doing here. Your parents took you to a few public bathhouses before, but this looks much more involved; you expected the first and only room to be a giant bath. Not an entire complex below ground. “Your Imperial Majesty?” Siham questions when he notices you standing still and looking around uncertainly. “Do you require assistance?” <<if $charm gt $blunt>>“No, that’s alright,” you reply quickly, flashing them a smile. “I can undress myself. This is just not what I expected, that’s all.”<<else>>“No,” you answer. “I can undress myself. This is just not what I expected.”<</if>> “Allow me to take your clothes, at least,” Siham says, and you relent as you take your tattered cloak off first and hand it over, and then remember the pearl dagger $xname handed to you. You pull it out of the inner pocket of your clothes, giving it to Ishrah. "Take good care of this," you say to her, and though she looks curiously at the decorated pearl sheath, she bows her head, handling the dagger with care as she sets it aside. Meanwhile, you begin to strip out of the rest of your clothes. Siham is very polite about it, not even glancing at the ratty garments that you just handed them, but Ishrah takes one look and her eyes widen in shock. “Were you out in the forest, Crown $name?” she inquires curiously as you hand the last of your attire to Siham, who promptly hands the stack to Ishrah. “I suppose I should burn these, shall I? They’re beyond saving, I’m afraid.” Siham frowns at her. “Ishrah!” “What?” <<if $charm gt $blunt>>You laugh a little. “Be my guest, I certainly won’t miss them.”<<else>>“Go ahead,” you reply. It’s not as if you were planning on keeping them.<</if>> “As you wish!” Ishrah says cheekily as she drops the dirtied garments into a small basket sitting on the ground, while Siham sighs and moves toward a small closet near the corner, opening its door to reveal rows of what appear to be bottles of oil and colorful cloths shaped like gloves; all things used to clean with, which you haven’t laid eyes upon in months. You glance down at your bare body, wincing slightly when you realize for the first time exactly how filthy you are. Especially compared to the pristine condition of the chamber you’re standing in, the contrast couldn’t be more painful. [[Continue|3.30]] Thankfully, your newly appointed servants don’t let you flounder in self-pity for much longer. Although, considering you haven’t needed any help washing yourself since you were a young child, it is a rather odd experience. They lead you into the chamber on your right, filled up with steam that makes it somewhat difficult to breathe properly. Apparently you’re supposed to relax in the sweltering heat, but after laying down on the stone bench for a while you find it a suffocating experience more than anything else. Even splashing your face with the cold water in the basin does not help. <<if $hairstyle is 'shaved'>>Ishrah gives you a scalp massage as well; being that your hair is shaved down, it doesn’t need much tending. She does do you the favor caring for the dry skin with some oil, though.<</if>><<if $hairstyle is 'shaved'>><<else>> <<if $hairstyle isnot "close braided">>After trimming its dead ends,<<else>> Siham undoes your braids to give your hair a quick wash and then moisturizes it for you, spraying it with rosewater and rubbing your tresses in carefully with warm, scented oils, before redoing your braids for you with deft hands. It takes a little over an hour, and it ends up far neater than you can manage on your own.<</if>><<if $hairtexture is 'coily' or $hairtexture is 'curly'>> Siham <<if $hairstyle isnot "in short locs" and $hairstyle isnot "in long locs">>wets your hair, massaging your scalp , then rubs it in with some aloe vera, followed by a mixture of warm oil.<<else>>wets your locs, massaging your scalp, then sprays it with some rose water and rubs it in with warm oil. It's mainly castor, almond and a few drops of lavender for scent as Siham tells you, noting your locs need moisturizing more than a wash. Considering how brittle and dry they have become, Siham is very much correct in that assessment; you let the oil sit in your hair for quite a while before Siham washes it out again.<</if>><<else>> Siham wets the $hairtexture locks of your hair, rubbing them in with brown clay, which sounds somewhat contradictory to you. You trust them when they say it’ll help, though, and once they wash it out again while massaging your scalp, to your amazement your hair does feel much cleaner.<</if>><</if>> Next, the soles of your feet and your palms are scraped clean with pumice stones, your nails cleaned and clipped, and your body scrubbed clean with the rough, glove-shaped cloths you noticed earlier. <<if $facialhair is 'none'>><<else>>Siham even trims your facial hair for you<<if $facialhair is 'shaven'>>, making sure you’re completely clean shaven again as you’d been neglecting to do so properly on the road.<</if>>. Using a rusted blade on your own hadn’t been very effective, admittedly.<</if>> Once you’re done having your skin scrubbed raw, Ishrah gives you an extensive back massage, making displeased noises whenever she finds another knot of tension to work out. At least the oil she uses on your back is quite pleasant; it, too, smells faintly of lavender. By the time you move into the next room, where the actual baths are, you feel like a snake that has just shed its old skin. You go for a soak in the cold bath—or <em>pool</em>, more like, considering the size of it could easily fit a dozen people—managing not to gasp at the sudden change in temperature. Bathing in ice cold rivers the past few months have prepared you for this, at least. [[Continue|3.31]]“Was it to your liking, Your Imperial Majesty?” Siham asks once you’ve returned to the dressing room, reclining on one of the couches while wearing a bathing robe Ishrah offered you after you dried off. <<if $charm gt $blunt>>“I can’t say I was partial to the heat,” you reply, though you realize it was your first experience, and your skin does feel much smoother now; perhaps you simply need to get used to it. "It is nice to be clean again, though."<<else>>“I didn’t like the steam,” you state, “though it was very effective.” Your skin can certainly attest to that, as it feels much smoother than it did before.<</if>> Being attended to by two servants the entire time was something else entirely, however. You’re starting to understand where the accusation of sloth and indolence toward the wealthy must originate from; after being attended to like that, who wouldn’t become spoiled? <<if $caut gt $adven>>It is something you resolve to watch out for as best you can. Complacency is an incredibly dangerous foe, one you cannot succumb to if you want to live. <<if $calc gt $kind>>The pretense of complacency, though, could be a useful tool if you want your enemies to underestimate you. It is something to consider.<<else>>With so many people relying on you now—an entire empire filled with them—it is no longer simply your own survival on the line, but that of a dynasty, a nation.<</if>><<else>>You are not worried about the temptation, however. Unlike the nobles who were pampered from the day they were born, you’ve known true hardships, ones that will always burden your shoulders. <<if $calc gt $kind>>You like to think it has made you sharper, warier, and that could give you an edge; if nothing else, you’ve always been a survivor. You’ve had to be.<<else>>It is strange to compare yourself to others now, those who weren’t <em>chosen</em> like you were. The thought is an uncomfortable one, but all the more reason for you to consider it.<</if>><</if>> “I’m back!” Ishrah hurries down the stairs, having gone to fetch you your new clothes while you were drying off from your bath. She lays out <<if $clothing is 'robes'>>new robes for you<</if>><<if $clothing is 'dress'>>a new dress for you<</if>><<if $clothing is 'shalwar'>>a new tunic and shalwar for you<</if>> to wear. <<if $clothing is 'robes'>>It is meant to be worn in layers, one robe underneath with another meant to be draped over the shoulder; Ishrah even adds a cape to be worn with it, with lavish golden clasps complimenting the elegant handsewn patterns in the fabric.<</if>><<if $clothing is 'dress'>>It is a decorated dress with handcrafted stitching in the sleeves and in its hem, an elegant pattern sewn into the sash. There is also a coat to be worn over the dress, not entirely unlike the style you’ve seen $rname wear.<</if>><<if $clothing is 'shalwar'>>The tunic is lavishly decorated with handsewn patterns, and the matching shalwar look very soft and comfortable while enhancing the luxurious detailing of the tunic. There is also a coat to be worn on top of it, long enough to reach the ankles.<</if>> Even the soft fabric of the shoes looks like it costs more than anything you’ve ever owned. Ishrah has also carried additional accessories with her on a large tray. A couple of bracelets for the wrists and upper arms, as well as earrings and necklaces. You even notice a few headpieces, hats and cloth and jewelry both, and the amount of choices present is nearly dizzying. At the very least, you don’t have to fuss about what to wear, although you notice even the undergarments look unjustifiably expensive. Body cleaned—and smelling much better, with the various balms and perfumes Siham offered you—you quickly slip on your attire, declining the aid of your two servants. You’re not yet at the point where you’re comfortable being dressed by someone other than yourself. The garments on you feel foreign. <<if $caut gt $adven>>On the run, you dressed as light as you could; the weight of the fabric on you now feels more like an impediment than a benefit. “Do you not approve, Your Imperial Majesty?” Siham asks as you refrain from picking many accessories to go along with your outfit. <<if $charm gt $blunt>>“It’s not that,” you explain. “Far from it, everything looks magnificent. The trouble is that it’s a rather big change from what I’m used to wearing.”<<else>>“This is a lot more flashy than I’m used to,” you reply. “I’ll wear the clothes, but the accessories are too much.”<</if>> “I understand,” Siham says, exchanging a meaningful look with Ishrah, who nods. “We will be sure to keep that in mind in the future, Your Imperial Majesty.”<<else>>You admittedly enjoy the flamboyance of it, especially after years of being dressed in the most drab attire imaginable in order to hide. It feels freeing, to be able to show off like this for the first time in your life. “I’m glad to see you approve, Crown $name,” Ishrah says with a bright smile as you pick out several accessories to go with your outfit. <<if $charm gt $blunt>>“Who wouldn’t?” you reply as you thoughtfully hold up a necklace, draping it experimentally along your neck as you look at yourself in the mirror. “If I’m going to be the Crown, I may as well dress the part.” Seeing you succeed would infuriate your enemies as well, and if you are going to flaunt your victory you ought to at least do it with taste.<<else>>“I’m done dressing in rags,” you state, decisively picking a couple of bracelets to wear around your wrist, putting them on as if you were dressing in armor in preparation for battle. Your enemies killed your family, tried to kill <em>you</em>, but they failed; you’re going to emerge from this ordeal victorious, and dressed the part at that.<</if>><</if>> [[Continue|3.32]] With Siham and Ishrah in tow, you head back up the stairs and out of the bathing chambers after you've finished dressing up. Once you emerge from the underground, you notice the sun has been fully concealed behind the large clouds you saw heading toward the city back when you were still traveling through the forest. There's little wind, indicating it is likely not a storm, but it eyes a little ominous all the same. Being that you only had to walk down the corridor before, finding your way back to the sitting area is easy enough. You notice both Siham and Ishrah are walking behind you, now, a subtle act of deference<<if $caut gt $adven>> that makes you rather uneasy. You’re not used to having people following you around, and not too long ago having anyone at your back meant danger<</if>>. Returning to the room you were earlier, you notice a guard by the door who wasn’t there before. They stand there with a spear in hand like a statue, not even glancing at you as you pass by them and enter the room. Inside, you find a few more seats have been filled in your absence; the hushed conversation among the people present comes to a sudden halt once you appear. “Ah, Your Imperial Majesty!” $rname is the first to greet you with a smile, sitting on a large pillow by the table beside $xname and across from General $dname and $aname. “Your new garments suit you. Have you had the opportunity to rest in the baths? I hope they were to your liking. I had been discussing dinner preparations with Master Keko before, so if you have any preferences—” “Could you give $them a moment to breathe, first?” $aname comments humorously before you can begin to answer $rname. $rname’s lips part slightly in surprise, before $rthey averts $rtheir gaze with an abashed expression. “I may have let my excitement get the better of me.” “I did not realize you were in charge of managing household chores as well,” you <<if $charm gt $blunt>>tease<<else>>say<</if>> as you take a seat at the head of the table, the only place left for you to sit. “I am not, usually,” $rname admits. “But today is a special occasion.” “You should’ve seen the $rtitle Sorcerer here fuss about the color of your drapes earlier,” $xname says to you, before flashing a playful grin at $rname. $rname frowns back at $xname, but before $rthey can protest someone else takes up the cause of defending $rthem instead. “$rtitle $rname only wishes to make the Crown’s stay as comfortable as possible,” General $dname speaks to $xname with a displeased curl of $dtheir lips, arms crossed over $dtheir chest. “Such considerations are above your notice, I’m sure.” $xname barks a laugh. “My apologies, general, I forgot who was sitting across from me! Truly, even the most loyal dog would be envious of your blind devotion.” “Can you two go a single conversation without bickering like children?” $aname interrupts in a bored tone as the two of them are locked in what appears to be a staring competition, although $xname appears more amused compared to General $dname’s open glare. While the both of them seem to bicker a lot, like $aname said, you don’t get the sense that it’s as serious as they pretend it to be. General $dname’s expression is fixed into a glare half the time regardless, and if anything you suspect $xname enjoys prodding $dthem. It is, however, derailing the conversation, and you still have a few things to ask. You clear your throat, all the eyes in the room refocusing on you again, and isn’t that a strange experience? Without even saying a word, all attention has shifted to you, <<if $charm gt $blunt>>but even as charming as you are you have no experience in commanding a room like this<<else>>which may not be for the better considering you rarely mince your words<</if>>. Feeling out of your depth here, you glance over your shoulder at Ishrah and Siham who have stayed by your side, standing on either side of the door like the guard in the hallway. Likely they’re lingering to attend to you, which only serves to unsettle you more. All of this feels so incredibly unnatural. Like a play, almost. As if you’re surrounded by actors, pretending that you’re someone far more important than you feel you are. You know you are the Crown, you know you’ve been chosen, but everything is still so new that you can’t seem to reconcile it with your old life. With being a runaway, a nobody, a wanderer without even a home to call $their own. "Was there something you wanted to say, $rnickname?" $rname gently prompts you when you remain silent, having been too busy stewing in your own doubts to notice everyone is waiting for you to speak. <ul class="a"> <li>[[You take a deep breath, then calmly and decisively lead the conversation.|3.33a][$ass to $ass + 25]]<<if $cheatsheet is true>> <em>+ Assertive</em><</if>></li> <li>[[You let the others lead the conversation and listen attentively.|3.33b][$pass to $pass + 25]]<<if $cheatsheet is true>> <em>+ Passive</em><</if>></li> </ul> You shake off your doubts, knowing that lingering on them won’t do you any good. Whether it feels real or not, whether you think you deserve to be here or not, you have a duty to do the best you can. <<if $charm gt $blunt>>“I am rested well enough; the massage certainly helped with that,” you say in a nonchalant tone to $rname, returning to the initial question you were asked before $xname and General $dname started throwing jabs at each other. “Back at Kartan’s Outpost, you mentioned you’d brief me, I believe?”<<else>>“You mentioned back at Kartan’s Outpost that you would brief me on the current state of the Empire,” you say to $rname, shifting the topic of the conversation away before $xname and General $dname continue to throw jabs at each other.<</if>> $rname appears hesitant for a moment, frowning slightly as $rthey replies. “I did, though I expected to wait until the morning. Are you certain you would not rather retire to your chambers for the day?” <<if $charm gt $blunt>>“There’s no point in delaying the inevitable,”<<else>>“Yes, I’m certain,”<</if>> you say<<if $pass gt $ass>>, even as you can feel the sweat gathering on your palms, hands getting clammy<<else>>, managing to keep a grip on your composure.<</if>> <<if $blunt gt $charm>>“I would rather know sooner than later.”<<else>>“It would be better if I knew sooner rather than later.”<</if>> “I understand.” $rname retreats into silent contemplation, gaze lowering to the table while you as well as the others in the room wait for $rthem to speak. The other three do not stare at $rthem as you do, tense with nerves as you are to hear about the magnitude of the mess you’ll have to try and fix as the Crown. $aname’s gaze is aimed out the window, an absent look in $atheir eyes that appear darker without the bright glow of sunlight to warm them, as if $atheir thoughts are far away. Meanwhile $xname is leaning back on $xtheir hands, attention drifting aimlessly through the room, almost a little restless as $xthey shifts to lean forward onto the table again. General $dname, in that respect, is sitting perfectly still on $dtheir pillow and waiting patiently, only $dtheir hand moving to bring $dtheir tea to the edge of $dtheir lips, sipping it almost serenely. For someone who speaks and gestures so <em>loudly</em>, $dthey’s very calm during the quieter moments. “The province of Şevan has the highest priority,” $rname finally speaks. “The Mîr passed away several years ago, and seeing as how only the Crown can appoint a Mîr, there hasn’t been a replacement since. The Council of Stewards in Şevan has been ruling the province as best they can in the meantime. There has been much infighting, and the situation has grown dire.”<<if $shamkurstory is true>> You remember Şevan from the story $aname and $xname told you about one of its cities, Shamkur. Its steward passed away years ago and it ended up being overrun by ghouls, as the nobility were apparently too busy squabbling amongst themselves about who should lead to properly address the problem. If that is in any way an example for the sort of chaos you can expect from the rest of the province, then things aren't looking very good.<</if>> “So you need me to appoint a new Mîr,” you conclude. “How do I do that?” “The first order of business is your coronation.” $rname rattles off the answer like a paragraph from a book $rthey has memorized word for word: “It must be sanctified by the High Priest, during which you will receive the Blessing of the Spirits. Only then will you have the authority to appoint a new Mîr.” You nod; the concept is not unfamiliar, as your father explained such rites to you in detail when you were younger. He performed a similar one for the steward of the village you used to live in, long ago. “My coronation would take place in the capital, then? Zeratun?” “About that,” $aname cuts in, focused on the conversation again at the mention of Zeratun. “Pardon my interruption, but I believe holding the coronation here in Marabad is much safer.” You glance at $rname, who seems unsurprised by the suggestion. “Spitting in the face of tradition, are we?” $xname chimes in, amused. “The High Priest won’t like that.” “There is a reason the High Priest isn’t in charge of protection.” “I agree with $aname,” General $dname says, though $dthey speaks directly to you instead of to the others. “The bulk of the Imperial Army remains in Zerat, but I can send for additional forces to secure Marabad.” <<if $charm gt $blunt>>“That’s all well and good,” you reply, “but why shouldn’t the coronation be held in Zeratun, exactly?”<<else>>“Why shouldn’t the coronation be held in Zeratun in the first place?” you ask, though you suspect you already know the answer.<</if>> $aname meets your eyes with a pointed look. “The Followers of Vidarna.” [[Continue|3.34a]] You still admittedly know little of the situation, though you've caught glimpses here and there of how dire things really are. It would be better to take in as much knowledge as possible and then form a judgment. <<if $charm gt $blunt>>“I am rested well enough; the massage certainly helped with that,” you say in a nonchalant tone to $rname, responding to their earlier question before $xname and General $dname interrupted. "But no, I have nothing in particular to say. I'd much rather hear your opinions on what to do next, actually."<<else>>“I would like to hear what all of you think we should do next,” you say to $rname, shifting the topic of the conversation away before $xname and General $dname continue to throw jabs at each other.<</if>> "Are you certain about that?" $aname drawls, shooting a glance at $xname and General $dname. "With these two in the room, chances are they'll just start arguing again." $xname lifts $xtheir palm over $xtheir chest in a solemn oath. "I promise to be on my best behavior." "Let's just take turns," General $dname grouses. "I trust $xname as far as I could throw $xthem." "I imagine you could throw me quite a distance," $xname interjects smoothly, unaffected by the glare General $dname gives $xthem. "What? Have you <em>seen</em> your muscles?" “I'll go first,” $rname cuts them both off before $rthey retreats into silent contemplation, gaze lowering to the table while you as well as the others in the room wait for $rthem to speak. The other three do not stare at $rthem as you do, tense with nerves as you are to hear about the magnitude of the mess you’ll have to try and fix as the Crown. $aname’s gaze is aimed out the window, an absent look in $atheir eyes that appear darker without the bright glow of sunlight to warm them, as if $atheir thoughts are far away. Meanwhile $xname is leaning back on $xtheir hands, attention drifting aimlessly through the room, almost a little restless as $xthey shifts to lean forward onto the table again. General $dname, in that respect, is sitting perfectly still on $dtheir pillow and waiting patiently, only $dtheir hand moving to bring $dtheir tea to the edge of $dtheir lips, sipping it almost serenely. For someone who speaks and gestures so <em>loudly</em>, $dthey’s very calm during the quieter moments. “The province of Şevan has the highest priority,” $rname finally speaks. “The Mîr passed away several years ago, and seeing as how only the Crown can appoint a Mîr, there hasn’t been a replacement since. The Council of Stewards in Şevan has been ruling the province as best they can in the meantime. There has been much infighting, and the situation has grown dire.” <<if $shamkurstory is true>> You remember Şevan from the story $aname and $xname told you about one of its cities, Shamkur. Its steward passed away years ago and it ended up being overrun by ghouls, as the nobility were apparently too busy squabbling amongst themselves about who should lead to properly address the problem. If that is in any way an example for the sort of chaos you can expect from the rest of the province, then things aren't looking very good.<</if>> “Dire is an understatement," $xname mumbles,<<if $shamkurstory is true>> reflecting your own thoughts on the matter,<</if>> though $rname ignores $xthem and continues. “The first order of business is your coronation.” $rname rattles off the answer like a paragraph from a book $rthey has memorized word for word: “It must be sanctified by the High Priest, during which you will receive the Blessing of the Spirits. Only then will you have the authority to appoint a new Mîr.” You nod; the concept is not unfamiliar, as your father explained such rites to you in detail when you were younger. He performed a similar one for the steward of the village you used to live in, long ago. “My coronation would take place in the capital, then? Zeratun?” “About that,” $aname cuts in, focused on the conversation again at the mention of Zeratun. “Pardon my interruption, but I believe holding the coronation here in Marabad is much safer.” You glance at $rname, who seems unsurprised by the suggestion. “Spitting in the face of tradition, are we?” $xname chimes in, amused. “The High Priest won’t like that.” “There is a reason the High Priest isn’t in charge of protection.” “I agree with $aname,” General $dname says, though $dthey speaks directly to you instead of to the others. “The bulk of the Imperial Army remains in Zerat, but I can send for additional forces to secure Marabad.” When $aname notices the mild confusion on your face at why the coronation can't be held in the capital, $athey meets your eyes with a pointed look. “It's because of the Followers of Vidarna.” [[Continue|3.34b]]“They have a strong foothold in the province of Zerat,” $rname elaborates for you without having to be asked. “Unfortunately, the capital may be the most dangerous place in the entirety of the Empire, particularly for a Crown who hasn’t ascended the throne yet.” “Why<<if $charm gt $blunt>> is that<</if>>?” “The Followers know how to fuel the wrong ambitions.” $rname exchanges a look with $aname, who nods in agreement and continues on. “It has been a decade since we’ve had a Crown.” $catheir expression is serious, perhaps even slightly annoyed as $atheir brows furrow while $athey speaks. “The Mîrs of other provinces have been locked in a power struggle for most of it, unwilling to let any single person lead or make any compromises. Anyone hungering for a little more wealth or reputation has looked at the past few years not as a crisis, but as an opportunity.” “Simply put, it’s the backstabbing nobility you need to watch out for,” $xname summarizes rather aptly for you. “The easiest way to do that is to avoid the city altogether. At least until you’ve gained your footing.” “Some may indeed be stupid or greedy enough to try for an assassination attempt, particularly on a Crown who hasn’t officially ascended the throne yet,” General $dname scoffs with a look of disgust. “They’ve gotten used to the absence of a ruler.” “Then we should have the coronation as soon as possible,” you state, certain of your decision, and thankfully the others share your perspective. “It is our priority at the moment,” $rname agrees, General $dname nodding in acquiescence. “Planning security for such an event is a headache,” $aname remarks, “but it cannot be delayed. The longer we wait, the more dangerous it will be for you.” $cathey turns to look at $xname. “I don’t suppose the Crescent Blades would be any help with that?” Lips spreading wide in a satisfied grin, as if $xthey was waiting to be asked all along, $xname leans forward with an elbow on the table and speaks to the room, “For the right price, I’ll give you <em>any</em> help you need.” General $dname scoffs. “As opportunistic as always; you never see anything but gold.” “I do like the color, I admit,” $xname replies, unperturbed, though the conversation changes direction once more as $rname pointedly clears $rtheir throat. “Do you have any other matters you wish to address, $rnickname?” $rthey asks you, brow furrowed slightly as $rtheir gaze flits over your face. “Perhaps it would be wise to retire for the day.” It is an unpleasant reminder of the weariness that’s settled into your bones like an old friend, and you let out a deep sigh to exhale some of the tension that has fused with your spine. “Yes, that sounds like a good idea.” [[Continue|3.35]]“I’ll escort you to your chambers,” $aname volunteers. From behind you, Ishrah approaches, keeping a respectful distance as she comes to stand by your side. “Would you like supper served in your room, Crown $name?” <<if $blunt gt $charm>>“No, thank you,” you state,<<else>>“It is thoughtful of you to offer, but no, that won’t be necessary,” you reply,<</if>> rising to your feet and ready to get out of here and find a bed you can sleep away your fatigue for the night. As unhealthy as it is, your body has grown used to skipping meals; you can endure till the morning in terms of hunger, but the risk that you might keel over from exhaustion is very real. Strangely, though, the moment you get up from the table, so do all the others. You look around at them in confusion. “Are you all going somewhere?” While $aname at least tries to hide $atheir amused smirk behind $atheir hand, $xname makes no effort whatsoever to cover up $xtheir loud snorting. “Are you all <em>going</em> somewhere, $they <<if $pronouns is "theythem">>ask<<else>>asks<</if>>.” $cxthey shakes $xtheir head. “Adorable.” General $dname does not even snap at $xname over it, merely rolling $dtheir eyes heavenward as if to ask the spirits for patience. “It is merely a rule of etiquette,” $rname explains, the only one kind enough to do so it seems, though even $rthey appears amused at your confusion before $rthey bows low at the waist, palm pressed over $rtheir heart in a fluid and graceful motion. “Sleep well, my Crown.” $xname’s short bow seems much more mocking in comparison, an exaggerated sweep of $xtheir arm as $xthey mimicks $rname’s posture, while General $dname’s movements are quick and precise. The only one who does not bow is $aname, who is to guide you to your chambers. $cathey walks around the table and passes by you without another word, leading the way. You glance back at the others<<if $charm gt $blunt>>, flashing them all a smile that feels a little weak on your face<<else>>, and for an instant you have never felt as much out of your depth as you do then<</if>>. “Good night.” [[Continue|3.36]] Following behind $aname, you are trailed by Siham and Ishrah who dutifully remain behind you to attend to you as you head down the corridor once more, past the stone doors that lead to the bathing area underground. <<if $clothing is "robes" or $clothing is "dress">>The edge of your $clothing barely grazes the colorful blue and gold decorated stone tiles beneath your feet, soft as it brushes against your skin,<<else>>Your shalwar feel soft around your legs as you walk and the fabric brushes against your skin,<</if>> and it’s much different from the rough garments you were wearing before. It helps that the shoes feel so very comfortable as well, as if you were walking on clouds compared to the ratty sandals you used to own before Ishrah promised to burn them. Ahead of you, $aname is silent. It makes you wonder why $athey insisted on escorting you, though perhaps $athey did it out of a sense of duty as your Royal Protector. It might be for the better; you’re not sure you would make for good conversation with the weary state of your mind<<if $blunt gt $charm>>, and that’s saying a lot considering even when you’re fully awake and alert you’re not exactly a charmer<</if>>. Eventually you reach an intersection in the corridor that leads into three different directions. $aname guides you to the left, and before you can consider asking where the other two paths lead to, you’re distracted by the grand golden doors looming ahead of you at the end of the short hallway. $aname does not take you inside, however. $cathey halts in front of the doors, glancing at Siham and Ishrah before looking toward you. “A word, Your Imperial Majesty?” The use of the imperial address makes you pause; you were almost certain $aname would do $atheir best never to refer to you as such. $aname appears entirely serious, however, and so you look at Siham and Ishrah. “We shall go on ahead and prepare your chambers,” Siham decides, taking the hint and having to tug at Ishrah’s sleeve to make sure she follows them and doesn’t linger, what with the open curiosity on her face. Much like before, Ishrah uses a tablet to open the golden doors, which appear even heavier than the ones that lead to the bathing chambers, engraved with two large wings of a bird with a long tail that looks faintly familiar. A magical creature that you’re sure you’ve seen depicted on several occasions, but its name escapes you. Siham leaves the golden doors open on a slight gap as they and Ishrah retreat inside to get everything ready for you. Now that you have privacy, you turn to $aname. <<if $charm gt $blunt>>“What did you want to talk about?”<<else>>“What is it?”<</if>> you ask, suspecting that this must be at least part of the real reason $aname asked to escort you. [[Continue|3.37]]$aname glances toward the small opening between the doors, as if to make sure Siham and Ishrah aren’t eavesdropping on your conversation before $athey turns back to look at you. $cathey remains silent for a moment, gaze trailing over your face. “There are some things you haven’t told us yet,” $athey speaks eventually, the tension returning to your body as you recall the conversation you had with $athem and $rname back at the outpost. “Matters of import. I will never press you to divulge anything against your will, but…” “But?” $aname averts $atheir gaze for a moment, thinking, then looks back at you and says, “But I would ask you to consider the consequences. If your life is in danger, beyond what we already suspect, then I need to know.” When you don’t respond immediately, your thoughts drifting toward the darker corners of your memories, $aname adds, “I know you have no reason to trust me, but if nothing else, trust that I would not be in this position if I didn’t want to do right by my country. I’m not expecting an answer right at this moment, but the longer you wait, the more precarious of a position you could be putting yourself in.” You cannot tell whether this is out of a genuine concern for your wellbeing, or whether it is simply $aname performing $atheir duty. $cathey keeps $atheir cards too close to $atheir chest for you to guess; you haven’t known $athem long enough to understand what that furrow in $atheir brow means, nor the tightness in the corner of $atheir lips. “I understand,” you say, and you <em>do</em> understand. As difficult as it will be to recount everything that’s happened to you, at the very least, $aname needs to know in order to be prepared for what the Followers of Vidarna might do when they find out you’ve reached your destination. Besides which, you’re too tired to keep this conversation going for much longer. A fact $aname appears to realize as $athey nods once and then takes a step back. “I’ll let you get some rest.” $cathey bows formally, a perfectly practiced and trained posture. “Your Imperial Majesty.” You watch as $aname turns around and walks back the way you came, disappearing around the corner, before you turn toward the doors of your bedchamber. You pull one open, and step through the doorway. [[Continue|3.38]] While you can see the sun setting through the windows, offering some natural illumination to your surroundings, you can barely muster up the attention to focus on anything but the huge bed covered in silks and large pillows, waiting for you on the other side of the room. Siham and Ishrah have laid out another garment for you on the bed, an audaciously expensive formless robe far too decorated for something you’re only supposed to be wearing to bed. You’re too tired to consider the outrageous habits of the wealthy, however, and let them help you out of your clothes and into your night robe. You decline any offers <<if $hairstyle is "shaved">><<else>>to tend to your hair or <</if>>to have another massage, too bone-tired to stay on your feet for a moment longer as you pull the covers on the bed back and crawl beneath the sheets. A glimpse of your bedroom—the size of a modest house—barely registers as you let your head hit the pillows beneath. You faintly hear Siham and Ishrah bid you good night, but now that you’re embraced by the comfort of the softest bed you’ve ever had you cannot even bring yourself to mumble a reply. Before you know it, your eyes slide shut. [[Continue|3.39]] First, it is a memory. Your house is engulfed in a plume of smoke. The basket drops from your limp hand, strikes the ground to scatter blood-red fruit like the bloodstains on the hardwood floors. In front of you lies your father, unseeing eyes staring up at the flames licking at the ceiling. The old wood groans above you, warning of a collapse and you know you should run, run before it’s too late, but then you feel your father’s hands on your shoulders, hear his voice in your ear as you stare down at his corpse. “Bavo,” you say to the corpse, tears streaming down your face. “Why do we always have to run?” “Someday, when you’re older,” his voice speaks, the lips of his body mouthing along to the words, “I will tell you everything.” “Why not now?” you ask, playing out a memory inside a dream of another memory—it’s a nightmare, you think. Just a nightmare. You close your eyes and try to wake up. It doesn’t work. You can’t run anymore. “Your mother and I, we’ve done things we’re not proud of,” the corpse says with lifeless eyes, sliding down from the ceiling to look right at you. “Things we regret." You hear your mother scream in another room. Above you, the ceiling caves in. [[Continue|3.40]] You wake in the dead of night with your mother’s scream still stuck in your mouth, trying to escape but choked back by your gasps for breath as you weep. The heat is unbearable. For a moment you think you’re burning among the flames when you realize it’s the covers wrapped around you like a cocoon that are stifling you, overheating your body. You sit up in a bed too large for you as your eyes sting from your tears, luxurious sheets worth more than all the coins you’ve spent in your entire life, rich perfume lingering in the air like the scent of gold and you feel like an intruder as you struggle to breathe, someone never meant to be here. These soft robes clinging to your skin are so unlike the feeling of your mother’s rough hands where the calluses on her palm would touch against yours as she held your hand when you were little, teaching you how to sow seeds in the earth until the hem of your clothes was stained with dirt up to your knees. Your mother looked so scared when she first saw the change in your eyes. She called it a curse, but not to blame you. To warn you. Once you reunited with your father and found a safe place to hide from the Followers who were still searching for you, she held you throughout the night. Even when her arms must have gotten tired she did not let you go. You don’t even remember how she died, what happened to her body after you fled, whether it was left to burn— Your breath hitches as her screams echo in your head. There is a knock on your door. From the other side, you hear someone call out to you. It’s… <<if $agender is "male">>[[...Azad.|3.41a][$apoints += 1]]<<else>>[[...Ashti.|3.41a][$apoints += 1]]<</if>> <<if $rgender is "male">>[[...Rêzan.|3.41b][$rpoints += 1]]<<else>>[[...Rozerîn.|3.41b][$rpoints += 1]]<</if>> <<if $dgender is "male">>[[...Dara.|3.41c][$dpoints += 1]]<<else>>[[...Delal.|3.41c][$dpoints += 1]]<</if>> <<if $xgender is "male">>[[...Xelef.|3.41d][$xpoints += 1]]<<else>>[[...Xelara.|3.41d][$xpoints += 1]]<</if>><<set $comfortbya to true>>“Majesty.” $aname’s voice is muffled slightly by the thick golden doors, though $athey makes no effort to step inside, instead choosing to stay out. “May I intrude?” Your chest feels tight, painfully tight. When you close your eyes, trying to focus on your erratic breathing, you can still see the image of flames burning against the back of your eyelids. The room starts to spin around you, a lightheaded feeling that only exacerbates the desperation to breathe like a horrible cycle you can’t seem to snap out of. It’s like a crack in a dam, bursting with water you can’t seem to keep back anymore. You feel like you’re drowning. You feel like you’re dying. Opening your mouth you try to speak, but your throat is empty of sound, words choked down by a force you can’t control. “I…” It’s barely a whisper. Your whole body shakes as if wracked with uncontrollable shivers, your fingers clenched into the sheets. Even so, somehow, $aname hears you. The door opens slowly, quietly, on a gap just wide enough for $athem to slip inside. $cathey closes it behind $athem again immediately before turning toward you. The pale moonlight casts silver figures across $atheir skin, falling into $atheir eyes as $athey crosses the room to your bedside as silently as a shadow, sitting down at the edge while facing you. “I… I can’t…” You gasp and sob through your words, trying to tell $athem, and $athey extends both $atheir hands to you, offering. You grab hold of them, clinging to them like a lifeline. “This will pass,” $aname says to you, steady and comforting. “Everything will be fine. You’re safe. This will pass.” You feel it in $atheir words and in $atheir palms against yours, the presence of $atheir spirit like the soothing touch of cool water to a burn. It reminds you of the gentle tide of the sea rolling onto a beach, that rhythmic sound of its waves, like a never-ending lullaby. You focus on that sensation, on that calm as $aname keeps holding your hands, $atheir quiet reassurances guiding you out of the storm as you repeat them to yourself in your head. This will pass. This will pass. <em>This will pass</em>. “Try to breathe through your belly,” $athey instructs when you’re not gasping frantically anymore, clearheaded enough to do as $athey says as you try to ease your breaths, to center them where they don’t feel as desperate. “Inhale through your nose, then out between your lips… slowly… that’s it. Take your time.” Your breaths are shaky, but not as frantic. The tightness in your chest eases, like a pressure being lifted. It feels as if hours pass, only the sound of your gradually calming breaths filling the silence. $aname says nothing more, but $atheir presence here is all you really need, $atheir hands anchoring you. Knowing that you’re not alone is enough. [[Continue|3.42a]]<<set $comfortbyr to true>>“$crnickname?” The concern in $rname’s voice is clear even as it is muffled through the thick golden doors. $crthey waits a heartbeat, and when you don’t reply—<em>can’t</em> reply—$rthey opens one of the doors. The sight of you has $rthem freezing up, only for a moment, before $rthey quickly steps inside, closing the door behind $rthem. “$name, what’s wrong?” You open your mouth to try and speak, but no sound comes out. Your chest feels tight, painfully tight. When you close your eyes, trying to focus on your erratic breathing, you can still see the image of flames burning against the back of your eyelids. The room starts to spin around you, a lightheaded feeling that only exacerbates the desperation to breathe like a horrible cycle you can’t seem to snap out of. It’s like a crack in a dam, bursting with water you can’t seem to keep back anymore. You feel like you’re drowning. You feel like you’re dying. “I… I can’t…” You gasp and sob through your words, your whole body shakes as if wracked with uncontrollable shivers, your fingers clenched into the sheets. $rname hurries to your side in quick strides, sitting down on your bedside facing you and placing $rtheir hands on your shoulders as if to steady you. “It’s alright, I am here. I’m right here with you. You’re alright.” $crtheir voice is gentle, coaxing you to focus on $rthem instead of your own fear that has spiraled out of control, choking up your throat. You look into $rtheir eyes, the gray glimmering silver in the moonlight, and $rthey reaches up a hand, $rtheir soft palm cupping your cheek as $rtheir thumb wipes away the tears sliding down your skin. You lean into it, the tender caress alleviating a need inside you didn’t even realize you had; when was the last time anyone comforted you like this? Touched you like this? “See?” $rname says with an encouraging smile as you find the pressure on your chest easing little by little, lifting $rtheir other hand from your shoulder to cup your other cheek as well and when your eyes flutter shut this time, you don’t see the flames anymore. “It’s over already. All you need to do is breathe. In and out. Slow and steady.” You reach up and cover one of $rtheir hands with your own, reaching out to $rthem as $rthey does to you, and when you connect, $rthey feels… different from what you expected. $crtheir magic is so <em>bright</em>. Like sparks, fireworks, lighting up the darkness behind your eyes. Banishing the shadows of your fear, glittering like a star. It grounds you to $rthem, giving you the certainty that you need; you’re not alone. “Oh.” $crtheir surprise is a quiet breath exhaled between the two of you, and when you open your eyes again you notice the tightness in your chest has eased, your breaths still quick and shallow, but also gradually slowing down. “What?” you ask, your voice hoarse. $rname smiles at you in wonder. “You feel like sunlight.” [[Continue|3.42b]]<<set $comfortbyd to true>>“Your Imperial Majesty.” General $dname’s voice cuts through the silence suffocating you, through the desperate wheezing sound of your own breath, and $dthey does not hesitate. “Please forgive the intrusion.” One of the golden doors is pushed open to reveal the general, still dressed head to toe in armor, something you might have commented on were it not for the ache in your chest. It is a painful tightness, one that worsens your shortness of breath. When you close your eyes, trying to focus on your erratic breathing, you can still see the image of flames burning against the back of your eyelids. The room starts to spin around you, a lightheaded feeling that only exacerbates the desperation to breathe like a horrible cycle you can’t seem to snap out of. It’s like a crack in a dam, bursting with water you can’t seem to keep back anymore. You feel like you’re drowning. You feel like you’re dying. General $dname takes one look at you before $dthey quickly closes the door shut behind $dthem and crosses the room to your side in quick, long strides. $cdthey sits down right beside you on the edge of your bed and you feel $dtheir hand settle on the center of your back, like a weight to anchor you. “You are safe,” $dthey says to you, and $dtheir calmness and steadiness helps ground you, $dtheir palm slowly running up and down your spine as if to ease the panic that has filled your lungs out with just a touch, and it almost seems to be working. “Nothing is going to hurt you, I promise. You will make it through this.” You wouldn’t have thought General $dname capable of speaking in such soft tones. It’s not quite gentle, but that’s fine, because gentle isn’t what you need right now. It’s reassuring, but it’s also firm in how certain $dtheir voice sounds, making it easier for you to believe. To trust $dthem to guide you through this. “Keep your lips close together,” $dthey instructs, and when you do as $dthey says it lessens the amount of air that you’d been sucking in all this time. The instinct to gasp burns in your throat, but you suppress it as best you can. Your breaths are unsteady, and sometimes you falter. Even if it helps even out the rhythm, it also hurts in your chest and you grab at the fabric of your robe, fingers clenching into it as you try and endure. Another hand settles on top of yours and you almost startle before you realize it’s $dname, $dtheir calloused skin rough but warm. “You’re doing well,” $dthey encourages, one hand on your back and the other on your chest, gently holding you steady, keeping you from hunching over into yourself. “I know it’s hard. Take your time.” It’s much easier to push down the thought of those hungry flames, the image of your father’s body, the sound of your mother’s screams when you have something else to focus on. When you close your eyes this time, you have $dname to talk you through it. You try to block out everything else save for $dtheir voice and the weight of $dtheir hands on you, your magic—whether on instinct or by fluke—reaching out to $dtheirs. Just as what happened with $xname in the forest, connecting to $dname’s spirit is a disorienting but not unpleasant experience, although it takes a lot longer for you to understand what you’re feeling. $cdthey feels so… faint, almost. Difficult to sense, like there’s a wall in the way. You almost have to purposefully reach out to find $dtheir signature; $dthey must not be in tune with $dtheir magic if $dthey has kept it buried this deep. But then you sense $dthem. [[Continue|3.42c]]<<set $comfortbyx to true>>“$name?” $xname calls out. “Everything alright in there?” $cxtheir voice is slightly muffled by the heavy golden doors, but it’s loud enough for you to distinguish the note of concern. $cxthey must’ve sensed your distress, just as $xthey did when you had that nightmare in $xtheir tent, but this one is different. Your chest feels tight, painfully tight. When you close your eyes, trying to focus on your breathing, you can still see the image of flames burning against the back of your eyelids. The room starts to spin around you, a lightheaded feeling that only exacerbates the desperation to breathe like a horrible cycle you can’t seem to snap out of. It’s like a crack in a dam, bursting with water you can’t seem to keep back anymore. You feel like you’re drowning. You feel like you’re dying. Opening your mouth you try to speak, but your throat is empty of sound, words choked down by a force you can’t control. $xname doesn’t wait very long for you to reply before $xthey opens one of the doors, lips parted to speak when $xtheir eyes fall upon you and $xthey freezes in the doorway. It only lasts for an instant, as if $xthey were confronted with something completely unexpected, before $xthey quickly steps into the room and closes the door behind $xthem. “Hey now, my darling, why all the tears?” $cxthey crosses the room to your bedside, sitting down on the edge facing you as if it were the most natural thing in the world and the two of you had done this a thousand times before. With the side of $xtheir finger $xthey catches a tear on your cheek, wiping it away. “Come, dry your eyes. There’s no need to cry!” “I… I can’t…” You try to tell $xthem, but then your inability to speak frustrates you even further, increasing your sense of being overcome, and you only end up crying louder. It startles $xname, $xtheir eyes going wide as $xthey stares at you, appearing completely at a loss on what to do. It appears neither of you have any idea of what’s happening to you. Even so, $xname shifts closer to you on the bed, seeming to refocus as $xthey watches you, before understanding dawns in $xtheir eyes and $xthey says, “You’re not sad, but afraid?” Fear. <em>That’s</em> what it is, that gaping maw inside your chest, those racing thoughts inside your head, that feeling of being paralyzed. You’re afraid. You’re scared to death. You reach out for $xname, fingers grasping at $xtheir tunic, tugging at it and feeling like a child, but there’s no judgment in $xname’s gaze. $cxthey moves closer to you on the bed and wraps $xtheir arms around you, <<if $height is 'short' or $height is 'very short'>>holding you against $xtheir chest. You feel small, but it’s not a bad feeling, not when you’re enveloped in $xtheir embrace. If anything, it makes you feel safe, calming you down slowly but surely.<</if>><<if $height is 'average'>>holding you close, your cheek leaning against $xtheir shoulder as $xtheir hand rubs soothingly up and down your back. $cxtheir even breaths tickle your neck, and the rhythm of them helps calm you down, slowly but surely.<</if>><<if $height is 'tall' or $height is 'very tall'>>holding you close, $xtheir chin resting on your shoulder while you hide your face against $xtheir neck. $cxthey runs a hand down and then up your back again, settling it on the nape of your neck in a protective gesture, and you feel yourself calming down, slowly but surely.<</if>> “I’m here, $name,” $xthey mutters softly. “There’s nothing for you to fear.” As $xthey holds you the two of you connect, just like you did in that forest clearing when $xthey grabbed your chin and looked you in the eyes, but then you freeze. You freeze, because you remember the flames, but $xname’s flames don’t burn the same. They don’t howl like beasts, hungrily licking at your heels for a taste. These flames spread their warmth into your very bones, as if you were a traveler finding refuge in a temple of fire, one blissful moment of peace to get you through a long journey. [[Continue|3.42d]]“Better?” $aname asks, a slight furrow between $atheir brow as $atheir eyes regard your tear-streaked face. The nightmare that overwhelmed you, swelled up your fears inside your chest until you woke up gasping for breath, is distant. A specter in the corner of your eyes, gradually retreating. It’s not gone forever—it never will be, you suspect—but its presence is much smaller now. <<if $blunt gt $charm>>“Yes.”<<else>>“Yes, much better.”<</if>> You let go of one of $atheir hands, wiping your face clean with the sleeve of your robe. The other one, you hold tight. <<if $charm gt $blunt>>“Thank you, $aname.”<</if>> $aname nods, not letting go of your hand either, like an unspoken understanding between the two of you. $cathey squeezes it unexpectedly in a reassuring gesture, and after a surprised pause, you squeeze back. You think you see $atheir lips twist into a smile, but it lasts only for a moment before it’s gone again. “It sounded as if you were having a nightmare,” $aname notes, tilting $atheir head slightly as $athey looks at you. <<if $charm gt $blunt>>You attempt a smile back at $athem, though it feels wan on your face. “Just some bad memories. <</if>><<if $blunt gt $charm>>You avert your gaze, staring down at your hands laying on the bed between the two of you. “<</if>>It’s nothing, I’m used to it.” Which isn’t entirely a lie. You’ve had nightmares before, although none so intense and extreme as this one. The most frustrating part of it all is that you have no idea what set this one off; you are safe in the palace, protected. So why now, when you thought you had finally found some measure of peace? When you finally had a moment to let your guard down? $aname frowns at you, seeming unconvinced, but instead of pressing the issue $athey asks, “Do you need me to get you anything? A cup of water might do you good.” “Please,” you agree, not realizing how parched you are until $athey mentions it. $cathey rises to $atheir feet, your hand slipping out of $atheirs as $athey moves away from the bed. You watch $athem part from you anxiously, uneasy as the vast size of the room around you becomes more noticeable, making you feel small and vulnerable. Now that you’re no longer in the grip of your panic, as you regard $athem move about the room you notice for the first time that $athey's not wearing $atheir armor. $cathey has traded it on for a long two-layered robe not unlike the ones you’ve seen the palace guards wear, revealing the wide and straight line of $atheir shoulders. You can’t quite tell the color in the moonlight, but you think it might be green. $aname approaches a low table on the other side of the room you hadn’t even noticed before, a sitting area inside your bedroom near the windows. $cathey picks up a pitcher, pouring water into a cup and carrying it back to you. $catheir footsteps are nearly completely silent, but $athey walks with purpose, so unlike you who is used to slinking around in the shadows, always looking over your shoulder. Sitting down by your bedside again, $athey hands it to you without comment, merely observing you quietly as you take the cup and quickly swallow down its content, draining it of water. You lower the empty cup with a satisfied exhale, already feeling much more like yourself. “Will you be alright?” $aname asks, watching you carefully as $athey takes the empty cup from you and sets it aside on your nightstand. “Do you need anything else?” “No, only…” You hesitate<<if $charm gt $blunt>>, your usual eloquence failing you<</if>> as you struggle with the sense of being so vulnerable before someone else. A stranger, really, one you’ve barely known for a day, yet one who doesn’t judge you. Someone who’s simply there, asking you what you need. “Only?” $aname repeats when you remain silent for too long. “Will you…” You twist up the silk fabric of the sheets draped over your legs, struggling with your fear on having to rely on someone else for safety, but you also find yourself longing for it. While you might be scared of being vulnerable, being alone terrifies you more than anything else right now. “Could you stay for a while?” “Of course.” $aname doesn’t even blink at your request, looking around the room until $atheir gaze settles on a chair by the windows, overlooking the gardens outside. $cathey moves off your bed and settles down on the cushioned seat. You lie down facing $athem, pulling up the sheets to your shoulders, and watch $athem get comfortable in the chair, reclining a little as $athey stares out the windows to the garden. The ease with which $athey settles down makes you wonder if $athey has gotten any sleep yet, or if $athey’s planning on staying up all night to watch over you. While $athey must be used to it, it is a concerning thought, and you think you should probably tell $athem to get some rest but your eyelids feel heavy. The last thing you see is the sight of $aname peering calmly out the window before you fall asleep, your heart at ease. [[Continue|3.43a]] The nightmares keep their distance. You wake to the sun, greeting you gently by its warmth on your skin. The silk cover around your pillow feels smooth beneath your cheek, your heartbeat calm, your breathing even. It’s the most comfortable you’ve felt in a long time, though there is still a lingering weariness in your body; you are used to waking with the sunrise, but perhaps you could use a bit longer to sleep in this time. Eyes opening, you roll over onto your side toward the windows, then breathe a laugh at what you find there. $aname is still there in $atheir chair, appearing asleep. $cathey looks as if $athey has barely moved, though $athey is facing you now instead of the windows, hands settled on the armrests of $atheir chair. At the sound of your chuckling, however, $athey opens $atheir eyes as if $athey has been awake all along and lifts $atheir head, looking at you. “What’s so funny?” $athey asks, and you wouldn’t have known $athey was sleeping had $atheir voice not been rough with it as $athey blinks a few times, sitting up a little straighter. “I didn’t expect you to still be here,” you admit, bringing a hand to your mouth to cover a yawn as you rub a stray tear from the corner of your eye. “Did you… get any sleep?” “I did.” $aname rises from $atheir chair, rolling $atheir shoulders, as if trying to force the stiffness out. “You look like you could use a few hours more.” “Mmm.” You can’t argue with that, turning to lay onto your back again and closing your eyes. “Maybe.” Now that you’re awake, though, your mind recalls the unfortunate incident that deprived you of some sleep before, and you almost wince at the embarrassment that comes over you. In the moment all you had been thinking of was your need to be comforted, but you must’ve made for quite the sorry sight. Although, there is one interesting thing you discovered during your episode. When $aname took hold of your hands and the two of you connected, you sensed $athem. $catheir magical signature, more specifically. <<if $charm gt $blunt>>“You felt like the sea,”<<else>>“The sea,”<</if>> you say thoughtfully. “Pardon?” You lift your head up a little and find $aname still near the chair, though $athey has moved closer to the windows, looking at you in question. The sunlight brightens $atheir eyes into a green to match the soft shade of $atheir robe, and you find yourself staring a beat too long when $athey arches a single brow at your silence. “<<if $charm gt $blunt>>I meant your signature<<else>>Your signature<</if>>,” you clarify belatedly, heat spreading to your cheeks at the <<if $charm gt $blunt>>uncharacteristic <</if>>misstep as you lower your head back down onto your pillow. “I take it your affinity is to water?” “It is.” “What about mine?” You know you don’t have an affinity yet, but back in the forest when you first met $xname and connected to $xthem, $xthey felt something. You know $xthey did, even if it wasn’t an affinity. “How would you describe it?” $aname hums, silent in thought for a while before $atheir gaze is drawn toward the windows. “It was… strange. Almost like that of a child. Underdeveloped, like raw energy without a form.” “Ah.” Disappointing, but understandable. You are about to settle for waiting, until $aname continues unexpectedly. “But there was something distinct about it, as well.” You push yourself up into a sitting position to look at $aname, finding $atheir eyes already on you in a contemplative expression. “If I had to put it into words,” $athey says, “I would say… the sun.” “The sun?” you repeat curiously. $aname looks away, out the windows again where the light shines the brightest—a spot $athey seems to favor, from how $athey lingers by it. “It feels like standing in the sun.” That is new. You were a child when your eyes first turned gold, and so your signature had not been shaped yet. Even once you matured your father insisted he could sense no affinity from you whatsoever, which was likely the truth, describing you as something of a blank slate. But sunlight, that is a very peculiar signature to have, especially without having an affinity. Usually signatures, much like the affinities they mirror, are confined to elements of the earth; the sun and the stars, and all celestial bodies like it, are considered sacred, far beyond the reach of humankind. It is as if the Spirits themselves are shouting your destiny at you from the beyond, and yet it still doesn’t feel real. <<if $blunt gt $charm>>“I liked yours,”<<else>>“If I’m completely honest, I think I prefer yours to mine,”<</if>> you say to $aname, who looks at you with surprise flashing across $atheir face, then a slightly wry smile. “I’m glad to have your approval,” $athey comments. “It figures, really. I <em>was</em> raised by the shore.” <<if $astory is true>>You remember $athem mentioning that before. "A small town near Ilwan, right?" "Yes." $aname appears surprised, as if $athey didn't expect you to remember. "That's right." "I'd like to hear more about it, sometime," you venture. "If you were willing." $aname frowns slightly, looking away as the dimmed look in $atheir eyes turns contemplative. "Perhaps. It has been a long time since I spoke of it. Longer still since I last saw it." $cathey shakes $atheir head, as if to shake $atheir memories off,<<else>>$cathey shakes $atheir head, the wryness in $atheir smile softening for a moment, as if $athey were remembering something nice,<</if>> before $athey addresses you again. “You should sleep a while longer. The servants will wake you if necessary.” “Thank you, $aname,” you say earnestly, and $athey lifts a hand in a half-hearted wave as $athey moves toward the doors. “Spending the night in the finest chambers of the palace was hardly a burden,” $athey remarks with some amusement, pulling one of the heavy doors open with ease. “I should be thanking <em>you</em>, really.” You watch $athem leave as $athey closes the door behind $athem again, but being alone this time doesn’t feel as oppressive as it did before. Shutting your eyes, this time you welcome your slumber, and it isn’t long before you fall asleep once more. [[End Chapter|4.1]]<<set $progress to "4">><div id="3.1c">@@.chaptertitleact0;CHAPTER FOUR@@</div>@@.titleblack;Squeezing Your Throat@@ <<if $comfortbya is true or $comfortbyr is true>>When the day greets you a second time, there is no one there to soothe you with their presence, nor a whisper of sunlight to caress your skin while you peacefully come to awareness. It is not a gentle awakening. <<else>>When the day greets you after a restless slumber during a long night you thought would never end, it is not the gentle awakening you hoped it would be.<</if>> Instead, it is a whirlwind. Or rather, <em>Ishrah</em> is a whirlwind. “Crown $name!” she calls out to you, her voice slightly muffled through the doors. “Crown $name, please, it is urgent!” Blearily, you blink your eyes open as you hear the sound of a fist pounding against metal. Though slightly dazed as you’ve been startled into waking up, you quickly sit upright in your bed as a familiar tension settles in your muscles, senses alert. It is a wariness you are accustomed to. The events of last night, particularly the nightmare, you push down into the farthest recesses of your mind as you focus on the here and now. “What is it?” you call out, and Ishrah takes it as a signal to enter. One of the heavy golden doors swings open with surprising force, and Ishrah doesn’t waste time as she rushes inside, looking to be in a state of panic. “The- the nobles!” she gasps, her face flushed and locks of her curly red hair askew, having escaped from her ponytail. “Practically- all of the- upper houses in Marabad! They’re in the audience hall, demanding to- to see you!” You stare at her in surprise, but before you can even think to reply, Siham suddenly appears through the doorway, carrying a giant metal platter filled with food. The scent of freshly baked bread quickly fills the room, and you see drinks sloshing in several different cups as Siham stands there with their arms shaking, looking almost as harried as Ishrah. “Your Imperial Majesty,” he says, trying to bow while holding the tray but thinking better of it when dishes begin to slide forward precariously. “I was not aware of your preferences for breakfast, and so I brought as much as I could.” “We have no time for that!” Ishrah insists, beginning to pace up and down the room. “The steward is here, and I’ve heard he has sent word to Mîr Behram as well!” Your gaze passing back and forth between your two anxious servants, you find yourself at a loss as they both stare at you with anticipation. No one has ever looked at you like that before. The weight of their expectations hits you suddenly, like a splash of cold water to your face as you realize there is no one else to turn to. You are in charge. <<if $pass gte $ass>>The urge to leave the decision to someone else is a foolish one, though in your discomfort you can’t help but long for it. A thought passes through your mind, of asking someone with more knowledge concerning matters of the court for advice, but then you remember something Heval told you yesterday.<<else>>It isn’t discomfort that has you hesitating, not at all. In fact, having been put in this position you realize you’re not altogether afraid of the authority, of the feeling of being in command. What makes you pause is something you remember Heval saying to you yesterday.<</if>> "$cxthey leads us and we follow, provided we have faith,” they said of $xname. “Anything that would shake that faith is something $xname cannot afford, and neither can you." <<if $pass gte $ass>>You cannot show your unease.<<else>>It is not enough to be comfortable.<</if>> More than that, you must <em>seem</em> in command. Exude confidence. <<if $caut gt $adven>>It is not natural for you to do so when you’ve become so at ease with hiding yourself, but that means getting used to it quickly is that much more important.<<else>>If nothing else, you are sure of yourself, though projecting that to others is a different matter entirely when you’ve become so used to hiding.<</if>> There’s no more time to prepare; you are the Crown now. <<if $charm gt $blunt>>You make a decision, and steel yourself with a smile. “Ishrah, do me a favor and sit down, you look like you’re about to faint.”<<else>>You make a decision, and steel yourself. “There’s no need to panic, Ishrah. Take a moment to calm down.”<</if>> Ishrah blinks at you. “But… but Crown $name, the nobles—” <<if $blunt gt $charm>>“Will wait.” You take a slow breath to get a measure of yourself, and when you feel nothing but calm, you turn to address Siham. “You can put the tray down, Siham. Thanks.”<<else>>“Are nobles, whereas I am the Crown,” you point out, and merely saying the words makes you feel more confident. “There are plenty of sitting areas in the palace if they insist on waiting, but I won’t hurry myself on their account. Siham, thank you for the breakfast, but please put the tray down before you hurt yourself.”<</if>> You cannot start your reign by being at the beck and call of total strangers. If you are to be the Crown, the sole and supreme ruler of the land, then you must act like it. [[Continue|4.2]] The nightmare that overwhelmed you, swelled up your fears inside your chest until you woke up gasping for breath, is distant now. A specter in the corner of your eyes, gradually retreating. It’s not gone forever—it never will be, you suspect—but its presence is much smaller now. You would ask about $rname’s comment, about how you apparently feel like sunlight, but your mind feels too full to have that conversation right now. Just the fact that you’re not falling apart anymore is a miracle. “Let me fetch you some water,” $rname says when $rthey can see your breaths have evened out and you’re no longer crying, pulling $rtheir hands back and getting up to $rtheir feet to cross the room. You watch $rthem part from you anxiously, uneasy as the vast size of the room around you becomes more noticeable, making you feel small and vulnerable. $rname approaches a low table on the other side of the room you hadn’t even noticed before, a sitting area inside your bedroom near the windows. $crthey picks up a pitcher, pouring water into a cup as $rthey continues to speak. “Shall I light the candles?” $rthey suggests. “Or get you some more pillows? I can call the servants to…” $crthey trails off when you don’t reply, staring at $rthem blankly as you don’t quite know if any of those things would help you feel better. $rname smiles apologetically, carrying the cup of water back to you. “Never mind.” $crthey settles down back at your bedside again, handing you the cup, and you’re not embarrassed about the way you gulp down its contents when you realize how parched your mouth feels. “You must be exhausted. Perhaps rest is the only thing you need.” <<if $charm gt $blunt>>“It was kind of you to offer,” you say as you hand $rthem back the empty cup, not wanting $rthem to feel bad for trying to be helpful. “It’s only… my comfort is not the issue. I’m not sure <em>what</em> the issue is, if I’m honest.”<<else>>“Thank you for offering, but I don’t think whatever this is can be fixed with an extra pillow,” you reply as you hand $rthem back the empty cup, not wanting $rthem to feel bad for trying to be helpful.<</if>> “It’s the nightmare, is it not?” $rname says, frowning with worry as $rtheir eyes flit over your face, taking in your exhausted expression while $rthey puts the cup aside on your nightstand. “Does this happen often?” You ponder the question, but can’t remember ever waking up like you did just now, so you shake your head. “Usually I sleep through my nightmares, and if I do wake up, it’s not this intense.” $rname hums, giving you a troubled look, but then places $rtheir hand over your wrist in a reassuring gesture. “There are ways we can deal with it if it becomes a regular problem, but for tonight, try to go back to sleep. I would not want you to wake up tired tomorrow.” “Right.” You rub a hand down your face, the thought of tomorrow already making you feel fatigued with all the talking you’ll no doubt have to do. “I’ll try.” “Do you want me to stay?” You blink, lowering your hand and looking at $rname in surprise. “Stay?” “Only until you fall asleep.” $crthey averts $rtheir gaze, seeming fidgety for a moment as $rthey removes $rtheir hand from your wrist, pulling at the sleeve of $rtheir dress instead. “I thought… that is, whenever I have a nightmare it’s easier for me to fall asleep when I have someone near me, but I see now it was presumptuous of me to think—” “$rname,” you interrupt gently before $rthey can apologize. <<if $charm gt $blunt>>“I would like it if you stayed. Thank you for thinking of me.” “I will always think of you,”<<else>>“Please stay.” “You need never beg me for that,”<</if>> $rname replies softly, and even though the rational part of you thinks $rtheir care for you must be because you’re the Crown, as you look into $rtheir eyes you can’t help but want to trust the sincerity you see there. $rname smiles at you after moment, a little uncertainly, perhaps having noticed the conflict in your head reflected in your expression. $crthey stands up again and walks along the wall to a bookcase, perusing one of the shelves before picking out a small but thick tome, then approaches a chair near one of the windows across the room. $crthey sits down with $rtheir book in hand, crossing one leg over the other. “I’ll be right here,” $rthey says reassuringly, right in your view as you settle your head back onto the pillow and lie on your side facing $rthem, pulling up the covers to your shoulders. “Sleep well, $rnickname.” “Good night,” you reply quietly, watching as $rname opens up $rtheir book, angled toward the moonlight to read. It gives a blueish hue to the black of $rtheir hair, soft as silk as $rtheir long locks are draped around $rtheir shoulders. The tome $rthey holds in $rtheir slender fingers looks to be the size of a book of poems, but you can’t be certain as you are unable to read the title from the cover. You wonder if $rname likes poetry. It’s the last thought on your mind as you fall asleep, your heart at peace. [[Continue|3.43b]] The nightmares keep their distance. You wake to the sun, greeting you gently by its warmth on your skin. The silk cover around your pillow feels smooth beneath your cheek, your heartbeat calm, your breathing even. It’s the most comfortable you’ve felt in a long time, though there is still a lingering weariness in your body; you are used to waking with the sunrise, but perhaps you could use a bit longer to sleep in this time. Eyes opening, you roll over onto your side toward the windows. The chair that $rname was sitting on before is now empty; $rthey must have returned to $rtheir own room once you fell asleep. That is what you assume, at least, until you sit up in your bed and are treated to an unexpected sight. On the other side of the room, lying on $rtheir back with $rtheir book held to $rtheir chest, $rname lies sleeping on a long couch you hadn’t even noticed before, one of its pillows tucked beneath $rtheir head. $crthey stayed, even after you fell asleep. You smile, touched by the gesture, then slip out of bed. The marble floors of your bedroom feel cold against your bare feet, inducing a slight shiver as you cross the room. Approaching the couch where $rname appears oblivious to your presence, breathing in and out softly through the slight parting between $rtheir lips, you kneel down beside $rthem. “$rname?” you call softly. $crthey hardly even stirs. “$rname,” you try again, a bit louder this time. $crthey hums, turning $rtheir head to the side, facing you. You give $rthem the time as you watch $rtheir brows furrow briefly, before $rthey inhales a deep breath and $rtheir eyes flutter open, blinking twice in that sleep-dazed way before they settle on you. “$crnickname?” $crtheir confusion lingers only for a moment longer as $rthey glances around, gaining $rtheir bearings, appearing almost startled. “Did I fall asleep here?” “You did.” $crthey sits up, taking the book off $rtheir chest as $rthey glances toward the windows. “It’s still early,” $rthey notes, then shifts $rtheir gaze to you, assessing you in the sunlight. “Perhaps you should sleep for a few hours more.” <<if $charm gt $blunt>>“Do I look that bad?” you tease,<<else>>“I must look pretty haggard,” you agree,<</if>> and $rtheir eyes widen in mortification. “No, not at all, you look radiant!” $rthey insists, saying it so earnestly <<if $res gt $flirt>>that your heart flutters<<else>>that you can’t help but be endeared by it<</if>>. “I only meant to ensure you would get enough rest, for your health.” “It’s okay, $rname,” you reassure $rthem, smiling lightly. “I know what you meant, and it is a good idea. I don’t feel fully rested yet.” You stand back up again and $rname follows your lead, $rtheir book clutched in $rtheir hand. $crthey's not meeting your eyes, embarrassed, or perhaps bashful due to $rtheir outburst. During the night $rthey seemed so sure of $rthemselves as $rthey guided you through your panicked breaths, and that thought makes you remember something in particular that has lingered in your mind. When $rname placed $rtheir hand on your cheek and the two of you connected, you sensed $rthem. $crtheir magical signature, more specifically. <<if $charm gt $blunt>>“Last night, I could sense you,”<<else>>“Your magic feels unusual,”<</if>> you remark, building up to your question, but from the way $rname looks at you with anticipation, $rthey must guess at your meaning already. “What was it like?” $rthey asks, $rtheir tone mild but $rtheir curiosity eager. “I’ve heard it described to me before, but I wonder what you make of it.” You think on it, trying to recall it, which takes very little effort. It was so peculiar that you can almost still feel the phantom sensation of it. “It felt like holding a star cradled in my hands,” you answer, and after a flicker of surprise flashes across $rname's face, $rthey smiles brightly at you. “Do you like poetry, $rnickname?” $rthey asks, a pleased gleam in $rtheir eyes. “I think you would do quite well at it.” <<if $res gt $flirt>>Your cheeks warm at the suggestion as you look away, a slightly nervous chuckle leaving your lips. <<if $charm gt $blunt>>“Who knows, I might pick it up as a hobby.”<<else>>"Maybe."<</if>> $rname appears oblivious to your reaction, however, as $rthey continues to speak.<<else>>You chuckle, lips curving with amusement and suggestion. <<if $blunt gt $charm>>“For you, I think I could give it a try.”<<else>>“Perhaps I could write you a poem.”<</if>> $rname's flustered expression looks so very pretty on $rthem. “Oh. That is… you are far too kind.” $crthey averts $rtheir eyes, changing the subject even as you see the smile playing subtly in the corners of $rtheir mouth.<</if>> “In any case, it used to be that my signature reflected lightning, which was my affinity. After I succeeded Lady Zerya, however, my affinity changed. Or evolved, I should say. It is uncommon, but it does happen from time to time.” Now you think about it, there was something akin to lightning in $rtheir signature that you couldn’t quite put your finger on before. That pure energy, flickering in and out of existence, all-consuming or nothing. “It is not so different from yours, in that respect,” $rname notes, giving you a knowing look as $rthey has likely guessed why you asked in the first place. “Although you have no affinity yet.” $crthey said you felt like sunlight. You were a child when your eyes first turned gold, and so your signature had not been shaped yet. Even once you matured your father insisted he could sense no affinity from you whatsoever, which was likely the truth, describing you as something of a blank slate. But sunlight, that is a very peculiar signature to have, especially without having an affinity. Usually signatures, much like the affinities they mirror, are confined to elements of the earth; the sun and the stars, and all celestial bodies like it, are considered sacred, far beyond the reach of humankind. $rname was certainly right about how similar you are in that. "Do you suppose that might be my affinity, then?" you venture. "Light, or something of the sort?" "It's possible," $rname speculates. "Or it could change, like mine did." You think on the matter, pondering what it means that your signature seems to be split into two different sides. One, raw magical energy without an affinity to any elements, and the other a peculiar link to something that may or may not end up being your affinity. What would an affinity to light even look like? “We can speak more about this later, if you wish,” $rname says, pulling you out of your musings, seeming faintly amused by your contemplation. “For now, I should let you go back to sleep.” You hesitate briefly, not sure if you'll be able to fall back asleep with so many thoughts going through your head, but $rname is right. It is best you rest as much as possible before you have to start the new day; you have a feeling it'll be even more hectic than today has been. “Thank you, $rname,” you say, and $rthey smiles at you with warmth, inclining $rtheir head. "Your happiness and your comfort is the most important thing for me," $rname replies. "You need not thank me for that." You watch $rthem leave as $rthey closes the door behind $rthem. Being alone this time doesn’t feel as oppressive as it did before as you make your way back to your bed, slipping beneath the covers. Shutting your eyes, you welcome your slumber, and it isn’t long before you fall asleep once more. [[End Chapter|4.1]] The nightmare that overwhelmed you, swelled up your fears inside your chest until you woke up gasping for breath, becomes distant. A specter in the corner of your eyes, gradually retreating. It’s not gone forever—it never will be, you suspect—but its presence is much smaller now. “There we are.” $xname pulls back and smiles at you, mostly to reassure you, but you think you see a flicker of relief in $xtheir eyes as you’ve calmed down. “All good now, I hope?” “Yes, I…” You wipe your face clean with the edge of your sleeve, sniffing as you dry the last of your tears. “I don’t know what came over me.” “It’s not the first time you’ve had a nightmare,” $xname remarks knowingly, giving you a long look that makes you feel bare before $xthem, even though there is no judgment in $xtheir eyes. “Although last time, it didn’t feel this serious. I was out for a walk when I noticed, and for a moment I thought you were being attacked, but I couldn’t sense anyone near you aside from the guards. Even so, there are assassins—though rare—who can cloak their presence—” “You were out for a walk?” you repeat, barely having listened to the rest of $xname’s commentary as your thoughts lingered on that single statement. “In the gardens, I suppose?” $xname laughs a little, strangely self-conscious as $xthey averts $xtheir gaze. “Not in the gardens, no, though I did pass through them on my way here.” “Where?” “Oh, you know.” $cxthey makes a short waving motion with $xtheir hand in a general direction. “Out and about. In the city.” “In the city?” You stare at $xthem. “How did you… $xname, did you <em>run</em> all the way over here from outside the palace?” “Let’s not exaggerate, I didn’t run,” $xname replies quickly, as if embarrassed by the idea that $xthey would ever care so much as to hurry $xthemselves on your account, even though that is exactly what $xthey did. “It was a brisk walk at most! Besides, I knew within moments you were not in any real danger. $aname is right down the hallway, $athey would’ve noticed had anyone tried to get inside. I passed $athem on my way here, you know. $cathey knew you were having a nightmare.” “But $athey’s not the one who came,” you point out before $xname can keep chattering on to change the subject, refocusing on $xthem. “You did.” $xname rubs at the back of $xtheir neck as $xthey looks away. “I’m only doing my duty to the Crown, as any good citizen should. Don’t read too much into it.” You smile with amusement at $xtheir deflection, though it does leave you curious as to how $xtheir sensory abilities work. According to $xname, $xthey sensed you all the way outside the palace gates, and even then $xthey didn’t specify how far away from the palace $xthey truly was. “How did you sense me?” you ask $xthem, and $xname almost seems relieved at the change in topic as the cocky grin returns to $xtheir face and $xthey leans $xtheir weight against your mattress with $xtheir hand. “Oh, it was easy,” $xthey boasts, a playful glint in $xtheir eyes as $xthey flicks a stray lock of hair out of $xtheir face. “While you might not have an affinity, your signature is rather unique. It makes it easier to sense you even across a large distance.” “Unique how?” “There is something pure about it,” $xname describes. “Untouched, or unformed. Like a piece of clay that hasn’t been molded yet, except for one thing. Most people’s signatures are kept inside of them, held close to their spirit. Some inner magic types can learn how to deliberately push it out for magical purposes, but you… you just <em>radiate</em> it outwards. Like sunlight. That’s what it feels like.” <<if $res gt $flirt>>You eye $xthem <<if $caut gt $adven>>suspiciously<<else>>with some humor<</if>>. “You’re not just saying that to flirt with me, are you?” $xname’s grin is a sly one as $xthey leans closer toward you on the bed. “And if I am?” Unable to hold $xtheir gaze, you look away flustered as $xname laughs with delight at your reaction, patting you comfortingly on the knee.<<else>>“A poetic choice of words,” you reply, lips quirking into a subtle smile. $xname grins back at you. “While I may be a hopeless flirt, I also know how to be romantic from time to time.” You hold $xtheir gaze for a moment longer, and $xname’s grin almost seems to soften a little as $xthey stares back at you, before $xthey seems to remember $xthemselves and glances away, clearing $xtheir throat.<</if>> “In all seriousness,” $xthey says, “I wasn’t exaggerating. Your signature does feel a lot like sunlight; it’s why I gave you the benefit of the doubt.” That makes sense. You were a child when your eyes first turned gold, and so your signature had not been shaped yet. Even once you matured your father insisted he could sense no affinity from you whatsoever, which was likely the truth, describing you as something of a blank slate. But sunlight, that is a very peculiar signature to have, especially without having an affinity. Usually signatures, much like the affinities they mirror, are confined to elements of the earth; the sun and the stars, and all celestial bodies like it, are considered sacred, far beyond the reach of humankind. No wonder $xname was convinced so easily. “Speaking of the sun.” $xname glances toward the windows, where the moon still shines bright. “I should let you get back to sleep.” $cxthey gets up to $xtheir feet, startling you with $xtheir sudden decision to leave. Granted, you’re no longer in a panic and speaking to $xname has made you much calmer, but you still don’t like the idea of being alone again so soon. $xname seems to read some of the reluctance from your face, and for a rare moment $xthey looks hesitant, before $xthey reaches out and gives your shoulder a comforting squeeze. “You’ll be fine. Sweet dreams, $name.” The disappointment stings, but $xname pulls away from you, physically putting distance in between and you can’t bring yourself to ask anymore, so you let $xthem go. You watch $xthem leave, and as $xthey closes the door quietly behind $xthemselves, you sit in bed and stare at it for a while longer. Remembering the warmth of $xtheir embrace makes your room feel much colder now $xthey’s gone. It takes a long while before you’re able to fall asleep again. [[End Chapter|4.1]] Solid, earth beneath your feet. While in the grip of your panic that has you in freefall, you have never felt a more comforting sensation. You lean into it, craving that sense of safety, of security, and when you do you feel $dname’s hand tighten briefly around yours, hearing a soft breath exhaled in surprise. It brushes against your cheek, and when you open your eyes to look you find $dthem closer than $dthey was sitting before with a dazed look on $dtheir face, as if $dthey were drawn in by you just as you were by $dthem. Once you meet $dtheir gaze, however, $dthey seems to snap out of it and quickly pulls $dtheir hands off you, moving back again with embarrassment. “Please forgive me, Your Imperial Majesty,” $dthey speaks, lowering $dtheir head. “I overstepped.” You barely notice how much you’ve calmed down when you open your mouth to reply to $dthem, and suddenly realize your breaths have eased enough for you to speak. The nightmare that overwhelmed you, swelled up your fears inside your chest until you woke up gasping for breath, is distant now. A specter in the corner of your eyes, gradually retreating. It’s not gone forever—it never will be, you suspect—but its presence is much smaller now. You reach up with the edge of your sleeve to wipe away the wetness on your cheeks, trying to compose yourself before you address $dthem. <<if $charm gt $blunt>>“There’s…” Your voice is hoarse, forcing you to clear your throat before you try again. “There’s no need to apologize. You helped me through… well, whatever it was that came over me. I’m fine now.” The smile on your face is somewhat forced as you try to smother all the lingering unease and fear back down where you kept it buried before,<<else>>“It’s fine,” you say, finding your voice so hoarse it almost breaks on the last word, forcing you to clear your throat before you continue. “You helped a lot. I’ll be alright now.” You keep your tone as casual as possible, almost dismissive,<</if>> which is not received very well by $dname who frowns deeply at the sight. “My liege,” $dthey says, and it sounds different from the way $dthey uses your formal address. Softer, somehow, like the way $dtheir dark eyes look into yours. “I hope, in time, I will prove myself to you as someone you need not hide from.” You cannot hold $dtheir gaze, feeling somewhat foolish. It is a nonsensical thing you’re trying to do, writing off the nightmare as something childish while you’re still reeling from the panic it induced, but you don’t know what else you can do without risking falling apart again. Yet $dname is beside you, a stranger offering you safety, <<if $caut gt $adven>> and it scares you. The way you relied on $dthem, let $dthem in so easily when you were at your most vulnerable now leaves you incredibly anxious in part because of how desperately you long for it. You want to trust $dthem, yet you’re unable to because you’re paralyzed by the fear of what might happen if you do. If $dthey fails you, or you fail $dthem, or something else happens—<<else>>and the fear that emerges inside you at the thought of accepting it frustrates you beyond words. You want to trust $dthem, or anyone. Anyone at all, just to know that you’re not as alone as you might think, might feel when that inescapable despair has its grip on you, but you can’t do it. You just <em>can’t</em> do it. Like a lump in your throat, smothering your voice no matter how many times you swallow. Like smoke in your lungs, suffocating you as the fire around you burns violently bright. Like something broken, something dead—<</if>> Fingers clenching into the sheets, you close your eyes and inhale slowly through your nose, through your belly just like $dname taught you. You focus on your breaths, only your breaths. In the darkness of your eyelids, you think you can almost sense $dname again. That sensation of being held steadily, of solid ground beneath your feet, unchanging even as the sky falls down around you. “Your Imperial Majesty?” A concerned touch on your shoulder, prompting you to open your eyes again, feeling a little calmer as you look at $dname. <<if $charm gt $blunt>>“You don’t use magic very often, do you?”<<else>>“I can sense very little magic from you,”<</if>> you say, finding something to distract yourself with. $dname’s brows arch slightly, seeming somewhat surprised by the remark, but thankfully $dthey seems willing to move the conversation along. “It is not a skill I’ve mastered, no,” $dthey admits, leaning back from you a little, keeping a more formal distance. “I’ve never had the talent for it.” “Your affinity is earth, isn’t it?” “Yes.” $dname stares off into the distance, seeming lost in $dtheir thoughts, or perhaps in $dtheir memories. “When I was a child it would frustrate my tutor endlessly. She said it was as if I kept it fused to my body, like armor. Nothing she tried could force it out of me.” $cdthey suddenly looks up at you again, wearing a thoughtful expression. “It appears that we are polar opposites, in that respect.” You’re still contemplating the admission that $dname apparently comes from a good enough home for $dtheir family to afford a tutor, when $dtheir comment throws you off. “We are?” “Since you lack an affinity, it’s difficult to detect,” $dname elaborates. “Especially for someone as poor at magic as me, let alone sensory magic. But unlike me, your magic glows out of you. It’s… like the sun.” It is an unexpectedly poetic description, but $dname’s intent doesn’t seem to be to flatter you. $cdthey appears entirely serious, which leads you to think $dthey must be speaking the truth, as strange as it sounds. You were a child when your eyes first turned gold, and so your signature had not been shaped yet. Even once you matured your father insisted he could sense no affinity from you whatsoever, which was likely the truth, describing you as something of a blank slate. But sunlight, that is a very peculiar signature to have, especially without having an affinity. Usually signatures, much like the affinities they mirror, are confined to elements of the earth; the sun and the stars, and all celestial bodies like it, are considered sacred, far beyond the reach of humankind. When you open your mouth to reply, $dname interrupts by averting $dtheir gaze from you and rising to $dtheir feet. “I’ve imposed on you long enough,” $dthey decides, and you can almost feel the space between you two, the physical distance $dthey puts there deliberately, as if you can’t tell what $dthey’s doing. “You’re leaving?” The words escape you before you can think better of them; you might have calmed down quite a bit, that doesn’t mean you like the idea of being alone again so soon. $dname peers down at you, the moonlight glinting off the golden scales of $dtheir armor but not quite reaching $dtheir neck, leaving $dtheir face covered in shadow. The short silence that follow betrays $dtheir own hesitation, but then $dthey says, “It is best if I do not linger.” The meaning behind $dtheir words does not escape you. $cdthey is your general, and you are $dtheir Crown; spending the night here would be improper, something $dname cannot abide by. You might have only just met, but if there’s anything you know about $dname by now it’s that $dthey would never want to impugn your honor. “I understand.” Your disappointment stings, but you’ll cope. For both your sakes. “Good night, $dname.” $cdtheir eyes widen slightly after you say $dtheir name without $dtheir title, lips parting in flustered silence, before $dthey composes $dthemselves again and bows to you. “Until tomorrow.” $cdthey makes no mention of your name or your title in return, and you think this is about as informal as $dthey dares to be before $dthey straightens up again and turns away from you. You watch $dthem leave, and as $dthey closes the door quietly behind $dthemselves, you sit in bed and stare at it for a while longer. Remembering the steadiness with which $dthey held you makes you feel unmoored now that $dthey’s gone. It takes a long while before you’re able to fall asleep again. [[End Chapter|4.1]]“They have a strong foothold in the province of Zerat,” $rname elaborates for you without having to be asked. “Unfortunately, the capital may be the most dangerous place in the entirety of the Empire, particularly for a Crown who hasn’t ascended the throne yet.” “Why<<if $charm gt $blunt>> is that<</if>>?” “The Followers certainly know how to fuel the wrong ambitions.” $rname exchanges a look with $aname, who nods in agreement and continues on. “It has been a decade since we’ve had a Crown.” $catheir expression is serious, perhaps even slightly annoyed as $atheir brows furrow while $athey speaks. “The Mîrs of other provinces have been locked in a power struggle for most of it, unwilling to let any single person lead or make any compromises. Anyone hungering for a little more wealth or reputation has looked at the past few years not as a crisis, but as an opportunity.” “Simply put, it’s the backstabbing nobility you need to watch out for,” $xname summarizes rather aptly for you. “The easiest way to do that is to avoid the city altogether. At least until you’ve gained your footing.” “Some may indeed be stupid or greedy enough to try for an assassination attempt, particularly on a Crown who hasn’t officially ascended the throne yet,” General $dname scoffs with a look of disgust. “They’ve gotten used to the absence of a ruler.” You give yourself a moment to take it all in, mind working through everything you’ve just been told. The most important thing would be to have the coronation, as without that you have effectively no true power. Strange, as you always assumed that merely having golden eyes would be enough to prove you the Crown without having to waste time on ceremonies. “Then we should have the coronation as soon as possible,” you conclude. Having listened to the conversation and given the time to think, you think you've arrived at a pretty obvious conclusion, but you still harbor some anxiety about it until it appears that the others agree with you. “It is our priority at the moment,” $rname agrees, General $dname nodding in acquiescence. “Planning security for such an event is a headache,” $aname remarks, “but it cannot be delayed. The longer we wait, the more dangerous it will be for you.” $cathey turns to look at $xname. “I don’t suppose the Crescent Blades would be any help with that?” Lips spreading wide in a satisfied grin, as if $xthey was waiting to be asked all along, $xname leans forward with an elbow on the table and speaks to the room, “For the right price, I’ll give you <em>any</em> help you need.” General $dname scoffs. “As opportunistic as always; you never see anything but gold.” “I do like the color, I admit,” $xname replies, unperturbed, though the conversation changes direction once more as $rname pointedly clears $rtheir throat. “Do you have any other matters you wish to address, $rnickname?” $rthey asks you, brow furrowed slightly as $rtheir gaze flits over your face. “Perhaps it would be wise to retire for the day.” It is an unpleasant reminder of the weariness that’s settled into your bones like an old friend, and you let out a deep sigh to exhale some of the tension that has fused with your spine. “Yes, that sounds like a good idea.” [[Continue|3.35]]<<if $xpoints gt 0>>After Ziryan has left you again, you find your eyes drifting toward $xname for what must be the hundredth time in the span of an hour. Just as when you first left, $xname seems comfortable enough riding behind an Imperial Guard, arms circled around their waist, though $xthey's not nearly as flirty anymore. If anything $xthey looks vaguely exasperated, a slight furrow in $xtheir brows; $xtheir discomfort with horses must have caught up with $xthem. Briefly you wonder if you should've offered $xthem to ride behind you instead, but then promptly dismiss that thought; you would've likely steered your horse straight into a tree, having $xname's hands all over you. <</if>>You look toward your left, where $aname rides $atheir horse in silence. "$aname," you call, getting $atheir attention as $athey glances toward you. "How much longer until we're back in Marabad?" "Not long now," $aname says, gesturing toward another bend in the road ahead of you. "As soon as we turn the corner it'll be a straight shot to the city." <<if $caut gte $adven>>You didn’t know how much you truly dreaded it all until now, but the prospect of facing a city full of people looking toward you as their new ruler has you feeling slightly queasy. <<if $charm gt $blunt>>Not that you’ll ever show it.<</if>><<else>>You didn’t know how much you truly anticipated it all until now; the prospect of facing a city full of people looking toward you as their new ruler has you feeling slightly restless, a little nervous, but also excited by the possibilities.<</if>> There was a time you weren’t on the run, when you were very young. Too young to form any lasting memories beyond little glimpses you sometimes catch in your dreams, when you aren’t having a nightmare. Your mother used to speak of it, of the small patch of land she owned where she thought she would settle down and live out the rest of her life alone, until she met your father and had you. For a while, the three of you were happy; you can almost remember the village where you and your mother would sell your produce when you were little, while your father would attend to the village’s only temple of worship as its priest. But one day, that changed. You were younger than ten years old, you think, maybe seven or eight, but you clearly recall the night you were whisked out of bed by your father while your mother hurriedly gathered some bags. And now you’re whisked away again, off to a palace that is now yours, in a city that you are now the master of. <<if $caut gte $adven>>Part of you desperately wants to run, but you are so <em>tired</em> of running.<<else>>In spite of it all, you almost feel eager at the prospect.<</if>> [[Continue|3.3c]] Having walked the forest for so long in search of $xname, the hours started feeling like days, but now your destination seems all too eager to greet you. You guide your horse around the bend in the road, the movement causing you to open your eyes. As soon as your view shifts you immediately spot the stone of the city walls peering back at you in the distance. It stands like a towering monolith, especially now that you have a view of it from afar. The trees on either side of you obscure most of the stretch of wall you know is there, but even this far away the looming metal of the gates look like teeth. A thought occurs to you. “$aname,” you call out to $athem again when you notice the guards stationed outside—eight of them, six more than there were when you left last night. “Should I hide my eyes?” “It would make travel through the city safer," $aname replies. "Then again, the citizens have been waiting for a Crown for quite a long time. Either way, I cannot make the decision for you." <ul class="a"> <li>[[Hide them; you are too anxious to face the crowds this soon.|3.7c.1][$caut to $caut + 25]]<<if $cheatsheet is true>> <em>+ Cautious</em><</if>></li> <li>[[Show them; you are not afraid.|3.7c.2][$adven to $adven + 25]]<<if $cheatsheet is true>> <em>+ Adventurous</em><</if>></li> </ul> You can’t do it, not now, not when you haven’t had the chance to gather your thoughts. Your body feels like it’s about to fall apart, your mind is a haze of barely suppressed emotions cracking gently through the thin shell you’ve built to keep yourself safe. The trees around you taper away until you’ve left the forest and the wide open space of the grass fields around you has your stomach twisting in on itself. You snatch the hood of your cloak up, pulling down as far as it will go over your head until you can’t see the approaching walls of Marabad anymore. "Stick close to me," $aname tells you, as $athey must have noticed your decision, or your shaking hand as you pulled your hood up and over your eyes. "I'll keep you safe." You want to believe $athem, but your faith wavers when you hear the sound. Crowds, shouting against the walls like a horrible tide crashing against the rocks. Panic tightens in your chest, solidifies into something cold and hard until it’s difficult to breathe. You wish you could close your eyes as you hear the horrible groan of the iron gates, pulled upward to allow you to pass through before it quickly fades away into the screaming. As soon as the gates are opened, people begin to stream outward like a river flooding past its banks. They're everywhere, crying out in an indistinguishable cacophony. Names are all you can make out, $rname’s name and then $xname’s name too, barely distinguishable from the cheering and the yelling surrounding you from every side. You see so many colors. Luxurious finery and glimmering jewels among ragged cotton stained with dust and dirt, plain dresses and elaborate headpieces, red-painted lips and mud smudged across cheeks, dark and light and bright and oh so loud. Heart pounding in your chest, you keep a tight grip on your hood and pray your horse won't get spooked and throw you off its saddle; maneuvering it with a single hand is far from ideal. “$rtitle $rname!” “$crthey’s returned, thank the Spirits $rthey’s returned!” Hands, reaching past the guards trying to force the crowds back, as futile as trying to imprison the waves of a sea. Your horse is slowed down among the commotion, trying to get past the people pushing in toward you from every side. $aname and the Imperial Guards on either side of you form a kind of barrier, shielding you from the onlookers and perhaps beyond it all, that’s what strikes you the most. The desperation. [[Continue|3.8c.1]] You have to; if not now, then when? You’ve spent your entire life hiding in the darkness, hidden away until you forgot what it was like to look someone in the eyes and you’re tired of it. After all these years, there’s nothing more you crave than the sunlight. The trees around you taper away until you’ve left the forest and the wide open space of the grass fields around you has you breathing more easily, like a weight that had been sitting on your chest this entire time finally dropped away. The wind blows across your face, the rays of the sun soak into your eyes and you wish you could capture this moment in a bottle to hold onto forever. “I won’t hide,” you decide. “Not anymore.” “I understand,” $aname replies, but then motions one of the Imperial Guards toward $athem with $atheir hand. Once the guard has pulled up beside you on their horse, $athey says, “The Crown will not be hiding $their eyes. Warn the city guards, they will need to take additional security measures.” The guard bows their head. “Yes, Royal Protector.” You watch them hurry ahead on their horse, toward the city gates in the distance that gradually draw closer and closer. As you near the city gates, the echoes of the crowds is a deafening sound. Even the horrible groan of the iron gates, pulled upward to allow you to pass through, quickly fades away into the screaming. As soon as the gates are opened, people begin to stream outward like a river flooding past its banks. There are people everywhere, crying out in an indistinguishable cacophony. Names are all you can make out, $rname’s name and then $xname’s name too, barely distinguishable from the cheering and the yelling surrounding you from every side. You see so many colors. Luxurious finery and glimmering jewels among ragged cotton stained with dust and dirt, plain dresses and elaborate headpieces, red-painted lips and mud smudged across cheeks, dark and light and bright and oh so loud. “$rtitle $rname!” “$crthey’s returned, thank the Spirits $rthey’s returned!” Hands, reaching past the guards trying to force the crowds back, as futile as trying to imprison the waves of a sea. Your horse is slowed down among the commotion, trying to get past the people pushing in toward you from every side. The Imperial Guards on either side of you form a kind of barrier, shielding you from the onlookers and perhaps beyond it all, that’s what strikes you the most. The desperation. [[Continue|3.8c.2]] Your mind cannot grasp the amount of people present, and only the fear of being thrown off your horse keeps you from shrinking into yourself. There are so many of them, and yet you can’t make out a single face. You hear only the noise, you see only the colors. They may as well be phantoms. Around you the city guards are employing magic to keep the citizens at bay. You see several translucent shields erected between the guards and the crowd like small walls, their blue-tinged glow lighting up the streets. It keeps much of the crowd at bay, through it takes a great amount of effort. From beside you, you catch $aname's eyes, and $athey give you a firm nod; $athey's the picture of calm, helping you stay calming by example. As you listen to the crowd around you, your hands shaking when you let go of your hood to take the reins of your horse in a white-knuckled grip, you start to make out more than names. "Banish the steward!" you hear someone shout. "Throw him in the dungeons!" It is something you hear many times more. Pleas and demands in equal measure, some calling for justice, others for an execution. It's not what you expected to hear; why would the steward of Marabad be so detested? As you distract yourself by pondering this, it feels like an eternity passes before you reach the hill that leads up to the palace. As you ride up, the golden gates finally come into view. “Stay back!” You watch the city guards try their best to keep the citizens at bay—one of them even extends their magic shield into a wall, connecting with the shield of the guard standing beside them. As the wall forms, citizens pound their fists and slap their palms against it. One of them tries to climb over it, lifted by the others. You watch in amazement as the protester manages to haul their arms over the edge of the see-through wall, spotting $rname and crying out to $rthem. You wish you could hear what they are saying, but you can't understand a single word from among the noise filling the city. All you can see is the way the protester's arms reach out. The sight disappears as soon as you pass underneath the golden gates, hanging menacingly above your head as if you were traveling into the belly of a beast through its mouth. When you finally lay eyes on the front of the Royal Palace in front of you, you realize that comparison may actually be rather apt. [[Continue|3.9c.1]] It is almost strange how easily you become accustomed to the mass of people around you. Or perhaps it’s not that you’re becoming used to it, but rather that your mind simply cannot process the amount of people present. There are so many of them, and yet you can’t make out a single face. You hear only the noise, you see only the colors. They may as well be phantoms. It’s when someone first notices your eyes that things change. “Is that—” “Those eyes!” “They’re riding next to the Royal Protector, does that mean…?” For one instant, you can almost hear the silence beneath the whispers that travel through the crowd. The shouting lowers to build into something much greater, and as you look around you and find more and more eyes aimed at you, it erupts. “<em>IT’S THE CROWN</em>!” It’s an explosion in your ears; you’ve never seen or heard anything like it before. The whole city screams at the top of its lungs, as if the very walls and the arches and the buildings and the hills and the stones it was built upon were all crying out to you. Your heart pounds like a drum in your chest, yet you’ve never felt so alive. From beside you, you catch $aname's eyes, and $athey gives you a firm nod; $athey's the picture of calm, helping you steady your composure. It feels like an eternity passes before you reach the hill that leads up to the palace. As you ride up, the golden gates finally come into view. Around you the city guards are employing magic to keep the citizens at bay. You see several translucent shields erected between the guards and the crowd like small walls, their blue-tinged glow lighting up the streets. It keeps much of the crowd pushed back, but not all of it. Something grabs at the edge of your cloak. You quickly turn around you see dirt stained beneath fingernails, belonging to a hand of a child who looks younger than you. “Please, Your Majesty!” You’re struck by the strength of their grip, as if they were afraid of drowning were they to let go of your cloak, and when you meet their gaze their lower lip trembles. They look so small, running along below you. "Don't worry," $aname assures you, apparently already aware of the child as $athey motions at one of the city guards. "They're harmless." You want to ask how $athey's so sure of that, but the expression on the child's face pulls your attention back to them. “If- if you are truly the Crown, you must do something about the steward,” the child begs, staring up at you with wide, desperate eyes. “After everything he’s done—" One of the city guards grabs them by their elbow, dragging them away. “Get away from there, you insolent child!” You open your mouth to call the guard off, but before you have a chance both the child and the guard are swallowed up by the chaos sweeping the streets and $aname’s horse has already moved on. You wish you could've asked for their name. “$aname, did you hear that?” you ask $athem, turning back to sit straight behind $athem. “That child, they said something about the steward of Marabad.” $aname nods, and you hear the screech of the gates opening to let you pass. “I'm not surprised,” $athey replies cryptically and you can barely hear $athem over the din of the crowd that seems to cry out even louder now that you’ve almost reached your destination. “Stay back!” You watch the city guards try their best to keep the citizens at bay—one of them even extends their magic shield into a wall, connecting with the shield of the guard standing beside them. As the wall forms, citizens pound their fists and slap their palms against it. One of them tries to climb over it, lifted by the others. You watch in amazement as the protester manages to haul their arms over the edge of the see-through wall, spotting you on your horse and crying out to you. You wish you could hear what they are saying, but you can't understand a single word from among the noise filling the city. All you can see is the way the protester's arms reach out to you, much like the child clung to your cloak earlier. The sight disappears as soon as you pass underneath the golden gates, hanging menacingly above your head as if you were traveling into the belly of a beast through its mouth. When you finally lay eyes on the front of the Royal Palace in front of you, you realize that comparison may actually be rather apt. [[Continue|3.9c.2]] You remember catching a glimpse of the pillars and the roof of the palace before, but seeing it unobstructed by the walls surrounding it is an entirely different experience. It stands on a raised platform, stone steps leading up to the massive pillars topped by the statues of snakes you noticed before. Now that you can see it in its entirety, you realize the palace is not so much a single building as it is a complex of multiple buildings connected together by the apadana and its impressive columns; it is an audience hall that would make even the richest Thalloi rulers envious. There are details, carved reliefs of images around the edge of the flat roof that you can barely make out. People and animals, snakes being predominant, as well as carvings of what you assume to be the Armas Mountains that always loom in the distance. The swirling patterns on the red banners hanging down between the fluted columns give off a serpentine impression as well. Turning your attention back to the overall architecture, the sides of the palace complex stretch out to the east and to the west behind the apadana, enclosed by walls with open windows rather than an open hall supported by columns. There is greenery surrounding it as well, carefully planted grass and bushes and flowers, many roses of reds and pinks in particular. Stationary guards stand watch at the edge of it, but you spot a lone soldier on patrol here as well, following the stone path that leads toward the western part of the palace that seems to go on forever. How big is this palace? You have the feeling you’ve barely caught a glimpse of its full size. You tear your gaze away from the gargantuan palace to notice the large stables built near the walls, blinking when you suddenly see all the people either hurrying around or standing perfectly still. The guardsmen, who belong to the latter group, wear uniforms in the same style—a wide, formless robe hanging down their torso, over the long skirt covering their legs—though the patterns and colors are different from soldier to soldier. They all however hold spears and large shields in a rounded rectangular shape, similar to what you’ve seen the armored guards on the outside of the palace wield. Some of them hold daggers and short blades that are tucked into a cloth belt wrapped around their waist, held right below their chest instead of near their hip. Compared to the people hurrying around, who you assume to be servants, the guardsmen look far more colorful. The servants are all dressed in white, though the form of their garments varies. Some wear long, loose robes while others wear long dresses, or shorter dresses with pants underneath. “Are you planning on getting down any time soon?” You look back at $aname again who has already gotten off $atheir horse, and you realize $athey's waiting for you to dismount. The Imperial Guards around you have all already gotten off and are either leading their horses into the stables or handing them off to the stable hands. “Oh!” You hurriedly get off the horse first, feeling a bit unsteady on your feet when you land on the ground, but thankfully your thighs aren’t too sore. [[Continue|3.10c.2]] You remember catching a glimpse of the pillars and the roof of the palace before, but seeing it unobstructed by the walls surrounding it is an entirely different experience. It stands on a raised platform, stone steps leading up to the massive pillars topped by the statues of snakes you noticed before. Now that you can see it in its entirety, you realize the palace is not so much a single building as it is a complex of multiple buildings connected together by the apadana and its impressive columns; it is an audience hall that would make even the richest Thalloi rulers envious. There are details, carved reliefs of images around the edge of the flat roof that you can barely make out. People and animals, snakes being predominant, as well as carvings of what you assume to be the Armas Mountains that always loom in the distance. The swirling patterns on the red banners hanging down between the fluted columns give off a serpentine impression as well. Turning your attention back to the overall architecture, the sides of the palace complex stretch out to the east and to the west behind the apadana, enclosed by walls with open windows rather than an open hall supported by columns. There is greenery surrounding it as well, carefully planted grass and bushes and flowers, many roses of reds and pinks in particular. Stationary guards stand watch at the edge of it, but you spot a lone soldier on patrol here as well, following the stone path that leads toward the western part of the palace that seems to go on forever. How big is this palace? You have the feeling you’ve barely caught a glimpse of its full size. You tear your gaze away from the gargantuan palace to notice the large stables built near the walls, blinking when you suddenly see all the people either hurrying around or standing perfectly still. The guardsmen, who belong to the latter group, wear uniforms in the same style—a wide, formless robe hanging down their torso, over the long skirt covering their legs—though the patterns and colors are different from soldier to soldier. They all however hold spears and large shields in a rounded rectangular shape, similar to what you’ve seen the armored guards on the outside of the palace wield. Some of them hold daggers and short blades that are tucked into a cloth belt wrapped around their waist, held right below their chest instead of near their hip. Compared to the people hurrying around, who you assume to be servants, the guardsmen look far more colorful. The servants are all dressed in white, though the form of their garments varies. Some wear long, loose robes while others wear long dresses, or shorter dresses with pants underneath. “Are you planning on getting down any time soon?” You look back at $aname again who has already gotten off $atheir horse, and you realize $athey's waiting for you to dismount. The Imperial Guards around you have all already gotten off and are either leading their horses into the stables or handing them off to the stable hands. “Oh!” You hurriedly get off the horse first, feeling a bit unsteady on your feet when you land on the ground, but thankfully your thighs aren’t too sore. [[Continue|3.10c.1]] As $aname leads $atheir horse away, leaving you standing by yourself, you glance behind you to the golden gates you just rode through, wondering how they're managing to keep out so many people. The gates have closed shut again after you passed them, though you notice a faint golden glow to them that there wasn’t before. For some reason the citizens pushing up against the gate aren’t able to touch it, let alone exert force onto it. “It’s enchanted.” $rname, having also dismounted $rtheir own horse, walks up to you when $rthey notices you staring. “The gate will project an invisible shield should anyone try to force their way through it. You can take off your hood, if you wish.” <<if $blunt gte $charm>>Nodding to show you’ve understood, you slip the hood of your cloak off your head and turn to face the Royal Palace once more.<<else>>“I see.” You slip the hood of your cloak off your head, turning to face the Royal Palace once more.<</if>> It looks so massive, you cannot imagine what you’re supposed to do with all that space. $rname smiles brightly at you when you catch $rtheir gaze, already pinned on you, and $rthey gestures toward the palace with $rtheir hand as if to show it off. “Impressive, is it not? Would you care for a closer look?" “Wait for me, now.” $xname saunters unhurriedly toward you from the direction of the stables, followed closely by General $dname who aims a glare at the back of $xname's head. You look around for $aname, and flinch in surprise when you turn to your left and find $athem already standing there with $atheir hands behind $atheir back, standing a polite distance away from your personal space. “Did I startle you?” $aname’s expression seems completely neutral, though you swear you see the corner of $atheir mouth twitch. “My apologies.” You frown at $athem. “How do you keep doing that?” $aname smiles enigmatically, perhaps a touch smug, but does not reply. [[Continue|3.11]] As $aname leads $atheir horse away, leaving you standing by yourself, you glance behind you to the golden gates you just rode through, wondering how they're managing to keep out so many people. The gates have closed shut again after you passed them, though you notice a faint golden glow to them that there wasn’t before. For some reason the citizens pushing up against the gate aren’t able to touch it, let alone exert force onto it. “It’s enchanted.” $rname, having also dismounted $rtheir own horse, walks up to you when $rthey notices you staring. “The gate will project an invisible shield should anyone try to force their way through it.” <<if $blunt gte $charm>>Nodding to show you’ve understood, you turn to face the Royal Palace once more.<<else>>“I see.” You turn to face the Royal Palace once more.<</if>> It looks so massive, you cannot imagine what you’re supposed to do with all that space. $rname smiles brightly at you when you catch $rtheir gaze, already pinned on you, and $rthey gestures toward the palace with $rtheir hand as if to show it off. “Impressive, is it not? Would you care for a closer look?" “Wait for me, now.” $xname saunters unhurriedly toward you from the direction of the stables, followed closely by General $dname who aims a glare at the back of $xname's head. You look around for $aname, and flinch in surprise when you turn to your left and find $athem already standing there with $atheir hands behind $atheir back, standing a polite distance away from your personal space. “Did I startle you?” $aname’s expression seems completely neutral, though you swear you see the corner of $atheir mouth twitch. “My apologies.” You frown at $athem. “How do you keep doing that?” $aname smiles enigmatically, perhaps a touch smug, but does not reply. [[Continue|3.11]]@@.chaptertitle;LESSONS IN MAGIC@@ <blockquote><em>“Air liberates, water reflects, earth provides and fire reveals.”</em> —<b>The Four Elemental Principles of Magic</b></blockquote> @@.footnote;<em>select the title to view relevant information about magic</em>@@ <<click "@@.titlepurple4;<b>THE FUNDAMENTALS</b>@@">><<toggleclass "#section0" "hidden">><</click>> <div id="section0" class="hidden">Magic is an energy that permeates the entire world. It is suffused within the environment, and it is what spirits are made of. Every living creature, from humans to animals to insects, possesses magic, though the amount they have at their disposal differs with each individual. For humans, magic operates in very specific ways. Once humans begin to mature into adolescents, it takes on a distinct @@.stattext;<b>signature</b>@@, reflecting the corresponding @@.stattext;<b>magical affinity</b>@@. These affinities are most commonly basic elements, such as an affinity for air, water, fire and earth, but also elements such as stone, plants, metals, and so forth. In rare cases humans have also been known to connect to greater earthly or celestial bodies. These affinities are unique, and are given titles befitting to them. See Crown Ashadūna, whose affinity was named the Sky’s Embrace, or Crown Keybanû’s celestial affinity, named the Void of the Stars. Ordinary citizens have also been known to have such affinities, though the true rate of these occurrences is unknown: very few people are magically educated, and as such, they can go their entire lives without truly understanding their own affinity. Aside from affinities and signatures, humans are also known to distinguish two types of categories of magic: @@.stattext;<b>inner</b>@@ magic and @@.stattext;<b>outer</b>@@ magic. It is uncommon for someone to regularly use both inner and outer magic, as they require very different skills, but it can be done. Magi who have truly mastered disciplines of both inner and outer magic are very rare, however, as it often requires a full lifetime of study. It should also be noted that using inner magic and outer magic simultaneously is impossible; it would be akin to trying to interact with one's surroundings while counting one's own heartbeats. They must always be alternated.</div> <<click "@@.titlepurple4;<b>INNER MAGIC</b>@@">><<toggleclass "#section1" "hidden">><</click>> <div id="section1" class="hidden">Inner magic means using the magic produced by one’s own magic core. It requires great concentration and mental fortitude, as well as an acceptance of oneself in order to embrace one’s core magic. In order to hone it properly, the most skilled inner magic users are known for their single-minded focus; becoming distracted while using inner magic is very dangerous should mistakes be made, in rare cases leading to damage of organs or bones, or even a heart attack.</div> <<click "@@.titlepurple4;<b>OUTER MAGIC</b>@@">><<toggleclass "#section2" "hidden">><</click>> <div id="section2" class="hidden">Outer magic means using the magic within one’s environment. It requires strength of will and a keen eye for one’s surroundings, as well as a talent for balancing multiple threads of magic. All the different types of magic in the environment are interconnected; if one does not keep track of this, it could set off an unintended reaction, such as sparking a wildfire by accident or setting off a flood.</div> <<click "@@.titlepurple4;<b>THE NINE DISCIPLINES OF MAGIC</b>@@">><<toggleclass "#section3" "hidden">><</click>> <div id="section3" class="hidden">All disciplines of magic can be performed by both magic types in their own ways. Some disciplines are more natural to one type than the other and will be easier for the corresponding type to learn, though it is also very possible for someone to learn a discipline that is opposite to their type; it only requires more effort. There are also disciplines that are neutral by nature, not leaning towards either inner or outer magic. Generally, mastering any single discipline within one’s lifetime is considered a great accomplishment; magi who master two disciplines are uncommon, and magi who master three or more are rare. <ul class ="a"><b><em>Natural to inner types</em></b><li>Aura</li><li>Healing</li><li>Enhancement</li></ul><ul class ="a"><b><em>Natural to outer types</em></b><li>Elemental</li><li>Summoning</li><li>Ritual</li></ul><ul class ="a"><b><em>Neutral to both types</em></b><li>Warding</li><li>Alchemy</li><li>Divination</li></ul></div> <<if $magicodexii is false>><b>Undiscovered</b><<else>><<click "@@.titlepurple4;<b>REGARDING MAGI</b>@@">><<toggleclass "#section4" "hidden">><</click>> <div id="section4" class="hidden">Before the founding of the schools of magic within Arsur, the profession of magus was one set aside only for those whose families could afford to hire private tutors, much like with any profession based in academics. To be a magus of any kind was—and still is—a position of great esteem, though there was much less of a hierarchy among magi before the advent of the schools than there is today. By founding the schools of magic, Crown Ardashir intended to make education available for the entire general population, in the hopes that this would bring forth more talent. Entry into a school now, however, has several requirements that did not exist before. Anyone who can afford the fee to apply to a school and is able to pass its entrance exam should be allowed entry, in theory. In practice, however, due to the abundance of applicants each year, those who have recommendations from established magi are given priority. To earn the title of magus, one must go through seven years of education, passing each exam at the end of each year. During this time, their rank is that of <b>novice</b>. The final three years are also spent in apprenticeship to another magus, whose evaluation is taken into account. Once a student has graduated as a <b>ranked magus</b>, they can choose to start working or continue studying in order to earn the rank of <b>Master</b>, someone who has mastered a discipline of magic. There is also its academic equivalent of <b>Scholar</b>, someone who has made significant contributions to the theory of magic or otherwise accomplished valuable research. Beyond that is also the rank of <b>High Master</b>, someone who has mastered two disciplines of magic, or has mastered a discipline as well as contributed to academic research. The highest possible title—aside from the Crown’s Sorcerer, which is political in nature—is the rare rank of <b>Enlightened Master</b>, someone who has mastered more than two disciplines of magic and has made great advancements in academic research. The heads of the Schools of Magic are usually ranked as High Masters at minimum. The Crown’s Sorcerer, though it is a political title, has also historically been the rank of either a High Master or an Enlightened Master. The current Crown’s Sorcerer is as of yet unranked, as $rthey has not enjoyed education at the School of Marabad and refuses to partake in its exams.</div><</if>> <<if $magicodexiii is false>><b>Undiscovered</b><<else>>@@.titlepurple4;<b>REGARDING SPIRITS...</b>@@<</if>> <<if $magicodexiii is false>><b>Undiscovered</b><<else>>@@.titlepurple4;<b>THE EFFECTS OF MAGIC ON THE BODY</b>@@<</if>> <<back>> While Siham nods in acknowledgment and carries the tray to a low table at the far end of your bedroom, Ishrah settles down on a nearby chair beside the bookcases lining the right side of your walls. One of her legs begins to jump up and down, jiggling with barely suppressed nerves. “I must stress the urgency, Crown $name. The steward was in no mood for waiting.” You give her a curious look. “What did the steward say to you?” “He and the other nobles were rather upset to not have been informed of your arrival earlier.” She chews on her lower lip. “$rtitle $rname is currently speaking to them to try and placate them, but they are demanding to see you, and…” “And?” Ishrah winces slightly, before admitting, “$rtitle $rname is not popular among their circles.” You raise your brows in surprise. That wasn’t entirely what you were expecting to hear. $rname’s manners seem so well-polished and elegant that you assumed $rthey fit right in at court, but apparently this is not the case. Although, thinking back on it, you do remember $aname mentioning yesterday that $rname made the head of Marabad’s school grovel before $rthem for rejecting $rtheir application years ago. If that is any indication of how $rname deals with nobility as well, that might explain why Ishrah is so nervous. You pull the covers back and slide out of bed, deciding you may as well go see for yourself. “Alright, I’ll go get ready.” Glancing over at the large tray of breakfast now sitting on the table, you look back at Ishrah and Siham. <<if $charm gt $blunt>>“Why don’t you two take a seat? There’s far too much for me to eat on my own, and I wouldn’t want to waste it.”<<else>>“You should grab a few plates. I’ll join you shortly.”<</if>> Before Siham can even open his mouth to protest, Ishrah perks up immediately. “We’d be honored, Crown $name! You are most generous!” All her previous anxiety seems to evaporate as she gets up and skips over toward the table, settling down on one of the pillows and eagerly digging into the plates of food. Siham stares at her with a mixture of mortification and resignation, before heaving a deep sigh and joining her. [[Continue|4.3]] When you ask where you can freshen up, Ishrah points you to a separate door on the other side of your room that you hadn’t even noticed before. Entering it, you find an unusual room made of pure white stone that reminds you of the bathing chambers below ground. There’s a tall mirror directly across the door, and you watch yourself walk inside before your attention is pulled toward the large stone bath in the corner on your left, big enough to fit four people. It’s devoid of water now, but you suspect it’s meant only for your private use, should you want a simple bath rather than the elaborate cleansing of the bathing chambers. You also spot what looks like a rounded stone chair with a hole in it in the furthest corner of to left. Intended for waste, you presume. On your right, you find something else entirely. There is a perfectly normal countertop made of stone, and you spot various soaps, perfumes and face paints sitting on it for your personal use, but also a square shape cut out into the center of it. You assume it’s meant to be a basin to hold water, except there’s a hole in it. For drainage, you suspect, though you wonder why. Beside the mysterious hole in the countertop, you notice a small symbol engraved as a basic sign for water, small waves that are empty of magic. Above the countertop, in the wall, is a horizontal slit in the stone. How peculiar. Curiously you look back down to study the water symbol, wondering what it could be for. Reaching out, you channel a bit of magic into your fingertips, and touch the symbol. It lights up a vivid blue, and then water comes bursting out of the slit in the wall. Out of reflex you duck to avoid getting sprayed with a surprised shout, but then realize the water isn't hitting you. It’s pouring down into the stone basin. Then you understand what it is. “Majesty, are you alright?” You look up to find $aname standing in the doorway, frowning at you. “I heard you shouting.” $cathey's not wearing $atheir armor, you notice. <<if $comfortbya is false>>Instead, $athey dons a robe you've seen on the other palace guards, though $atheirs looks more expensive. The fabric is a soft shade of green, with $atheir neckline and the edge of $atheir sleeves trimmed with a tasteful gold. $cathey looks more like a noble $athemselves than a guard.<<if $apoints gt 4>> Tearing your gaze away from $atheir flattering new robes--especially the way it frames $atheir shoulders and waist--you turn your attention back to the marvel of magic you just discovered.<</if>><<else>>$cathey's wearing the same soft green robe you remember seeing last night, when $athey came into your room to comfort you after your nightmare. Being awake now, you get a better look at the details of it, at $atheir neckline and the edges of $atheir sleeves trimmed a tasteful gold. $cathey truly looks more like a noble than a guard.<<if $apoints gt 4>> Tearing your gaze away from $atheir flattering robes--especially the way it frames $atheir shoulders and waist--you turn your attention back to the marvel of magic you just discovered.<</if>><</if>> “$aname, look!” you say, amazed as you turn back to watch the water pour out of the wall, landing in the basin in the counter and draining away through the hole. “It’s a waterfall!” $aname narrows $atheir eyes at you, and you hear Ishrah laughing loudly in your bedroom. “Yes,” $aname says slowly. “A… waterfall. Let’s call it that. If you’re not in any mortal peril, would you mind washing your face without shouting this time? You gave the guards stationed outside your door quite the fright.” <<if $intel gte $intu>>“I wonder how it works,” you muse, ignoring $aname for a moment as you look at the stone with the symbol carved in it. Where does the drained water go? The palace is on top of a hill, so you suppose it must flow down somewhere.<<else>>Ignoring $aname for the moment, you touch the symbol again, draining your magic from it and watching with wonder as the water stops pouring. You touch it again, infusing it magic, and water begins to pour once more.<</if>> “Majesty,” $aname interrupts, lips twisted in amusement as $athey observes <<if $intel gte $intu>>your fascination<<else>>as you experiment<</if>> with the symbol. At the very least, you're thankful $athey has opted for the shortest possible form of your official address; it almost sounds like a nickname, with how casually $athey says it. “You’re wasting water.” “Oh, sorry.” You<<if $hairlength is 'long hair' or $hairlength is 'tied hair'>> quickly tie your hair up with one of various ribbons you find on the stone counter and<</if>> cup your hands together, catching the water in your palms before splashing it into your face. It’s quite cold, making you shiver but also chasing away the last of your drowsiness. When you're done you touch the symbol again, draining the magic you've stored in it, and the water stops. You resist the urge to press it again, marveling at the convenient invention. Grabbing a nearby towel off a rack, you dry yourself as you look questioningly at $aname. “<<if $charm gt $blunt>>Good morning. <</if>>Why the sudden appearance?” “What do you mean?” $aname frowns slightly in confusion as $athey watches you pat your face down with the soft, fluffy towel that feels heavenly to your skin. “I heard you shout, so I came to see what the commotion was about. As a Royal Protector should, in case you’ve forgotten.” You put the towel back, eyeing $athem uncertainly. “But what exactly does being a Royal Protector entail? Are you going to be watching me the entire time?” Understanding alights in $aname’s eyes, and $athey quickly shakes $atheir head. “Not unless you’re in immediate danger. My primary task is to eliminate any threats; at times this may necessitate me to leave your side, which is why you have the Imperial Guards at your disposal." “I see.” You notice $aname didn't clarify whether that meant the Imperial Guards will be watching you in $atheir place instead. Being watched by someone is an entirely unpleasant sensation, one you’ve been conditioned to associate with danger. Will you have no more privacy? While the thought makes you uneasy, it does seem only logical to keep a close watch at all times, especially considering the last Crown was assassinated. You suppose it's a small price to pay for not being murdered, as uncomfortable as the prospect makes you. “I’ll wait outside until you’re ready to head out,” $aname decides, <<if $apoints gt 4>>already halfway to turning around when you stop $athem. <<if $charm gt $blunt>>“Would you like to join us for breakfast?”<<else>>“Want to join us for breakfast?”<</if>> you ask before $athey can leave. In a palace filled with strangers, $aname may not be far off from being one $athemselves, but there’s something about $atheir presence that’s comforting to you. Maybe it’s the calm $athey exudes; beneath the sarcastic comments and bored demeanor, $atheir composure is immaculate. Whereas both Siham and Ishrah have been just as nervous—if not more so—than you about the impending meeting with the nobles, $aname is peace itself. Or perhaps unimpressed with the whole thing is a better description. $cathey gives you a long look, glancing over $atheir shoulder at the breakfast table. “I ate earlier.” “Oh.” Your disappointment must be visible on your face, because $athey stares at you for a moment, then sighs and amends $athemselves. “Perhaps some tea.” "Great!" You smile at $athem, but when $athey turns around to leave, you quickly call out, "Oh, can you close the door behind you? <<if $blunt gt $charm>>I really need to take a piss."<<else>>I need to pee."<</if>><<else>>turning around to leave when you stop $athem. "Can you close the door behind you?" you ask. <<if $blunt gt $charm>>"I really need to take a piss."<<else>>"I need to pee."<</if>><</if>> $aname stares at you for a moment, then starts to laugh. When you frown at $athem in confusion, $athey merely shakes $atheir head as $athey leaves the room, still laughing while $athey closes the door behind $athem. [[Continue|4.4]] Freshening up and eating breakfast doesn’t take all that long; neither Ishrah or Siham rush you as you pick your way through the freshest fruits and most delicious breads and pastries. Even the tea tastes so much better than what you would’ve been served at your average teashop, sweet blends of herbs that warm your throat pleasantly as you swallow it down. <<if $apoints gt 4>> Conversation is somewhat stilted, however. $aname isn’t very talkative, and even Ishrah seems a little intimidated by $atheir presence, never venturing further than polite small talk that $aname only responds to in single syllables, mostly. With Siham and Ishrah here as well you don’t speak to $aname as easily as you normally would’ve. Besides which, Ishrah seems more than happy enough to fill the silence up with her nervous chatter while you enjoy your breakfast.<</if>> As soon as you’re done eating, however, your servants’ patience ends. They hurry you through the process of dressing you up<<if $apoints gt 4>> after $aname excuses $athemselves and leaves the bedroom to wait for you outside<</if>>. <<if $clothing is 'shalwar'>>Even though you chose the simple style of tunic and shalwar partly because of how much easier it is to move around in, Ishrah insists upon additional layers of shawls and an elaborate outer robe that’s heavy around your shoulders, but at least feels warm. The glimmering golden patterns on the red fabric do look pretty, admittedly.<</if>><<if $clothing is 'dress'>>The belt she wraps around your waist for your dress is weighted down with golden coins sewn into the cloth, not unlike what you’ve seen on $rname. The outer robe is made of much heavier cloth as well, but the glimmering golden patterns on the red fabric do look pretty, admittedly.<</if>><<if $clothing is 'robes'>>The layers of robes draped around you flow more elegantly, but they also weigh you down quite a bit. If nothing else, the glimmering golden patterns on the red fabric do look rather pretty.<</if>> Somewhere out there some poor tailor has doubtlessly worked through the night to get you these clothes. Once finished dressing in your red and gold garments, <<if $hairlength is 'long hair' or $hairlength is 'short hair' or $hairlength is 'tied hair'>>Siham styles your hair for you while Ishrah offers you various salves and perfumes<<else>>Ishrah offers you various salves while Siham picks out several perfumes for you to peruse<</if>>. The entire process is still rather dizzying. “Normally there would be several more servants here to help with this,” Siham comments when you wonder at the two of them having to do all this work to get you ready. “But since it is your first day in the palace, Master Keko thought you would be more at ease with only Ishrah and I to help.” You’re actually surprised at the consideration for your comfort, making a note to yourself to thank Keko for that later when Ishrah takes yet another small, ornate pot of something out of one of the drawers. <<if $blunt gt $charm>>“I don’t need another skin salve, Ishrah,”<<else>>“Please tell me that’s not another skin salve,”<</if>> you say tiredly, but when she removes the lid off the pot you are stunned by what you find inside. “It’s not a salve, Crown $name,” Ishrah replies with a bright smile, though it’s not bright enough to compare to the pure gold powder she holds in the small pot. “What is it for?” Ishrah and Siham exchange a look, and then Siham answers. “Your eyes, Your Imperial Majesty.” You frown at them both. “I don’t understand. You’re going to put that in my eyes?” “What?” Siham looks horrified, while Ishrah starts to laugh. “No!” “They mean that it's a face paint,” Ishrah elaborates with a grin. That makes a lot more sense than what you initially thought. Siham clears his throat. “Traditionally, Crowns do not wear headpieces to denote their status. Rather, this powder is painted around their eyes and face. It emphasizes the gold.” “Really?” You look from one servant to the other, remembering the engravings on the pillars you noticed yesterday. “Ashadūna was wearing a headpiece in the carvings I saw before.” “It was not yet a custom during her time,” Siham explains. “At some point, there must have been a Crown who decided they would rather paint their face than wear a headpiece.” Whoever that Crown is, your neck will certainly thank them for the change. [[Continue|4.5]] You sit perfectly still on a chair and keep your eyes closed while Ishrah delicately traces shapes and figures around the skin of your eyes, over your eyelids and between your brows with a thin, soft brush. You do your best not to accidentally inhale any as she works with concentration on her face, until she finally finishes. “All done!” she declares excitedly. “I hope I got the patterns right, I spent all night practicing!” “You did well, Ishrah,” Siham praises. Curious to see how it looks on you now, you open your eyes. You hear a sharp gasp and look up at Ishrah and Siham both standing in front of you, seeming stunned. They both stare at you as if mesmerized, and you notice a soft golden glow bathing their skin. At first you think it’s the sunlight from outside, but you realize it doesn’t reach far enough back into the room; they didn’t have this glow on them a short while ago. Is it coming from you? You rise to your feet, which seems to snap both Ishrah and Siham out of their trance. <<if $kind gte $calc>>“Are you two alright?”<<else>>"What is it?"<</if>> Siham ducks their head, lowering it immediately, while Ishrah flushes a deep pink, glancing up at you hesitantly but averting her gaze again, as if you’re too bright to look at for long. “It’s- it’s just…” She’s stammering, searching for the words, but quickly gives up on explaining when they don’t come to her. “That is, you should see for yourself, Your Imperial Majesty.” The imperial address gives you pause, as you thought you and Ishrah agreed she would refer to you as Crown $name, but you decide not to comment on it. Perhaps your new appearance made the formality a necessity. You don’t need to head back into the washing room to find a mirror; there’s one near your bed, held by a carved wooden frame. Unsure of how to interpret Siham and Ishrah’s reactions, you step toward it, but as soon as you move in front of it to see your reflection, you freeze. For a moment, you see a stranger. Someone from a different world, a different realm, as if plucked from a myth and dropped into the mirror where your reflection should be, if only you could recognize it. The garments alone would’ve been a big enough change, but in truth they end up becoming a mere afterthought. You are entranced by the golden light that shines back at you, like twin suns captured in a perfect sunrise and locked away into your eyes. The golden powder glitters on your face like stars, painted like the rays of the sun glowing outward from your face. It is you. It has to be you, but it’s also <em>more</em> than you. Your eyes have never shined like this before. After all, you did your utmost to hide them as much as possible, but the powder brings them out, making them impossible to ignore. While estranged from yourself, peering into the mirror and seeing someone you don’t know, part of you thinks the effect might very well work in your favor once you meet the nobles. If Siham and Ishrah’s responses to your face paint are anything to go by, it’s going to leave quite an impression. On the other hand, how are you supposed to have a normal conversation with people when you look like this? The glow of your eyes is so bright you almost have to squint just to look at yourself, but just as you wish it wouldn’t shine so intensely, the golden light suddenly dims until it’s comfortable to look at again. You turn toward your servants. “Is this powder magical?” “Yes, Your Imperial Majesty,” Siham speaks, though they still do not make any eye contact with you, keeping their head lowered. “It is made from a special type of gold ore only found in the caves of the Armas Mountains.” “That sounds quite rare.” “It is.” Unlike Ishrah, Siham does not so much as glance at you. “Ordinarily, those caves are guarded by Şahmaran and her serpents, but she has always allowed the Crown to make use of them. Most Crowns, in any case.” “Şahmaran?” you repeat faintly, about to ask Siham how she's connected—you always thought the King of Serpents was a figure of bedtime stories and myth—when Ishrah anxiously cuts in. You suppose you can always ask about it later. “Crown $name, I would not want to rush you, but…” She glances toward the doors. “If you are ready?” You almost forgot about the nobles, clamoring to meet you. As unprepared as you feel, you hope your new appearance will go a long way in satisfying their demands. “Yes.” You take a deep breath. “I’m ready.” [[Continue|4.6]] As promised, $aname waits for you right outside your bedroom. You find $athem speaking to an Imperial Guard in the hallway, talking in hushed tones when Ishrah and Siham push both your doors fully open, and $athey halts the conversation to turn $atheir head in your direction. $catheir eyes widen at the sight of you ever so slightly, but it’s not a look of awe like you saw on your servants’ faces, and like you see on the face of the guard $athey was speaking with. If anything, you think you see $athem wince. The movement is a flash, so quick you’re not entirely certain if what you saw was real or not as $aname’s poise looks perfectly maintained the very next moment. $cathey bends into a gracious bow low at the waist while the guard beside $athem all but falls to their knees, hands crossed onto the ground in front of them and forehead pressed against the stone tiles. Neither of them speaks, not even $aname. You’re somewhat puzzled by $atheir sudden silence, when you realize $athey’s probably waiting for permission from you in order to address you properly. <<if $pass gt $ass>>“You don’t need to keep bowing,” you say awkwardly, unsure of what the proper way to tell people to stop bowing is, and from the way $aname’s brows arch up you know it’s definitely not the right way. “Dismissed,” $athey tells the guard kneeling beside $athem who is still staring up at you with big eyes, startling at being addressed. The guard quickly scrambles up to their feet to bow to you again, then to $aname, before hurrying away down the hall. $aname looks at you again. “In the future, rather than offering a tepid suggestion, command people to raise their heads. It’ll make you seem less terrified.”<<else>>“At ease,” you say carefully, not certain if it’s the right command to use to get people to stop bowing, but it’s what you’ve heard guards say to each other before. From the way $aname gives you an entertained arch of $atheir brows, though, you’re certain it’s not entirely right. “Dismissed,” $athey tells the guard kneeling beside $athem who is still staring up at you with big eyes, startling at being addressed. The guard quickly scrambles up to their feet to bow to you again, then to $aname, before hurrying away down the hall. $aname looks at you again. “In the future, unless you <em>want</em> people to mistake you for a misplaced army commander, telling them to raise their head will suffice.”<</if>> Now you’re the one who almost winces at your misstep, but $aname’s lips bend into what almost looks like a smile, and $atheir aloof gaze softens the slightest bit. “All you need to do is show up,” $athey says, and while there’s nothing particularly gentle about $atheir factual tone, you realize the words are rather reassuring to hear. “Leave $rname and $xname to do the talking.” That, you didn’t expect to hear. “$xname is here as well?" $aname snorts at your alarmed tone, turning around and beginning to walk down the hallway. You make to follow, though you turn around to Ishrah and Siham left behind in your bedroom, and you smile at what you see there; the former is waving at you cheerily, while the latter is bowing so deeply their upper body is parallel to the ground. “As if $xthey would pass up the opportunity to annoy the nobility," $aname speaks as $athey walks ahead of you, not having stopped to wait. You quicken your step to catch up with $athem. "With luck, $xthey’ll chase them out the palace before $rname gets it in $rtheir head to light their robes on fire.” You eye $aname’s back, unsure of how to take the remark. “$rname wouldn’t do that. Would $rthey?” $aname glances over $atheir shoulder at you. “Trust me when I say that $xname is not the one you need to worry about. Although…” “Although?” $cathey doesn’t respond for a short while, and you’re about to let the subject drop when $athey suddenly adds, “Don’t be surprised if $xthey speaks out of turn in there.” Well, that’s reassuring. [[Continue|4.7]]$aname guides you to the throne room. Unlike all the servants and guards who collapse to their knees at the sight of you, $athey seems less affected by your appearance. It probably helps that $athey has $atheir back turned to you as $athey leads you through the hallway, though you suspect from $atheir earlier reaction $athey would not have been affected much by it either way. As you walk with $athem you try to keep a mental map of the palace, an important skill to have in case you ever need a way to escape. From your room, it’s down the corridor to the intersection, then the hallway on your right which is a straight path past the bathing chambers and the sitting area you were in yesterday. The interior of the palace seems much simpler to navigate so far than you assumed, if this is what you can expect from the rest of the complex. You estimate that if you continue to follow this corridor, you should eventually reach the reception hall of the palace—the room with the big statues of shirdals—but suddenly $aname takes a turn right. Befuddled, you look around at the corridor you’ve just entered, but you don’t recognize it at all. You estimate it runs through the center of your personal residence, no windows on either side. Was there a hallway here before? You can’t remember seeing any yesterday. $aname glances at you again, noting your confusion. “Did Keko not mention the passageway between your rooms and the throne room?” He did. You think you recall him saying as much. “I don’t remember this hallway being here before,” you reply as $aname leads you toward a set of stairs on the right side of the corridor, going up a floor. You follow $athem up the steps, ending in yet another corridor. “That’s because it wasn’t,” $aname responds, which only increases your confusion. “What do you mean?” $aname shrugs. “The palace has a foundational structure, but everything outside of that can adapt to the wishes of its residents. Well, those that are authorized, anyway.” $cathey fishes out a small tablet from $atheir pocket, the same sort you've seen Ishrah walk around with; you catch a glimpse of a golden symbol shaped in a delicate, circular pattern on its clay. "Passageways will appear or disappear according to your need of them. At days when it's particularly busy in the palace, don't be surprised if you hear a distant noise of stone moving around." You had no idea magic was capable of feats like this as well. It's impressive, to say the least. "Can I have one of those, too?" you ask, nodding to the tablet in $aname's hand before $athey slips it back into the pocket of $atheir robe again. "Once it's safe enough for you to wander around without an escort, perhaps," $aname replies evasively. You assume that means no. For now, at least. [[Continue|4.8]] Eventually $aname comes to a stop, and when $athey does instead of a door you notice the left wall of the corridor ends here, replaced by a long row of red curtains. There are no windows nor torches here, leaving you in the dark; the familiarity of the shadows you’ve become so accustomed to navigating is almost comforting. The only illumination comes from the soft sunlight glowing through the gap between the curtain and the floor. You hear voices on the other side, though you can’t make out what they’re saying because they’re all talking over each other, and you don’t recognize any of them. Walking past $aname, you reach out a hand to push the curtains aside and take a peek, when $aname holds out $atheir arm to stop you with a cautioning look. “That leads to the throne room.” The warning gives you pause, and you nod at $athem in understanding. $cathey lowers $atheir arm, folding $atheir hands behind $atheir back and averting $atheir gaze from you, standing beside the curtains in perfect posture, and for the first time $athey looks like one of the Imperial Guards. You appreciate the small amount of privacy as you take a breath and try to collect your thoughts, noticing the soft glow of gold your eyes shine against the back of the curtains. <<if $adven gt $caut>>While you don’t feel as nervous as you thought you might, you still have no idea what you should say to them, or how to act without embarrassing yourself.<<else>>Your hands are trembling lightly with your nerves, and you clasp them together in an effort to steady yourself, breathing quietly in and out.<</if>> “What am I supposed to say to them?” you ask out loud, feeling completely ambushed by the situation. You thought you would have more time to prepare for a public appearance, though you're not sure this one qualifies. $aname looks at you from the corner of $atheir eyes while the cacophony of chatter continues on in the background. “Nothing, really.” “Nothing?” you repeat incredulously. “You’re the Crown,” $athey points out to you, looking straight ahead again, eyes fixed dutifully on the wall across from $athem. “You can tell them whatever you want.” The reminder actually helps. Somehow, you keep forgetting the magnitude of your station, but thinking it through logically, why do their opinions even matter to you? They are total strangers, even if nobility, and you’re the <em>Crown</em>.<<if $apoints gt 4>> “You'll be alright.” You look up, surprised at the soft tone $aname speaks to you with. $cathey meets your eyes, soft brown staring back into your gold, and you find yourself unable to look away. It's as if being swept away in a current, but not in an unpleasant way. Not at all.<</if>> Just then, a single voice cuts through the disarray of conversations out in the throne room<<if $apoints gt 4>>, as well as interrupting your moment with $aname as you quickly glance away and $aname clears $atheir throat, averting $atheir gaze as well<</if>>. “Honored guests!” $rname’s voice, usually soft and low, reminds you of the cold dismay $rthey addressed $xname with when you first met $rthem. $crtheir commanding tone is a notable contrast to how much gentler $rtheir words are when meant for you. “I assure you that shouting your complaints at the throne will not make the Crown appear any sooner.” “If you’d like us to be patient, Sorcerer, the least you could do is tell us where $ctheir Imperial Majesty is,” someone replies irritably, calls of agreement joining them in their demand. “The Crown’s whereabouts are none of your concern, <em>noble</em>.” $rname’s speech is slow, perfectly calm yet sharp, like the slow bite of frost. You've never heard anyone sound so gracefully condescending before, and you’re beginning to understand what $aname was talking about earlier; the disdain is dripping from $rname’s every word. “$ctheir Imperial Majesty will arrive when <<if $pronouns is 'theythem'>>they are<<else>>$they is<</if>> ready.” “Seems like <<if $pronouns is 'theythem'>>they're<<else>>$they's<</if>> ready, then.” $xname, as irreverent as ever, no doubt having sensed your arrival. Still, even if the statement causes a wave of murmurs to rise from the waiting crowd of nobles, you actually appreciate it. The declaration gives you the perfect moment to enter, and you half-wonder if $xname did that intentionally as you take one last breath, then reach out to grab the curtain. $aname, however, beats you to it. $cathey grabs the edge of a curtain as your eyes meet, lips lifting in a faint but reassuring smile as $athey waits for your signal. You won't be alone in there. <<if $caut gt $adven>>Even while your heart pounds in your throat, you find the courage to<<else>>Heart pounding with anticipation, you<</if>> nod, and $athey pulls it aside. [[Continue|4.9]] Sunlight shines into your eyes. It comes from above as you step out from behind the curtain, finding yourself at the top of a platform with a tall set of stairs. Right in front of you there is a stately dark-wooden chair, bigger than you anticipated with its sharp edges, the back of it ornately carved into round patterns resembling the sun. For a moment the voices and the expectations and the sunlight and the rest of the room all fade. Your eyes are fixated on the chair. The throne. <em>Your</em> throne. It isn’t until you take your first step toward it that you realize the throne room has fallen into complete silence. Everything seems so still. You look up toward the ceiling, realizing there is a hole right above the throne where the sunlight is falling through and down on you, leaving the rest of the room in the dark. Placing one foot in front of the other, you approach the throne, until you step out from behind it and the rest of the room comes fully into view. You look down at the crowd gathered below, at the foot of the stairs that look so very tall from up here. Bathed in the light, you cannot even make out their faces, but you hear them gasp, see them fall to their knees as you step in front of your throne. Even the guards stationed at either side of the noble crowd, and the servants--among them, Master Keko who stands at the sidelines--prostrate themselves in your presence. There you stand at the very edge of your platform like you were atop the highest peak of the Armas Mountains, peering down at the earth like the sun itself. It is dizzying. Intoxicating. Overwhelming. Your earlier worrying about not knowing what to say seems silly now; you doubt you could speak even if you wanted to. A glimmer of silver in the shadows draws your eye, and then you see $rname, standing halfway up the steps and turned toward you, staring up at you. <<if $rpoints gt 4>>$crtheir gray eyes shine beautifully bright as they reflect the sunlight.<</if>> You wonder what $rthey sees. Unlike the naked look of reverence you’ve received from others, $rname looks at you with $rtheir eyes not wide in shock or awe, but with something else entirely. Something that weighs so much heavier. Hope. [[Continue|4.10]] Reality comes crashing back into you like a ruthless tidal wave, sweeping away any wonder you might’ve felt; you are indeed the Crown, but for a <em>reason</em>. One you cannot forget. Below you, $rname breaks out into a brilliant smile and then bows $rtheir head to you. Locks of $rtheir long silky black hair fall over $rtheir shoulders, and you notice small silver chains draped around $rtheir head, matching similar silver jewelry to compliment the deep blue dress $rthey wears. The touch of paint on $rtheir lips is purple instead of red today. It’s a perfect contrast to your red and gold. You wonder if $rthey did that on purpose. As with $aname and the guard from before, this time you are much quicker to understand that $rname will need your permission to speak first when $rthey does not say a word and lingers in $rtheir bowed stance. You resist the urge to clear your throat and pray to the Spirits your voice remains steady as you part your lips to speak. “$rtitle $rname.” Thank goodness. “Your Imperial Majesty,” $rthey speaks, all the hostility you heard before gone from $rtheir voice. “Crown $name, the Twenty-First of your line, I present to you the noble houses of Marabad.” You squint your eyes the slightest bit as you peer down at the figures still kneeling at the foot of your stairs, ill at ease at being unable to see their expressions, and remember $aname’s advice. “You may raise your heads.” The nobles do so, though they remain on their knees before you. All of them are dressed in various different color schemes, clearly distinguished from each other, though you have no idea who any of them are, whose houses they belong to, or which houses even <em>exist</em> in Marabad in the first place. Though they have raised their heads, allowing you to see their faces, the nobles still refrain from making direct eye contact with you. That is, save for one of them. Someone dressed in yellow and green, their head lifted toward you, meeting your eyes without flinching when your gaze falls upon them. You stare back at them, trying to keep your facial features set in impassive lines as you wonder whether to take this as a sign of disrespect. The warnings from yesterday ring in your head, about arrogant nobles who have grown possessive of their power in the absence of a Crown, and you begin to feel uneasy. Suddenly you hear an impressed whistling sound coming from somewhere beyond the crowd. It breaks up the staring contest between you and the noble, pulling your attention toward the rest of the throne room which—as you notice for the first time—is almost as big as the apadana you walked through at the front of the palace complex. Before you contemplate the size of it, however, you look for the source of the whistling first. [[Continue|4.11]] You find $xname, leaning back against a pillar a few feet away from the rest of the crowd at the ground floor. Even in the dark you can make out the green of $xtheir eyes, and $xthey grins brazenly when you meet $xtheir stare, pushing off the pillar and approaching the foot of the throne. “Crown $name, I must say you look resplendent,” $xthey speaks, drawing several outraged noises and indignant huffs from the nobles who have to shuffle aside for $xthem as $xthey walks right through the crowd with a cheeky smile. “I like the red. It compliments your eyes.” $cxthey doesn’t kneel, does not bend $xtheir waist, does not even lower $xtheir head as $xthey stares right at you, looking you in the eye, undaunted. Perhaps even taunting you. Is $xthey challenging you on purpose? $aname warned you that $xname might speak out of turn, but you hadn’t anticipated <em>this</em>. All too aware of the nobles watching you, you consider your options. Do you react to $xtheir disregard and make a show of dominance, or remain dignified and ignore it? Which would be better? You frown slightly, remembering $aname’s words. You are the Crown; what you do or say is entirely up to you. That doesn’t help you in figuring out what the best course of action is, unfortunately, nor is it a particularly comforting thought. But if nothing else, you are in control. <ul class="a"> <li>[[Impress the nobles with your composure.|4.12b][$pass to $pass + 50]]<<if $cheatsheet is true>> <em>+ Passive</em><</if>></li> <li>[[Show the nobles that you are in charge.|4.12a][$ass to $ass + 50]]<<if $cheatsheet is true>> <em>+ Assertive</em><</if>></li> </ul> You don't wish to posture during your first appearance in front of the nobles; you have always been more impressed by those who could keep their cool under pressure. <<if $xpoints gt 4>>As for $xname, you expect that $xthey has a good reason for doing this. Though you haven’t known $xthem for long, <<if $calc gt $kind>>$xthey agreed to help protect you for your coronation. It wouldn’t make sense for $xthem to put you in danger by making you seem weak in front of the nobles.<<else>>you think of $xthem as a good person. Someone who would not want to endanger $xtheir country, at the very least.<</if>><</if>> “$xname,” you say, trying to imitate that endless patience your father would speak to you with whenever you got out of line, which always made you feel like a child in comparison. <<if $charm gt $blunt>>“I'm surprised to find you in this meeting.”<<else>>“Are you here for a reason?”<</if>> You look at $xthem as if $xthey were a visitor who ended up lost on $xtheir way out the door. It has the intended effect: $xname laughs a little, but appears distinctly less bold than $xthey did a moment ago. “I'm here to pay my respects to Your Imperial Majesty, of course,” $xthey responds dutifully, still a little bit cheeky but not nearly as audacious. “I see.” You nod benevolently. “Go ahead.” $xname appears to fidget a little, rubbing the back of $xtheir neck with a somewhat embarrassed smile. <<if $xpoints gt 4>> You wish you knew what $xthey was thinking.<</if>> Every pair of eyes in the room is glued to the exchange. In the silence, you can hear the blood rushing through your veins, heart beating fast, and $xname does not disappoint. After a long moment, the Pale Sword lowers $xtheir head. <<if $xpoints gt 4>>For <em>you</em>.<</if>> It is a feeling you don’t think you’ve ever experienced before. You've never taken charge, let alone been looked at as a leader by anyone else. That suited you fine, as you've never been one to make the decisions unless forced to by your circumstances. You could’ve never imagined anyone bowing to you, let alone someone known throughout Arsur as a great hero, and yet here you are. In truth, it makes you a little bit uneasy. “Your Imperial Majesty,” $xname speaks, keeping $xtheir head bowed, and you’re surprised at how well $xthey keeps to $xtheir performance. “It was my great honor to escort you to Marabad. I hope you will allow me to serve you in the future as well.” <<if $charm gt $blunt>>You let a smile grace your lips, and even as you’re relieved at the reply, you remind yourself to keep the tone of what you think a Crown would sound like. “A most generous offer. I would be remiss if I did not take advantage of it.”<<else>>Relief floods through you; speaking gently has never been your strong suit, and it’s better to move on before you say something rude. “Of course.”<</if>> [[Continue|4.13]] Whatever $xname’s motivations, if you let $xthem address you like this in front of the nobles, you’ll appear weak; you'll be as good as undermined. <<if $xpoints gt 4>>Still, you suspect $xthey has a reason for doing this. Though you haven’t known $xthem for long, <<if $calc gt $kind>>$xthey agreed to help protect you for your coronation. It wouldn’t make sense for $xthem to put you in danger by making you seem weak in front of the nobles.<<else>>you think of $xthem as a good person. Someone who would not want to endanger $xtheir country, at the very least.<</if>> But none of that matters in the moment. <</if>>“Mercenary,” you say, not even deigning to use $xtheir name. The grin lingers on $xname's lips, but it looks sharper. <<if $charm gt $blunt>>“Are you here to pay your respects?”<<else>>“Will you pay your respects?”<</if>> “Of course!” $xname declares without hesitation, though $xthey makes no move to bow. <<if $blunt gt $charm>>“Then do so.”<<else>>“Then do not make me wait.”<</if>> You keep your tone perfectly even but your stare is intent, and just as you hoped the light of your eyes that is enhanced by the magical powder shines brighter on $xthem; unlike the nobles around $xthem, $xname does not even squint at the radiance. $cxthey simply keeps staring up at you. <<if $xpoints gt 4>> You wish you knew what $xthey was thinking.<</if>> Every pair of eyes in the room is glued to the exchange. In the silence, you can hear the blood rushing through your veins, heart beating fast, and $xname does not disappoint. After a long moment, the Pale Sword lowers $xtheir head. <<if $xpoints gt 4>>For <em>you</em>.<</if>> It is a feeling you don’t think you’ve ever experienced before. Your life was always in the hands of others, dependent on your parents to keep you safe, dependent on the kindness of strangers willing to take your family in when you couldn’t find a safe place to sleep. You could’ve never imagined anyone bowing to you, let alone someone known throughout Arsur as a great hero, and yet here you are. <<if $xpoints gt 4>>You can even feel your heart racing a little.<</if>> “Your Imperial Majesty,” $xname speaks, keeping $xtheir head bowed, and you’re surprised at how well $xthey keeps to $xtheir performance. “It was my great honor to escort you to Marabad. I hope you will allow me to serve you in the future as well.” <<if $charm gt $blunt>>You let a smile grace your lips, and even as you’re relieved at the reply, you remind yourself to keep the tone of what you think a Crown would sound like. “A most generous offer. I would be remiss if I did not take advantage of it.”<<else>>Relief floods through you; speaking gently has never been your strong suit, and it’s better to move on before you say something rude. “Of course.”<</if>> [[Continue|4.13]]<<if $pass gt $ass>>[ <b><em>@@.stattext;Passive@@</em> character trait has been locked in.</b> ]<</if>><<if $ass gt $pass>>[ <b><em>@@.stattext;Assertive@@</em> character trait has been locked in.</b> ]<</if>> You finally turn your attention back to $rname<<if $charm gt $blunt>>, even managing a smile that you hope doesn’t seem as stiff as it feels on your face. “Now then, shall we return to the introductions, $rtitle $rname?”<<else>>, deciding not to waste any more time with pleasantries than you already have, though you suppose they are unavoidable. “The introductions, $rtitle $rname?”<</if>> $rname inclines $rtheir head, smoothly picking up where you left off before $xname interfered. $crthey peers toward the rows of nobles kneeling at the foot of the stairs, addressing them coolly. “Make no mistake, this is not an audience,” $rname states. “You are to introduce yourself and the house you represent to the Crown, but that is all. Everything else can wait until after $ctheir Imperial Majesty’s coronation.” While $rname speaks you gingerly take a seat upon your throne. The soft cushions feel quite comfortable, <<if $height is 'tall' or $height is 'average' or $height is 'short'>>and the size of the chair suits you surprisingly well<</if>><<if $height is 'very tall'>>though you wish the chair itself could’ve been a little wider. You feel somewhat cramped due to your stature being much taller, and as a result bigger, than most. At least you have plenty of room to stretch your legs<</if>><<if $height is 'very short'>>though you wish the chair itself could’ve been a little less wide. You feel somewhat swallowed by its size due to your stature being much shorter, and as a result smaller, than most. At least your feet aren't dangling off the edge; that would've been embarrassing<</if>>. “Steward Welat,” $rname says as you’ve just settled down, instantly pulling your attention at the mention of the title. “You may speak first.” You remember the events of yesterday, when you returned to the city late in the afternoon and found endless crowds of citizens shouting in the streets. One of them, crying out about the steward of the city himself—you’re more than curious to finally lay eyes upon him, though as you follow $rname’s gaze to the steward in question, he is not what you expected. A tall, slender person rises to his feet from among the kneeling nobles. Unlike the richly embroidered garments and glimmering jewelry surrounding him, the steward himself is dressed in very plain red robes, at first glance seeming nothing more than an older person you might come across walking down the street. The streaks of gray in his long dark hair and beard indicate he must have quite a few years on him, but when he looks up at you, there is nothing of his age in his eyes. You can’t make out the color but even in the shadows they seem bright, sunlight reflected sharply within. He bows before you once more after he stands, and holds the position while he speaks, head lowered and gaze aimed to the floor as his palm presses against his chest. “Your Imperial Majesty.” His voice is deep, slightly gravelly yet loud enough for you to hear at this short distance, seeming to echo against the walls of the throne room. “It is my great honor to present myself to you as your humble servant, addressed as he. I am the steward of this city, entrusted to me by the late Mîr of Rojan, now her son Mîr Behram, and belong to no noble house. I hope to serve you as faithfully as I have served Crown Ferzan, as well as Crown Piruz before him.” You consider the steward before you, not certain what to make of him. From what you heard yesterday, he has invoked the ire of the people, but he may just as well be a scapegoat for the frustration that has built up until now with the absence of a Crown for these past ten years. Glancing at the rest of the nobles around him, waiting their turn, you decide to settle on a nod <<if $blunt gt $charm>>to acknowledge him and nothing more. The less time you waste here, the better. Steward Welat returns to kneeling on the floor after you acknowledged him, and while you can’t tell what he thinks of your response, the nobles around him appear nervous as they glance around at each other and begin to fidget. They seem intimidated.<<else>>and a graceful smile to acknowledge him. You cannot get overly friendly with people meant to serve you, but that doesn’t mean you can’t charm them a little. Steward Welat returns to kneeling on the floor after you acknowledged him, and while you can’t tell what he thinks of your response, the nobles around him appear to be more at ease as several of them dare to glance at you now, as if to catch a glimpse of your smile. Their postures don’t seem as stiff anymore.<</if>> The introductions continue. [[Continue|4.14]] It may as well have been a list of names presented to you on a sheet of papyrus, for all the use it has. Aside from Steward Welat, none of the nobles after him leave much of an impression; nothing can quite compare to the splendor of the Royal Palace, no matter how lavishly they dress or how brightly their jewels glitter. It is a struggle to remember the names with the faces as soon as they kneel down once more to blend with the rest: Lord Farrukh of House Balyan, Lady Tavan of House Gewozî, Noble Nûdem and Lady Dilnia both of House Sarshiv… <<if $charm gt $blunt>>your smile is beginning to hurt your cheeks with how long you have to maintain it,<<else>>your nods are starting to get stiffer with every introduction,<</if>> until $rname calls out to one noble in particular. “Lady Naza,” $rthey introduces, and someone in yellow and green rises from among the others to her feet. Out of all the nobles, she seems the most fearless. You noticed her for the way she was staring at you so openly before, but now you take another look at her you realize even if she hadn’t stared at you, she would’ve still stood out. Her yellow robes accentuated by a tasteful pink set her apart from the darker colors surrounding her, which adds to her stature—almost as tall as Heval and just as big—and makes her impossible to overlook. Her hair is pulled up into an elaborate topknot wrapped with silver strings and pink gemstones, flattering her round face and indicating her status; clearly she is not afraid to draw eyes. Which makes sense considering the way she watches you, even as she bows. “I am Naza of House Ishtal,” she states, and you are not the only one who notices she neglects to use the imperial address upon first speaking to you, like the other nobles did. $xname, who has remained standing at the very front of the crowd, watches her closely while her peers look on with indignation and looks of annoyance. You cannot see $rname’s face from where you sit as $rthey has $rtheir back to you, but you notice $rtheir fingers twitch from where they peek out from underneath $rtheir wide sleeves. Lady Naza straightens out of her bow, raising her chin and does not offer you her loyalty nor her service. Instead, she says, “I look forward to seeing how our new Crown will rule.” This draws shocked noises from the crowd of nobles around her, not that she seems to care about their opinion. Her eyes are only on you, a taunting smile on her lips. “Lady Naza, that is the Crown you are speaking to!” one of the nobles—Noble Nûdem if you remember correctly—scolds her heatedly, almost standing up from their bow. “We have not had a Crown in ten years, and this is how you receive $ctheir Imperial Majesty? Have you no sense of decorum?” “Has the coronation happened yet?” Lady Naza asks calmly. “I…” Noble Nûdem glances up at you unsurely, the anger among the rest simmering down. “No, but—” “Then why are we all gathered here groveling at the feet of some whelp who did not even know our names until now?” she replies, the sharpness of her words the only thing indicating her insult as her manner is perfectly serene, even as her declaration finally draws the ire of the one $aname told you to watch out for. “A whelp?” $rname repeats in a pleasant tone even as the air drops in temperature, a chill settling over you as well as everyone else if the way the nobles begin to shiver is any indication; your thick garments are the only thing protecting you from the cold, drawn forth by $rname’s magic. “A <em>whelp</em>, you say? What a daring accusation from a dog who cannot recognize her own master.” The entire room falls into silence. You’re not sure what awes you more: the sheer density of magic crackling in the air, freezing it over and almost making it harder to breathe, or the fact that $xname truly is better behaved than $rname. Until $xname begins to clap, that is. “Good one,” $xthey says approvingly, grinning up at you shamelessly when you glare at $xthem. $aname was wrong. Neither $rname nor $xname are worse than the other; they are both a disaster, albeit in different ways. At this point you’re not sure whether having someone challenging you openly in front of the nobility is better or worse than someone defending your honor in the most hostile way possible. All eyes turn to Lady Naza for her reaction to the blatant insult, but she does not respond the way you thought she would have. The laugh that leaves her mouth fills up the throne room. She presses her palms to her belly, as if to cradle the hearty sound in her hands as she throws her head back. “Well done, $rtitle Sorcerer!” she praises, but her amusement only seems to infuriate $rname even more. “And here I thought you were a spineless little mageling who had been hiding behind Lady Zerya’s skirt all this time.” “Oh!” $xname grins widely, turning $xtheir head to look at $rname. “Are you just going to take that, $rname?” You press your palm to your face in mortification. $rname’s voice retains its perfectly pleasant tone, while the cold in the air intensifies with $rtheir unspoken fury. "Take what? All I hear is toothless howling, $xname." When Lady Naza laughs once more, you think you see sparks start to flash in the air. If you do not intervene now, the situation will doubtlessly get out of hand. $xname seems far too entertained by the debacle to interfere, prodding the two instead, and so you make to rise from your seat, until someone beats you to it. [[Continue|4.15]]“$rtitle $rname, Lady Naza.” Steward Welat gets up to his feet, bowing to you once. “My deepest apologies for interfering, Your Imperial Majesty. However, as crass as Lady Naza’s words were, I do not believe she said them with any intentions of showing disrespect to the throne. We all have very high expectations for Your Imperial Majesty. I would beg of you, as well as of $rtitle $rname, not to take Lady Naza’s words to heart.” You understand at once how this person came to be a steward. He has a firm grasp of diplomacy and commands the room with ease even as he assumes a subservient role, choosing the exact right words that will cool tempers. While you notice Lady Naza huff, giving the steward a disdainful glare, she does not raise her voice any further. He does much better than you would have, in any case; handling introductions is one thing, but trying to diffuse a building fight when your entire life you have been running away from confrontation might be a hill too steep for you as you are now. <<if $ass gt $pass>>Though that does not mean you are not still frustrated that someone else took control of the situation before you could. You ought to take it back.<<else>>Part of you is even relieved that someone else took control of the situation before you had to. Still, you ought to take it back; it would not do to appear weak.<</if>> <<if $blunt gt $charm>>“It is already forgotten,” you reply, making a dismissive wave with your hand which may be a bit of a curt gesture, but in truth your patience has completely run out. “$rtitle $rname, if you would continue?” The nobles seem quite relieved to be able to move on, though $xname appears disappointed. $rname does not look at you, but the chill gradually lifts from the air.<<else>>“It is as you say, Steward Welat,” you reply gracefully. “I realize I am a complete stranger to you; no doubt you all must be nervous about what kind of person has taken the throne. In that respect, I cannot hold Lady Naza’s skepticism against her. I hope to prove to her, as well as to all of you, that I am worthy of being your Crown.” The steward, as well as all the nobles—save for Lady Naza—bow to you once more in acknowledgement of your words, and many of them seem pleased, if not reassured. $xname appears to be the only one who’s disappointed, and while $rname does not look at you, the chill $rthey caused earlier gradually lifts from the air. “Now, $rtitle $rname, if you would continue?” you say to $rthem, hoping $rtheir temper has cooled.<</if>> $rname is silent as the tension drains from $rtheir posture, though $rthey keeps $rtheir shoulders straight. When $rthey turns $rtheir head to face you, in the faint glow of the sunlight, $rthey appears embarrassed. “Of course, Your Imperial Majesty, please forgive my insolence. I will—” "One moment." You nearly jump in your seat when you suddenly hear $aname's voice from beside you, and when you look over you find $athem standing next to your chair as if $athey has been there this entire time. How does $athey keep catching you unaware? [[Continue|4.16]]<<if $charm gt $blunt>>You eye $aname curiously, wondering about the intricacies of how the titles of Royal Protector and Crown are supposed to interact with each other. Though $athey is supposed to serve you by protecting you, you can’t call $athem a servant. If anything, $athey may be the closest thing to an equal you have right now. “Is something wrong, $aname?” you ask, briefly drawing $atheir eyes to you before $athey looks off into the throne room again, beyond the nobles toward the gates at the other end.<<else>>You eye $aname questioningly, beginning to wonder about how the titles of Royal Protector and Crown are supposed to interact with each other, but then decide you can’t find it in yourself to give a damn. It hasn’t even been a full day yet and you’re already sick of courtly etiquette. “What is it, $aname?” you ask, briefly drawing $atheir eyes to you before $athey looks off into the throne room again, beyond the nobles toward the gates at the other end.<</if>> “Visitors,” $aname states, exchanging a meaningful look with $rname. "Took you long enough to notice," $xname comments nonchalantly, studying $xtheir nails in apparent boredom. It’s at that moment someone walks through the tall gates that serve as the entrance of the throne room, heading toward you in long strides. The glint of gold on $dtheir armor gives $dthem away. It’s General $dname, flanked by two Imperial Guards. It says a lot about the size of the throne room that it takes a short while for them to make their way over, the nobles who have remained on their knees turning their heads to look as the general approaches. Having moved aside for $xname earlier, the gap among them allows General $dname and $dtheir guards to march right through their center, before finally reaching the foot of the stairs where they kneel down and bow before you. General $dname doesn’t so much as blink at the light in your eyes; $dthey seems entirely unaffected. <<if $dpoints gt 4>>You feel almost a little disappointed by that. Not that you would've wanted $dthem to fixate on your title any more than $dthey already has, but maybe a part of you might've liked to see $dthem at least a little impressed, or flustered, or something of the sort.<</if>> “Your Imperial Majesty.” “General $dname,” you greet $dthem, sitting up a little straighter as you feel slightly on edge by $dtheir sudden appearance. “What is it?” “The princess of Kartan’s Forest is here to see you,” $dthey says after sitting up from $dtheir bow, though $dthey keeps kneeling as $dthey looks up at you. $cdtheir words sound completely nonsensical to you—what princess, and since when has royalty been living in the forests of Rojan?—until $dthey clarifies, “She is an ambassador for the peris, accompanied by a small retinue to make introductions.” So, a mythical being has decided to show up at your doorstep. Considering you own a palace now where you had been mostly sleeping beneath trees before, you suppose this isn’t even the most baffling thing to have happened to you in the past two days, though perhaps the numbness you feel may be partly due to shock. The nobles don’t look particularly surprised, either; being that they live in a city bordering on the forest where the peris live, they must have had more dealings with them than anyone else. You yourself have never come across one, as peris are known to avoid humans as much as possible, though you do know of them. Mainly, that it is impossible to know what to expect when dealing with them; peris are by nature notoriously fickle, though those that earn their favor are said to gain great wealth in return. Those that draw their ire, however, seldom experience happy endings. [[Continue|4.17]] You find your hands clenching around the armrests of your throne. Being made the Crown is one thing, you’ve had years to prepare yourself for the possibility, but meeting others of royalty is something else entirely. You haven’t even had a single lesson in proper etiquette before; what if you embarrass not only yourself, but the nation you now speak for? $rname heaves a deep sigh at General $dname’s declaration, to which $aname glances at $rthem. “Did you not sense the peris before, $rname?” $athey asks. “The palace’s protections are supposed to alert you as well, are they not?” “They’re flying about the palace like a swarm of locusts, breaching nearly every ward along the way,” $rname replies irritably, waving $rtheir hand about, and it strikes you how relaxed both of them seem while you’re tensed up with nerves. “Of course I have sensed them.” “Can locusts fly?” $xname wonders out loud, still standing around a little to General $dname’s left, arms crossed over $xtheir chest as $xthey peers up at $rname. “I thought they could only jump. Like grasshoppers?” You give $xname a confused look. “Aren’t locusts a kind of grasshopper?” “Are they?” $xname replies with genuine cluelessness. “What else would they be?” General $dname interjects, giving $xname a puzzled frown. “They look exactly like grasshoppers. Have you never seen a locust before?” “If I knew anything about locusts, I wouldn’t have asked,” $xname responds dismissively in turn, earning $xthemselves a glare from the general. “Yes, locusts can fly,” $rname points out in what you assume is supposed to be a diplomatic manner, but in the moment $rthey seems more like a tutor patiently explaining the concept of insects to a small child. “How else do you think they migrate such long distances?” $xname hums. “Does that mean grasshoppers can fly too?" “Enough!” $aname pinches the bridge of $atheir nose between $atheir fingers, and you blink in surprise when you realize you’ve completely forgotten about the crowd of nobles still kneeling, having been staring up at you and following the derailed conversation with bemusement. “I don’t get paid enough for this.” Without even noticing it, you find yourself having almost been put at ease by the slightly ridiculous conversation. You look down at $xname, who catches your gaze and winks. Did $xthey do that on purpose? The darkness soaking up the rest of the room made it easy to forget, considering the sole source of light is shining down on you. It makes it more difficult for you to see, as well. The light shining from your eyes only illuminates it to an extent; if you’re not looking purposefully at the crowd, you can hardly make out their faces from where you’re seated. Which brilliant Crown thought such an inconvenient design for the throne room was a good idea? [[Continue|4.18]]“Your Imperial Majesty,” $aname speaks to you in a low tone so only you may hear, apparently the only one with any measure of sensibility—or perhaps $athey simply wishes to get this whole ordeal over with as quickly as possible. “I should warn you, peris don’t abide by human customs, particularly their royalty. The princess will address you as her equal, and expect you to do the same.” “That’s actually a relief,” you mutter, and $aname gives you a lopsided smile. “I wouldn’t speak so prematurely, were I you.” Before you can question $athem further, $rname clears $rtheir throat to get your attention. “They’ve arrived, Your Imperial Majesty.” Standing up from your throne to receive your guests, you peer curiously toward the gates leading into the throne room as you wait for someone to appear. You’ve heard many tales of what peri look like; it is a favorite among storytellers whenever they run out of material. Some say they appear as frightening spirits of flame and lightning, while others describe their peerless beauty as glittering stars, even lovelier than the famed nymphs of Thallos. The accounts have differed so widely across each and every story that the only thing scholars agree on is that their appearance is incredibly fluid, shaped entirely by their will. If nothing else, all of the tales you’ve heard agree only on two points: firstly that whatever form they may take, a peri will always have wings, and secondly that they are born from the elements much like any other spirit found in nature. You are musing on the descriptions still when something comes floating through the gates of the throne room. Or rather, many somethings. Little floating stars drifting toward you, yet doing so swiftly and playfully as they twirl around in the air. One of them, glowing a bright orange, leads from the front while several others—smaller ones in various shades of green—follow them. Soft laughter fills the throne room, echoing quietly against the walls of your palace. As the stars come closer toward you, in the glowing light enveloping their forms you can make out the faint shapes of their wings, until they float right above the crowd of nobles who are also staring up at them. Steward Welat’s composed expression hasn’t changed as he calmly looks on, while Lady Naza appears mildly interested at best. They must have seen peris before, unlike you, as this will be your first time meeting any. You gaze uncertainly at the little balls of light, but before you can address them, the bright orange one at the front speaks. “My, it seems the humans truly did find a new Crown.” [[Continue|4.19]] Much like the laughter from before, their voice has an echo to it as the orange one floats closer and closer toward you, until $aname suddenly takes a step forward. “That’s close enough,” $athey warns, and the orange peri laughs once more. “Ah, $aname, don’t be so uptight!” the peri teases, though they remain hovering in place, a few feet in front of your throne. “The Crown has nothing to fear from little old me.” “I would beg to differ.” You cast $aname a curious glance at $atheir apparently being acquainted with the peri, but then the peri wanders off toward $rname. “$rtitle $rname, my dear,” the peri speaks playfully, and $rname appears entirely unimpressed. “You look even lovelier than the last time we met. Did you do something new to your hair?” “Kham,” $rname replies frostily. “Do greet the Crown in a proper fashion. Surely Queen Nis’ thirdborn can manage that much, unless it is your intent to disgrace your esteemed mother?” Ah, this must be the princess. “Thirdborn?” Lady Tavan, one of the nobles watching from below, voices her indignation. “The queen sends her <em>thirdborn</em> to greet our Crown?” “Oh, don’t take that to heart,” the peri called Kham replies airily. “I am mother’s favorite, I assure you.” $xname lets out a mocking huff, at which point Kham turns sharply in the air in $xname’s direction; the bright light engulfing her burns a more vivid orange, bordering a fiery red. “What is <em>$xthey</em> doing here?” Kham says in disgust. “<em>$cxthey</em> is the Crown’s honored guest,” $xname replies with an obnoxiously smug grin, and Kham seems to tremble for a moment, before heaving a deep sigh. “Ugh.” Kham flits about restlessly, clearly displeased. “I had hoped the new Crown would have better taste in company, but I suppose everyone has flaws. Oh, is that General $dname I see? Why, hello, general! You look quite strapping today—” “Kham,” $aname intervenes while General $dname shifts a little on $dtheir knees, appearing visibly annoyed at Kham's blatantly flirtatious overtures. “Get to the point of your visit before I haul you out of here by your wings.” “How rude!” Kham nonetheless flits closer to you again. “Would you like some advice, Crown? Get a personal guard who’s less moody. This one ruins all the fun!” You feel slightly foolish for being so nervous to meet with Kham. When General $dname informed you of her visit, you did not imagine <em>this</em>. Peris have lifespans that can stretch well into several centuries, and so you anticipated someone who would be dignified and gracious and wise. Someone who would make you feel like a complete child in comparison. Truthfully, you should probably thank Kham for being the polar opposite of what you expected. You are much calmer now than you were moments ago. <<if $blunt gt $charm>>“I am $name, I go by $they,” you state. “$rname called you Kham?”<<else>>“$aname means well,” you reply, giving the peri your most winning smile. “You may call me $name, there’s no need to refer to my title. I go by $they. $rname called you Kham?”<</if>> “That would be my name, yes,” Kham replies. “But where are my manners! I should at least greet you in my physical form.” “Wait!” $rname calls out in alarm, but $rthey is already too late to intervene. From the ground, breaking through the tiles of the stone floor, giant roots sprout upwards. [[Continue|4.20]] Through the shattered stone you watch as the dark roots reach up, wrapping themselves around the ball of light that is Kham, engulfing her and beginning to take shape. You see a torso form around where Kham’s spirit was, spreading outwards into long limbs. Several roots press and curl against each other to form her arms and legs, from which smaller roots sprout to be her fingers and toes. Her head is formed in a similar way, though the roots leave room for two holes from which bright orange light shines through, functioning as her eyes. Another hole below is shaped to form her mouth, curved into a smile. Long roots hang down the crown of her head like hair, while colorful red and orange flowers begin to bloom along the crevices and gaps. From her back, sharp branches spread out into the shape of wings, forming the outlines and appearing almost skeletal. The same orange light visible in Kham’s eyes spreads out between the branches to fill in her wings, though they do not move or flap as ordinary wings might. Once finished, the roots that sprouted from the ground break off and retreat underground again, leaving behind deep holes and shattered stone in their wake. You lift your gaze back up to Kham, floating there in the air with a smile still formed on her face, the orange glow of her eyes—if you can qualify two balls of light as such—aimed toward you. The green peris behind her do not undergo the same astonishing transformation, but instead their spirits expand outwards and take shape into human-like figures with large wings, their features indistinct and formed by nebulous energy, similar to clouds. “Pardon my guards for not transforming,” Kham says nonchalantly, and it surprises you somewhat to see how fluidly she can move as she gestures toward the other peris. It makes more noise than a hand of flesh might, roots shifting and rubbing against each other, and your eyes are glued on the way it moves with fascination. “Such magic is the sole domain of the Royal Family.” “I take no offense,” you say faintly, blinking as your eyes trail over Kham’s new body once more. Of all the bedtime stories your parents would tell you of beings such as the peris, none ever made mention of such an appearance created from the earth itself, and yet it makes sense. They are born from nature, after all. Kham notices your stare, wooden mouth stretching into a wide grin. “Are you impressed? This modest body of mine is nothing compared to my siblings, or indeed, my mother. I am but a single flower blooming in a great forest!” “There’s nothing about you that’s anywhere near as delicate as a flower,” $aname mumbles, looking thoroughly annoyed as Kham continues to rattle on. “In any event, I did not mean to interrupt your ceremony,” Kham states, casting a pitying glance down toward the nobles still kneeling on the ground below her. “Poor things.” “Then what is the purpose of your visit?” $rname speaks, seeming equally exasperated as $aname, but nowhere near as irritable as $rthey was toward the nobles. Although, $rthey is glaring very pointedly at the holes Kham’s roots left in the floor. You think you see $rtheir jaw clench. “My mother wishes to know what kind of Crown has taken residence in Ashadūna’s palace,” Kham answers nonchalantly. “She has sent me to observe. I do hope you prove to be interesting, or it'll be a dull few weeks for all of us. Ah, but first!” You watch as Kham sweeps into a bow, giving you another glimpse at the frame of wooden wings at her back that somehow keeps her hovering in the air without any movement. “I am Princess Kham, the youngest daughter of Queen Nis who rules over all the peris in Anshan,” Kham introduces herself, straightening up from her bow. “Or what you humans call Kartan’s Forest, that is.” You consider your approach to the princess, thinking of what the best way to respond to her would be. This visit seems to be a diplomatic gesture of goodwill, though the princess has been very honest that it is also an assessment. You could focus on leaving a good impression, or use this opportunity to glean more information about your apparent neighbors. <ul class="a"> <li>[[Welcome her to the palace with sincerity.|4.21a][$kind to $kind + 25]]<<if $cheatsheet is true>> <em>+ Kind</em><</if>></li> <li>[[Subtly inquire about the queen’s intentions.|4.21b][$calc to $calc + 25]]<<if $cheatsheet is true>> <em>+ Calculated</em><</if>></li> </ul> Inclining your head in a <<if $blunt gt $charm>>stiff but proper<<else>>graceful<</if>> bow of your own, you meet her introduction with a smile. <<if $blunt gt $charm>>“Well met,” you state without wasting words, which seems to amuse Kham for some reason. “Be welcome in the palace.”<<else>>“A pleasure to meet you, Your Highness,” you say kindly, and it’s not a lie; meeting a peri is a pleasure, or maybe more like a wonder as you never thought you would encounter one, let alone royalty. “Be welcome in the palace.”<</if>> “Hmm.” Kham tilts her head slightly as she looks at you, and what sparse wooden facial features she possesses are difficult to read. “I will make certain to do so. But it seems you are a far more gracious a host than I am a guest! I should let you get on with your, ah, gathering.” Careful not to show too much relief on your face, you look for someone who can point Kham and her retinue to appropriate chambers, when you suddenly remember Master Keko being present. He all but faded from your awareness while you had been occupied with other things; a trait that is desirable in a servant, you suppose, though it makes you frown a little. You do not enjoy it when people become invisible to you, even if it is the proper thing to ignore them. Partly because it sets your teeth on edge, and partly because it seems inconsiderate to do so. But now is not the time to ponder such things. “Keko,” you call, and your servant rises to his feet immediately, bowing all the while. <<if $blunt gt $charm>>“Show Her Highness and her companions to their guest rooms, if you please.”<<else>>“Can you show Her Highness and her companions to their guest rooms? With a view of the gardens, perhaps.”<</if>> Somehow, even while already bowing, Keko manages to incline his head further. “At once, Your Imperial Majesty.” Kham grins with a mouth empty of teeth. “I will see you at dinner then. Be sure to have a storyteller present, they are <em>so</em> amusing.” Without waiting for your response, she turns her back to you, peering down at Keko. “Princess Kham,” he speaks to her calmly but not unkindly. “If you would follow me?” Kham sighs deeply. “If I must!” She descends, her guards floating down with her, but her feet do not touch the ground. Instead she continues to hover right above it as she and her guards follow Keko, head raised delicately as if so much as touching the floor might tarnish her. Despite her bold manners, she is certainly a queen’s daughter. $rname clears $rtheir throat, drawing your attention. “Your Imperial Majesty, should we resume?” You suppress the urge to sigh. [[Continue|4.22]] It is a skill you have honed in your travels out of necessity; asking questions in such a way that they seem innocuous, all the while hiding your true intentions as you glean the knowledge you were after all along. Inclining your head in a <<if $blunt gt $charm>>stiff but proper<<else>>graceful<</if>> bow of your own, you meet her introduction with a smile. <<if $blunt gt $charm>>“Well met,” you state without wasting words, which seems to amuse Kham for some reason. “How did the queen assess my predecessor? I'm wondering if I could meet her standards.”<<else>>“A pleasure to meet you, Your Highness,” you say kindly. “Be welcome in the palace. I certainly hope I'll live up to the queen's expectations.”<</if>> "That might be a challenge indeed." Kham tilts her head slightly as she looks at you, and what sparse wooden facial features she possesses are difficult to read. "She did not much like the last Crown. My mother is not easily impressed, truthfully. Ah, but I believe I've interrupted for long enough, I should let you get on with your gathering." For one who appears to chat so much, the princess is being remarkably tight-lipped about her mother. Careful not to show too much disappointment on your face, you look for someone who can point Kham and her retinue to appropriate chambers, when you suddenly remember Master Keko being present. He all but faded from your awareness while you had been occupied with other things; a trait that is desirable in a servant, you suppose, though it makes you frown a little. You do not enjoy it when people become invisible to you, even if it is the proper thing to ignore them. Partly because it sets your teeth on edge, and partly because it seems inconsiderate to do so. But now is not the time to ponder such things. “Keko,” you call, and your servant rises to his feet immediately, bowing all the while. <<if $blunt gt $charm>>“Show Her Highness and her companions to their guest rooms, if you please.”<<else>>“Can you show Her Highness and her companions to their guest rooms? With a view of the gardens, perhaps.”<</if>> Somehow, even while already bowing, Keko manages to incline his head further. “At once, Your Imperial Majesty.” Kham grins with a mouth empty of teeth. “I will see you at dinner then. Be sure to have a storyteller present, they are <em>so</em> amusing.” Without waiting for your response, she turns her back to you, peering down at Keko. “Princess Kham,” he speaks to her calmly but not unkindly. “If you would follow me?” Kham sighs deeply. “If I must!” She descends, her guards floating down with her, but her feet do not touch the ground. Instead she continues to hover right above it as she and her guards follow Keko, head raised delicately as if so much as touching the floor might tarnish her. Despite her bold manners, she is certainly a queen’s daughter. $rname clears $rtheir throat, drawing your attention. “Your Imperial Majesty, should we resume?” You suppress the urge to sigh. [[Continue|4.22]]<<if $kind gt $calc>>[ <b><em>@@.stattext;Kind@@</em> character trait has been locked in.</b> ]<<else>>[ <b><em>@@.stattext;Calculated@@</em> character trait has been locked in.</b> ]<</if>> The rest of the introductions continue on as tediously as they went before, no other noble aside from the few you noticed earlier piquing your interest. Even so, you are acutely aware of the way they watch you, perhaps trying to become accustomed to the sight of you. Ten years is a long time to go without a ruler, and now they have one in the flesh, without any warning. It must almost be as jarring to them as it was to you. Lady Naza especially watches you with a hawk’s eye, but she appears disinclined to cause any further commotion. Her gaze is unwavering from you, far more interested in you than she is in her peers, though that is to be expected. It leaves you unable to truly relax. You are on edge for every second of the gathering, holding tension in your body that makes it difficult to remember not to grind your teeth or clench your jaw. Especially with the light shining down on you, making you painfully visible, it is a struggle to maintain a serene façade. Thankfully, you are not wholly by yourself. $aname remains by your side, standing on your right, just a step behind the throne but remaining within the field of your peripheral vision, as calm and collected as ever. Halfway down the steps $rname keeps a sharp eye on the proceedings, and though $rtheir displeasure rolls off $rthem in waves, $rthey directs the introductions with ease. $crthey must’ve seen Lady Zerya do the same a thousand times. On the ground, $xname seems unable to keep still. $cxthey is not purposefully drawing any attention to $xthemselves like $xthey did before, but $xthey has taken to wandering around aimlessly through the throne room, casting the occasional glance toward the nobles as they speak but seeming rather bored with the entire event otherwise. General $dname has remained, the Imperial Guards who have walked with $dthem joining the palace guards on either side of the throne room, keeping watch. The only reason you can tell the difference is because the Imperial Guards are dressed head to toe in armor, much like the general $dthemselves, while the palace guards wear those long colorful robes you noticed before, holding tall spears and shields. As for their general, $dthey stands imperiously at the front of the crowd. $cdthey hasn’t quite turned $dtheir back to you—$rname is the only one who has, and you wonder if that’s another thing to do with etiquette—so you can see the side of $dtheir face, settled barely milder than a glare as $dthey keeps watch. Once the last noble has spoken, a brief silence settles over the crowd before $rname speaks. [[Continue|4.23]]“Now that our Crown has become acquainted with you,” $rname says, generously, because you barely recall the names of even half the people in the room, “what is the purpose of this visit? Steward Welat, I trust you have a satisfactory answer for $ctheir Imperial Majesty? Keep it short.” “Indeed.” The steward glances at $rname, before shifting $rtheir heavy gaze onto you. “I would say it is only natural for servants to know their master, but that lacks the urgency that would justify our presence at a no doubt critical time for Your Imperial Majesty. My true answer, in fact, relates to your guests.” Your brow creases slightly. “The peris? In what way?” “There have been territorial disputes between peris and humans for centuries,” Welat explains. “Even so, historically, there have always been peris at the Imperial Court as ambassadors of their people. Lately, the tensions have been getting worse.” “Welat,” $rname speaks slowly, a warning tone to $rtheir voice. “This is not the time to be pleading your case.” The steward bows his head in acknowledgement. “If it is Your Imperial Majesty’s intention to remain in Marabad, I would urge you to address the conflict sooner rather than later, that is all. The way things are now, Princess Kham’s safety may be at risk.” Lady Naza’s scoff is clearly audible, but as she keeps her head angled down in a bow when not being spoken to, you decide to ignore it. More importantly, this conflict with the peris sounds serious, especially if the princess is at risk. “What do you mean?” “In my capacity as steward, I have had many interactions with the peris in Anshan in order to broker peace,” Welat explains cautiously. “The reactions from citizens have been… less than understanding.” Could that be what has drawn the ire of the people of Marabad? You look over at $rname, who frowns but does not contradict Welat’s statement. Thinking on the matter, you decide that to give this any more attention than you already have when you know next to nothing about the conflict would make you appear rash at best, clueless at worst. <<if $charm gt $blunt>>“Thank you for bringing this to my attention, Steward Welat.”<<else>>“Your concern has been noted.”<</if>> [[Continue|4.24]]$rname’s shoulders ease into what seems like relief. “If that was all—” A mistake, as it turns out. Steward Welat takes the offered finger and claims the hand without hesitation. From the lack of shock on the part of the other nobles surrounding him—Lady Naza’s disdain almost palpable—you assume this was planned in some form. The steward appears to be speaking to their interests, as their representative. “There was something else,” he speaks before $rname can even finish $rtheir sentence. “I’m under no illusion that the Crown will have any time to spare for our concerns after this meeting.” He turns his gaze to you. “Forgive my insolence, Your Imperial Majesty, but it is quite clear to us all that you will need an adjustment period. However, these matters cannot afford to wait.” The statement tenses you even further than you thought possible, the bones in your knuckles straining beneath your skin as your hands involuntarily clench around the armrests of your throne. You thought you were doing a good enough job of it, if not passable, but from the steward’s words you’re not so certain anymore. His tone is not unkind, but it is bordering on pity, and you can’t tell whether disapproval would’ve been worse or better. Welat lets his assessment linger as if to have it sink in, and this time, there is shock from the nobles surrounding him. Uncomfortable shuffling, with some of them almost fidgeting, but none of them rise to contradict him. You don’t know what you should say in response, whether to scold him for a seemingly mild remark or whether to remain unaffected, leaving you paralyzed while the steward continues. “We need assurance from you, Your Imperial Majesty,” he states in no uncertain terms. “After a decade we have become accustomed to the absence of a ruler, but with you here on the throne—as it should be—we need to know your intentions, and we need the certainty that you will act only in the best interest of the Empire.” It doesn’t sound unreasonable, but it puts you on the spot, because these are questions you haven’t even begun to truly consider. What will you do with your newfound power? You don’t know, you don't have an answer for the steward. All this time you’ve been so focused on surviving and adjusting that you have no idea what you ought to do beyond that. A sudden, but now familiar, drop in temperature heralds $rname’s building anger as $rthey struggles to keep $rtheir temper in check. $xname looks on dispassionately, eyeing the steward, while General $dname’s gaze is on you, watching silently for what you will do. From beside you, $aname steps forward. [[Continue|4.25]] Several of the nobles glance toward $aname, silently looming from beside your throne. You notice Lady Naza even incline her head. Steward Welat addresses $athem with deference as well. “Royal Protector, is something the matter?” Deference that is not returned. “You lot are an eyesore,” $aname replies dismissively. “Get lost.” You stare at the blatant offense, but none of the nobles or the steward seem taken aback or even truly insulted by $atheir tone. If anything, mild annoyance is the most you see reflected on the nobles’ faces. The status of Royal Protector must be even greater than you first assumed. Even $rname isn’t scolding $aname for it, merely sighing with a note of exasperation as the cold in the room begins to even out again. “We came here for a reason, Royal Protector.” The steward’s tone is patient, even as his thin brows furrow. “We—” “I truly could not care less.” $aname makes a shooing motion with $atheir hand. “You’ve monopolized $ctheir Imperial Majesty’s attention for too long already.” “However—” $aname’s expression hardens, gaze sharp enough to cut. “Entire provinces have fallen into ruin and you expect the Crown to waste time indulging you? <em>Leave</em> and take the rest of these court jesters with you. I won’t tell you twice.” $cathey exudes an authority that comes as naturally to $athem as breathing. You can almost feel the command in $atheir voice, one neither the nobles nor their steward seem able to ignore. Even Lady Naza, who you assumed would be irritated at being ordered around, is smiling approvingly. She glances toward you. “Is that an order from the Crown?” While perhaps not a graceful one, it is the only escape you have. “Yes,” you reply, <<if $pass gt $ass>>relieved that $aname has taken the pressure off of you<<else>>though you are conflicted about $aname speaking for you. You didn’t give $athem much of a choice, though; $athey saved you from embarrassing yourself.<</if>> Steward Welat bows his head deeply, the nobles following suit. “As you command.” The steward and the nobles get to their feet, turning to leave in orderly lines. You cast a glance at the rows of cushions left behind on the ground; you hadn't noticed them before, covered in all the fabrics of robes and dresses while the nobles were seated, though it makes sense they'd rather not kneel on cold marble. Lady Naza lingers behind the others for a moment. She casts you a last, indiscernible look, before she too turns around and follows the others toward the gates. It isn’t until the last of them have disappeared into the corridors beyond that you exhale in relief, thankful the ordeal is finally over with it. [[Continue|4.26]]“That took much too long,” $xname bemoans, remaining below the platform together with General $dname whose steady composure cracks into a furious scowl now that your audience has left. Behind them several servants seem to almost appear from the shadows, picking up the cushions from the floor and carrying them off. Both General $dname and $xname ignore them, which is what you're supposed to do, though you can't help but be fascinated by how quickly and quietly the servants move around. <<if $calc gt $kind>>It occurs to you that they'd make for good spies.<<else>>You wonder if anyone ever bothers to thank them for that.<</if>> From below you, $rname climbs up the steps until $rthey stands before your throne, head bowed to obscure most of $rtheir face, but it’s obvious from the draw of $rtheir shoulders that $rthey's ashamed. “Please forgive me, $rnickname,” $rname speaks regretfully, the glow of sunlight shining off the elegant silver chains draped along $rtheir hair. “I had hoped we would have the morning to prepare you for something like this, but I underestimated the steward. He managed to rally the noble houses; I had to let them inside or risk offending the entire upper class of Marabad.” “Their entitlement has gone too far,” General $dname spits while $rname rights $rthemselves again. “We finally have a Crown again after ten years, and this is how they greet $them? Storming the palace and making demands like they own the place?” "You clearly don't know Rojan's nobility," $xname says with a snort, reaching out to pat $dthem mockingly on the back, hand swatted away by General $dname before there is any contact. “Don’t look so upset, general. Your scheme was a good one; if nothing else, $name has drawn Lady Naza’s attention.” “Scheme?” you question, glancing between the two before your gaze lingers on General $dname, who seems to flush under your attention. “It’s not—" “$cdthey's the one who asked me to act up,” $xname confesses with far too much enjoyment on $xtheir face, pointing with $xtheir thumb to General $dname standing beside $xthem, glaring a hole into the side of $xtheir head. “What?” You stare down at your general, flabbergasted. <<if $blunt gt $charm>>“Why in <em>the void</em> would you do that?”<<else>>“What on earth made you think that was a good idea?”<</if>> “It was meant to leave an impression on the nobility,” $aname clarifies, shooting General $dname an annoyed look when $dtheir expression turns to one harboring guilt. “Don’t do that. If you’re going to deceive people for their own benefit, at least have the decency not to look like a kicked puppy afterwards.” “It had to be done,” General $dname states, seeming to rally $dthemselves before looking up at you. “I regret that it caused you so much undue stress, but it was a necessity. The nobles in Rojan are different from those in other provinces; they react best to an act of authority, and respect those with a warrior's reputation. Seeing someone of $xname's stature yield to you was the best way to assure them of your suitability, if not impress them.” “What if I had embarrassed myself?” you ask, frowning. General $dname gives you a measured look, calm and self-assured as $dthey states, "I gambled that you would not. It was a calculated risk; $xname would have helped you along had $xthey sensed any hesitation on your part." You almost forgot about $xname's sensory abilities, or the extent of them. $cxthey would've been in the ideal position to notice if you faltered. You're taken aback by how much General $dname has thought this through, though you shouldn't be; clearly $dthey's the general for a reason. <<if $dpoints gt 4>> Hopefully, you'll have more opportunities to get to know $dthem better in the near future. You can't help but feel intrigued by $dthem, though part of you thinks that intrigue might also be unwise. Still, not as unwise as the way you blankly stared at Welat earlier, unable to come up with a proper response.<<else>> Now, if only you could be as competent a Crown as $dname is a general.<</if>> “Even if your plan worked out, I still nearly embarrassed myself,” you insist. “If $aname had not spoken for me, I wouldn’t have known what to say.” “You merely need time to adjust,” $rname interjects hastily, trying to reassure you, but having the exact adverse effect as you remember Welat’s words. Clear to all, he said. Your inexperience, incompetence, your not belonging—it was all obvious to him, and to the other nobles present. “Was I that bad?” you ask uncertainly<<if $ass gt $pass>>, and you <em>hate</em> how insecure you sound<</if>>. “No!” $rname exclaims, seeming bewildered that you even arrived at such a conclusion. “You did incredibly well! Far better than I could’ve expected, or asked for!” “There is nothing for you to be ashamed of,” General $dname agrees quickly. “You rose to the challenge admirably, considering you've never done anything like this before." $xname openly rolls $xtheir eyes at the hasty praise, but adds, “You held your own. Lady Naza would not have tested you if you hadn’t.” “That was a test?” you say faintly. “Did I pass?” “Probably.” $xname shrugs. “I suspect it wasn't so much a test for you as it was for those around you. She’s difficult to read, even for me, but she was pleased. In spite of the $rtitle Sorcerer's little tantrum." $rname's lips press into a tense line, but rather than retort $rthey averts $rtheir gaze with embarrassment. For a moment, $rthey looks young, younger than your impression of $rthem in your head. Not as flustered as a child would be, but it speaks to $rtheir inexperience. A sheltered adolescent who hasn't truly been tested until now. "Don't tease $rthem, $xname," $aname scolds, tone dispassionate but eyes warning, and $xname holds up $xtheir hands peacably with a small but amused quirk of $xtheir lips. You glance over at $aname, who has remained silent while the others reassured you earlier, only speaking to rein in $xname. When $athey meets your gaze, $atheir approval is visible from the look in $atheir eyes. “Welat is crafty,” $athey offers. “He knows how to get under people’s skin. Don’t be too hard on yourself.” You nod and look away, feeling less pressured than you did before. What disturbs you most is how easily Welat prodded at your weakness without even truly knowing you. [[Continue|4.27]]"Speaking of getting under people’s skin," General $dname says, giving $aname a pointed look. "The prisoners are awake." Prisoners. The spies from yesterday? One of them tried to kill you and came uncomfortably close. You'd forgotten all about them, and now the recollections of it seem all too eager to return to you. The one who made an attempt on your life was called Nima. You don't know why the memory suddenly comes to you, of General $dname kneeling beside their unconscious body and breathing out their name with a flicker of hurt in $dtheir eyes, but you linger on it even as it makes you feel troubled. It seems silly to think of now, but it simply hadn't occurred to you before. That the people who killed your parents, Nazire and Harun, have names of their own. "Ah." $aname turns to you, snapping you out of your torrent of thoughts. "I am in charge of interrogation, such as it is; I doubt I'll discover anything new. I trust you do not require me here? It won’t take long.” You recall the way $athey read the assassin’s memories yesterday in what seemed like an instant, and you believe $athem when $athey say it won’t take much time. “Go ahead.” $aname descends the stairs with your permission, joining General $dname on the ground floor. The latter bows formally to you before taking $dtheir leave in quick and purposeful strides, while the former gives you a lazy wave as $athey trails after General $dname, seeming completely unhurried in comparison. “Well,” $xname speaks once they’ve left. “This has been amusing, but I’ve been cooped up in this palace for far too long. I think it’s time I head back into the city.” You give $xthem a curious look. “How long have you been here?” “About an hour?” $xname considers, and you arch your brows. “What? This whole place is filled with uptight guards and stuffy servants, not to mention government officials.” <<if $charm gt $blunt>>“That must’ve been a true torment,” you reply wryly. “Not the dreaded <em>government officials</em>.”<<else>>“Government officials,” you repeat dryly. “Really, $xname?”<</if>> “Mock me all you want, but you’ll change your tune once you actually have to hold a conversation with one of them!” “$cxthey exaggerates,” $rname reassures you, perhaps somewhat unnecessarily; you get the feeling $xname tends to be the type to get bored easily. “Will you be back?” you ask $xname, <<if $xpoints gt 4>>perhaps a little bit too eagerly though $xname doesn't seem to notice, appearing to think about the question<<else>>who looks thoughtful at the question<</if>>. “Probably not today,” $xthey finally responds. “If you’d like, you can come visit me in the city. I’ll be in the Red Lantern." That's an unfamiliar name. "The what?" "The teahouse with the red lanterns in front?" $xname describes. "Almost right across the eastern gate of the palace.” Ah, that place. You hadn’t paid attention to the teahouse nor its name when you ducked inside it a few days ago; it is where you first met the storyteller. “I know where it is, I’ll come find you.” “Is that alright, what with your eyes and all?” $xname points out<<if $xpoints gt 4>>, though $xthey does seem pleased if the broad smile on $xtheir face is any indication<</if>>. You glance at $rname, who nods. “We can glamour them. In fact, I called someone in particular to the palace in order to discuss that with you.” “I suppose it's time to make myself scarce,” $xname notes at the change in conversation. “I'll see you in the city, $name! Try not to freeze $them to death until then, will you, $rtitle Sorcerer?” “Would it <em>kill you</em> to use $their title?” $rname calls after $xname, though $xname has already turned $xtheir back and is sauntering out the throne room, whistling a loosely formed tune that echoes faintly against the walls. “It’s alright, $rname,” you assure $rthem. “<<if $xpoints gt 4>>I prefer $xname use my name<<else>>I don’t mind it<</if>>, at least in private.” <<if $rpoints gt 4>>$rname’s brows furrow slightly as $rthey glances at you, not at all seeming pleased by that, but remains silent as $rthey watches $xname’s retreating back.<<else>>$rname glances at you with something like curiosity, but makes no further remark on it as $rthey turns back to watch $xname depart.<</if>> Just as $xname leaves through the gates, another arrives. You have to squint through the bright ring of light surrounding you, making it difficult to see very far in the dark, but as the figure approaches you quickly realize is Keko. He must have returned from escorting the peris earlier. “Ah, Keko,” $rname greets him expectantly as Keko hurries toward the throne, and you wonder how much the head servant must walk day in and day out in a palace so big. “I take it Perjin has arrived?” You perk up at the mention of the familiar name. “Perjin?” you ask, thinking it must be the very same Perjin who you visited two days ago for your glamour. You remember the scent of incense in her shop, and the playful glimmer in the black of her eyes. “I think I’ve met her before.” $rname looks at you in surprise. “You have?” “I’ll tell you about it later.” You look questioningly between $rthem and Keko. “Where is she?” “Waiting for your summons in a sitting room, Your Imperial Majesty,” Keko answers. “Would you like me to fetch her?” “No need, I’ll go see her myself.” She still owes you a glamour, after all, and you intend to collect. [[Continue|4.28]]$rname accompanies you, though $rthey insists you take the corridor along the back of the throne room, the route $aname used to escort you before. You’re not sure you understand $rtheir explanation when $rthey tells you a Crown should never be seen descending the stairs of their throne, or why that should be a bad thing, but you get the idea that it’s another one of those rules of decorum with some sort of symbolism attached to it. It makes your every movement feel heavy with meaning even when it’s not intended to be, but you cannot decide what others perceive. You can only adjust yourself to it accordingly, to try and control it as much as possible. “This will get easier,” $rname promises you, walking by your side as Keko leads the way down the stairs to the floor below. He turns and you continue along the path of the corridor that heads into a part of the palace you haven’t been before. “All you need is more practice.” “I wonder what I’ve done to deserve such faith,” you murmur, holding back a wince as you remember staring down wordlessly at Steward Welat, floundering for a response. “Don’t think of it as deserving,” $rname replies, glancing at you from the corner of $rtheir eyes. “I choose to put my faith in you because I know you will need it. I want my country to prosper, and for that, I need my ruler to succeed.” “No matter who it is?” $rname turns $rtheir head toward you now as you walk to look at you properly, seeming concerned. “What is troubling you, $rnickname?” “You barely know me.” You hesitate briefly, before at last giving words to your fear. “What if I’m not who you thought I’d be? What if I fall short of all your expectations?” $rname appears surprised, as if $rthey didn't expect that response, but then $rthey smiles. At first you worry $rthey might be pitying you, but there’s something about the look in $rtheir eyes that seems different. Something of recognition. “We have arrived,” Keko says, interrupting your conversation as he comes to a halt near the open doorway of a sitting room, one that looks very similar to the one you spent some time in yesterday. When you and $rname peer inside, however, there’s no one there. Keko sighs. “Mistress Perjin must have wandered off to the gardens, she was rather eager for a tour. I shall fetch her with your leave, Your Imperial Majesty.” “Of course.” You and $rname watch Keko hurry off, before $rname turns to you and gestures toward the sitting area. “After you.” [[Continue|4.29]] Neither of you settle down onto the pillows; you wander toward the windows that offer a view on the other side of the gardens, looking much the same as they did from the view in your room. It's like a mirror image. $rname joins you, standing by your side before $rthey picks up where you left off as you wait for Perjin to arrive. “Do you remember what I said to you, back at the outpost?” $rthey reminds you, and while you remember the conversation, you’re not sure what its relevance is until $rthey clarifies it for you. “The first thing I wanted to do was to get to know you better. Why would I bother doing that if I already knew who you were or had expectations for you?” <<if $blunt gt $charm>>You stare at $rthem, realizing $rthey’s right, and $rthey chuckles at the expression on your face.<<else>>“That… is a good point,” you admit, feeling silly that you hadn’t thought of it that way while $rthey chuckles at the expression on your face.<</if>> “If you’re afraid of disappointing me, don’t be.” $rname’s gaze on you is understanding, $rtheir voice reassuring, and you’re beginning to feel embarrassed at how much you’ve been overthinking this when $rtheir acceptance was so easily given. “How could I not be?” you reply, your eyes drawn toward the gardens where you can see a few nobles milling about on the stone paths, walking along the lake while they chat. No doubt about their new Crown. “$crnickname.” $rname pulls your attention back to $rthem, $rtheir smile replaced by a rather serious look on $rtheir face, though it is not a harsh one. “You were chosen by the Spirits, in the truest sense of the term. You are the only one alive who will ever have that certainty. Everyone else—the nobles, the magi, the Mîrs—may claim the same, but it will always ring hollow in comparison. You must do what you feel is right, no matter what anyone else may think.” “Even you?” you question, eyeing $rname with doubt. “If I were to make a decision that you would never agree with, would you truly let that stand?” $rname pulls back a little, giving you a long look, and for an instant you can’t tell what $rthey’s thinking. A flicker of a thin veil pulled over $rtheir expression, briefly there and gone again as it is replaced by another gentle smile. “That depends on whether you’d be willing to listen to my counsel, doesn’t it?” $rthey replies diplomatically, and while you realize $rthey has purposefully avoided answering, you can’t blame $rthem for it. In fact, it would’ve worried you more if $rthey <em>did</em> pledge blind obedience to your every whim. $crthey considered you carefully before answering; after all the talk you’ve heard about being chosen, about your title and your duty, it is nice to be reminded that you aren’t just a symbol, but a person. You don’t know when Perjin will get here, but if you wanted, you could take advantage of the opportunity and do as $rname suggested: listen to $rtheir counsel. Perhaps $rthey could put some of your worries to rest. <ul class="a"> <li><<if $rpoints gte 2>><<if $rgender is 'male'>>[[Confide in him.|4.30a][$rpoints += 1]]<<else>>[[Confide in her.|4.30a][$rpoints += 1]]<</if>><</if>><<if $rpoints lt 2>><b>You are not close enough with $rname to select this option.</b><</if>></li> <li>[[Change the subject and make conversation.|4.33a]]</li> </ul><<set $confideinr to true>>There’s something about $rname that makes you want to trust $rthem. It’s a strange familiarity that puts you at ease, and as you think back, you think you know what it might be when you remember the way $rtheir eyes flashed with shame and $rthey seemed to shrink in on $rthemselves. You’re so similar, in that respect. $rname seems so much more put together only because $rthey was raised into this role, but at the same time, $rthey is just as new to this as you are. Could $rthey relate to your doubts, your insecurities about what you are, and what you’re supposed to be? Golden eyes are definitive proof. A mark bestowed upon you by divine hands, one that cannot be imitated and one that your mother called a curse. Perhaps your reluctance is foolish, bordering on arrogant, but you can’t help thinking there must’ve been a mistake. The Empire is in crisis and you, who knows next to nothing about governing, whose education extended to survival and little else, are supposed to put it back together. It seems an impossible task; with every new thing you learn you feel the weight of your ignorance threatening to drag you down. You cannot hold Lady Naza’s words against her, because if you are honest with yourself, you know that she's right. “Do you really think I’m chosen?” you ask before you can think better of it, seeming to take $rname by surprise. “That I’m meant to be the Crown?” The flustered look on $rname’s face flickers and, after a moment, gives way to a quiet smile, $rtheir gaze nostalgic as $rthey peers out over the gardens. “I used to ask Lady Zerya that all the time.” $crtheir soft tone is wistful, though $rtheir words pique your interest more. “You did?” “Of course.” $rname places a hand onto the cool stone of the windowsill, <<if $height is 'short' or $height is 'very short'>> bigger than yours but also softer, with long and delicate fingers. You wonder how they would feel curled around your own.<</if>><<if $height is 'average'>>similar in size to your own, though $rtheir skin seems softer, $rtheir fingers more delicate. You wonder how they would fit in between your own.<</if>><<if $height is 'tall' or $height is 'very tall'>>smaller and softer than yours, with long and delicate fingers. You wonder how it would feel to hold them in your own.<</if>> “I was little more than a street-performing orphan when she found me, you’ll recall." “You were unique,” you guess. “Perhaps,” $rname replies absently. “Lady Zerya never managed to give me a satisfactory answer, no matter how many times I asked. She said she saw me and simply knew it had to be me.” “Clearly she saw something special in you.” $crthey looks at you for a long moment, seeming to be thinking on something, before $rthey finally asks: “Do you believe in destiny?” <ul class="a"> <li>[[You do.|4.31a]]</li> <li>[[You don’t.|4.31b]]</li> <li>[[You don’t know.|4.31c]]</li> </ul>“Speaking of counsel,” you say, eager to change the topic to something safer. “<<if $blunt gt $charm>>How do you think I handled Princess Kham<<else>>What are your thoughts on how I received Princess Kham<</if>>?” $rname frowns slightly, silent in contemplation as $rtheir eyes wander the scenery of the garden and you wait <<if $adven gt $caut>>eagerly<<else>>with a healthy amount of anxiety<</if>> for $rtheir answer. “She was certainly intrigued by you,” $rname considers. “Although I suspect it was due to your title as the Crown rather than anything you said. Her mother, Queen Nis, has always been an ally to the Empire as we have been to her.” The many stories of a forest ruled by a benevolent peri queen come to mind. Their home is supposedly veiled with magic, and you’ve never ventured into Kartan’s Forest—or Anshan, rather—deep enough to encounter a peri. The most you’ve seen is the occasional plant or flower with magical properties, mostly good for trading for food or a bit of silver. “Is it true what Steward Welat said?” you ask. “About tensions between peris and humans?” $rname sighs wearily. “He wasn’t lying, unfortunately. Without a Crown the Imperial House has been unable to maintain diplomatic relations with the peris; the queen and her family have not been willing to speak with anyone of lower rank. As such, the steward himself has taken it upon himself to try and mediate between individual peris and humans whenever conflicts arise, but his success has been… limited.” “What about you?” you question. “Couldn’t you have gone to see the queen?” “Without a Crown, I have no power, remember?” $rname points out. “When I said that, I meant that very literally. The peris have refused to speak to anyone that is not the Crown themselves.” “That’s strange,” you remark, thinking back to your encounter with Princess Kham. “$aname told me members from the royal family like to be treated as equals.” $rname parts $rtheir lips to reply, when someone else interrupts. “Only by others who are of equal standing.” It’s a voice you’ve heard before, within a room filled with the scent of incense. “Otherwise you may as well not exist.” When you turn around, as expected, you find Perjin smiling in the doorway. [[Continue|4.34]]<<if $charm gt $blunt>>“It would be strange if I didn’t believe in it,”<<else>>"Yes,"<</if>> you reply to $rname’s question. “Isn’t becoming the Crown my destiny?” You have to believe that it is, because you don’t want to think about what it might mean if it isn’t. The throne isn’t something you’ve aspired to, but claiming it was the only purpose you had left after your parents were killed. If the throne isn't meant for you, then what is? What would you have left? “You don’t sound certain,” $rname remarks, watching you attentively. “Not completely,” you admit as you look away from $rthem. “I can’t say that I <em>know</em> it to exist, no one could. But I believe it does.” “That’s exactly my point.” $rname smiles at you. “Does it matter? Whether by destiny or not, the truth of it has little relevance. You saw the way the nobles bowed at your feet; they chose you, as will the rest of Arsur once they see your coronation. They’ll believe it, and that belief will make it true.” It’s not a perspective you anticipated—one many a priest, including your father, would be scandalized to hear—and you give $rthem a doubtful look. “It’s that simple? What about the divine will of the Spirits?” $rname turns back to staring out the window, seeming unconcerned. “If they are displeased with your appointment, they are free to file a formal complaint.” The response is so unexpected that you cannot help but laugh, and the corners of $rname’s lips quirk up in amusement. $crthey appears pleased by your reaction, though $rtheir expression smooths again into a more serious one as $rthey turns $rtheir body to face you properly. Your laugh fades away once you notice the change. “$name,” $rthey says<<if $rpoints gt 4>> softly<</if>>, meeting your eyes with an earnest look. “Do you know what purpose a Crown’s Sorcerer serves?” The question seems a simple one. <<if $intu gte $intel>>You get the impression that the meaning behind it has something to do with that need $rname has to reassure you, all but written across $rtheir face. It is a kind gesture, though you’re not completely clear on where $rthey’s going with this. “From what I’ve heard,” you say thoughtfully, thinking back to all the stories of Crowns and Sorcerers of old your mother used to regale you with, “the Sorcerer is known for being closest to the Crown. They're the most important advisor to the Crown, if not their personal confidante.”<<else>> While your general knowledge of the world may be lacking, even you know of the Crown's Sorcerer. The exact nature or the origin of their role may elude you, you do have bits and pieces of facts that give you an idea of what to expect. "The Sorcerer can serve many purposes," you recount, trying to remember what you can from your mother's bedtime stories about Crowns and Sorcerers of old. "At times a mediator, sometimes a messenger, other times an expert on everything relating to magic... there's flexibility in the role, depending on what the Crown requires, but I believe they are most known for serving as advisors more than anything else."<</if>> $rname nods approvingly. “They tend to be, yes. It is a natural consequence borne out of the nature of their position, as the Sorcerer serves the Crown alone. They’re similar to the Royal Protector in that regard, and much like $aname, before you found me I had no power of my own. Do you understand?” There’s a slight wrinkle between $rtheir finely shaped brows as you look at $rthem. The sun, yet remaining on the other side of the palace, leaves the room covered in shadow; $rname’s striking gray eyes would’ve been dark were it not for the light of your own. You see the gold reflected in the silver of $rtheir irises. Though it must be bright for $rthem to look at, $rthey doesn’t shrink away from it. <<if $rpoints gt 4>>Instead, $rthey looks at you—gaze trailing over your face as $rthey waits for an answer—and soaks up the light as if $rthey has been in the dark for years.<</if>> <ul class="a"> <li><<if $ass gt $pass and $res gt $flirt>>[[You find yourself flustered as you wonder what that stare could possibly mean. “Yes, I... think I do.”|4.32a][$rpoints += 1]]<</if>><<if $pass gt $ass and $res gt $flirt>>[[You look away, cheeks heating as you manage a small nod; your whole head feels like it's on fire.|4.32a][$rpoints += 1]]<</if>><<if $ass gt $pass and $flirt gt $res>>[[You smile, finding yourself drawn in by those lovely gray eyes. “Yes, I understand.”|4.32a][$rpoints += 1]]<</if>><<if $pass gt $ass and $flirt gt $res>>[[You smile with delight as your cheeks warm, your stare openly admiring in return. “I do.”|4.32a][$rpoints += 1]]<</if>></li> <li>[[You appreciate the sentiment, in a friendly way.|4.32b]]</li> </ul><<if $blunt gt $charm>>"No,"<<else>>"It might not make much sense considering who I am, but no, I don't,"<</if>> you answer, not having to think long on the matter as it's one you've considered before. Usually out of frustration. Whether your eyes were a mark of destiny or not, you refuse to believe yourself powerless. You were the one who survived on $their own after $their parents were killed, and you were the one who found a way to $rname despite having assassins on $their heels. Destiny doesn't get to take that away from you; not your suffering, and not your strength. "I can understand why," $rname says, $rtheir smile of sympathy not something you expected. "I'm not very fond of the idea myself." "You're not?" You give $rthem a quizzical look. "Ultimately, I think it has little relevance in the grand scheme of things," $rname elaborates. "You saw the way the nobles bowed at your feet; they chose you, as will the rest of Arsur once they see your coronation. They’ll believe it, and that belief will make it true. Whether destiny exists or not is beside the point.” It’s not a perspective you anticipated—one many a priest, including your father, would be scandalized to hear—and you give $rthem a surprised look. “It’s that simple? What about the divine will of the Spirits, as they say?” $rname turns back to staring out the window, seeming unconcerned. “If they are displeased with your appointment, they are free to file a formal complaint.” The response is so unexpected that you cannot help but laugh, and the corners of $rname’s lips quirk up in amusement. $crthey appears pleased by your reaction, though $rtheir expression smooths again into a more serious one as $rthey turns $rtheir body to face you properly. Your laugh fades away once you notice the change. “$name,” $rthey says<<if $rpoints gt 4>> softly<</if>>, meeting your eyes with an earnest look. “Do you know what purpose a Crown’s Sorcerer serves?” The question seems a simple one. <<if $intu gte $intel>>You get the impression that the meaning behind it has something to do with that need $rname has to reassure you, all but written across $rtheir face. It is a kind gesture, though you’re not completely clear on where $rthey’s going with this. “From what I’ve heard,” you say thoughtfully, thinking back to all the stories of Crowns and Sorcerers of old your mother used to regale you with, “the Sorcerer is known for being closest to the Crown. They're the most important advisor to the Crown, if not their personal confidante.”<<else>> While your general knowledge of the world may be lacking, even you know of the Crown's Sorcerer. The exact nature or the origin of their role may elude you, you do have bits and pieces of facts that give you an idea of what to expect. "The Sorcerer can serve many purposes," you recount, trying to remember what you can from your mother's bedtime stories about Crowns and Sorcerers of old. "At times a mediator, sometimes a messenger, other times an expert on everything relating to magic... there's flexibility in the role, depending on what the Crown requires, but I believe they are most known for serving as advisors more than anything else."<</if>> $rname nods approvingly. “They tend to be, yes. It is a natural consequence borne out of the nature of their position, as the Sorcerer serves the Crown alone. They’re similar to the Royal Protector in that regard, and much like $aname, before you found me I had no power of my own. Do you understand?” There’s a slight wrinkle between $rtheir finely shaped brows as you look at $rthem. The sun, yet remaining on the other side of the palace, leaves the room covered in shadow; $rname’s striking gray eyes would’ve been dark were it not for the light of your own. You see the gold reflected in the silver of $rtheir irises. Though it must be bright for $rthem to look at, $rthey doesn’t shrink away from it. <<if $rpoints gt 4>>Instead, $rthey looks at you—gaze trailing over your face as $rthey waits for an answer—and soaks up the light as if $rthey has been in the dark for years.<</if>> <ul class="a"> <li><<if $ass gt $pass and $res gt $flirt>>[[You find yourself flustered as you wonder what that stare could possibly mean. “Yes, I... think I do.”|4.32a][$rpoints += 1]]<</if>><<if $pass gt $ass and $res gt $flirt>>[[You look away, cheeks heating as you manage a small nod; your whole head feels like it's on fire.|4.32a][$rpoints += 1]]<</if>><<if $ass gt $pass and $flirt gt $res>>[[You smile, finding yourself drawn in by those lovely gray eyes. “Yes, I understand.”|4.32a][$rpoints += 1]]<</if>><<if $pass gt $ass and $flirt gt $res>>[[You smile with delight as your cheeks warm, your stare openly admiring in return. “I do.”|4.32a][$rpoints += 1]]<</if>></li> <li>[[You appreciate the sentiment, in a friendly way.|4.32b]]</li> </ul> You think on the question for a while, but you can't seem to arrive at a conclusion either way. Arguing for or against destiny strikes you as an exercise in futility, any reasoning and arguments you can think of trapped in circular logic. <<if $charm gt $blunt>>"I'm not entirely sure,"<<else>>"I don't know,"<</if>> you confess, earning you a curious look from $rname. "Have you never considered it before?" You shake your head. <<if $charm gt $blunt>>"It hasn't been on the forefront of my mind, no."<<else>>"No, not once. There were more important things to consider."<</if>> Survival always came first. By the end of the day you would be too tired to engage in philosophical debates with your parents, who tended to be even more exhausted than you. After they were killed, it seemed pointless to think about why it happened. All that mattered was that it <em>did</em>, and you had to find a way to keep on breathing. "I can't fault you for that." $rname smiles at you. “It's hardly a question worth pondering, in my view. Whether by destiny or not, the truth of it has little relevance. You saw the way the nobles bowed at your feet; they chose you, as will the rest of Arsur once they see your coronation. They’ll believe it, and that belief will make it true.” It’s not a perspective you anticipated—one many a priest, including your father, would be scandalized to hear—and you give $rthem a doubtful look. “It’s that simple? What about the divine will of the Spirits?” $rname turns back to staring out the window, seeming unconcerned. “If they are displeased with your appointment, they are free to file a formal complaint.” The response is so unexpected that you cannot help but laugh, and the corners of $rname’s lips quirk up in amusement. $crthey appears pleased by your reaction, though $rtheir expression smooths again into a more serious one as $rthey turns $rtheir body to face you properly. Your laugh fades away once you notice the change. “$name,” $rthey says<<if $rpoints gt 4>> softly<</if>>, meeting your eyes with an earnest look. “Do you know what purpose a Crown’s Sorcerer serves?” The question seems a simple one. <<if $intu gte $intel>>You get the impression that the meaning behind it has something to do with that need $rname has to reassure you, all but written across $rtheir face. It is a kind gesture, though you’re not completely clear on where $rthey’s going with this. “From what I’ve heard,” you say thoughtfully, thinking back to all the stories of Crowns and Sorcerers of old your mother used to regale you with, “the Sorcerer is known for being closest to the Crown. They're the most important advisor to the Crown, if not their personal confidante.”<<else>> While your general knowledge of the world may be lacking, even you know of the Crown's Sorcerer. The exact nature or the origin of their role may elude you, you do have bits and pieces of facts that give you an idea of what to expect. "The Sorcerer can serve many purposes," you recount, trying to remember what you can from your mother's bedtime stories about Crowns and Sorcerers of old. "At times a mediator, sometimes a messenger, other times an expert on everything relating to magic... there's flexibility in the role, depending on what the Crown requires, but I believe they are most known for serving as advisors more than anything else."<</if>> $rname nods approvingly. “They tend to be, yes. It is a natural consequence born out of the nature of their position, as the Sorcerer serves the Crown alone. They’re similar to the Royal Protector in that regard, and much like $aname, before you found me I had no power of my own. Do you understand?” There’s a slight wrinkle between $rtheir finely shaped brows as you look at $rthem. The sun, yet remaining on the other side of the palace, leaves the room covered in shadow; $rname’s striking gray eyes would’ve been dark were it not for the light of your own. You see the gold reflected in the silver of $rtheir irises. Though it must be bright for $rthem to look at, $rthey doesn’t shrink away from it. <<if $rpoints gt 4>>Instead, $rthey looks at you—gaze trailing over your face as $rthey waits for an answer—and soaks up the light as if $rthey has been in the dark for years.<</if>> <ul class="a"> <li><<if $ass gt $pass and $res gt $flirt>>[[You find yourself flustered as you wonder what that stare could possibly mean. “Yes, I... think I do.”|4.32a][$rpoints += 1]]<</if>><<if $pass gt $ass and $res gt $flirt>>[[You look away, cheeks heating as you manage a small nod; your whole head feels like it's on fire.|4.32a][$rpoints += 1]]<</if>><<if $ass gt $pass and $flirt gt $res>>[[You smile, finding yourself drawn in by those lovely gray eyes. “Yes, I understand.”|4.32a][$rpoints += 1]]<</if>><<if $pass gt $ass and $flirt gt $res>>[[You smile with delight as your cheeks warm, your stare openly admiring in return. “I do.”|4.32a][$rpoints += 1]]<</if>></li> <li>[[You appreciate the sentiment, in a friendly way.|4.32b]]</li> </ul><<if $res gt $flirt>>$rname doesn't appear to notice the effect $rtheir words have on you, <<if $ass gt $pass>>and you curse yourself for it because you <em>know</em> $rthey did not mean anything by it beyond wanting to reassure you.<<else>>which you are incredibly thankful for because you're not sure what you would do if $rname ever genuinely came onto you. Probably explode, or something.<</if>> It's so difficult, having been alone for so long. A single year passing by like a century, time crawling along at an agonizing pace as you dragged your feet across the vast plains of the north, up jagged mountains and down steep hills. Not a soul to accompany you, no one to look out for you. Going from an almost constant solitude to being surrounded by people who want to help you is nothing less than surreal.<<else>>$rname looks back into your eyes and appears almost like $rthey's caught in a trance for a moment, mesmerized by whatever $rthey sees. <<if $ass gt $pass>>When your smile curls a little in a way that isn't merely friendly, $rname glances down at your lips and you have the pleasure of watching $rthem realize what's happening.<<else>>You don't notice the way you're smiling until $rname glances down at your lips. A pleasant rush ripples through you, tempting you to lean forward, but $rname's flustered expression keeps you in check.<</if>> $crthey hides $rtheir face behind the sleek black curtain of $rtheir hair falling in between the two of you. "Everything alright, $rname?" you ask gently, pulling back a little to give $rthem some space. You did not intend to scare $rthem off or make $rthem uncomfortable; you may have underestimated the effect you have on $rthem. $rname clears $rtheir throat, brushing $rtheir hair back. "Ah, yes. Forgive me, I was- distracted. I meant to simply say that as your Sorcerer, I will do everything in my power to support you, but..." You raise your brows slightly when $rthey trails off. "But?"<</if>> "I know I cannot compare to Lady Zerya," $rname says, $rtheir shoulders drawing together a little in a self-conscious way. The air around you suddenly starts to feel cooler, almost cold again, though not as icy as it did in the throne room. "Her manners were always flawless, her composure impeccable. She would've never lost her temper in front of dozens of nobles, yet even so..." <<if $res gt $flirt>> You hesitate for a moment, but at $rname's despondent tone, you reach out and touch on $rtheir elbow. It is fleeting and light, safe enough for you to dare, but it draws $rname's attention as $rthey peers at you uncertainly through $rtheir lashes.<</if>> "It's alright, $rname," you tell $rthem comfortingly<<if $flirt gt $res>>, deciding to maintain your distance so that you won't fluster $rthem again<</if>>. "You were defending me. That is nothing to be ashamed of." "I tried to defend you, but all I accomplished was to betray my own inexperience to the nobility," $rname responds, frowning deeply. "Everyone makes mistakes." You smile, recognizing so much of your own fears in $rthem. "You don't expect me to do everything perfectly, do you?" The tension in $rname's shoulders eases a little as $rthey sighs. "You are right. It's only, after so many years... I suppose I cracked under the pressure." Everyone will be watching you once you declare yourself as the Crown publicly, even more so than a regular Crown and Sorcerer. Both of you are untried and untested, the ones supposed to mentor you dead and gone. It would be a daunting task for anyone. "$rname." You wait patiently until $rthey meets your gaze again. <<if $blunt gt $charm>>"We will figure this out."<<else>>"With the two of us, I'm sure we will be able to figure things out. One step at a time, if need be."<</if>> You count it as a victory when $rname's lips lift slightly, almost into a smile. "Together?" "It's the reason why the Crown has a Sorcerer, isn't it?" "Yes." $rname nods to $rthemselves, seeming a little more cheered by your encouragement. The air warms around you once more. "You're right. Thank you. I know I should not let my mistakes get to me, but it's hard to remember when..." "When you're alone?" $rname stares at you, lips parted slightly from the words you quietly stole, flustered in $rtheir silence. $crthey presses them shut again, averting $rtheir gaze downwards, and you almost wince at the sight. You've felt it too many times not to know what loneliness looks like. <<if $res gt $flirt>><<if $ass gt $pass>>Before you can think better of it, you grab the edge of $rtheir sleeve in your fingers. $crthey doesn't look at you, but $rtheir eyes are focused on your hand. <</if>>"I know you're supposed to serve me," you say, choosing your words carefully because the last thing you want is to scare $rthem off. "<<if $charm gt $blunt>>But I want to be there for you, too, as a friend you can lean on. Would that be alright?"<<else>>But I don't want a servant. I want you to be my friend. Is that alright?"<</if>><<else>><<if $ass gt $pass>>"$rname, look at me." After a heartbeat, $rname does, $rtheir gaze shy. <</if>>"<<if $blunt gt $charm>>I don't know if it's proper or not, and frankly, I don't care. I want you to be my friend, not a servant. Is that alright<<else>>I know this might not be strictly proper to ask, but even so, I would like for the two of us to be friends. Would that be alright<</if>>?"<</if>> You've never had a friend you haven't had to say goodbye to. Eventually it became easier for you to distance yourself more, then to care less, and then to not bother making friends at all anymore rather than go through the pain of inevitably parting from them. It's a little terrifying and thrilling at the same time, knowing that it's different now. That this offer of friendship you're extending to $rname will be as permanent as you can imagine. $rname's expression is disbelieving as $rthey looks at you<<if $res gt $flirt>>, and for one heart-pounding moment you wonder, perhaps somewhat irrationally, if you've crossed some invisible boundary and ruined things between you forever.<<else>> while you wait with eager anticipation, though you cannot smother that small voice in your head that wonders if you were too forward, too much for $rthem.<</if>> But then $rname smiles, a smile that turns into laughter, so airy and light that it has you smiling too as you watch $rthem, feeling incredibly silly for how happy it makes you. "Of course <<if $blunt gt $charm>>that's<<else>>that would be<</if>> alright!" $rname exclaims, eyes shining with mirth and fondness as $rthey looks at you, and then $rtheir voice softens. "I'd be honored to be your friend, $name." Your heart flutters as relief floods through you, and you can't stop yourself from grinning back at $rthem. [[Continue|4.33b]] Being reassured by another is a sensation that has almost become foreign to you. For the longest time you only had your parents as the only constants in your life; <<if $caut gt $adven>>the few friends you did make<<else>>all the friends that you made<</if>> you always had to say goodbye to. That will be different from now on. You'll be surrounded by people, some of which will stay by your side for the rest of your reign, like $rname. "I know I cannot compare to Lady Zerya," $rname says then, $rtheir shoulders drawing together a little in a self-conscious way. The air around you suddenly starts to feel cooler, almost cold again, though not as icy as it did in the throne room. "Her manners were always flawless, her composure impeccable. She would've never lost her temper in front of dozens of nobles, yet even so..." "It's alright, $rname," you tell $rthem comfortingly. "You were defending me. That is nothing to be ashamed of." "I tried to defend you, but all I accomplished was to betray my own inexperience to the nobility," $rname responds, frowning deeply. "Everyone makes mistakes." You smile, recognizing so much of your own fears in $rthem. "You don't expect me to do everything perfectly, do you?" The tension in $rname's shoulders eases a little as $rthey sighs. "You are right. It's only, after so many years... I suppose I cracked under the pressure." Everyone will be watching you once you declare yourself as the Crown publicly, even more so than a regular Crown and Sorcerer. Both of you are untried and untested, the ones supposed to mentor you dead and gone. It would be a daunting task for anyone. "$rname." You wait patiently until $rthey meets your gaze again. <<if $blunt gt $charm>>"We will figure this out."<<else>>"With the two of us, I'm sure we will be able to figure things out. One step at a time, if need be."<</if>> You count it as a victory when $rname's lips lift slightly, almost into a smile. "Together?" "Together," you agree, adding<<if $caut gt $adven>> tentatively<</if>>, "As friends?" $rname looks at you with a surprise that doesn't last long, quickly replaced by a warm smile. "I would like that." [[Continue|4.33b]]“So, as my friend,” you say,<<if $rpoints gt 4>> endeared by the slightly bashful smile you get from $rname,<</if>> “<<if $blunt gt $charm>>how do you think I handled Princess Kham<<else>>what are your thoughts on how I received Princess Kham<</if>>?” $rname frowns slightly, silent in contemplation as $rtheir eyes wander the scenery of the garden and you wait <<if $adven gt $caut>>eagerly<<else>>with a healthy amount of anxiety<</if>> for $rtheir answer. “She was certainly intrigued by you,” $rname considers. “Although I suspect it was due to your title as the Crown rather than anything you said. Her mother, Queen Nis, has always been an ally to the Empire as we have been to her. The peris in Anshan are known to be much friendlier toward humans compared to the peris in other provinces.” The many stories of a forest ruled by a benevolent peri queen come to mind. Their home is supposedly veiled with magic, and you’ve never ventured into Kartan’s Forest—or Anshan, rather—deep enough to encounter a peri. The most you’ve seen is the occasional plant or flower with magical properties, mostly good for trading for food or some coin. “Is it true what Steward Welat said?” you ask. “About tensions between peris and humans?” $rname sighs wearily. “He wasn’t lying, unfortunately. Without a Crown the Imperial House has been unable to maintain diplomatic relations with the peris; the queen and her family have not been willing to speak with anyone of lower rank. As such, the steward himself has taken it upon himself to try and mediate between individual peris and humans whenever conflicts arise, but his success has been… limited.” “What about you?” you question. “Couldn’t you have gone to see the queen?” “Without a Crown, I have no power, remember?” $rname points out. “When I said that, I meant that very literally. The peris have refused to speak to anyone that is not the Crown themselves.” “That’s strange,” you remark, thinking back to your encounter with Princess Kham. “$aname told me members from the royal family like to be treated as equals.” $rname parts $rtheir lips to reply, when someone else interrupts. “Only by others who are of equal standing.” It’s a voice you’ve heard before, within a room filled with the scent of incense. “Otherwise you may as well not exist.” When you turn around, as expected, you find Perjin smiling in the doorway. [[Continue|4.34]] She looks exactly as you remember her, with a long, flowing gown—gray now instead of the purple you first saw her in—with that familiar blue shawl still draped around her shoulders. You notice the leather belt she wears around her waist this time, with a pouch attached to it. Her expression is still as friendly as you recall it to be, though she doesn’t hold your gaze for very long. Instead she lowers herself down to sit on her knees, bowing with her hands resting on her upper legs like the nobles did in the throne room. You notice Keko standing right over her shoulder, looking rather harried as he wipes a bit of sweat off his forehead with a small cloth. His robes are a little disheveled, and he seems out of breath; the poor head servant must’ve had a hard time tracking her down. “Your Imperial Majesty,” Perjin speaks, drawing your attention back to her. “It is my honor to be at your service.” You cross the room, $rname following you as you stand before the alchemist who received you so warmly to her shop. You can make out her features better in the light of day, warming her olive skin with golden tones. The small, thick curls of her dark brown hair are styled into two thick braids, one on either side of her head, that are both pulled back into a low bun at the base of her neck. She still looks young in the sunlight, though the faint laugh lines around her eyes give her away. She must at least be in her thirties, you guess. <<if $charm gt $blunt>>“Please stand up, Perjin,” you request, and when she raises her head you meet her eyes with a smile.<<else>>“You can stand up, Perjin,” you say, meeting her eyes when she raises her head.<</if>> “Do you remember me?” Perjin gets up to her feet, smoothing out her robes as she looks at you with unguarded curiosity. “I had a hunch, but I must say, I’m still shocked to find out I was right! If you’d simply told me who you were before, I would’ve never accepted payment.” “You know each other?” $rname cuts in, bemused as $rthey glances between the two of you. “We met briefly,” you reply. “I asked her to brew me a glamour to hide my eyes, assuming I’d have some time to find out how to get to you without being discovered. Speaking of which, Perjin, I hope you don’t take offense to the secrecy.” “Not at all,” Perjin reassures you. “I understand why it would be necessary. But how fortunate for you, Your Imperial Majesty! I have your order here with me, just as promised.” She reaches down to the pouch tied to her belt, opening it and fishing inside. You hear the clinking of coin as well as something else, which she pulls out of the pouch: a glass bottle, just small enough to fit in your hand, filled with a deep brown liquid. “Here you are,” Perjin says as she hands it to you. “One drop for each eye will last up to a week. If you only wish to use it for a short while, say a few hours, $rname can dispel it for you.” You take it from her, noting it’s a lot more than you initially requested; she must’ve increased the amount when the order came in from the Imperial House. “Thank you.” [[Continue|4.35]]“I notice you’re not questioning why you still need a glamour,” $rname comments, watching you as you hold up the glass bottle to the sunlight, making the liquid within glow a deep shade of orange. <<if $kind gt $calc>>“Generally, I try not to question people giving me things at a discount,” you say with some humor, then gesture towards the table so you can all take a seat. “But that aside, it could be useful. I’m not planning on hiding in a palace for the rest of my life, but being overrun by a mob whenever I step outside doesn’t sound very appealing either.” “Quite,” $rname agrees dryly as $rthey and Perjin follow your lead, and you settle down on the pillows. $rname sits beside you, while Perjin sits across from you. “If only all I had to do was change my eye color whenever I wanted to be alone. Ah, thank you for fetching Perjin, Keko. That will be all.” Keko, having still been standing in wait for instructions at the doorway, bows gracefully to you and $rname. "$rtitle Sorcerer, Your Imperial Majesty."<<else>>“Its use is rather obvious, isn’t it?” you reply, having already considered this possibility. “If I’m to evaluate the true state of the Empire, this will help keep me anonymous. Otherwise there’s the risk people will put on facades either to appease me, or to hide their dirty business.” “You’ve thought this through,” $rname says, sounding a little impressed. “I admit, I’m a little envious. If all I had to do was merely change my eye color to spy on others, that would’ve made my life a lot easier. Ah, thank you for fetching Perjin, Keko. That will be all.” Keko, having still been standing in wait for instructions at the doorway, bows gracefully to you and $rname. "$rtitle Sorcerer, Your Imperial Majesty."<</if>> “Now, now, my $rtitle Sorcerer,” Perjin says, grinning at $rname while Keko quickly takes his leave; managing the household of an entire palace like this must be difficult. “Don’t tell me your alchemy is so rusty that you cannot manage to brew a full body glamour?” “Brewing it is not the issue.” $rname scowls with distaste. “It’s being covered head to toe in powder that I would rather avoid. Do you have any idea how difficult that mess is to wash off?” “Obviously,” Perjin replies with a nonchalant shrug. “Otherwise the slightest breeze would blow it away. Just be glad you only need an illusion and not a genuine body transformation.” The last part of her comment draws your interest; transformations, be it for the entire body or only certain areas, are not as common as illusions, but far from unusual either. “Why? Are those more difficult to make?” “They shouldn’t be for any alchemist worth their title,” $rname replies, a single finger tapping thoughtfully on the edge of the wooden table. “But there can be certain—if temporary—physical discomforts. Like oversensitivity, itchiness, becoming inexplicably ticklish… I don’t think you need me to explain how itchy eyes would be a bother.” “Mine, of course, have no such side effects,” Perjin is quick to point out, giving you a winning smile. “Even my full body transformations are flawless, I’ve tried and tested them myself—” “Perjin, please tell me you are not trying to sell your wares to the Crown right now,” $rname interrupts with narrowed eyes. “Ahem.” Perjin tries to suppress an amused smile, without much success; you’re getting the impression she’s doing this more to tease $rname than any actual interest in selling her products. “I wouldn’t dream of it!” You consider the two of them with curiosity, wondering about the relationship between them. To you, they seem to know each other well, mainly because of… <ul class="a"> <li>[[…their body language, and the way they seem at ease around each other.|4.36a][$intu to $intu + 25]]<<if $cheatsheet is true>> <em>+ Intuitive</em><</if>></li> <li><<if $rgender is 'female'>>[[…the fact that Rozerîn invited Perjin to the palace, and knew her by name.|4.36b][$intel to $intel + 25]]<<else>>[[…the fact that Rêzan invited Perjin to the palace, and knew her by name.|4.36b][$intel to $intel + 25]]<</if>><<if $cheatsheet is true>> <em>+ Intelligent</em><</if>></li> </ul> You’ve always been attuned to the way others carry themselves; it’s a vital skill to have when anyone you pass on the street could be a potential enemy. Though truthfully, calling it a <em>skill</em> may be generous. More often than not, it’s instinctual, and from the way $rname and Perjin act around each other you can tell there’s a history there. Especially considering you’ve seen how cold and aloof $rname can be towards others, $rthey appears entirely comfortable at the moment. “How do the two of you know each other?” you ask, causing both $rname and Perjin to exchange a look, though $rname’s is accompanied by a frown while Perjin’s has a smile. “Well—” “Perjin is a known guest lecturer at the School of Marabad,” $rname says quickly, and Perjin’s smile only widens with mischief. “She even tutored me, on occasion.” “Come now, $rname,” Perjin teases, leaning toward $rname with her elbows on the table. “I knew you long before I became one of your tutors.” $rname folds $rtheir arms across $rtheir chest and averts $rtheir gaze, a hint of embarrassment to the way $rthey avoids looking at you. “There’s no need to bring that up.” “I knew $rthem when $rthey was no taller than my waist, you see,” Perjin tells you, holding her hand up a little above her head, the height of a young child. “Did $rthey tell you about the magic $rthey used to perform—” “Yes, I did!” $rname interrupts, raising $rtheir voice to talk over Perjin. “Oh?” Perjin grins. “Did you also tell $ctheir Imperial Majesty about <em>how</em> you came to learn such spells?” “I assumed $rname puzzled it out on $rtheir own,” you comment, casting a questioning look at $rname who is now very obviously evading your stare. “$crthey did, of course,” Perjin replies, the dark of her eyes gleaming with the sunlight falling through the window. Her playful expression carries fondness with it, and even a hint of a pride as she looks at $rname. “But no matter how much of a genius $rthey is, even $rthey could not have learned advanced magic without any direction. So, naturally, $rthey stole some of my books. That’s how we met.” “You stole Perjin’s books?” you repeat to $rname in disbelief, whose deep brown skin is gaining a tint of a darkened red beneath $rtheir cheeks. “It was not my intention to steal, I merely borrowed them,” $rthey defends. “I was going to return them once I had read them all!” “Usually one would ask for permission before borrowing, yes?” Perjin comments lightly, unaffected by the glare $rname levels at her. “Honestly, $rname, had you asked me I would’ve gladly taught you all that you wanted.” $rname frowns, mumbling, “I didn’t know that back then.” “I see the two of you have known each other for quite some time,” you conclude with amusement; this is definitely not a side of $rname you ever expected seeing. “Though that makes me wonder… how old are you, Perjin?” “Oh, me?” She gives you an innocent smile. “I’m turning fifty-four this year.” You stare at her in disbelief. <<if $blunt gt $charm>>“That’s a lie.”<<else>>“You must be joking, you look decades younger than fifty-four. I thought you were in your thirties!”<</if>> “I <em>am</em> an alchemist, Your Imperial Majesty,” Perjin points out reasonably, though she still preens with the compliment as she smooths her fingers over one of her braids. “I take good care of my skin.” $rname sighs, deciding to cut-in, though $rtheir irritated expression eases into something more serious as $rthey speaks. “Perjin, there was something else I needed to ask of you.” “Well, yes, or you wouldn’t have summoned me to the palace,” Perjin surmises, seeming to have already anticipated this. “Go on, dear.” Unexpectedly, $rname turns toward you next. “Your Imperial Majesty, I realize this may be a bit early, but considering the circumstances we cannot afford to wait. I called Perjin here because I’d like her to be one of your tutors.” While this comes as a surprise to you, Perjin doesn’t even blink at the revelation. She smiles at $rname, the look in her eyes a little distant. Nostalgic, perhaps; she was once $rname’s tutor as well, after all. <ul class="a"> <li>[[“In magic, I presume?” you ask, wanting to consider the proposal.|4.37a][$intel to $intel + 25]]<<if $cheatsheet is true>> <em>+ Intelligent</em><</if>></li> <li>[[“Sure,” you agree; you have a good feeling about Perjin.|4.37b][$intu to $intu + 25]]<<if $cheatsheet is true>> <em>+ Intuitive</em><</if>></li> </ul> Thinking logically, the two of them must at the very least know of each other. After all, $rname was born and grew up in Marabad when $rthey was taken in under Lady Zerya’s wing. It’s not unreasonable to assume someone like Perjin, a prominent magus in her own right, would have met $rname before. You don’t like to operate based on assumptions, however, even if you do form ideas about what might be possible, or probable. “How do the two of you know each other?” you ask, causing both $rname and Perjin to exchange a look, though $rname’s is accompanied by a frown while Perjin’s has a smile. “Well—” “Perjin is a known guest lecturer at the School of Marabad,” $rname says quickly, and Perjin’s smile only widens with mischief. “She even tutored me, on occasion.” “Come now, $rname,” Perjin teases, leaning toward $rname with her elbows on the table. “I knew you long before I became one of your tutors.” $rname folds $rtheir arms across $rtheir chest and averts $rtheir gaze, a hint of embarrassment to the way $rthey avoids looking at you. “There’s no need to bring that up.” “I knew $rthem when $rthey was no taller than my waist, you see,” Perjin tells you, holding her hand up a little above her head, the height of a young child. “Did $rthey tell you about the magic $rthey used to perform—” “Yes, I did!” $rname interrupts, raising $rtheir voice to talk over Perjin. “Oh?” Perjin grins. “Did you also tell $ctheir Imperial Majesty about <em>how</em> you came to learn such spells?” “I assumed $rname puzzled it out on $rtheir own,” you comment, casting a questioning look at $rname who is now very obviously evading your stare. “$crthey did, of course,” Perjin replies, the dark of her eyes gleaming with the sunlight falling through the window. Her playful expression carries fondness with it, and even a hint of a pride as she looks at $rname. “But no matter how much of a genius $rthey is, even $rthey could not have learned advanced magic without any direction. So, naturally, $rthey stole some of my books. That’s how we met.” “You stole Perjin’s books?” you repeat to $rname in disbelief, whose deep brown skin is gaining a tint of a darkened red beneath $rtheir cheeks. “It was not my intention to steal, I merely borrowed them,” $rthey defends. “I was going to return them once I had read them all!” “Usually one would ask for permission before borrowing, yes?” Perjin comments lightly, unaffected by the glare $rname levels at her. “Honestly, $rname, had you asked me I would’ve gladly taught you all that you wanted.” $rname frowns, mumbling, “I didn’t know that back then.” “I see the two of you have known each other for quite some time,” you conclude with amusement; this is definitely not a side of $rname you ever expected seeing. “Though that makes me wonder… how old are you, Perjin?” “Oh, me?” She gives you an innocent smile. “I’m turning fifty-four this year.” You stare at her in disbelief. <<if $blunt gt $charm>>“That’s a lie.”<<else>>“You must be joking, you look decades younger than fifty-four. I thought you were in your thirties!”<</if>> “I <em>am</em> an alchemist, Your Imperial Majesty,” Perjin points out reasonably, though she still preens with the compliment as she smooths her fingers over one of her braids. “I take good care of my skin.” $rname sighs, deciding to cut-in, though $rtheir irritated expression eases into something more serious as $rthey speaks. “Perjin, there was something else I needed to ask of you.” “Well, yes, or you wouldn’t have summoned me to the palace,” Perjin surmises, seeming to have already anticipated this. “Go on, dear.” Unexpectedly, $rname turns toward you next. “Your Imperial Majesty, I realize this may be a bit early, but considering the circumstances we cannot afford to wait. I called Perjin here because I’d like her to be one of your tutors.” While this comes as a surprise to you, Perjin doesn’t even blink at the revelation. She smiles at $rname, the look in her eyes a little distant. Nostalgic, perhaps; she was once $rname’s tutor as well, after all. <ul class="a"> <li>[[“In magic, I presume?” you ask, wanting to consider the proposal.|4.37a][$intel to $intel + 25]]<<if $cheatsheet is true>> <em>+ Intelligent</em><</if>></li> <li>[[“Sure,” you agree; you have a good feeling about Perjin.|4.37b][$intu to $intu + 25]]<<if $cheatsheet is true>> <em>+ Intuitive</em><</if>></li> </ul>“I’ll help,” $rname says quickly, drawing an amused look from Perjin. “But yes, in magic. Whatever your current skill level is, Perjin has plenty of experience to teach you all that you need.” “Will I need it?” you ask, not because you are disinterested in magic, but because you can’t imagine why the Crown would need to be particularly skilled with it. Isn’t that what the Sorcerer is for, after all? “You’d be surprised,” Perjin answers. “Even if you do not plan to rely on magic yourself, it is still essential that you understand how it works and how it can be used. Not merely because it may give you an edge or a defense in certain situations, but because of who you are. The Crown is not allowed any shortcomings, least of all in such a fundamental area.” That makes sense. You figured it would be too useful a skill to ignore, though it hadn’t occurred to you how it might look if the Crown were to be incompetent in magic. “Alright,” you decide, not seeing any reason to shoot down the proposal. Besides which, if it doesn’t work out down the road, you suppose you can always look for a different tutor. “I’d like you to be my tutor, Perjin. If that’s something you would be interested in, of course.” Perjin inclines her head without hesitation. “It would be my honor, Your Imperial Majesty.” “So, what can you teach me aside from alchemy?” you ask. You already have a rough idea of the various areas of magic, though you’ve never formally been trained in any of them. “Things like warding, summoning, healing?” “Among others,” Perjin considers, giving you a mysterious little smile. “But there will be plenty of time for us to discuss that later, after your coronation. I’m afraid I must return to my shop; I have many orders to get done before nightfall.” “You still haven’t taken on an apprentice?” $rname says with a disapproving frown. Perjin waves her hand dismissively as she gets up from her pillow. “I’ve been far too busy to worry about that.” “Yes,” $rname says slowly. “That is why you should probably look for one, especially if you’re to be the Crown’s tutor.” “Oh, fine, I suppose I should.” Perjin turns her attention back to you, and bows gracefully. “Your Imperial Majesty. I will do my utmost to serve as your tutor and teach you all that you will need, both to protect yourself as well as this country.” <<if $charm gt $blunt>>“Thank you, Perjin,” you reply with a genuine smile. “I look forward to it.” Perjin peeks up at you from her bow, before straightening up while looking inexplicably amused. “My, $rname, you have much better luck than Zerya ever did. This time around it seems our Crown is quite charming. Delightful, don’t you think?”<<else>>“Great,” you say, not giving much thought to how your reply might sound coming out of the mouth of the Crown; Perjin looks gleeful while $rname arches $rtheir brows high. “What? Was I too blunt?” “Don’t worry, that has its own kind of appeal as well,” Perjin reassures you. “Isn’t that right, $rname? Delightful, don't you think?”<</if>> <<if $rpoints gte 6>>“Ah.” $rname averts $rtheir gaze, then starts to ramble. “Yes, I suppose $they could be considered as such, by some people. Delightful, I mean. Not that I’m not- that is, I would also be one of those people, but others might not—” “Breathe, dear,” Perjin says kindly while $rname has a somewhat despairing look on $rtheir face, as if $rthey were praying to physically sink through the floor and disappear. <<if $flirt gt $res>>It's so endearing, you can't suppress your amused grin.<<else>>You avoid $rtheir gaze as well, though a small smile makes it to your lips.<</if>><<else>> “It was the case with Crown Ferzan as well,” $rname comments. “Some appreciated his direct manner, while others thought of him as crass.” “Oh, yes, I quite liked that about him as well,” Perjin reminisces, before looking at you.<</if>> “Now, I think it’s time for me to depart. Till we meet again, Your Imperial Majesty. Many blessings for your coronation, I am sure it will be as magnificent as you deserve.” You nod your head in reply and watch her leave. She steps around the table to give $rname a friendly squeeze to $rtheir shoulder as a goodbye, before heading out the room. <<if $rpoints gte 6>> "Everything alright, $rname?" you ask once Perjin has left, and $rname startles slightly from beside you at being addressed. "Fine." $crtheir smile seems slightly strained; $rthey does not dare to give you anything more than a glance before looking away again. "Perfect. Just wonderful." Perjin's teasing may have been a little too much.<</if>> [[Continue|4.38]]“I’ll help as well, but—” $rname pauses when your response finally registers, and $rthey stares at you with a bemused look. “Wait, I’m sorry, did you just… agree?” <<if $charm gt $blunt>>“Perjin seems like an alright sort, and I trust your judgment,” you explain easily. “If you think she’ll be a good tutor, then I have no reason to doubt you.”<<else>>You shrug. “Why not? You would know better than me, and I trust your judgment.”<</if>> $rname blinks at you, as if that was the last answer $rthey expected to hear. “Oh.” From beside $rthem, Perjin starts to laugh, snapping $rname out of $rtheir daze as $rthey scowls at $rtheir old tutor. “What are you giggling about?” “Nothing!” Perjin grins with delight. “Not to worry, dear, I will make sure that our Crown’s faith in you will not be misplaced. Thank you for the honor, Your Imperial Majesty.” $rname narrows $rtheir eyes at Perjin, but does not bother to retort, likely realizing $rthey’s being baited. “So, what can you teach me aside from alchemy?” you ask. You already have a rough idea of the various areas of magic, though you’ve never formally been trained in any of them. “Things like warding, summoning, healing?” “Among others,” Perjin considers, giving you a mysterious little smile. “But there will be plenty of time for us to discuss that later, after your coronation. I’m afraid I must return to my shop; I have many orders to get done before nightfall.” “You still haven’t taken on an apprentice?” $rname says with a disapproving frown. Perjin waves her hand dismissively as she gets up from her pillow. “I’ve been far too busy to worry about that.” “Yes,” $rname says slowly. “That is why you should probably look for one, especially if you’re to be the Crown’s tutor.” “Oh, fine, I suppose I should.” Perjin turns her attention back to you, and bows gracefully. “Your Imperial Majesty. I will do my utmost to serve as your tutor and teach you all that you will need, both to protect yourself as well as this country.” <<if $charm gt $blunt>>“Thank you, Perjin,” you reply with a genuine smile. “I look forward to it.” Perjin peeks up at you from her bow, before straightening up while looking inexplicably amused. “My, $rname, you have much better luck than Zerya ever did. This time around it seems our Crown is quite charming. Rather delightful, don’t you think?”<<else>>“Great,” you say, not giving much thought to how your reply might sound coming out of the mouth of the Crown; Perjin looks delighted while $rname arches $rtheir brows high. “What? Was I too blunt?” “Don’t worry, that has its own kind of appeal as well,” Perjin reassures you. “Isn’t that right, $rname? Delightful, don't you think?”<</if>> <<if $rpoints gte 6>>“Ah.” $rname averts $rtheir gaze, then starts to ramble. “Yes, I suppose $they could be considered as such, by some people. Delightful, I mean. Not that I’m not- that is, I would also be one of those people, but others might not—” “Breathe, dear,” Perjin says kindly while $rname has a somewhat despairing look on $rtheir face, as if $rthey were praying to physically sink through the floor and disappear. <<if $flirt gt $res>>It's so endearing, you can't suppress your amused grin.<<else>>You avoid $rtheir gaze as well, though a small smile makes it to your lips.<</if>><<else>> “It was the case with Crown Ferzan as well,” $rname comments. “Some appreciated his direct manner, while others thought of him as crass.” “Oh, yes, I quite liked that about him as well,” Perjin reminisces, before looking at you.<</if>> “Now, I think it’s time for me to depart. Till we meet again, Your Imperial Majesty. I wish you many blessings upon your coronation; I am sure it will be as magnificent as you deserve.” You nod your head in reply and watch her leave. She steps around the table to give $rname a friendly squeeze to $rtheir shoulder as a goodbye, before heading out the room.<<if $rpoints gte 6>> "Everything alright, $rname?" you ask once Perjin has left, and $rname startles slightly from beside you at being addressed. "Fine." $crtheir smile seems slightly strained; $rthey does not dare to give you anything more than a glance before looking away again. "Perfect. Just wonderful." Perjin's teasing may have been a little too much.<</if>> [[Continue|4.38]] With Perjin having left, you turn your attention on the small glass bottle you’ve been holding onto, containing your glamour. “$rname?” “Yes?” Carefully, you set the bottle down on the table in front of you. <<if $adven gt $caut>>“If I use this glamour and get a change of clothes, it should be safe enough for me to leave the palace, right?” “With escorts,” $rname adds pointedly, then nods. “But yes, I suppose so. Although I would advise against it; an attempt on your life was made only yesterday.” “I understand,” you say. “I do, but I want to see the city for myself. Besides which, they won’t be expecting me to step outside so soon after an assassination attempt.”<<else>>“Do you think it would be possible for me to leave the palace, or would it be too risky?” “If you wish for a tour of the city, perhaps another time might be safer,” $rname says, but you shake your head. “Going outside a day after they tried to kill me would be the last thing assassins would expect,” you point out. “They probably think I’ll be locked up in the palace until my coronation. If anything that makes the palace a more dangerous place, considering it’s an actual target.”<</if>> $rname appears reluctant, but admits, “I can’t deny that you speak sense. <<if $rpoints gt 4>>Still…” “Still?” “Make sure you stick close to $aname,” $rname cautions you, brows furrowed in open concern. “Keep yourself safe. Take a weapon with you, if you must.”<<else>>While the idea of it makes me uneasy, I trust $aname to keep you safe.”<</if>> “Do you not want to come with me?” you question, as it sounds like $rthey’s intending on staying behind. You watch as $rname stands up and smooths out the wrinkles in $rtheir dress. “I cannot,” $rthey says regretfully, gesturing toward the gardens. “See those nobles walking around? Someone has to keep them occupied. I doubt they will wish to leave before witnessing your coronation in a few days’ time.” <<if $height is 'very tall'>>You look over the windowsill, barely having to crane your neck<</if>><<if $height is 'tall'>>You arch your neck slightly to look over the windowsill<</if>><<if $height is 'average'>>You push up on your knees a little to look over the windowsill<</if>><<if $height is 'short' or $height is 'very short'>>You push up on your knees to look over the windowsill<</if>> and cast a wary glance toward the nobles. Now that you look more carefully, you do see several of them cast regular glances toward your window. <<if $charm gt $blunt>>“In that case, good luck. I think you’re going to need it.”<<else>>“Oh. Well. Good luck with <em>that</em>.”<</if>> $rname seems to be doing $rtheir best not to outright glare at the nobles who are trying to be subtle about the way they’re walking circles in perfect view of the window. “Thank you, $rnickname. I should go get $aname for you before these vultures decide to descend.” $crthey heads out the room while you try and shuffle back on your pillow out of the view of the window. You don't want to make it obvious that you’re alone in case any of the nobles get it into their head to strike up a conversation with you. Though, as you glance toward the doorway, you see an armored elbow poking out from behind the wall; no doubt an Imperial Guard standing watch. Not as alone as you thought, then. [[Continue|4.39]] Left alone for a short while, you <<if $adven gt $caut>>amuse<<else>>occupy<</if>> yourself with trying to dodge the stares of the nobles who keep wandering closer and closer toward the window. <<if $caut gt $adven>>Meeting them earlier was nerve-wracking enough; you don’t want to risk blurting out something that will display your ignorance further.<<else>>While you’re not scared of engaging them in conversation, you’re not keen on risking embarrassment with whatever ignorant thing you’re bound to say.<</if>> Another pair of them passes by the window, a little too close for comfort. You recognize Lord Farrukh and Lady Tavan from earlier, dressed in regal pink and elegant orange robes respectively. Quickly, you duck behind the wall to avoid their inquisitive stares. “Your Imperial Majesty?” Lady Tavan calls, and you keep yourself pressed low to the ground, hoping she won’t see you. “Are you still there?” Of course, $aname chooses that exact moment to walk into the room. Your eyes meet and you both freeze. $aname looks from you to the nobles, and within moments $athey paints a bored expression on $atheir face and saunters toward the window, as if nothing were amiss. $cathey stands right in front of you, leaving you just enough room to crawl over to the wall beside the window. “Something you need, Lady Tavan, Lord Farrukh?” $aname inquires with unconcealed disinterest while you sneak toward the corner of the room as quietly as you can. “We thought we saw $ctheir Imperial Majesty sitting here earlier,” Lady Tavan starts, but is unable to finish speaking before $aname smoothly cuts in again. “$ctheir Imperial Majesty has already retreated to $their chambers.” $aname arches $atheir brows at something $athey sees. “Is there a reason why you were so eager to talk to $them that you trampled $their flowers?” You hear Lord Farrukh laugh nervously. “We didn’t <em>trample</em> anything. See? We avoided the entire flowerbed—” “Ah, so you purposefully wandered off the path in order to corner $ctheir Imperial Majesty,” $aname concludes in a very nonchalant tone, leaning with $atheir elbows against the windowsill in a relaxed pose, though from the noise that Lady Tavan makes you’re assuming the accusation is not a light one. “Is that what you’re confessing to?” “No, we would never!” Lady Tavan exclaims, her voice sounding a tad bit higher in her panic. “We only… we noticed the lack of guards around the room, that is all!” “Yes, indeed!” Lord Farrukh agrees without missing a beat, leaping on the excuse. “We approached only out of concern for $ctheir Imperial Majesty’s safety.” “Your concern is noted,” $aname says dryly, and you suddenly hear both nobles gasp. “However, it is misplaced. Merely because you cannot <em>see</em> the guards does not mean that they are not there.” <<if $adven gt $caut>>Your curiosity gets the better of you<<else>>Wary of a possible danger that you cannot see<</if>>, you edge toward the side of the window, daring a peek outside. You see Lady Tavan and Lord Farrukh standing there, both motionless, as if afraid to so much as twitch. Considering the tips of two spears levelled at their throat from either side, their fear is understandable. [[Continue|4.40]] The sight of the spears gives you pause as well, albeit for a different reason. There were guards stationed outside the room as well? You can understand that you might not have seen them yourself, being that you have a limited view from the inside, but how did Lady Tavan and Lord Farrukh not notice them before? “That’s enough,” $aname orders, and a moment later, the spears lower again and disappear from sight, the guards remaining out of view. “Careful, Royal Protector,” Lady Tavan speaks, and you think she means to sound threatening, but the slight tremor in her voice betrays her nerves. “Merely because the Crown has appeared does not mean you can push us around as you please!” “But is that not exactly what you were planning on doing?” $aname points out mildly. “Push the Crown around, that is.” “I find it outrageous that you would paint us as villains for wishing to speak to our ruler for the first time in ten years,” Lord Farrukh erupts, incensed. “Do you have any idea how dire the situation is in Marabad, let alone the entire province? Have you even stepped down from your pedestal beside $rtitle $rname long enough to look at the state of Rojan? I suppose a fisher’s child from Avdin would not understand such a burden. What a luxury that must be!” As obnoxiously condescending as Lord Farrukh is being, you’re more focused on $aname’s silence, though it is a telling one; $atheir jaw clenches, tension pronounced in $atheir shoulders as $athey straightens up from $atheir relaxed posture. Should you intervene, or should you let $aname handle this? Keeping a distance might be the more appropriate thing to do considering your respective roles... <ul class="a"> <li><<if $apoints gte 2>><<if $pass gt $ass>><<if $agender is 'male'>>[[...but you feel protective of Azad.|4.41a][$apoints += 1]]<<else>>[[...but you feel protective of Ashti.|4.41a][$apoints += 1]]<</if>><<else>><<if $agender is 'male'>>[[...but you want to protect Azad.|4.41a][$apoints += 1]]<<else>>[[...but you want to protect Ashti.|4.41a][$apoints += 1]]<</if>><</if>><<else>><b>You are not close enough with $aname to select this option.</b><</if>></li> <li><<if $agender is 'male'>>[[...so you should let Azad handle it.|4.41b]]<<else>>[[...so you should let Ashti handle it.|4.41b]]<</if>></li> </ul><<if $ass gt $pass>>Intervening in conflicts like this flies into the face of everything you’ve been taught <em>not</em> to do by your parents, but you can’t sit there and listen to $aname get berated. You get up from where you’re crouched in the corner, gathering your courage before you very loudly clear your throat. $aname turns $atheir head to stare at you in surprise as you step into the view of the window in a nonchalant manner, pretending as if you have been present for the entire conversation. Which you have been, though the two nobles didn’t know that. You see Lord Farrukh and Lady Tavan gape at you, Lord Farrukh’s face slowly turning a rather vibrant shade of pink to match his robes while Lady Tavan’s orange-painted mouth is hanging open in shock. It looks a little comical. “What were you saying, Lord Farrukh?” you ask, tilting your head ever so slightly. Lady Tavan snaps her lips shut and Lord Farrukh nervously smooths over his robes before they both bow in unison. “Your Imperial Majesty,” Lord Farrukh straightens out again, the embarrassed flush on his face somehow having intensified. The noble looks like he’s sweating from up close, a thin sheen of perspiration on his brow. “I meant no offense to the Imperial House.” <<if $kind gt $calc>>“I understand that you’re frustrated,” you say, frowning, “but that’s no reason to take it out on $aname and condescend to $athem as you did. If you’re going to be upset at anyone, you should be upset at me.”<<else>>“Is the Royal Protector not part of the Imperial House?” you point out with a questioning arch of your brows. “$aname is my foremost protector. Therefore any insult to $athem is an insult to me.”<</if>> “I…” Lord Farrukh and Lady Tavan exchange panicked looks; clearly they did not count on the Crown being present. “I did not intend… that is…” <<if $blunt gt $charm>>“Apologize and be on your way,” you state, and Lord Farrukh immediately starts to bow, though he does so to the wrong person. “Not to <em>me</em>, Lord Farrukh. To $aname.”<<else>>“Well?” you pose expectantly. “Don’t keep us waiting, Lord Farrukh. You owe $aname an apology. After that, I trust you can find your way back onto the garden path.”<</if>><<if $apoints gte 6>> You notice $aname staring at you from the corner of your eyes. $cathey doesn’t even bother looking at Lord Farrukh bowing to $athem, and when you meet $atheir gaze you see the surprise and curiosity reflected within it. Is it really so unexpected that you would defend $athem?<</if>> Lord Farrukh glances between you and $aname, mouth twisting with displeasure, but he knows just as well as you do that he has no choice. “My sincerest apologies, Royal Protector,” he says to $aname, however reluctantly. “I… lost my temper most ungraciously.” <<if $apoints gte 6>>$aname tears $atheir gaze away from you to look at Lord Farrukh. “That you did.”<<else>>“That you did,” $aname agrees with indifference plain on $atheir face as $atheir gaze wanders. It makes Lord Farrukh frown as he stands upright from his bow, though he says nothing further.<</if>> Both Lord Farrukh and Lady Tavan bow once more to you, muttering, “Your Imperial Majesty.” You watch as they take their leave again, maneuvering around the flowerbed and hurrying along the garden path to disappear from sight.<<else>>You consider intervening, though it occurs to you that could also do more harm than good. Would it undermine $aname’s own authority to speak for $athem, even when $athey’s getting berated? Cautiously, you reach out and tug at the edge of $aname’s robe to get $atheir attention. $cathey glances at you, <<if $apoints gte 6>>a flash of surprise and curiosity on $atheir face as $athey takes in<<else>>taking in<</if>> your questioning look. After a moment, $athey minutely shakes $atheir head and turns to address the nobles again. “Lord Farrukh,” $aname speaks, $atheir posture still stiff but $atheir tone perfectly even. “You forget who you speak to.” Silence extends for several moments, until Lord Farrukh eventually states, “I stand by what I said.” “Farrukh,” you hear Lady Tavan hiss, likely trying to caution Lord Farrukh, but he says nothing more, seeming unwilling to take back his insult. “Oh?” $aname gives him an unimpressed look. “Are you saying you could do better, then?” “I- what?” You are almost as surprised as Lord Farrukh sounds; this is not the direction you expected $aname to go in. While $atheir posture is still tense, $athey’s treating this conflict as if it’s nothing more than a minor nuisance. “You seem to have many opinions about how I’m doing my job,” $aname observes, keeping $atheir tone light even while the implication of $atheir words is anything but. “Perhaps you’d like to take over?” “That- that is not—” “What’s wrong?” $aname sneers. “I thought I was a mere fisher’s child? It should be no great difficulty for an esteemed noble from Rojan to take my place, no?” “Please forgive Lord Farrukh’s insolence,” Lady Tavan intervenes while Lord Farrukh sputters for a response. “We are well aware of your reputation, Royal Protector. That was never in doubt.” “Could’ve fooled me.” $aname gives them an expectant look. “As you can see, the Crown is not here. If you are quite done haranguing me, feel free to take your leave.” You’re surprised $aname is letting them off so easily. While you’re not entirely certain of courtly etiquette yet, you know enough to understand that $aname’s rank is not one to be taken lightly for a provincial lord; Lord Farrukh’s outburst must be grounds for some sort of reprimand, at the very least. Still, if $aname is satisfied with letting them go like this, then you don’t think it your place to interfere—even though, it occurs to you, it <em>is</em> your place. “Royal Protector,” Lady Tavan says, and you hear nothing from Lord Farrukh before their footsteps sound through the grass, indicating they’ve left. You let out a relieved breath.<</if>> [[Continue|4.42a]] You decide intervening could do more harm than good. It might undermine $aname's standing with these nobles, not to mention that you don't want to risk saying anything improper while defending $aname. It's best to let $aname handle this. “Lord Farrukh,” $aname speaks, $atheir posture still stiff but $atheir tone perfectly even. “You forget who you speak to.” Silence extends for several moments, until Lord Farrukh eventually states, “I stand by what I said.” “Farrukh,” you hear Lady Tavan hiss, likely trying to caution Lord Farrukh, but he says nothing more, seeming unwilling to take back his insult. “Oh?” $aname gives him an unimpressed look. “Are you saying you could do better, then?” “I- what?” You are almost as surprised as Lord Farrukh sounds; this is not the direction you expected $aname to go in. While $atheir posture is still tense, $athey’s treating this conflict as if it’s nothing more than a minor nuisance. “You seem to have many opinions about how I’m doing my job,” $aname observes, keeping $atheir tone light even while the implication of $atheir words is anything but. “Perhaps you’d like to take over?” “That- that is not—” “What’s wrong?” $aname sneers. “I thought I was a mere fisher’s child? It should be no great difficulty for an esteemed noble from Rojan to take my place, no?” “Please forgive Lord Farrukh’s insolence,” Lady Tavan intervenes while Lord Farrukh sputters for a response. “We are well aware of your reputation, Royal Protector. That was never in doubt.” “Could’ve fooled me.” $aname gives an expectant look. “As you can see, the Crown is not here. If you are quite done haranguing me, feel free to take your leave.” You’re surprised $aname is letting them off so easily. While you’re not entirely certain of courtly etiquette yet, you know enough to understand that $aname’s rank is not one to be taken lightly for a provincial noble; Lord Farrukh’s outburst must be grounds for some sort of reprimand, at the very least. Still, if $aname is satisfied with letting them go like this, then you don’t think it your place to interfere—even though, it occurs to you, it <em>is</em> your place. “Royal Protector,” Lady Tavan says, and you hear nothing from Lord Farrukh before their footsteps sound through the grass, indicating they’ve left. You let out a relieved breath. Once they've gone, you come out of your hiding place as $aname turns to you with an expectant look. “So then, $rname told me you wished to head into the city?” Your gaze falls on the glamour you left sitting on the table, the glass of the bottle shining dimly in the light. “Right.” [[Continue|4.43]]<<if $pass gt $ass>>“You can come out now,” $aname says, levelling you with an amused look. <<if $adven gt $caut>>You grin back at $athem as you stand up, straightening out your clothes as you join $athem by the window. “Thanks for the assist.” “Not like you left me much of a choice,” $aname points out. “I think Lady Tavan was just about ready to vault over the windowsill if I hadn’t intercepted.”<<else>>You return an embarrassed smile as you stand up, straightening our your clothes before you join $athem by the window. “Sorry about that, I really didn’t feel like talking to any nobles.” $aname snorts. “Can’t blame you there.”<</if>> $cathey is silent for a beat, and just as you part your lips to speak, $athey says, “Thank you.” You frown at $athem, befuddled. “For what?” “You would have intervened,” $athey says, looking at you with<<if $apoints gte 6>> that same curiosity you saw before alight<<else>> curiosity<</if>> in $atheir eyes. “As would’ve been your right. But I am glad you let me handle it.” “Would it have been bad if I had said something?” you ask. “I was tempted to.” “No, not at all.” $aname’s smile is softer than what you’ve seen before, and you find yourself staring at how <<if $agender is 'female'>>beautiful<<else>>handsome<</if>> $athey looks in that moment—even more than usual. “Admittedly, I may have used the opportunity to show off a little.” You raise your brows at the nonchalant admission. “Were you trying to impress me?” $aname’s smile turns a little mischievous. “Who says I was talking about you? Maybe I wanted to impress the nobles.” <<if $res gt $flirt>>“Oh.” Your cheeks heat as you avert your eyes before you get caught up in $aname’s gaze. “Right. I mean, of course, I didn’t assume—” The low laugh that $aname breathes out at your stammering has no business sounding as lovely as it does. “Easy, I’m only teasing.” “I-I knew that,” you mutter, resisting the urge to slap yourself in order to snap out of it lest you embarrass yourself even further. You cast a glance at $aname that you regret immediately for how it makes you even more flustered. $cathey’s still smiling at you in that gentle way before $athey seems to catch $athemselves, clearing $atheir throat and smoothing out $atheir expression.<<else>>“Of course you were,” you say, deciding to play along, though you can’t help but tease a little. “Was that who the posturing was for?” $aname gives you a measured look, $atheir smile twisting into something more mischievous even while $atheir tone lowers with intention, lashes lowering. “Mock if you like, you seemed more than happy to watch me posture, Majesty. Did you enjoy the show?” You swallow thickly, your mouth suddenly feeling a little dry under the intensity of $aname’s gaze. You may have underestimated $athem a little. It has $aname laughing softly, before $athey puts the conversation back on track.<</if>> “In any case, there’s no need for you to start making enemies on my account. Although, <em>enemies</em> may be a bit exaggerated. Farrukh and Tavan are obnoxious, but far from the worst."<<else>>Now that the nobles have left, you glance at $aname, regarding the lingering frown on $atheir face. You part your lips to speak, intending to say something reassuring, when $athey beats you to it. “Thank you,” $athey says, quietly, not looking at you as $atheir gaze is fixated on the scenery of the gardens. “You didn’t have to do that.” You shake your head; in the end, it was no great risk on your part. “<<if $charm gt $blunt>>Lord Farrukh was being incredibly rude,<<else>>Farrukh was being an ass,<</if>> no one deserves to be talked to like that.” $aname looks at you now, interest reflected in $atheir warm hazel eyes. "You don’t think I could’ve defended myself?” While the question itself might have been accusatory or defensive out of another’s mouth, $aname appears genuinely interested in wanting to know. $cathey seems a little cautious about it, though. Considering how treacherous interacting with the nobility has been thus far, you’re not surprised at $atheir wariness. “I’m sure you could have,” you consider, frowning slightly. “But I wanted to do it. Should I not have?” “No, I appreciate that you did.” The smile $aname gives you is softer than what you’ve seen before, and you find yourself staring at how <<if $agender is 'female'>>beautiful<<else>>handsome<</if>> $athey looks in that moment—even more than usual. “It’s not often anyone feels the need to defend my honor.” <<if $res gt $flirt>>“Ah.” Your cheeks flush with warmth as you avert your eyes before you get caught up in $aname’s gaze. “I’m glad you think so.” “What are you suddenly being shy for?” You dare a quick glance at $athem, and see that the smile on $aname’s face has twisted into a mischievous grin. “You were so bold in front of the nobles just a moment ago.” “That’s different,” you protest heatedly, blurting out words far more honest than you meant to as a result. “I did that for you.” The grin on $aname’s face fades a little and $athey quickly averts $atheir gaze. “Hmm, well. Thank you. Again.” Oh, but this is pathetic. You’re both avoiding looking at each other, an awkward and tense silence filling the space between the two of you until $aname eventually clears $atheir throat and speaks.<<else>>“I’ll always defend you whenever you need it,” you reply smoothly, enjoying the way $aname stares at you for a beat before $athey glances away. “You realize it’s supposed to be the other way around?” $aname remarks, trying to sound casual about it even while $athey avoids looking at you, and you can’t help but grin with delight. Seeing $aname get shy is probably a sight you’ll never tire of. “No one said I couldn’t return the favor,” you say, adding innocently, “Unless you don’t like it? I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” $aname stays quiet for a while, shifting $atheir weight around from one foot to the other. Eventually, $athey mumbles something under $atheir breath, too faint for you to hear. “What was that?” “I didn’t say that,” $aname repeats, louder, then crosses $atheir arms and says nothing more, seeming determined to ignore you. The <em>I like it</em> goes unspoken, even though you both know it’s there. You laugh, deciding you’ve teased $athem enough when $athey stubbornly stares out the window instead. “Alright, I’ll keep that in mind.” $aname looks at you from the corner of $atheir eyes, and for a moment you see the hint of a smile as $atheir mouth curls, before $athey moves on. <</if>>“In any case, there’s no need for you to start making enemies on my account. Although, <em>enemies</em> may be a bit exaggerated. Farrukh and Tavan are obnoxious, but far from the worst.”<</if>> Compared to Lady Naza and Steward Welat, you have to agree that the two of them aren’t nearly as intimidating. “I suppose.” $aname, seeming to sense your reluctance to speak on the topic any further, asks, “So then, $rname told me you wished to head into the city?” Your gaze falls on the glamour you left sitting on the table, the glass of the bottle shining dimly in the light. “Right.” [[Continue|4.43]] Using the glamour Perjin gave you with one drop for each eye is a familiar routine, though as always the tingling takes a short while to get used to. Thankfully the lid of the bottle has a thin brush attached to the inner side, making it easier to manage than having to use your fingers. You try to wipe the golden powder off your face, which turns out to be a bit more of a challenge; by the time you’ve gotten all of it off, you’re pretty sure you’ve rubbed the skin around your eyes and cheeks raw. Meanwhile, $aname fetches you a long, well-made brown cloak that you trade your luxurious <<if $clothing is 'shalwar' or $clothing is 'dress'>>outer coat<<else>>cape<</if>> for, hiding most of the extravagant finery from sight. The edges are still visible from around your ankles, but $aname judges your appearance plain enough that you’ll be seen as merely another noble, so it is deemed safe to walk around in. “$rname wasn’t very happy with your decision, you realize,” $aname says to you as you adjust the cloak around yourself, amazed to find it already tailored perfectly to your height. “$crthey made me promise to not let you out of my sight for even a moment.” “I know,” you reply. “$crthey’s worried for my safety, which… well, I can’t blame $rthem.” $aname gives you an assessing look and you think $athey’s going to speak out about your decision as well, but then $athey says, “So long as you’re aware of the risks you’re taking.” “You’re not bothered?” “In terms of timing you couldn’t have picked a better moment.” $aname gives you a once-over<<if $apoints gt 4>><<if $res gt $flirt>> that makes you a little nervous<<else>> with a gaze that is disappointingly professional<</if>><</if>>. “Besides which, I have a visit of my own to make in the city, so it’ll be convenient to accompany you.” No wonder $athey seems so open to the idea, then. “What kind of visit?” “I witnessed a memory from one of the spies that has been troubling me,” $aname admits, frowning deeply. “It has no connection to any plans the Followers of Vidarna had for you, as far as I could tell, but if possible I’d like us to visit the Sky Temple first.” “The Sky Temple?” you repeat, the name of it unexpected. “I have something to ask of the head priest there,” $aname elaborates, seeming to misunderstand your confusion. “It may be nothing, however.” “Why is it called a Sky Temple?” you ask curiously. “Aren’t temples usually bound to elements?” $aname gives you a long look, not seeming entirely surprised, but rather thoughtful. You get the feeling this is one of those things a person with a more common upbringing would not have needed to ask. Though that is odd, considering your father was a priest. Wouldn't he have known about the Sky Temple in Marabad? Why did he never tell you about it? “Smaller temples, yes,” $athey answers at length. “Marabad has several of those as well, spread throughout various districts. The one we're heading to, however, is considered Rojan's most important temple. It's the only place in the city that allows for astronomers to watch celestial bodies, though most of it is for divination.” “Hence why it’s dedicated to the sky,” you conclude, trying and failing to imagine what it might look like; your curiosity quickly wins you over. “Alright, let’s go visit.” Having gotten approval, $aname heads for the hallway, leaving you to follow. You pass through the open door, past the guard stationed there, at which point $aname calls, “Follow from behind, Ziryan.” “Yes, captain!” you hear, glancing behind you to see the guard with a familiar name standing ready before falling into step a short distance away. “Isn’t that going to draw attention?” you wonder, looking at $aname who's a few steps ahead of you. You walk a little faster, catching up to walk beside $athem. $aname glances at you, then looks over $atheir shoulder, seeming considerate. “Sloppy, but it’ll do.” You track $atheir gaze, but when you look behind you once more, to your surprise you see that Ziryan is nowhere to be found. Confused, you look around, but you can't catch a single glimpse of them anywhere. “Where did they go?” $aname shrugs. “It’s a necessary skill for any Imperial Guard to have. Remind me to tell you about it sometime.” [[Continue|4.44]] As you walk with $aname in silence, you’re beginning to notice that these corridors look unnervingly identical to each other. Now that the initial grandeur of the palace has lessened a little as you’re trying to become accustomed to it, you notice many the similarities in how the halls are designed; beige and white stone, with recurring paintings and carvings of snakes and mountains. You can definitely see how easy it would be to get lost in here without an escort. $aname, however, doesn’t seem fazed by any of it. Even though $athey’s not originally from here, $athey hasn't reacted to any of the extravagant architecture or interior, nor does $athey seem to care one bit for anyone with a title or wealth to their name. “You’re staring.” Caught, you <<if $caut gt $adven>>quickly look away again, though you peer at $athem from the corner of your eyes<<else>>smile apologetically, but do not bother to look away<</if>>. <<if $blunt gt $charm>>“I’m thinking.”<<else>>“Sorry. I got lost in my own thoughts.”<</if>> $aname levels you with a questioning gaze. <ul class="a"> <li><<if $apoints gte 2>><<if $agender is 'male'>>[[Ask him why he became the Royal Protector.|4.46a][$apoints += 1]]<<else>>[[Ask her why she became the Royal Protector.|4.46a][$apoints += 1]]<</if>><<else>><b>You are not close enough with $aname to select this option.</b><</if>></li> <li>[[Make small talk.|4.46b]]</li> </ul><<if $blunt gt $charm>>“Why are you protecting me?” you ask, deciding you may as well get it out of the way now that you have $aname’s full attention.<<else>>“I don’t mean to sound ungrateful,” you start, even while you give $athem a curious look. “It’s only… I don’t understand you. I realize we’ve only just met, but you seem to hate everything about hierarchy and nobility. So why subject yourself to it? Why protect me?”<</if>> $aname gives you a long look, before $athey averts $atheir gaze again. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but my reasons for protecting you have nothing to do with you.” You stare at $athem, befuddled. “That makes no sense.” “It makes perfect sense to me,” $aname replies, shrugging with nonchalance as $athey leads you through the hallways. There are so many of them that you quickly lose track of where you are, not bothering to keep up with your mental map as you’re too engrossed in the conversation with $aname. <<if $blunt gt $charm>>“So explain it to me,” you say, and $aname frowns at you, until you add, “How else am I supposed to get to know you better?”<<else>>“I’m sure it does,” you say, matching $aname’s wry tone. “How about you fill me in on the secret? It would be nice if I could get to know you better, considering you’re guarding my life and all.”<</if>> "You want to get to know me better?" $aname repeats, giving you a strange look. "I do." $cathey's silent for a while as $athey walks beside you, before $athey suddenly says, “My favorite color is blue.” The sudden statement makes you blink. Was that a joke? But $aname continues, and $atheir tone is serious. “Want to know why? The story behind it is not all that interesting, though." "Tell me," you insist, not bothering to hide your eagerness. When was the last time you had an opportunity to get to know anyone new? Whatever $aname is willing to tell you, even if it's the smallest of details, you'll gladly listen. Cracking under your expectant gaze, $aname lets out a long sigh, drawing in another breath before $athey begins to speak. "Back in my hometown, when I sat at the edge of the shore as a child, I liked pretending to be a fisher like my mother. I would imagine hooking a sea serpent and hauling it back home as a grand prize, some sort of trophy to impress her with. I would sit at the edge of the sea at least an hour a day, usually during the sunset, and dream of what it would be like. Then, one evening, as I visited the shore as usual, the water suddenly went dark.” You listen with rapt attention as $aname guides you out of the hallways of the palace outside to the gardens surrounding it on the western side of the complex. It’s mostly empty save for a few guards patrolling, no one else present to listen to $aname’s story as you walk side by side. <<if $astory is true>>You remember $athem mentioning $atheir hometown in Avdin before where $atheir mother worked as a fisher—this must have happened before $athey moved to Ilwan, the capital.<</if>> “I thought it may have been a large cloud overhead, but the sky was sunny,” $aname says, a small twitch in $atheir lips in $atheir reminiscing. “Not a single cloud in sight. That’s when I noticed that the shadow wasn’t on the water, but <em>in</em> the water, and it was moving toward me.” “A sea serpent?” you deduce, and the quirk of $aname’s mouth turns into a full smile. “When it broke the water, it was the most beautiful creature I had ever laid eyes on,” $athey recounts. “The blue of its skin shimmered like nothing I had ever seen before, almost like jewels in the sunlight. The fantasy I had of catching one suddenly seemed so laughable. I wasn’t even certain if I would survive the encounter, let alone kill it. The serpent was looking right at me.” “Then what?” you urge, but $aname pauses as you approach the western gate, smaller than the one at the front of the palace. $cathey catches the attention of the guards, and makes a single upward motion with $atheir hand. “Open the gates!” one of the guards calls out. You witness the iron of the gate glow a faint blue color before it begins to move, lifted upwards through invisible magic. The sight of it is fascinating enough to distract you, if only briefly. “Nothing,” $aname states, and it takes you a moment to remember you asked a question as you pass underneath the raised gates out onto the street. “Nothing?” you question, though your gaze flits away toward the people giving you curious looks as you emerge from the palace complex. You find yourself wandering closer to $aname; if $athey notices, $athey doesn’t react. “It looked me right in the eye, then sank back into the water and disappeared,” $aname says. “The local priest from my village declared it a miracle ordained by the divine, a sign that I was chosen by the serpent for something special. The local scholars assumed the serpent did not consider eating me to be worth the effort; sea serpents don’t usually get in the habit of eating humans." “And you?” you ask. “What do you think?” “I think I had no idea what I was dealing with until it stared right at me,” $aname states. $cathey pauses, then adds, “And I think my favorite color is blue.” [[Continue|4.47a]] Deciding to play it safe, you ask about something else you've been wanting to know. "Why do you need to see the head priest, exactly?" $aname's eyes surveys the area, still on guard even in the safe confines of the palace. "That's a topic best discussed behind closed doors, once we're back at the palace. Trust me, if I had a choice I would rather not be meeting the head priest either." Detecting the note of exasperation in $atheir tone, you ask, "Why is that?" $aname pauses as you approach the western gate, smaller than the one at the front of the palace. $cathey catches the attention of the guards, and makes a single upward motion with $atheir hand. “Open the gates!” one of the guards calls out. You witness the iron of the gate glow a faint blue color before it begins to move, lifted upwards through invisible magic. The sight of it is fascinating enough to distract you, if only briefly. "It's not that there's anything wrong with him," $aname considers as the two of you step out onto the street. "He's a kind man, attentive to everyone. A bit too attentive. He never shuts up; being a priest, though, I suppose that's to be expected." “Tell me about it,” you reply with a sigh. “My father would—” Your heart lurches in your chest as you come to a sudden halt, standing still in the middle of the street. $aname, having walked a step ahead, turns around and looks at you with arched brows. “What is it?” Your jaw clenches involuntarily as you avert your gaze<<if $charm gt $blunt>>, though you try to ease your tension and force a smile to your lips moments later. “Never mind. I already forgot what I was going to say.”<<else>>. “It’s nothing.”<</if>> Not the right time or the place. Whether there will ever <em>be</em> a right time or place for this kind of confession is a question you decide to ignore. For the sake of your country, you tell yourself. It wouldn't do for the Crown to fall apart in times of crisis. You suspect that excuse is one you'll be telling yourself many times more in the future. $aname does not look entirely convinced by your dismissal either, but lets the subject drop anyway. Moving on to a less painful subject, you opt to ask questions about the city itself. Mainly you inquire about its lay-out, shortcuts, important locations and other practical things, while $aname patiently answers. “Aside from the temple,” $aname recounts, “you may have come across some of the markets spread around the city.” “The lower ones, yes,” you confirm, though you didn’t do much more than sightseeing. The marketplaces at the base of the hills do have a more affordable price range compared to the expensive ones at the top, but being a wanderer you have—or <em>had</em>—little use for personal items; traveling light took priority. “Not the upper ones.” “You should avoid those for today.” “Too crowded?” “Among other things.” Not clarifying $atheir cryptic response any further, $aname continues. “The pleasure houses are equally as popular, however. They’re usually in the same vicinity as the public bathhouses.” “Pleasure houses?” you ask, the term foreign to you. $aname frowns slightly at you. “You usually only find them in larger towns or big cities like these. They’re meant for recreation.” That would explain why you haven’t heard of them before, as you’ve done your best to stay away from big cities up until now. “What sort of recreation?” $aname averts $atheir eyes and stares very purposefully ahead. “All sorts of things,” $athey replies evasively, and though you try your best, you can’t read anything from $atheir composed expression or $atheir casual tone. “Ask $dname about them, if you’re really curious. $cdthey’s more familiar with them than I am.” You hum thoughtfully, making a note to yourself to ask General $dname about it when you see $dthem. [[Continue|4.49]] You think about the story for a while as the two of you fall into silence, until the walls of the palace are out of sight and you’re passing through streets less familiar. You wonder after the meaning behind the story, and what $aname’s intention was by sharing the story in the first place. As you think about it, you realize that while $aname did tell you about something important that happened to $athem as a child, $athey completely avoided answering why $athey became the Royal Protector<<if $astory is true>>. <em>Again</em><</if>>. You're too impressed to be annoyed about it. “Would my sea serpent be the nobility?” you ask, deciding to respect $atheir tactful evasion of your original question by focusing on what $athey did willingly share with you. “What makes you think you even have a sea serpent?” $aname poses in return, which makes you scowl. “Please don’t turn this into <em>‘the real sea serpent was you all along’</em>, or something.” $aname laughs. “I don’t think that’s applicable in your situation. It does sound like something a priest might say, though.” “Tell me about it,” you reply with a sigh. “My father would—” Your heart lurches in your chest as you come to a sudden halt, standing still in the middle of the street. $aname, having walked a step ahead, turns around and looks at you with arched brows. “What is it?” Your jaw clenches involuntarily as you avert your gaze<<if $charm gt $blunt>>, though you try to ease your tension and force a smile to your lips moments later. “Never mind. I already forgot what I was going to say.”<<else>>. “It’s nothing.”<</if>> Not the right time or the place. Whether there will ever <em>be</em> a right time or place for this kind of confession is a question you decide to ignore. For the sake of your country, you tell yourself. It wouldn't do for the Crown to fall apart in times of crisis. You suspect that excuse is one you'll be telling yourself many times more in the future. $aname does not look entirely convinced by your dismissal either, but lets the subject drop anyway. [[Continue|4.48]] Much of the rest of your walk passes more pleasantly, due to the fact that both of you stay away from personal topics as you suspect you’ve both reached your limit for the day. Instead, you ask questions about the city itself. Mainly you inquire about its lay-out, shortcuts, important locations and other practical things, while $aname patiently answers. “Aside from the temple,” $aname recounts, “you may have come across some of the markets spread around the city.” “The lower ones, yes,” you confirm, though you didn’t do much more than sightseeing. The marketplaces at the base of the hills do have a more affordable price range compared to the expensive ones at the top, but being a wanderer you have—or <em>had</em>—little use for personal items; traveling light took priority. “Not the upper ones.” “You should avoid those for today.” “Too crowded?” “Among other things.” Not clarifying $atheir cryptic response any further, $aname continues. “The pleasure houses are equally as popular, however. They’re usually in the same vicinity as the public bathhouses.” “Pleasure houses?” you ask, the term foreign to you. $aname frowns slightly at you. “You tend to only find them in larger towns or big cities like these. They’re meant for recreation.” That would explain why you haven’t heard of them before, as you’ve done your best to stay away from big cities up until now. “What sort of recreation?” $aname averts $atheir eyes and stares very purposefully ahead. “All sorts of things,” $athey replies evasively, and though you try your best, you can’t read anything from $atheir composed expression or $atheir casual tone. “Ask $dname about them, if you’re really curious. $cdthey’s more familiar with them than I am.” You hum thoughtfully, making a note to yourself to ask General $dname about it when you see $dthem. [[Continue|4.49]] Moving on from the topic, $aname informs you of various places you’ve seen and some you haven’t, pointing some out as you walk past. The gray walls of the city guard barracks is a particularly familiar sight, but aside from that, you get a much better sense of the palace district than you did when you first came here. “The Crown’s Hill probably has the most public buildings out of any other district in the city,” $aname notes as a passing remark while your gaze drifts along various stores lining the streets, though many of them seem to be offering practical services rather than selling items. "Most other districts are majority residential." There are craftworkers, like blacksmiths and bookbinders and masons; artisans, like painters and sculptors and architects; and scholars like cartographers and apothecaries and herbalists. All of them seem to utilize magic to enhance their craft. You spot one blacksmith showing off enchanted blades that can channel fire through their steel, a cartographer advertising maps that can draw themselves throughout one's travels, and a sculptor who has put small, moving statues on display. The lifelike sculpture of a soldier, no bigger than your hand, waves at you with its sword as you walk past. Few of these places would have use to most average people, save for the occasional teahouse you see pop up here and there. You notice a lack of residential areas as well; the few houses that are present are extravagantly large, taking up the space of several stores with stone walls surrounding them. These walls seem similar to the ones enclosing the Royal Palace, though not nearly as towering. You wonder if some of the nobles you met earlier might live in these mansions. “Ah, there it is.” Attention drifting away from the streets around you, you follow $aname’s gaze toward what looks to be a city square. It's shaped like an octagon with a large fountain in the middle, topped by the statue of a familiar figure with a large snake wrapped around their body; from their elegant red dress and golden eyes you assume this must be Ashadūna. Her hair here is just as long as you saw in the carvings, reaching down to her ankles. Ostensibly, this statue does not move. You think it probably for the better; having a giant statue of the First Crown wandering about or waving at people would seem a tad bit too ridiculous. Aside from the fountain and the unmoving statue, the square is lined with many different buildings, though there is one that is unmistakable. You don’t remember seeing it before, likely because you chose the back alleys to navigate and never came close to the city square. The gigantic dome structure of the temple and its golden tones is hard to miss, even from a distance. It is quite busy as well; many people are milling about near the entrance or are coming and going, some in groups and others alone. There are so many visitors that some of them have to squeeze past others to get through the open doors. The discomfort you feel at the possibility of navigating such a busy place weighs heavy in your gut, but thankfully, $aname is of the same mind. “This may be a problem,” $aname says quietly, frowning at the crowd. “I was planning on taking you inside with me, but there are too many people.” “That would make protecting me more difficult,” you say, trying not to sound too eager as you and $aname step onto the square. Trying to distract yourself, you survey the other buildings on either side of the temple. Noting your interest, $aname does you the favor of pointing them out one by one. On the left of the domed temple is the tax office. It is flatter with only two floors, but also wider in structure, with a few people in green uniformed robes lingering near the entrance flanked by several guards. The building beside it has noticeably many more floors, making it taller than even the Royal Palace; it's the public library. On the right of the temple there is a more modest building that serves as the Alchemists’ Guild, though this one has closed doors as its entry is more exclusive. There is a mansion beside it not unlike the ones you’ve seen before, surrounded by walls and almost as heavily guarded as the tax office. “The steward’s office,” $aname tells you with a tinge of distaste. “If Zam favors us we won’t run into him again.” You notice $aname staring at the Sky Temple even while $athey speaks. “Should I wait outside? Since I have Ziryan guarding me it should be fine, right?” $aname appears reluctant about the idea at best. “I’m not sure that’s… wait.” Something in the small crowd of people moving about the square seems to catch $aname’s attention, and after a moment you realize why. The golden glare of General $dname’s armor is unmistakable in the sunlight, aided by the fact that $dthey towers over nearly every other person around $dthem. [[Continue|4.50]]$cdthey spots you almost immediately. Even from across the small distance left between you, you notice the way $dtheir gaze flits between you and $aname standing beside you, $dtheir brows lowering into a disapproving frown. When $dthey changes directions and heads right for you, the people around the general part almost instantly. $cdthey does not have to push past anyone or broaden $dtheir shoulders to be allowed space to move. You don’t know whether it’s the flashy armor or $dtheir stature, but the crowd flows around $dthem like river currents around a rock as $dthey approaches you and $aname. “What are you doing here?” is the first thing out of $dtheir mouth, which takes you aback for how blunt it is. It occurs to you $dthey can’t very well treat you as if you were the Crown out in public, as that would defeat the purpose of your disguise, but you’re still surprised at how easily General $dname adapted considering how persistent $dthey otherwise is about propriety. “$dname, your armor is as glaring as ever,” $aname remarks wryly. “$cthey wanted a tour of the city, so here we are.” “And you had to acquiesce on the busiest day possible?” General $dname says irritably, glancing toward the temple before $dtheir gaze tracks toward all the people surrounding you, plenty of them casting curious glances as they pass by or linger. $aname sighs, cutting the conversation short. “Look, I need to speak to the head priest. Can you take over?” General $dname’s irritated demeanor lightens at the mention of the head priest. “Ah. I assume it’s about that matter from before?” $aname nods once. General $dname glances at you before saying to $aname, “I expect you are not $their sole escort?” “There are seven others,” $aname confirms, and you arch your brows. “Seven?” you repeat faintly, glancing around you in an admittedly futile attempt to try and locate your guards. “So many?” $aname gives you a slight smile. “The bare minimum is four, but considering the circumstances…” You haven’t noticed anyone following you. Ziryan was the only other person you know of, but only because you saw them earlier. Where are the other seven hiding? “That will do,” General $dname decides, then looks at you. “Is there any place in particular you wish to visit?” You remember what $aname told you before. “How about the pleasure house?” General $dname’s eyes all but bug out of $dtheir head while $aname claps a hand over $atheir mouth, trying to smother $atheir poorly-hidden laughter. “The <em>what</em>?” [[Continue|4.51]]{General} <<if ndef $progress>><<set $progress to "0">><</if>> <<if ndef $day>><<set $day to "18">><</if>> <<if ndef $month>><<set $month to "Liberation">><</if>> <<if ndef $year>><<set $year to "553 AE">><</if>> <<if ndef $holiday>><<set $holiday to false>><</if>> <<if ndef $elitefavored>><<set $elitefavored to 0>><</if>> <<if ndef $publicfavored>><<set $publicfavored to 0>><</if>> <<if ndef $loveinterest>><<set $loveinterest to "Common">><</if>> <<if ndef $noblepoints>><<set $noblepoints to 0>><</if>> <<if ndef $publicpoints>><<set $publicpoints to 0>><</if>> <<if ndef $khampoints>><<set $khampoints to 0>><</if>> <<if ndef $nazapoints>><<set $nazapoints to 0>><</if>> {Codex} <<if ndef $magicodex>><<set $magicodex to false>><</if>> <<if ndef $magicodexii>><<set $magicodexii to false>><</if>> <<if ndef $magicodexiii>><<set $magicodexiii to false>><</if>> <<if ndef $sevanmir>><<set $sevanmir to "Unelected">><</if>> <<if ndef $avdin>><<set $avdin to false>><</if>> <<if ndef $nextlevel>><<set $nextlevel to false>><</if>> <<if ndef $nextlevelii>><<set $nextlevelii to false>><</if>> <<if ndef $nextleveliii>><<set $nextleveliii to false>><</if>> <<if ndef $crowns>><<set $crowns to false>><</if>> <<if ndef $palacechars>><<set $palacechars to false>><</if>> <<if ndef $cresblades>><<set $cresblades to false>><</if>> <<if ndef $impguards>><<set $impguards to false>><</if>> <<if ndef $fov>><<set $fov to false>><</if>> <<if ndef $fam>><<set $fam to false>><</if>> <<if ndef $theperis>><<set $theperis to false>><</if>> <<if ndef $perisii>><<set $perisii to false>><</if>> <<if ndef $perisiii>><<set $perisiii to false>><</if>> <<if ndef $tirzal>><<set $tirzal to false>><</if>> <<if ndef $timeline>><<set $timeline to false>><</if>> <<if ndef $nobility>><<set $nobilty to false>><</if>> <<if ndef $sahmarancodex>><<set $sahmarancodex to false>><</if>> <<if ndef $map>><<set $map to false>><</if>> <<if ndef $mapii>><<set $mapii to false>><</if>> <<if ndef $yekbuncodex>><<set $yekbuncodex to false>><</if>> <<if ndef $patricide>><<set $patricide to false>><</if>> <<if ndef $court>><<set $court to false>><</if>> {Act 1; Chapter 5} <<if ndef $hidenobles>><<set $hidenobles to false>><</if>> <<if ndef $hidekham>><<set $hidekham to false>><</if>> <<if ndef $hidepublic>><<set $hidepublic to false>><</if>> {Chapter 6} <<if ndef $hidenone>><<set $hidenone to false>><</if>> <<if ndef $hideall>><<set $hideall to false>><</if>> <<if ndef $hidenobleskham>><<set $hidenobleskham to false>><</if>> <<if ndef $hidenoblespublic>><<set $hidenoblespublic to false>><</if>> <<if ndef $hidekhampublic>><<set $hidekhampublic to false>><</if>> <<if ndef $coronation>><<set $coronation to 'none'>><</if>> <<if ndef $festivities>><<set $festivities to 'none'>><</if>> <<if ndef $security>><<set $security to 'undefined'>><</if>> <<if ndef $cs>><<set $cs to 0>><</if>> <<if ndef $khamproach>><<set $khamproach to 'none'>><</if>> <<if ndef $khamtrust>><<set $khamtrust to 'none'>><</if>> <<if ndef $prisoner>><<set $prisoner to 'dungeons'>><</if>> {Chapter 7} <<if ndef $iviageo>><<set $iviageo to false>><</if>> <<if ndef $acodexii>><<set $acodexii to false>><</if>> <<if ndef $xcodexii>><<set $xcodexii to false>><</if>> <<if ndef $dcodexii>><<set $dcodexii to false>><</if>> <<if ndef $bazo>><<set $bazo to 0>><</if>> {Chapter 9} <<if ndef $courtcodex>><<set $courtcodex to false>><</if>> {Relationships} -Platonic- <<if ndef $sihamishrah>><<set $sihamishrah to 0>><</if>> <<if ndef $kajaezo>><<set $kajaezo to 0>><</if>> <<if ndef $tujoheval>><<set $tujoheval to 0>><</if>> {MC} <<if ndef $hairlength>><<set $hairlength to "None">><</if>> <<if ndef $haircoloravg>><<set $haircoloravg to "None">><</if>> <<if ndef $surnamereveal>><<set $surnamereveal to false>><</if>> <<if ndef $magicaffinity>><<set $magicaffinity to "none">><</if>> {LIs} <<if ndef $xdnickname>><<set $xdnickname to "none">><</if>> {Corrections} <<if $haircolor is 'copper red' or $haircolor is 'ginger red' or $haircolor is 'ruby red' or $haircolor is 'auburn'>><<set $haircolor to 'dark auburn'>><</if>><<if $haircolor is 'dark red'>><<set $haircolor to 'dark auburn'>><</if>><<if $haircolor is 'sunny blond' or $haircolor is 'warm blond'>><<set $haircolor to 'dark blond'>><</if>><<if $haircolor is 'ash blond'>><<set $haircolor to 'ash gray'>><</if>><<if $xnickname is 'darling star' or $xnickname is 'my darling star' or $xnickname is 'sweet rose' or $xnickname is 'my sweet rose'>><<set $xnickname to 'my beauty'>><<set $cxnickname to 'My beauty'>><</if>><<if $clothing is 'shalvar'>><<set $clothing to 'shalwar'>><</if>><<if $tempclothing is 'shalvar'>><<set $tempclothing to 'shalwar'>><</if>>$cdtheir voice booms across the square, drawing many looks from people around you, and you glance between General $dname and $aname cluelessly. “The pleasure house?” you repeat, uncertainly this time as you shoot $aname a scowl, seeing as $athey’s too busy laughing at you to correct what is obviously a misunderstanding. “$aname told me to ask you—” Red in the face, General $dname turns $dtheir glare on $aname, who is beginning to recover from $atheir teary-eyed laughter. “What, by the<em> Void</em>, do you think you’re doing?” You frown at $dtheir scolding tone. “$cathey didn’t do anything. I was curious about it, so I asked $athem some questions and $athey answered.” General $dname halts $dtheir rant, looking more nervous than angry when $dthey turns to you. “Yes, of course, I only meant- this is clearly a ploy to embarrass me!” “Embarrass you how?” you say, though you can tell from the way $aname is grinning widely at the entire exchange that it was definitely $atheir intent. General $dname almost winces. “I am familiar with pleasure houses, but not in the way you might think. It’s merely because many of my soldiers choose to spend their money in such places, which necessitates the occasional visits to get them sorted out. But if possible, I’d prefer avoiding them.” You look from General $dname’s flustered countenance to $aname’s broad smile. “I don’t understand. What’s so embarrassing about visiting pleasure houses?” “In truth, nothing,” General $dname says hesitantly. “The artists there are fine people. It’s a personal issue of mine.” So, the people who work at pleasure houses are considered artists. That makes sense if they’re dancers and singers. There must be musicians there too, perhaps storytellers. You cannot imagine why that would embarrass General $dname. “Personal issue?” you ask, and $aname takes that opportunity to make $atheir escape. $cathey claps General $dname on the back. “Have fun with that.” You watch with bemusement as $aname raises a hand to you in a casual wave. $cathey turns around and leaves in an unhurried stroll toward the temple. General $dname glares after $athem, but once $aname has disappeared from sight $dthey unclenches $dtheir jaw and lets out a breath. “I am sorry to have to disappoint you,” General $dname says to you, a deep wrinkle between $dtheir brows, “but I absolutely cannot take you to a pleasure house. It would draw too much attention onto you as well as compromise my ability to keep you safe.” It must be something serious if that’s the case, yet $aname’s easy laughter has you uncertain about raising the question that’s on your mind. <ul class="a"> <li><<if $dpoints gt 0>><<if $dgender is 'male'>>[[Ask about it; you want to know more about Dara.|4.52a][$dpoints += 1]]<<else>>[[Ask about it; you want to know more about Delal.|4.52a][$dpoints += 1]]<</if>><<else>><b>You are not close enough with $dname to select this option.</b><</if>></li> <li>[[Talk about something else; you’re not curious enough to press the issue.|4.52b]]</li> </ul>“What is it about pleasure houses that bothers you?” you ask, and General $dname opens $dtheir mouth as if to reply, before thinking better of it and gesturing toward a street on your left. Clearly $dthey’d rather not have this conversation in such a public place, with other people constantly passing you by. You follow $dthem as the two of you cross the square and head into the street, lined with mostly smaller residential buildings, or perhaps offices. Whichever the case, there’s much less people here compared to the square or shopping areas. “It’s not about the pleasure houses,” General $dname states while you walk. “Plenty of people request their services, but I have not…” $cdthey coughs into $dtheir fist. “I have no need for it. Still, whenever I visit one, the artists there seem very determined to be hired. My presence tends to cause a ruckus. It's a headache.” Now you’re starting to get a little confused. “What, were they trying to badger you into sitting for a portrait?” General $dname appears slightly confused by your remark. “That wouldn't have been an issue.” At the lingering look of puzzlement on your face, something seems to dawn on General $dname. “You must not know.” $cdthey clears $dtheir throat, folding $dtheir hands on $dtheir back and speaking as if $dthey were explaining a plan of attack. “The artists in pleasure houses tend to be skilled in many different areas for entertainment and art, but they also offer companionship, emotionally or physically.” <<if $res gt $flirt>>“Ah.” You avert your gaze, starting to feel a little hot under the collar.<<else>>“Oh?” You eye General $dname with interest.<</if>> “I suppose I took the title of artist a little too literally.” “They <em>are</em> artists,” General $dname emphasizes. “One must have a high degree of talent for something to find work in a pleasure house. Whether it be painting, dancing, singing or playing instruments, poetry, even philosophy. The more talents an artist has, the more desired their services. Of course, you could also choose to ignore all of that if you are allowed to hire an artist, though not many people would.” <<if $flirt gt $res>>“So, they’re eager to have you hire them, are they?” you tease, General $dname’s serious demeanor falling away. “As I said.” General $dname avoids your eyes. “I have no need of their services.” You hum in reply, smiling with amusement as you peer at the general from the corners of your eyes.<<else>>“You mentioned your presence would be a problem?” you venture, trying not to look too awkward about the subject. Companionship, especially in its physical aspects, is the last thing you need to be thinking about right now. “Yes, somewhat,” General $dname insists. “Mostly a problem for me. Not that there is anything wrong with the artists, but I don't need to hire a service purely for... not that there is anything wrong with that—” Is $dthey saying $dthey can find plenty of <em>companions</em> on $dtheir own?<</if>> <<if $flirt gt $res>>“I suppose you find plenty of <em>companions</em> on your own, then,” you reply, unable to resist it as you delight in how it catches General $dname by surprise, not having expected your teasing remark.<<else>>“You really don’t have to explain it to me,” you assure $dthem with a slightly stiff smile, as you quickly try to find a way to change the subject before you turn into actual rock from how tense you’re getting.<</if>> “Although, if you’re walking into a pleasure house dressed like this…” “What’s wrong with my armor?” General $dname balks. “It’s ceremonial!” <<if $blunt gt $charm>>“It’s gold,” you point out wryly.<<else>>“It <em>screams</em> rich and powerful,” you say, flicking at the golden scales lined along $dtheir upper arms.<</if>> “Try putting some robes on sometime.” General $dname rolls $dtheir shoulders a little<<if $dpoints gt 4>> and briefly you find yourself distracted imagining what $dtheir muscles look like underneath all that armor<</if>>. “…But it’s comfortable,” $dthey mumbles<<if $dpoints gt 4>>, and you can’t help but smile<</if>>. [[Continue|4.53]]“In that case, where should we go?” you ask, and General $dname gestures for you to follow as you begin to walk, leaving the square behind for another street. “I have no particular destination in mind,” General $dname replies. “So long as there aren’t too many people around, we can go wherever you wish.” You remember $xname’s invitation from before. “How about the Red Lantern?” General $dname’s brows lower thoughtfully. “That is a rather popular tea house… then again, it is practically right next to the palace…” “$xname said $xthey and the rest of the Crescent Blades would be there,” you tell $dthem, though perhaps that’s a mistake judging from the look of annoyance that crosses the general’s face. “They can keep me safe, right?” General $dname looks like $dthey’s getting a tooth pulled as $dthey reluctantly admits, “In theory.” “In theory?” You arch your brows at $dthem. “Why else do I have <em>seven different guards</em> on me? Speaking of which…” You look around once more, eyes tracing the shadows of buildings and examining small alleyways, but you can’t figure out where they all could be hiding. When you look back to General $dname, you notice $dtheir amused gaze on you. “Can I meet some of them?” you ask, which wipes that amused gaze off $dtheir face rather quickly. “Meet-?” General $dname looks baffled at the idea. “Why would you need to meet them?” Personally, you’re more bemused at why this should be such a strange request. “Because I want to. They’re responsible for protecting me, aren’t they? The least I could do is meet some of them.” General $dname’s surprise is not due to $dtheir confusion this time. $cdthey eyes you pensively, as if trying to puzzle out some hidden meaning behind your words. <<if $calc gt $kind>>$cdthey’s probably right to; your reasons aren’t entirely out of the kindness of your heart, after all. Befriending your guards will give you much the same benefit as befriending your servants.<<else>>There is none, of course, as you were entirely genuine in your statement.<</if>> “If that is what you wish,” General $dname decides at length, though there’s something of hesitance in $dtheir words. “But I should warn you, they are not like most other soldiers.” That seems an obvious statement, considering they’re in charge of guarding the Crown’s life. Yet regarding General $dname’s reluctant expression, you get the distinct feeling $dthey’s not referring to ability. “In what way?” you ask <<if $caut gt $adven>>cautiously<<else>>curiously<</if>>. “Historically, gaining a position within the Imperial Guards was considered one of the highest honors,” General $dname explains. “Currently, however, it’s considered a trash heap for soldiers deemed unsuitable for the army, but who are nevertheless too talented to discard completely.” “What do you mean, unsuitable?” You’re beginning to wonder if you should rethink your idea of meeting them. “Should I be worried?” “No, no need for that—you’ll see what I mean in a moment.” General $dname stops walking, looking around to survey the utterly empty street you’re on, before $dthey calls out: “Ezo, Kaja!” You don’t hear or see anything, but you feel it instantly; the sensation of having eyes aimed at your back, suddenly pressing into your skin. [[Continue|4.54]]“Where are we going, by the way?” you ask, noticing you seem to be wandering in much quieter and emptier streets than the ones $aname took you through. “I had no particular destination in mind,” General $dname replies. “So long as there aren’t too many people around, we can go wherever you wish.” You remember $xname’s invitation from before. “How about the Red Lantern?” General $dname’s brows lower thoughtfully. “That is a rather popular tea house… then again, it is practically right next to the palace…” “$xname said $xthey and the rest of the Crescent Blades would be there,” you tell $dthem, though perhaps that’s a mistake judging from the look of annoyance that crosses the general’s face. “They can keep me safe, right?” General $dname looks like $dthey’s getting a tooth pulled as $dthey reluctantly admits, “In theory.” “In theory?” You arch your brows at $dthem. “Why else do I have <em>seven different guards</em> on me? Speaking of which…” You look around once more, eyes tracing the shadows of buildings and examining small alleyways, but you can’t figure out where they all could be hiding. When you look back to General $dname, you notice $dtheir amused gaze on you. “Can I meet some of them?” you ask, which wipes that amused gaze off $dtheir face rather quickly. “Meet-?” General $dname looks baffled at the idea. “Why would you need to meet them?” Personally, you’re more bemused at why this should be such a strange request. “Because I want to. They’re responsible for protecting me, aren’t they? The least I could do is meet some of them.” General $dname’s surprise is not due to $dtheir confusion this time. $cdthey eyes you pensively, as if trying to puzzle out some hidden meaning behind your words. <<if $calc gt $kind>>$cdthey’s probably right to; your reasons aren’t entirely out of the kindness of your heart, after all. Befriending your guards will give you much the same benefit as befriending your servants.<<else>>There is none, of course, as you were entirely genuine in your statement.<</if>> “If that is what you wish,” General $dname decides at length, though there’s something of hesitance in $dtheir words. “But I should warn you, they are not like most other soldiers.” That seems an obvious statement, considering they’re in charge of guarding the Crown’s life. Yet regarding General $dname’s reluctant expression, you get the distinct feeling $dthey’s not referring to ability. “In what way?” you ask <<if $caut gt $adven>>cautiously<<else>>curiously<</if>>. “Historically, gaining a position within the Imperial Guards was considered one of the highest honors,” General $dname explains. “Currently, however, it’s considered a trash heap for soldiers deemed unsuitable for the army, but who are nevertheless too talented to discard completely.” “What do you mean, unsuitable?” You’re beginning to wonder if you should rethink your idea of meeting them. “Should I be worried?” “No, no need for that—you’ll see what I mean in a moment.” General $dname stops walking, looking around to survey the utterly empty street you’re on, before $dthey calls out: “Ezo, Kaja!” You don’t hear or see anything, but you feel it instantly; the sensation of having eyes aimed at your back, suddenly pressing into your skin. [[Continue|4.54]] Both you and General $dname turn around to face the new arrivals. Unlike the colorful robes the guards around the palace wear, these two are dressed in identical uniform armor; Imperial Guards like Ziryan, then, rather than those of the palace. “Is the area secure?” General $dname questions, and both of them salute with a palm across their hearts. “Yes, general!” “Good.” General $dname turns to you as $dthey gestures toward the two guards, $dtheir lips parted and drawing in a breath to continue speaking when one of the guards suddenly cuts in. “Excuse me.” The broad-shouldered, stocky guard with a bush of brown curls interrupts, their tone and expression rather grave as they stare at you. “Are you the Crown?” While General $dname squints at them, you stare back at them in confusion; you have genuinely no idea how to answer that. The guard beside them, tall and slender with sleek black hair in a ponytail, sighs loudly. “Kaja, are you blind? Who do you think we’ve been guarding this entire time?” “What?” Kaja says, offended. “I have to make sure! We’re usually in charge of guarding $rtitle $rname, so….” General $dname frowns at Kaja. “Did you not see $ctheir Imperial Majesty in the throne room earlier today?” Ah, so these two must be the Imperial Guards who accompanied General $dname before. Kaja stares at your face. “It was so bright I couldn’t see much of anything.” The other guard, Ezo, rolls their eyes before turning to you. “Forgive my partner, Your Imperial Majesty, she’s a bit of a dolt.” They bow, followed a moment later by Kaja. “I am Ezo, currently she. This is Kaja, she or that idiot. Whichever you prefer.” Kaja shoves Ezo in the side, nearly making her fall over. “Weren’t you two supposed to guard Princess Kham?” General $dname questions without blinking an eye, seeming used to their dynamic if the expectant look on $dtheir face is any indication. “We did!” Kaja says, smoothly sidestepping a swipe of Ezo’s fist. “Or, we tried to, but she laughed at us and told us to go do something useful. She seemed pretty convinced her own guards would do a better job.” “Stuck-up brat,” Ezo mutters, fist still balled as she glares at Kaja. “Ezo,” General $dname warns, and Ezo presses her lips together in a thin line, averting her gaze but keeping quiet nonetheless. “Behave.” “Yes, Ezo, <em>behave</em>,” Kaja repeats with a grin, shrieking when Ezo catches a fistful of curls in between her fingers. [[Continue|4.55]] “As you can see,” General $dname states with visible exasperation, “they are not my soldiers any longer.” “Oh, don’t say that!” Ezo protests, wincing when Kaja finds a grip on her ponytail and yanks. “You- OW- will always be the general of my heart- Kaja, you brat, let go!” “<em>You will always be the general of my heart</em>,” Kaja mocks in a high-pitched, nasally tone as they both finally release each other. “Aren’t you embarrassed saying things like that?” You can’t help but snort a laugh, trying to cover it with your hand, though it is noticed by both Ezo and Kaja who grin at you in return. “If you two are done,” General $dname interrupts, $dtheir tone sharp with an edge of warning, and the way both Ezo and Kaja’s demeanor changes almost instantly is stunning to watch. Their postures straighten out completely, any signs of teasing or mischief fading from their expressions. “That was impressive,” you comment, looking questioningly at General $dname. “I thought you said only soldiers who were unsuitable ended up as Imperial Guards? What’s unsuitable about them?” “Aside from $aname, I’m the only one they listen to,” General $dname says, shooting both guards a glare. Kaja shrinks away a little, while Ezo sticks out her lower lip in an offended pout. “They were both total nightmares to deal with for their immediate superiors, as well as their peers.” “That’s rude, general,” Ezo complains. “We were only roughhousing.” “$ctheir Imperial Majesty looked bored to death, so we thought $they could use some entertainment,” Kaja agrees. General $dname narrows $dtheir eyes at them, and when $dthey turns $dtheir body to face them both Kaja and Ezo take a nervous step back, Kaja yelping a little as she hides behind Ezo’s taller frame. “Ezo, protect me!” Ezo glares over her shoulder at Kaja who cowers at her back, shoving her toward the general. “Protect <em>you</em>? What about ME? I'm about to take the brunt of this scolding!” “Spirits help me, you two—” General $dname cuts $dthemselves off before whatever curse was no doubt hanging on the edge of $dtheir tongue leaves $dtheir lips. “Go. Leave! Back to your duties! Any more of your antics and we’ll attract attention!” “Yes, general,” Ezo mutters, looking rather disappointed as she bows to you and then grabs Kaja by the arm. “Your Imperial Majesty.” She starts dragging Kaja off, who hastily bows to you as well while being yanked away. “Goodbye! Enjoy your day, <<if $pronouns is "hehim">>Lord<</if>><<if $pronouns is "sheher">>Lady<</if>><<if $pronouns isnot "hehim" and $pronouns isnot "sheher">>Noble<</if>> Crown!” “<em><<if $pronouns is "hehim">>Lord<</if>><<if $pronouns is "sheher">>Lady<</if>><<if $pronouns isnot "hehim" and $pronouns isnot "sheher">>Noble<</if>></em> Crown?” Ezo repeats disbelievingly as she hauls Kaja toward the nearest alleyway. “Who told you that you could pull a random address out of your ass? Just call $them $ctheir Imperial Majesty like everyone else, would you? I swear, the inside of your head is emptier than a gaping cavern.” “You need to loosen up your ponytail, Ezo,” Kaja retorts. They disappear around the corner, but you can still hear echoes of their argument. “All that blood being cut off from your head is making you angry.” “There’s nothing wrong with my ponytail!” “Is that a bald spot I see?” “Kaja, I swear…” Their voices quickly fade away, leaving you and General $dname in a brief silence. [[Continue|4.56]]“I feel as if I should apologize for that display,” General $dname says to you, still glaring at the alleyway Ezo and Kaja disappeared to. <<if $charm gt $blunt>>“No need for that,” you reply, smiling at General $dname. “I appreciated the distraction. Are all the Imperial Guards that lively?”<<else>>“Don’t,” you say sincerely. “That was great. Are all the Imperial Guards that lively?”<</if>> “Ezo and Kaja are probably the most unruly among them,” General $dname considers, scowling as $dthey adds, “They’d be better suited to $xname’s band of misfits.” You remember Ziryan, who seemed much more restrained compared to the two of them. Normal in comparison, really, and not nearly as eager to make conversation with you beyond apologizing for the incident in the forest. They seem more similar to $aname in that respect, although… recalling the habit $aname has of openly disregarding the nobility, you think you’re starting to see a trend within the Imperial Guards. Ziryan might actually be the most well-behaved guard among them. “Shall we head toward the teahouse?” General $dname suggests when you remain silent, pulling you from your thoughts as you nod and let $dthem lead the way. Thinking about the route you took from the palace to the square and back around again, you realize you’re walking a circle through the Crown’s Hill district. Looking up at the sky, you notice the sun has already peaked and is beginning its descent; you’re well into the afternoon, which means you must’ve spent over an hour walking the district. “Are all the other districts this huge?” you ask General $dname, considering the fact the city is built on ten hills in total. Assuming the Crown’s Hill is the largest, you’d still wager that if you were to tour the whole city, it might take half a day. “No,” General $dname assures you. “The only other district that could rival the Crown’s Hill would be Kartan’s Hill, though it is smaller in size.” “Let me guess, that’s where the School of Marabad is?” you deduce, wondering about the naming convention. “Lucky Kartan. He got a forest as well as an entire district named after him.” “He <em>was</em> one of the founders of the school.” You fall silent as you try to keep your memories at bay, though you know it to be futile; you tried not to think about your nightmare, but the slip-up during your conversation with $aname has lingered in the back of your mind. For all the things you don’t yet know, magic—including its history—is one of the few areas your parents did their best to guide you in. Kartan is a name only familiar to you because of what your parents taught you about him. But there were so many things they didn’t teach you, things they never said and never will. Thinking about it is a physical ache, so real that it makes your breath catch. “General $dname,” you say quietly, your hand inadvertently reaching for your chest before you realize what you’re doing and let it fall to your side. “Can we… is there a temple nearby? A small one.” While you’re not looking at General $dname, you can feel $dtheir eyes on you as $dthey hovers close, concern all but radiating from $dthem. “I believe I know of one near here. Follow me.” You don’t know when you’ll have another opportunity for this, or if it’s even a good idea in the state you’re in, but there are no other places for you to mourn. No home you can return to and reminisce. This is the closest thing you have left. [[Continue|4.57]] General $dname does not ask you any questions on your way there. $cdthey simply walks with you in silence, guiding you away from crowded places. You’re appreciative of the silence; if pressed, you don’t know if you’d be able to keep your composure. The temple $dthey leads you to is an unassuming thing, tucked in between two large buildings as if it had been an afterthought, only barely squeezed in among decadently built mansions. It must not be a fire temple. Those require open space and are often very simple in design. This temple, however, is closed off by walls instead of supported by pillars, though its doors remain open. “It looks unattended,” you note, peering through the open doorway to catch a glimpse of the interior, but you can’t make out anything more than what looks to be an entrance hall. Definitely not a fire temple, then. “Perhaps it’s more accurate to call this a shrine rather than a temple,” General $dname replies. “While it's kept clean, there's no priest in charge of it. Mostly, it’s used by people who happen to pass by.” <<if $caut gt $adven>>You hesitate for a while as you stare at the open doors, but you have no excuse to run away from this. General $dname is with you, and there are several guards protecting you.<</if>> You move toward the doors, relieved to find there seems to be no one else inside the entrance hall, guarding the temple proper with another pair of more ornate doors. Now you know which type of temple this place is: a water temple. You can tell… <ul class="a"> <li>[[…from the aura it gives off.|4.58a][$intu to $intu + 25]]<<if $cheatsheet is true>> <em>+ Intuitive</em><</if>></li> <li>[[…through analyzing its structure.|4.58b][$intel to $intel + 25]]<<if $cheatsheet is true>> <em>+ Intelligent</em><</if>></li> </ul> Due to the presence of spirits residing within, temples always tend to have a different kind of aura around them depending on their element. Fire temples radiate warmth and invitation to step inside, air temples make one feel light and carefree, and earth temples exude something old and unchanging that tends to intimidate all but the most unshakable of people. But now, you only feel a sense of calm, a signature of water temples. Usually it’s the most difficult to pick up on, but considering your turbulent thoughts moments earlier the serenity surrounding the temple stands out that much more. You gaze on the basins of water built into the walls, meant for you to clean your hands before you enter the temple, but then pause when you catch General $dname watching you. “Should I wait outside?” $dthey asks. <ul class="a"> <li><<if $dpoints gte 2>><<if $dgender is 'male'>>[[Ask him to accompany you.|4.59a][$dpoints += 1]]<<else>>[[Ask her to accompany you.|4.59a][$dpoints += 1]]<</if>><<else>><b>You are not close enough with $dname to select this option.</b><</if>></li> <li><<if $dgender is 'male'>>[[Let him wait outside.|4.59b]]<<else>>[[Let her wait outside.|4.59b]]<</if>></li> </ul><<if $intel gt $intu>>[ <b><em>@@.stattext;Intelligent@@</em> character trait has been locked in. All traits are now permanent!</b> ]<<else>>[ <b><em>@@.stattext;Intuitive@@</em> character trait has been locked in. All traits are now permanent!</b> ]<</if>> <<if $flirt gt $res>><<if $charm gt $blunt>>“Oh, that’s alright,” you reply, smiling at General $dname. “I’d rather you come with me, if you don’t mind?”<<else>>“No need,” you reply, smiling at General $dname. “I’d rather you come with me, if you don’t mind?”<</if>> “It would be my pleasure—” $cdthey catches $dthemselves, correcting the misstep, “It is my <em>duty</em>, of course, to accompany you.” Somehow $dtheir words sound less like a response to you and more like a reminder for $dthemselves.<<else>><<if $charm gt $blunt>>“You don’t have to do that,” you say, perhaps speaking with a little too much eagerness that you quickly try to rein in. “I mean… you can come with me, if you want to.”<<else>>“You can come with,” you say, all but blurting it out and nearly wincing at how artless it sounds. “If you want to, I mean.”<</if>> “Of course I want to,” General $dname states, seeming almost puzzled that you would assume otherwise. “Right.” You take a deep breath.<</if>> “Come on, then.” Moving toward one of the basins built into the wall, you dip your fingers into the cold water. The symbols inscribed on the stone of the basin light up in a soft glow of blue, indicating you may begin to wash them. You submerge your hands fully into the water, up to your wrists as you begin to clean them thoroughly. Beside you, General $dname silently follows your example as $dthey tugs $dtheir gloves off and tucks them away, though $dthey seems familiar with the required ritual without needing any guidance from you. Your gaze lingers on $dtheir large hands, <<if $height is 'very tall'>>much like yours <</if>>not fitting very comfortably in the modest basin. You look back at your own hands, still rough and worn despite all of Siham and Ishrah's efforts to soften it. Nothing they can do will heal the calluses on your palms, earned through years of farm work with your mother. Most might consider them unsightly, but to you, they're a cherished memento. You wonder whether General $dname’s hands are as rough as yours. Once the light from the symbols dims again and you’re finished, you retract your hands from the basin and shake the droplets off. Beside you, General $dname does the same. Moments later, the inner doors of the temple swing open almost soundlessly. You step in front of the doorway to look inside the inner chamber, and as expected, even this small, hidden temple appears more elegant than any other you’ve ever been in. There are pathways of water built into every part of the structure. They originate from the back wall of the temple, pouring into the chamber through narrow slits right beneath the ceiling, though the water doesn’t fall down as it should. Instead, it flows steadily downwards, stuck to the wall as if it were on the ground. Once the pathways transition to the floor they expand from the center of it outwards into a softly glowing pond and four rings of larger circles. There are narrow tiles allowing visitors to walk to the pond at the center, which is the road you follow, mindful of your feet as you look at the quietly flowing water with wonder. The pathways continue along the other walls and, as you look directly above you, even the ceiling. The water streams back out of the same holes it pours in from, but upside down. All the other water temples you’ve visited had either a single fountain built within, or used a natural source of water like a river or a stream. You’ve never seen a temple this elaborate, or artificial. [[Continue|4.60a]]<<if $intel gt $intu>>[ <b><em>@@.stattext;Intelligent@@</em> character trait has been locked in. All traits are now permanent!</b> ]<<else>>[ <b><em>@@.stattext;Intuitive@@</em> character trait has been locked in. All traits are now permanent!</b> ]<</if>> <<if $charm gt $blunt>>“I’d appreciate it,”<<else>>“Please,”<</if>> you reply. General $dname nods in understanding, casting one last look at the inner doors of the temple before turning around and stepping back outside. Whether this means you’ll actually have any real privacy is uncertain, however; you know for a fact the Imperial Guards will still keep watch. Moving toward one of the basins built into the wall, you dip your fingers into the cold water. The symbols inscribed on the stone of the basin light up in a soft glow of blue, indicating you may begin to wash them. You submerge your hands fully into the water, up to your wrists as you begin to clean them thoroughly. The coolness of the water is soothing against your skin, still rough and worn despite all of Siham and Ishrah's efforts to soften it. Nothing they can do will heal the calluses on your palms, earned through years of farm work with your mother. Most might consider them unsightly, but to you, they're a cherished memento. Once the light from the symbols dims again and you’re finished, you retract your hands from the basin and shake the droplets off. Moments later, the inner doors of the temple swing open almost soundlessly. You step in front of the doorway to look inside the inner chamber, and as expected, even this small, hidden temple appears more elegant than any other you’ve ever been in. There are pathways of water built into every part of the structure. They originate from the back wall of the temple, pouring into the chamber through narrow slits right beneath the ceiling, though the water doesn’t fall down as it should. Instead, it flows steadily downwards, stuck to the wall as if it were on the ground. Once the pathways transition to the floor they expand from the center of it outwards into a pond and four rings of larger circles. There are narrow tiles allowing visitors to walk to the pond at the center, which is the road you follow, mindful of your feet as you look at the quietly flowing water with wonder. The pathways continue along the other walls and, as you look directly above you, even the ceiling. The water streams back out of the same holes it pours in from, but upside down. All the other water temples you’ve visited had either a single fountain built within, or used a natural source of water like a river or a stream. You’ve never seen a temple this elaborate, or artificial. The water within the pathways seems to emit blue light as well; looking more closely, you identify the faint glow of symbols carved into the pathways as the cause. It must be how the water is able to stream along the walls and on the ceiling. Reaching the innermost circle, you settle onto your knees as you peer down at the clear pond of water in front of you, and close your eyes. For a moment, you can almost feel the phantom weight of your father’s hand on your shoulder. From time to time your mother would tag along with you and your father as well; if she saw the water in this temple, you’re certain she would’ve complained about what a waste it is. Without realizing it, your hands ball into fists on your lap, clenched so hard you don’t notice it until even your blunt nails start digging into your palms. You take a quiet breath, trying to calm yourself as you recall the Four Elemental Principles engraved into your memory as clearly as your own name. Fire reveals, earth provides, air liberates, and water— “Water reflects,” you murmur, a reminder to yourself. If your thoughts are discordant and your own spirit ill at ease, so will it be reflected in the water spirits of the temple. As tempted as you might be by the tranquility that is seemingly offered by the water, this isn’t the right time for introspection. At most, it is a moment of peace, but that is more than enough for you. [[Continue|4.60b]]<<if $dgender is 'male'>><<set $dname to 'General Dara'>><<else>><<set $dname to 'General Delal'>><</if>>While you did not intend on introspection, which would require a concord, water temples also serve to clear one's mind. It's a simple thing to close your eyes and focus on the sound of gently flowing water surrounding you from all sides. For the first time in a long time, it allows you to breathe and merely <em>be</em>. In truth, you were fortunate to find a temple that wasn't one dedicated to fire. The spirits that reside in fire temples value truth above all else; entering such a temple while repressing as many things as you are, you would certainly be burned. The water spirits, however, have no such conditions for entering their temple. So long as you know yourself, you are free to explore the depths of your own spirit, or let it be washed clean of your worries. For you, knowing yourself has never been an obstacle. If anything, your entire life is painful clarity. If you did not know yourself intimately, with flaws and all, you would never be so doubtful about being chosen as the Crown. But here in this temple you can let those doubts go, at least for a little while. You try to let it all go, memories and all. Unbidden, you think of fire, and your chest throbs. Below you, the water shudders. When you open your eyes, you see a deep red stain in the center of the pond. It slowly spreads outward like disease, corrupting the water with endless blood. You jump up to your feet, breathing hard as pain blooms in your chest, like someone is trying to rip your heart out. It's the memories, you realize with a gasp. You're holding on to them too tightly while the water spirits keep pulling and pulling and pulling, trying to wrench them free with the force of a flood- "I take it back!" you cry out, hands covering your heart. "I'll keep it, I'm keeping it! It's mine!" The silence in the temple is deafening, lasting for what seems like hours before the spread of red in the water shrinks as suddenly as it came. It's pulled back into the center, smaller and smaller before it eventually disappears. You're still catching your breath by the time the oppressive air in the temple eases. This is why your father told you not to take the spirits lightly. Opening yourself up to them always carries with it certain risks, some more harmful than others. Deciding it best to leave while the spirits are calm once more, you make your way toward the entrance on shaky legs, pausing against the doors to steady yourself before you push them open. $dname still waits for you outside, turning to face you as you step outside. $cdthey casts a glance at the temple behind you with a frown before looking back at you. "Is everything alright?" $dthey asks. "You seem faint." "I'm fine." You don't sound nearly as convincing as you hoped. "It's nothing. Let's go." $dname eyes the temple again, frown deepening, before $dthey leads the way as the two of you leave the temple behind. [[Continue|4.61]] As you and General $dname enter, you realize you’ve both been quiet this entire time. <<if $pass gt $ass>>Should you speak? There are no rules that state temples ought to be silent places, but as you try to think of something to say, your mind is totally blank. It only increases your anxiety, until the silence unexpectedly breaks without your help.<<else>>Thinking about it, this actually makes for the perfect opportunity to get to know General $dname better. Just as you part your lips to speak, however, the silence unexpectedly breaks without your help.<</if>> “Do you often visit such temples?” General $dname asks, which takes you by surprise. You did not expect $dthem to start up a conversation, but when you meet $dtheir eyes $dthey appears sincerely curious. “From time to time,” you reply as the both of you reach the innermost circle of water. You settle onto your knees in front of the pond at the center of the temple, regarding the perfectly clear reflection on its surface. “It makes for a good place to clear my mind, though I don’t usually form concords with the temple spirits.” General $dname settles down beside you, gazing at you questioningly. “Why is that?” Without realizing it, your hands ball into fists on your lap, clenched so hard you don’t notice it until even your blunt nails start digging into your palms. You stare down at the pond and take a quiet breath, trying to calm yourself as you recall the Four Elemental Principles engraved into your memory as clearly as your own name. Fire reveals, earth provides, air liberates, and water— “Water reflects,” you murmur, a reminder to yourself. If your thoughts are discordant and your own spirit ill at ease, so will it be reflected in the water spirits of the temple. As tempted as you might be by the tranquility that is seemingly offered by the water, this isn’t the right time for introspection. “Pardon?” You startle, having nearly forgotten General $dname’s presence. Rather than try and cover it up, you repeat it for $dthem. “Water reflects, and…” You hesitate, but then admit, “There are some things I would rather not reflect on. At least, not right now.” General $dname is silent for a beat, speaking quietly, “I understand. Forgive me for prying, Your… ah…” $cdthey stops $dthemselves, trailing off awkwardly. <<if $flirt gt $res>>You arch your brows at $dthem. “You can use my name, you know.” “I cannot,” General $dname replies immediately, attention fixed onto the pond below. “It would not be proper.” “Even in private?” You try to catch $dtheir gaze, leaning forward a little, but $dtheir stare is well and truly glued onto the gentle blue glow of the pond, reflected in $dtheir dark eyes. A thought occurs to you, one that makes you smile mischievously. “Will you not use my name, $dname?” It has the intended effect: $dname’s eyes snap to yours, $dtheir lips parting slightly but no sound coming out. $cdthey simply stares at you as it takes a while to sink in, leaving $dthem in silence. “Should I not call you that?” you ask innocently. $dname takes a breath, shaking $dtheir head as $dthey abruptly breaks $dtheir stare. “You may call me whatever you wish. It is my name, after all.” You smile with satisfaction. “$dname it is. Please, call me $name in return. I’ll feel bad if you don’t.” With a long sigh, $dthey reluctantly gives in. “Very well.” "Very well?" $cdthey frowns back at you, realizing your intentions, before looking down at the pond again and murmuring, very softly, “Very well, $name.” Oh, but you <em>like</em> the way your name rolls off $dtheir tongue far too much.<<else>>“If you want, you can use my name,” you suggest carefully, suspecting General $dname won’t be very fond of the idea. “It’s less of a mouthful compared to the- uh, the other thing, at least.” “I cannot,” General $dname replies just as you expected, $dtheir attention fixed onto the gently glowing pond below. “It would not be proper.” You wonder how to go about convincing $dthem, hesitating when you consider simply telling $dthem the truth, but General $dname seems to sort who would appreciate that more than a persuasion tactic. “I would appreciate it if you did,” you say, though you can’t look $dthem in the eye as you say it. “At least when we’re alone. I know this might sound strange, but I want to hold on to my name as much as I can.” While your gaze is averted from $dthem, you can see General $dname look at you from the corner of your eyes. $cdthey lingers in silence, making you think that perhaps $dthey would rather uphold the proper address after all. “Then I will,” $dthey says, giving in so easily you turn your head to meet $dtheir gaze and find it lacking any of the indignance you expected. If anything, it has softened in understanding. “So long as you do me the honor of using mine, as well.” That seems like a fair trade. “Of course. Thank you, $dname.” Oh, but you <em>like</em> the way it rolls off your tongue far too much.<</if>> You decide not to linger too long on it, however, before you become distracted.<<if $dpoints gte 6>> Your eyes meet. It was meant to be a mere glance, but you can’t seem to look away from the light gleaming in $dname’s eyes. They seem so expressive, reflecting an unexpected thoughtfulness as they gaze upon you. It stands out from the otherwise stony features of $dname’s face, which yield nothing. Even the subtle furrow of $dtheir brows gives nothing else away. <<if $flirt gt $res>>“$dname,” you say, just to test it. $dname regards you attentively. “Yes?” You grin brightly, pleased by how natural it feels. “Nothing, never mind.”<<else>>When $dname’s eyes wander from yours, trailing over your face instead, you break the stare and look away, feeling oddly exposed. After a long moment $dname does the same, leaving the two of you seated in tense silence.<</if>><</if>> Now that conversation between you has paused, you decide to take the opportunity and do what you came here to do in the first place. [[Continue|4.61a]] While you did not intend on introspection, which would require a concord, water temples also serve to clear one's mind. Even with $dname sitting beside you, it's a simple thing to close your eyes and focus on the sound of gently flowing water surrounding you from all sides. For the first time in a long time, it allows you to breathe and merely <em>be</em>. In truth, you were fortunate to find a temple that wasn't one dedicated to fire. The spirits that reside in fire temples value truth above all else; entering such a temple while repressing as many things as you are, you would certainly be burned. The water spirits, however, have no such conditions for entering their temple. So long as you know yourself, you are free to explore the depths of your own spirit, or let it be washed clean of your worries. For you, knowing yourself has never been an obstacle. If anything, your entire life is painful clarity. If you did not know yourself intimately, with flaws and all, you would never be so doubtful about being chosen as the Crown. But here in this temple you can let those doubts go, at least for a little while. You try to let it all go, memories and all. Unbidden, you think of fire, and your chest throbs. Below you, the water shudders. "What's happening?" you hear $dname say, $dtheir hand on your shoulder a weight that steadies you through the pain. "Are you alright?" You open your eyes and see a deep red stain in the center of the pond. It slowly spreads outward like disease, corrupting the water with endless blood. "I-" You can barely get a word out, breathing hard as pain blooms in your chest, like someone is trying to rip your heart out. "I'm fine, it's just-" The memories, you realize with a gasp. You're holding on to them too tightly while the water spirits keep pulling and pulling and pulling, trying to wrench them free with the force of a flood- "I take it back!" you cry out, hands covering your heart while the grip $dname has on your shoulder tightens. "I'll keep it, I'm keeping it! It's mine!" The silence in the temple is deafening, lasting for what seems like hours before the spread of red in the water shrinks as suddenly as it came. It's pulled back into the center, smaller and smaller before it eventually disappears. You're still catching your breath by the time the oppressive air in the temple eases. This is why your father told you not to take the spirits lightly. Opening yourself up to them always carries with it certain risks, some more harmful than others. "What was that?" $dname questions, glancing down at where your hands are still clutching your chest. "It was my fault," you murmur regretfully, winded by the force of magic that just wreaked havoc on your poor heart. "I asked too much of the spirits, but it's alright now." $dname frowns at you, seeming dissatisfied with that answer, but unwilling to push you on it. You regard $dname's unaffected state with curiosity. "You didn't feel any of that?" "I saw you doubling over in pain and the water running red," $dname answers. "But I did not feel anything, no." Odd. Usually even people with very little talent for magic would be able to sense such changes in the atmosphere, but it seems as if $dname is shielded from it. "We should leave," $dname states as $dthey gets up to $dtheir feet, staring down at the now still pond as if $dthey could intimidate the spirits merely by glaring at the water. "I'm not well-versed in magic. I cannot protect you should the spirits change their minds." That <em>would</em> be a problem. "Alright." <<if $dpoints gt 4>>You slowly get up to your feet, your legs feeling a little shaky, and when your knees buckle a little $dname catches you by the arm. "Careful," $dthey cautions you, $dtheir grip surprisingly gentle as $dthey supports you, letting go when you're standing upright. "Thank you," <<if $flirt gt $res>>you say with a smile, which only grows wider when $dname huffs and averts $dtheir gaze.<<else>>you say quietly, trying not to think about $dtheir long fingers curled around your arm.<</if>> "You need not thank me for that."<<else>>You're not very keen on lingering here either. Slowly, you get up to your feet. Your legs feel a little shaky, and your knees buckle a little but you catch yourself in time, easing yourself upright. "Let's go."<</if>> [[Continue|4.61]] The road to the teashop is blessedly uneventful, allowing you to compose yourself by the time your arrive. $dname exhales a long, drawn-out sigh as $dthey leads you toward the entrance of the Red Lantern, the people hovering near it quickly stepping aside to let you pass. “Is the entire teashop plagued by these idiots?” Not a moment after you’ve stepped over the threshold do you hear $xname’s voice. “Plagued?” You turn your head and find $xthem leaning against the wall beside the doorway, arms crossed in a nonchalant pose. “Careful with such accusations, general. Us idiots are paying customers.” $cxthey catches your eyes and winks at you,<<if $xpoints gt 3>> coaxing a smile from your lips<</if>> before $dname cuts in. “So long as you’re not my headache to deal with.” You look toward the rest of the shop, all the tables and seats filled mostly with $xname’s Crescent Blades with a few others who aren’t wearing black robes scattered in between. $xname pushes off from the wall, sauntering over and prodding $dname in the side with $xtheir elbow. “Don’t act coy! You missed me, didn’t you? That’s why you’re tagging along with $name here. I’m flattered, $dname, but you must know I can never return your feelings—” “Spirits grant me patience,” $dname breathes out, grabbing the offending elbow prodding $dthem in $dtheir side, and shoving $xname away. “For reasons I cannot fathom, $name wished to see you. Understand that I will be the first to sharpen my blade should you fail to keep $them safe.” “So dramatic,” $xname says with an exasperated sigh. You arch a brow at $xthem. “Really? <em>You’re</em> calling $dthem dramatic?” $cxthey waves dismissively with $xtheir hand. “There’s an art to exaggeration. Neither of you would understand.” $dname takes a moment to massage $dtheir temples. “I should take my leave before I do something regrettable. $xname, I’m warning you—” Right as $dname takes a step toward $xname, $dthey walks right into someone who had been passing through the entrance into the teashop, causing them to run right into $dtheir armor-clad chest. This someone, however, is a very familiar figure to you; a bright green scarf wrapped around a head of black hair, carrying a tembûr on their back. It’s <<if $ervinsent is true>>Ervin, the storyteller who pointed you in $xname’s direction<<else>>the storyteller who pointed you in $xname’s direction<</if>>. “Oh, pardon me!” <<if $ervinsent is true>>Ervin<<else>>The storyteller<</if>> twists around, looking up at $dname, a look of recognition passing on <<if $ervinsent is true>>his<<else>>their<</if>> face before flashing $dname an apologetic smile. “Sorry, <<if $dgender is 'male'>>uncle<<else>>auntie<</if>>, I didn’t see you there.” $dname stares back at them incredulously. “<<if $dgender is 'male'>><em>Uncle</em><<else>><em>Auntie</em><</if>>?” <<if $ervinsent is true>>Ervin<<else>>The storyteller<</if>> definitely knows who <<if $ervinsent is true>>he's<<else>>they're<</if>> addressing, if the playful gleam in <<if $ervinsent is true>>his<<else>>their<</if>> eyes is any indication. You slap a hand over your lips to smother the laughter bubbling up to your mouth. Beside you, $xname shares no such reservations and lets out a howl as $xthey claps <<if $ervinsent is true>>Ervin<<else>>the storyteller<</if>> on the shoulder. “Exactly right!” $xthey agrees, nodding sagely as $xthey barely keeps $xtheir grin under control. “You have to show more care towards your elders, Ervin! Please forgive him for the misstep, <<if $dgender is 'male'>>uncle<<else>>auntie<</if>>.” “You—” $dname sputters with indignation, looking like $dthey wants to tear into $xname for a moment before $dthey addresses—or rather, scolds—Ervin. “Don’t call me <<if $dgender is 'male'>>uncle<<else>>auntie<</if>>! I’m only two years older than $xname!” Ervin tilts his head slightly. “So, older <<if $dgender is 'male'>>brother<<else>>sister<</if>>, then?” “Yes- no!” $cdthey scowls as you snort against your palm and $xname starts to laugh even louder. “Don’t act so familiar, who do you think I am?” “<<if $dgender is 'male'>>Uncle<<else>>Auntie<</if>>, keep your voice down,” $xname says. “You’re causing a scene. Poor Ervin didn’t mean it, don’t be so hard on him.” “I’m leaving!” $dname declares, though before doing so, $dthey points a finger right in $xname’s face. “If even a single <em>hair</em> on $name is out of place when I see $them again, it will be your head!” $cdthey turns to you, anger briefly disappearing from $dtheir face. “Do be careful.” With one last glare shot toward a grinning $xname, $dname turns away and sweeps out the teashop like a storm, nearly running over a few mercenaries who were just entering the shop. [[Continue|4.63]] If the basins of water built into the walls didn’t give it away, the curling patterns of waves on the inner doors surely would. The presence of a door at all is a clear indicator; unlike other temples, ones dedicated to water are the only ones with an entrance hall that requires one to wash their hands before stepping inside. Besides which, the fact that it was built so near to other buildings rules out fire and air, and for it to have been an earth temple it would’ve been built on pure natural ground, not the artificial stone tiles lining the streets. That only leaves one other possibility. You make to clean your hands in one of the basins, but then pause when you catch General $dname watching you. “Should I wait outside?” $dthey asks. <ul class="a"> <li><<if $dpoints gte 2>><<if $dgender is 'male'>>[[Ask him to accompany you.|4.59a][$dpoints += 1]]<<else>>[[Ask her to accompany you.|4.59a][$dpoints += 1]]<</if>><<else>><b>You are not close enough with $dname to select this option.</b><</if>></li> <li><<if $dgender is 'male'>>[[Let him wait outside.|4.59b]]<<else>>[[Let her wait outside.|4.59b]]<</if>></li> </ul><<unset $ervinsent>>Ervin looks at $xname after $dname has left. “What mischief have you gotten me into this time, $xname?” $xname shrugs, appearing far too pleased with $xthemselves. “Don’t worry about $dname, $dthey’s full of hot air. Have you met my friend yet?” Placing a hand on your shoulder, $xname pulls you away from the entrance to stand beside $xthem. You expect it’s so you’re no longer blocking the path for other people entering and leaving the teashop, but even once you’re no longer in the way $xtheir hand lingers. <<if $xpoints gt 4>>You can feel the warmth radiating from $xtheir skin, even through your layers of clothes. <<if $flirt gt $res>>Glancing at $xname from the corner of your eyes, you can’t help but smile,<<else>>Even as you try to keep your composure, you feel your heart beating faster,<</if>> though you know $xname doesn’t mean anything by it. $cxthey tends to touch people around $xthem, even $dname. This is no different.<<else>>You look at $xname’s hand placed comfortably on your shoulder, and as $xname notices your stare, $xthey releases $xtheir grip with an apologetic smile. You know $xname doesn’t mean anything by it; $xthey tends to touch people around $xthem, even $dname.<</if>> “Let me introduce you,” $xname says to Ervin, who turns his gaze onto you and frowns when your eyes meet. "This is $name. $cthey<<if $pronouns is 'theythem'>>'re<<else>>'s<</if>>-" “Do I know you from somewhere?” Ervin guesses before $xname can continue, and you’re surprised he’s able to recognize you at all, considering most of your face was covered up beneath the hood of your cloak at the time. $xname glances between the two of you, curious. “You’ve met before?” “Two days ago,” you respond, deciding to clarify this mystery for the both of them. “I asked Ervin where I could find you; he pointed me in the right direction.” Ervin’s eyes light up with recognition. “Ah, now I remember! Has your problem been resolved, then?” You and $xname exchange a look, $xname smirking as $xthey says to Ervin, “You sent $them to me, didn’t you? Of course $their problem was resolved. I should thank you for the opportunity, Ervin; you’ve made me a <em>very</em> rich mercenary.” $cxthey must have already been paid by the Imperial House with quite a sum, from the sounds of it. That thought sits uneasily in your stomach, as you recall everything that occurred at the time, including the way $xname used you. $xname gestures for you and Ervin to follow as $xthey guides you through the teashop, moving between the tables scattered around with mercenaries drinking either tea or alcohol, enjoying a meal and chatting amongst themselves. You spot a few musicians in the corner, playing a lively tune on a flute and tembûr, adding to the cheerful atmosphere. Instead of being caught up in their merriment, however, each and every table immediately notices and greets $xname as $xthey passes. “When are you going to sing for us, chief?” $xname laughs as $xthey takes you up the stairs. “Are you trying to get us kicked out, Gulîn?” When you reach the upper floor, all the mercenaries seated there instantly take note of $xname's arrival. “Here’s to you, <<if $xgender is 'male'>>brother<<else>>sister<</if>>!” $cxthey grins as one table all raise their glass at the sight of $xthem. “Don’t indulge too much, friends, there’ll be more work in the morning.” “Let me buy everyone a round, chief, since you’re not going to do it!” “With whose coin?” $xname mocks playfully. “Buy yourself a bath instead, Ferhat, I can smell you from here!” More raucous laughter erupts from among the tables. <<if $adven gt $caut>>You find yourself drawn in by the spirited, celebratory air that has overtaken the building, enjoying the noise and presence of people all around you now that you have little to fear. It’s freeing.<<else>>You find yourself sticking close to $xname, not partial to the almost hectic nature of such celebrations. It can’t all be merely due to habit; part of it is merely your nature, favoring quieter places over such busy noise.<</if>> [[Continue|4.64]] $xname leads you toward a table near the inner balcony, overlooking the lower floor. You notice two people already seated there when you arrive; Tûjo you recognize, still clad in black robes that hide everything save for his eyes, but the other one seems a stranger. They’re clad in heavy armor, though their face is revealed. You can't help your curious look at their appearance. The light of the sun colors their short, choppy hair in a warm, dark tint of red and highlights the earth-warmed hue of their eyes, their skin a deep brown shade. They have soft facial features, a broad but flat nose and a round jawline, but a stern line in their lips. “There you are,” the stranger says, and when you hear their voice it finally clicks. “Where did you suddenly run off to?” You catch their eyes as they look at you. “Heval?” “Ah.” Heval blinks in recognition. “Well met. What… are you staring at?” $xname snorts as $xthey and Ervin each take a seat at the table, $xname pulling an empty chair from another table for you to sit between them. <<if $blunt gt $charm>>“I wasn’t prepared to see your face,” you answer honestly, leading Heval to frown at you while $xname starts snickering. “Why is that something you need to be prepared for?” Heval turns to glare at $xname. “Stop laughing.” “You look prettier than what I imagined, is all.” Ervin agrees. “More delicate, no?” Heval sputters. “Pretty? <em>Delicate</em>?” "Should we not call you that?" you question, and Heval lowers their head, seemingly oddly shy. "N-no, uh…" Heval clears their throat. "It is a compliment. Thank you." You squint, staring at the darkening red only just visible on Heval's cheeks and forehead. "Heval, are you blushing?" Heval raises their gloved hands to cover themselves from view. "Don't look at me."<<else>>“I was surprised to see you with your helmet off, that’s all,” you explain as you sit down. “Not what you expected?” $xname ventures with a mischievous grin, and you consider Heval’s face once more. “Definitely prettier than I thought,” you consider. Ervin agrees. “More delicate, no?” Heval sputters. “Pretty? <em>Delicate</em>?” "Should we not call you that?" you question, and Heval lowers their head, seemingly oddly shy. "N-no, uh…" They clear their throat. "It is a compliment. Thank you." You squint, staring at the dark red just visible on Heval's cheeks and forehead. "Heval, are you blushing?" Heval raises their gloved hands to cover themselves from view. "Don't look at me."<</if>> While Ervin and $xname laugh you don't bother smothering your smile, agreeing to their feeble request and looking over at Tûjo instead, who seems to have anticipated your question. “I don’t take it off in public,” he replies, pointedly picking up his teacup and tugging a layer of cloth around his mouth just far enough to fit the cup beneath without showing any skin, taking a small sip. “Tûjo is from the south of Şevan,” Ervin clarifies helpfully, and you remember hearing about a custom like that before. You’ve never seen anyone else adhering to it, however, considering how far away from Şevan you are; it’s on the opposite end of Arsur, after all. “You only take it off in private?” you ask Tûjo. “Among loved ones.” “So, the Crescent Blades?” Tûjo averts his gaze, eyes sliding off to the side while $xname starts to coo. “Ah, Tûjo, are we your loved ones?” $xthey teases, reaching over $xtheir chair to throw an arm around Tûjo’s shoulders. “I’m so touched!” Tûjo glares at $xname. “I will throw you off this balcony.” “How is that surprising?” Heval says to $xname, seeming to have recovered from their previous embarrassment with a confused look on their face. “Of course we’re his loved ones. Who else would be?” Tûjo’s eyes widen slightly, and while you can’t see his skin, you can tell from the heated tone of his voice that he must be flushing beneath his robes. “I will throw you <em>both</em> off this balcony.” “What did I do?” Heval protests while $xname wipes a nonexistent tear off $xtheir cheek, patting Tûjo on the shoulder before finally releasing him. "$name, is it your intention to make all of my mercenaries blush like children?" $xname says to you, drawing murderous looks from both Tûjo and Heval this time. “I believe that’s my cue to play a song,” Ervin announces, smoothly slipping off his chair and taking his tembûr with him toward the center of the floor where there seems to be a designated space for musicians, with a few empty chairs already waiting for him. Seems like you’re in for a lovely time. [[Continue|4.65]]“Come now, Tûjo, no need to be shy,” $xname coaxes, catching the eye of one of the servers and motioning for a cup of tea before turning to you. “We’re all among friends here. Something to drink, $name?” “I’d like some black tea,” you answer, thinking it best to keep sober. “Thanks.” Tûjo huffs and turns his head to face away from $xname, choosing to watch Ervin tune his tembûr instead while a few mercenaries at tables nearby call out song requests. “<em>Crown Dila and the Peri Queen</em>,” someone shouts out. One of their companions kicks at their chair. “You request that every time we come here, enough’s enough!” “Do <em>The Tale of the Barber and His Seven Brothers</em>!” Several people groan and protest, Heval shooting the suggestion down immediately. “We’ll be here all week if we have to listen to that!” “How about <em><<if $xgender is 'female'>>Nitocris’ Lament<<else>>Meryatum’s Lament<</if>></em>?” $xname picks up a teaspoon and hurls it across the room, hitting the offending mercenary in the forehead while the others laugh. “Shut up, Nebez!” The name of that particular song—or rather, the person it’s about—is one you’ve heard before. Recalling an earlier conversation between you, $xname and Tûjo, you recognize it as the name of the Qatheshi <<if $xgender is 'female'>>princess<<else>>prince<</if>> that was once one of $xname’s lovers, although it didn’t end well. <<if $xpoints gte 6>>“Is it really that sore of a subject?” you ask $xname. Tûjo and Heval both stare at you the moment the question leaves your lips, which makes you reconsider whether it was a safe thing to ask. $xname, however, smiles wide and leans against the table with an elbow as $xthey turns in $xtheir chair to face you. “$name, are you asking me if I’m available?” <<if $pass gt $ass>><<if $res gt $flirt>>“What?” You panic. “No! I was just- it was out of curiosity. You don’t need to answer.” “Oh, you poor thing.” $xname moves away again, leaning back against $xtheir chair with a grin. “Now I feel bad. Don’t worry, I was only teasing.” “I knew that,” you mumble, distinctly embarrassed at your overreaction.<<else>>You grin back at $xthem. “Don’t flatter your ego, I was only curious.” $xname presses a hand over $xtheir heart, exaggerating an injury. “Oh, you are <em>ruthless</em>! I really do have a type.” “I don’t know whether I should be insulted or flattered,” you consider playfully.<</if>><<else>><<if $flirt gt $res>>Seeing through the game $xname is playing with ease, you mirror $xtheir pose as you turn your body to face $xthem. “Well, are you?” $xname looks intrigued, though $xthey keeps a playful tone as $xthey replies, “For you? I’m always available.” Your eyes trace the subtle curve of $xname’s lips, before they flit up to meet $xname’s with a challenge. “I’ll keep that in mind.” $xname’s gaze darkens, but before anything more can come of it $xthey shakes $xtheir head and breaks the moment.<<else>>Blinking at the apparent misunderstanding, you reply, “No, I was only curious.” $xname all but pouts, visibly disappointed. “That’s it? No other reason?” “What other reason would there be?” you say, confused. Heval snorts while $xname hangs $xtheir head in defeat. “Looks like your usual tactics aren’t going to work, chief.”<</if>> “To answer your question,” $xname says, putting the conversation back on track. “It’s not a sore subject—” “Liar,” Tûjo says. “<em>But</em>,” $xname continues, shooting a glare at Tûjo, “that doesn’t mean I enjoy talking about it. That goes for any of my previous lovers, by the way; I prefer not to live in the past.”<</if>><<else>>You decide not to ask about it, however, as you also recall $xname being rather sensitive about the topic the last time Tûjo brought it up. Besides which, you’re not curious enough to pry into $xname’s personal history.<</if>> [[Continue|4.66]] At this point a server for the teahouse arrives, balancing your and $xname’s cups of tea on a tray. You accept your own cup with a <<if $charm gt $blunt>>smile and a <</if>>word of thanks, whereas $xname takes $xtheir cup and casually flicks a gold coin onto the server’s empty tray. The server gapes at it. “<<if $xgender is 'female'>>Mistress<<else>>Master<</if>>, this is far too much for only two cups of tea!” “No, no, that’s for <em>you</em>, not the tea,” $xname clarifies, though $xthey barely seems to be paying attention to the server as $xthey watches Ervin string an ambient tune together on his tembûr. “I’ll pay for the tea when I’m done drinking.” “Chief, will you please be more careful about spending your coin?” Heval says in exasperation while the dazed server bows in thanks and wanders away with their tray in both hands, staring down at the gold. “You’re going to burn through your allowance before the month is over.” “$cxthey has an allowance?” you interject, bemused that the leader of a mercenary band wouldn’t have full control over its finances. “It’s self-imposed,” $xname admits, smile a little awkward as $xthey rubs the back of $xtheir neck. “What can I say, I’m a generous person.” “For all that $xthey likes making coin, $xthey cannot handle it properly,” Tûjo muses while you take your cup of tea to your lips, blowing on it before taking a sip. “What’s the use of having wealth if you can’t spend it?” $xname argues, and both Heval and Tûjo stare $xthem down. “When we were in the marketplace earlier, you wanted to buy forty different smoking pipes,” Heval points out. “So?” “Chief, you don’t even smoke!” “That’s not the point!” Under any other circumstances you might’ve been amused by the display, but that uneasy feeling from earlier resurfaces as you think about what happened in the forest yesterday. The reason $xthey was paid at all. $xname used you as bait. Thinking through it you can see why $xthey did it, and you more than anyone understand the personal vendetta $xthey seems to hold against the Followers, but to know that $xthey used you so easily bothers you. $xname regards the scowl building on your face. “What’s the matter? Worried I’m going to bankrupt the national treasury?” <<if $blunt gt $charm>>“No,”<<else>>“No, nothing like that,”<</if>> you answer honestly, the lines between your brows deepening as you stare back at $xname and wonder how much $xthey really cares. “Whatever it is, it’s leaving you in a rather foul mood.” “I’m not in a foul mood.” “There’s hardly any use lying to me, $xnickname.” $xname smirks at you, and for the first time you think you understand how $xthey manages to drive $dname up the wall like $xthey does. “I have sensory magic, remember? You just went from sunshine on a spring day to storm clouds blocking out the sun. Tell old $xname what’s bothering you. I can’t say I’m a great listener, but…” <ul class="a"> <li><<if $xpoints gte 2>><<if $xgender is 'male'>>[[Ask why he used you to get rid of the spies.|4.67a][$xpoints += 1]]<<else>>[[Ask why she used you to get rid of the spies.|4.67a][$xpoints += 1]]<</if>><<else>><b>You are not close enough with $xname to select this option.</b><</if>></li> <li>[[Let it go and change the subject.|4.67b]]</li> </ul><<if $blunt gt $charm>>“Why did you use me as bait?” Heval and Tûjo exchange a look, before both of them rise from their seats and promptly walk away, not even bothering to come up with an excuse. $xname almost winces, $xtheir smile turning a little awkward. “You really don’t like to dance around the issue, do you?” You frown back at $xthem, your gaze expectant, and $xname breaks. “Okay, okay—look, $name, it’s…”<<else>>“What are you celebrating here, exactly?” you ask, keeping your tone as mild as possible as you trace the rim of your cup with the tip of your finger. “The Crown’s appearance? Or perhaps how smoothly your little plan back in the forest went?” The smirk fades from $xname’s face. “Ah.” Heval and Tûjo exchange a look, before both of them rise from their seats and promptly walk away, not even bothering to come up with an excuse. “Ah?” you repeat, arching your brows. “That’s all you have to say?” “I knew this would come up eventually—look, $name, it’s…”<</if>> $cxthey sighs, <<if $xgender is 'male'>>running a hand through his hair<<else>>brushing a few stray locks of her hair behind her ear<</if>>. “It wasn’t personal.” “Not towards me, maybe,” you retort. “But it was personal for you, wasn’t it? That’s what $rname said.” A dark look crosses $xname’s face before it’s smoothed out and $xthey meets your eyes again. “$crthey’s right. It was… <em>is</em> personal for me. I did what had to be done, and it kept you safe. Without those spies lurking among your guards, you can—” “Safe?” you say incredulously, remembering the arrow aimed between your eyes. “I was almost shot. If it weren’t for $aname, I might’ve gotten killed.” $xname cringes at that, so at least $xthey has the decency to feel some measure of shame, but even so $xthey still insists, “Tûjo wouldn’t have let that happen.” “You don’t know that.” “No, I don’t,” $xname admits, but offers nothing more. $cxtheir shoulders are tense, but the look in $xtheir eyes is steady, and you wonder how deeply this grudge of $xtheirs runs for $xthem to take such a risk. Perhaps it’s similar to your own. [[Continue|4.68a]]"It's nothing important," you respond dismissively, managing a smile as you evade an honest answer. "I've had an eventful day, that's all." "Right." Neither $xname nor Heval appear convinced, while Tûjo narrows his eyes slightly in skepticism, yet $xname does you the favor of moving on. "Why don’t you tell us what you’ve been up to? I didn’t expect to see you tagging along with $dname.” You drink your tea and fill the three of them in about your sightseeing. Omitting the part about pleasure houses to spare $dname some dignity, you commiserate with Tûjo and Heval about the sheer size of the city. "I've yet to see all of it," Heval says. "The hills make it a pain to navigate. It has great views, however." Tûjo hums in agreement. "Apparently most of the city is visible from the roof of the public library. It is, of course, restricted." You make a note to inquire after access, as a view like that is one you would very much like to see. While you continue telling them about your day, $xname listens for the most part. $cxthey appears a bit distracted, in fact, gaze occasionally straying from you to wander about the teahouse, head shifting a little every now and then as if $xthey were hearing a new noise. You don't remember $xthem being this absent back in the forest, $xthey seemed much more focused then. Considering it, however, you quickly realize why: in the midst of a city like this, with so many people around, $xname must be sensing far more than $xthey would in a forest. When you recount to $xthem about what occurred at the temple, however, $xtheir full attention immediately returns to you. “That was you after all?” You give $xthem a questioning look. “What do you mean?” “I noticed something strange earlier in the direction of that temple,” $xname explains pensively. “Like a sudden ripple in the water. I thought I sensed your presence and wanted to investigate it, but it disappeared too quickly. What were you thinking about that upset the spirits to that extent?” You avert your gaze. “Nothing. A few bad memories, that's all." $xname must notice your evasion considering how blatant it is, but $xthey doesn’t point it out or try to convince you otherwise. Instead, $xthey smoothly continues the conversation: “I never understood why people liked temples so much. Having a spirit digging through my head doesn’t sound remotely appealing.” [[Continue|4.69]]“I only wish you would’ve told me,” you say. “I would’ve understood.” It’s not as if thoughts of revenge have never occurred to you before, but you always dismissed them considering it’s rather hard to exact revenge when you’re dead. Even so, you understand the impulse, though you do not appreciate being used and lied to. <<if $calc gt $kind>>After all, can you honestly say you wouldn’t have done the same in $xname’s shoes? $cxtheir plan was sound, and it worked exactly as $xthey intended. That much you cannot begrudge $xthem.<<else>>You cannot see yourself doing the same thing, though, at least not in the same manner. At the very least, had you been in $xname’s shoes, you would’ve told the truth. Having someone cooperate willingly is much more preferable to you than lying to people.<</if>> For a while, $xname doesn’t reply, but then you see the furrow in $xtheir brows form like a small crack in an otherwise smooth mask. “I’m not so sure you would,” $xthey mutters, averting $xtheir gaze while bringing $xtheir cup to $xtheir lips, taking a long sip. The tension that lingers at the table is an unpleasant one, sitting between the two of you. For a moment, you consider telling $xthem. Confessing all that has happened to you so far, just to prove that you <em>do</em> understand like no one else possibly could, but then you remember you don’t actually know anything about $xname. You don’t know $xtheir reasons for doing what $xthey did, you don’t know why $xthey hates the Followers of Vidarna; it’s a jarring realization. $xname seems so warm, so charismatic, so approachable, but as you watch $xthem from across the table now you cannot help but think the two of you may be more alike than you first thought. Both of you keep people at a distance, but $xthey is much better at hiding it than you are. “You don’t trust me,” you infer, almost startled at the realization, though you should’ve anticipated this. What reason would $xname have to trust you? Merely because you are the Crown? “It’s not about trust, it’s about—” $xname sees the expression on your face and stops $xthemselves, exhaling a deep sigh. “Listen, why don’t we stick to more pleasant topics? Let’s not sour the celebration by speaking of bad memories.” You give $xname an incredulous look. “It happened <em>yesterday</em>.” “What’s in the past is in the past!” $xname states with an entirely undeserved air of wisdom, then has the audacity to grin at you. “Now, what shall I do to make you smile? Would you like me to honor you with a serenade? I am very poor at playing instruments, but I could give it a try.” Just like that, $xname has moved on and shaken off the unpleasant tension between you without hesitation. “You’re unbelievable.” “I hear that a lot,” $xname says, smirking. “You should drink your tea, it’s getting cold. Why don’t you tell me what you’ve been up to? I didn’t expect to see you tagging along with $dname.” Heaving a sigh, you decide to let your misgivings go for now; clearly talking to $xname about it won’t get you anywhere. Instead, you drink your tea and fill $xthem in about your day, though you omit the part about the pleasure house to spare $dname some dignity. [[Continue|4.69a]]$xname listens for the most part. $cxthey appears a bit distracted, in fact, gaze occasionally straying from you to wander about the teahouse, head shifting a little every now and then as if $xthey were listening to something. You don't remember $xthem being this absent back in the forest, $xthey seemed much more focused then. Considering it, however, you quickly realize why: in the midst of a city like this, with so many people around, $xname must be sensing far more than $xthey would in a forest. "What are you listening to?" you ask, interrupting your own story when you notice $xname tilting $xtheir head a certain way. $cxthey blinks, $xtheir attention fully returning to you. "Nothing in particular. People passing by, and the like." "Do you do that all the time?" "Not usually, no." "So why…" It dawns on you<<if $res gt $flirt>>, and heat rushes to your face<</if>>. "Oh. You're looking out for me." "Being here <em>is</em> a risk you're taking, $name," $xname teases. "Seeing as how I invited you here, I ought to keep you safe. I'm sure your guards are capable enough, but I'd rather you rely on me." <<if $res gt $flirt>>"I see." You look away from $xname's, not wanting the gleaming green of $xtheir eyes to notice the genuine pleasure you feel at the thought. "Well, thank you."<<else>>"How thoughtful of you," you reply, yet beyond the mischievous tone of your words, you feel a genuine pleasure at the thought. "It is appreciated."<</if>> $xname gives you a knowing look. "Don't worry, I've heard everything you were saying. $aname left you with $dname, did $athey?" "$cathey did." You continue with your tale, and once you recount about what occurred at the temple, $xthey suddenly interrupts. “That was you after all?” The question puzzles you. “What do you mean?” “I noticed something strange earlier in the direction of that temple,” $xname explains pensively. “Like a sudden ripple in the water. I thought I sensed your presence and wanted to investigate it, but it disappeared too quickly. What were you thinking about that upset the spirits to that extent?” You avert your gaze. “Nothing. A few bad memories, that's all. Like you said, it’s best not to linger on them.” $xname must notice your evasion considering how blatant it is, but $xthey doesn’t point it out or try to convince you otherwise. Instead, $xthey smoothly continues the conversation: “I never understood why people liked temples so much. Having a spirit digging through my head doesn’t sound remotely appealing.” Tûjo and Heval return before you can reply, taking their seats again as if they had never been gone at all, and $xname pins them both with an accusatory look. “Cowards.” [[Continue|4.69]] The afternoon continues on pleasantly as you find yourself easing into the atmosphere. Most of your conversation centers around things to do in Marabad (naturally, $xname recommends a few select pleasure houses) and stays away from heavier matters that might spoil the fun. But, as it turns out, it was destined to be spoiled either way. The first sign of things going awry is the way $xname, mid-sentence, suddenly cuts $xthemselves off and turns $xtheir head to listen to something you can’t hear. Moments later, the carefree expression on $xtheir face sours into a scowl. “Oh, you’ve got to be joking,” $xthey groans as $xthey gets up from $xtheir seat, followed unquestioningly by Heval and Tûjo. The sound of chatter on the upper floor fades; all the other Crescent Blades have taken notice. While Ervin continues to play a tune, either uncaring or unaware of the change in atmosphere, the mercenaries at the tables fall silent, some watching $xname while other seem to simply be waiting. You look around, trying to catch sight of whatever disturbance caused $xname to move as you get out of your chair. “What is it?” “Nothing to worry about,” $xname replies casually as $xthey wanders toward the balcony railing, leaning against it on $xtheir elbows while peering down at the ground floor below. “Just a few unwelcome visitors, that’s all.” Curious, you move over and join $xthem at the balcony, but when you look down, everything appears normal. The Crescent Blades on the ground floor seem not to have noticed the change in the air on the upper floor, carrying on merrily drinking and talking among each other—until $xname’s heralded ‘unwelcome visitors’ finally show up, that is. If the teahouse had closed its doors you’re certain these new arrivals would’ve burst right through them. Seeing as how the doors have been left open, however, the visitors settle for stomping inside instead. Certainly less grand an entrance then they probably hoped for. They are three people, each wearing identical uniforms; long green robes detailed with brown at the hem and the edge of their sleeves. Aren’t those the same ones you’ve seen on the tax officials at the square? “Where is the owner of this establishment?” one of them calls out, bringing a quick end to the mood downstairs as well. You notice more Crescent Blades on the upper floors joining you and $xname at the balcony to look down at the spectacle, while Heval and Tûjo hang back like they’re waiting for orders. From the back of the teahouse the person you presume to be the owner appears, though in a decidedly more graceful manner. [[Continue|4.70]] The edge of their blue dress trails behind their elegant stride. They hold a delicate silver smoking pipe between their spindly fingers as they meet the tax officials halfway, right below where you and $xname are standing on the balcony. From the pure gray of their bound up hair you suppose the owner must be quite old, which makes the bold entrance of the younger tax officials all the more offensive. “You called for me?” the owner replies with obvious disinterest as the mercenaries at the surrounding tables watch. “Are you the Honored Master Zîn?” the official questions. "The lady who owns this establishment, that is?" The owner does not reply immediately. Instead, she takes a long, languid drag from her pipe, then blows out the smoke right in the faces of the tax officials who cough and try to wave it away. “Is there a problem, child? As I recall, my taxes are not yet due till the end of the month.” “I can’t believe the idiot came back,” $xname mutters from beside you. “They were here before?” you ask, and $xname glances at you before looking back down at the conversation happening below you. “One of them was.” $xname points them out to you, the one at the center flanked by the other two. “They demanded a seat, but we’d already taken all the available tables. One of the servers suggested they share, and they spat at their feet before leaving in a fit of anger. I suppose they fetched their little friends to back them up.” <<if $blunt gt $charm>>“What an ass,”<<else>>“Even a dog has better manners than that,”<</if>> you mumble, frowning down at the tax officials as they continue their tirade. “There has been a slight adjustment,” one of them tells the owner. “With the arrival of the Crown, I’m sure you understand… we’ll have to ask for your payments in advance.” Your frown deepens into a scowl as these officials use <em>your</em> arrival as an excuse for their petty scheme. “What a load of horseshit!” one of the Crescent Blades sitting below exclaims, angry agreements rising up from the rest of the crowd; the tax officials glance around nervously, but seem otherwise disinclined to back away. Master Zîn raises a hand, and the mercenaries fall quiet again. “If I do not agree to pay?” she says, sounding not the least bit intimidated as she takes another drag from her pipe. “The city guard are waiting outside, my lady,” one of the officials points out. “Consider your options with care.” You notice $xname tense up beside you, as does Master Zîn; she tilts her head up and gives $xname a warning look, but then her eyes flit to you. She stares at you for a long moment, taking in your indignant expression, before turning back to the officials. “Is our new Crown aware of this policy?” she remarks with utter nonchalance, yet both you as well as the officials freeze up. You look at $xname. “She knows?” $xname grins back at you. “I assure you, I did not tell her; I’m afraid a mere glamor is not enough to fool someone of Master Zîn’s caliber.” “W-well,” a tax official sputters, exchanging a look with their companions. “Of course! It is for $ctheir Imperial Majesty’s benefit, after all!” “We do not have all day, Master Zîn,” another official states impatiently, though their nervous glances at the glaring mercenaries around them betrays their unease. “Will you cooperate peacefully, or do we need to confiscate the tax payment through force?” The tension is thickening by the moment. Before you can think of what to do about this situation, however, $xname already has a hand clenched around the balcony railing. “$xname, what are you—” Without any warning, $xname vaults over the balcony and drops down right between the tax officials and Master Zîn. The latter does not even flinch; the former nearly topple over in fright. “Guards!” one of them cries out, and the teashop descends into chaos. [[Continue|4.71]] The city guards standing outside rush into the shop while the Crescent Blades get out of their seats and surround the officials on all sides, blocking the city guard from reaching them. You watch with no small amount of bewilderment as $xname stands in front of the officials, who are now huddled in a group, clutching at each other as they eye the mercenaries around them. “What is the meaning of this?” the main instigator demands, a slight tremble in their tone even as they turn on $xname. Their eyes widen in recognition and in fury. “You!” While you’re not sure what you can do in this situation, you can’t keep merely observing from afar; these officials dragged your name into this. Moving away from the balcony, you make your way to the stairs. “$name, where are you going?” you hear Tûjo call after you. “Let $xname handle this.” You ignore him as you go down the steps and weave through the mercenaries, managing to push through the circles to reach Master Zîn and $xname. “This seems a bit much over a single payment of taxes,” $xname remarks, staring back at the enraged official with curiosity. “Instead of disrespecting your elders, why don’t you tell me what this is really about?” “You- $xname, you-!” The official seems too angry to speak, pointing a finger right into $xtheir face. $xname waits patiently. “Me?” “<em>You seduced my <<if $xgender is 'female'>>mother<<else>>father<</if>></em>!” The Crescent Blades surrounding you burst into deafening laughter, while $xname grins sheepishly at the official. You simply stare, in disbelief at how this situation is unfolding. “I seduce a lot of people,” $xname replies blithely. “You’ll have to be more specific.” At this point, the official's face is starting to turn red. “You know exactly who! Our house has been reduced to a laughing stock among the other nobles; my <<if $xgender is 'male'>>father<<else>>mother<</if>> will speak of nothing but you all day, and you do not even have the decency to remember <<if $xgender is 'male'>>his<<else>>her<</if>> name!” One of their companions puts a hand on their shoulder. “Serdar, perhaps you should calm down.” The official shakes it off, spitting, "But what else can I expect from a degenerate, no doubt raised by degenerates?" The back of $xname's hand cracks against the official's face not a moment after they finish their sentence, sending them sprawling over the floor. Whatever laughter and mockery there was before dissipates, the Crescent Blades surrounding you now a silent wall. $xname's voice is treacherously calm as $xthey speaks in quiet tones, green eyes harder than emerald. "Do not insult my mother." For a moment you think $xthey has cowed the official as they lay trembling on the ground, but when you see the hatred on their face as blood drips from their split lip, you know you have misjudged them. “GUARDS!" they scream at the top of their lungs. "APPREHEND <<if $xgender is 'male'>>HIM<<else>>HER<</if>>!” Seems like the situation is about to escalate. <ul class="a"> <li><<if $xpoints gt 2>><<if $xgender is 'female'>>[[Step in and defend Xelara.|4.72b][$xpoints += 1]]<<else>>[[Step in and defend Xelef.|4.72b][$xpoints += 1]]<</if>><<else>><b>You are not close enough with $xname to select this option.</b><</if>></li> <li><<if $xgender is 'female'>>[[Wait and see for what Xelara will do.|4.72a]]<<else>>[[Wait and see for what Xelef will do.|4.72a]]<</if>></li> </ul> The city guard press into the teashop, and you hear weapons being drawn from beyond the crowd at the entrance. “Move aside!” “Over my dead body!” You know that revealing yourself as the Crown here and now would be foolish, not only because of the commotion it would cause; it would also compromise your safety. Even so, you can’t simply stand by and watch. An idea occurs to you. While <em>personally</em> interfering may be a problem, thankfully, you have your own guards at your disposal. You’re not sure whether merely saying their names will be enough to summon them, but you decide it is worth a shot. “Ezo, Kaja. I need an interruption.” $xname glances over $xtheir shoulder at you, the only one able to hear the words you speak over the noise of the Crescent Blades pushing back against the city guard. Just as you think they must not have heard you, a familiar voice drowns out the din of the brewing fight. “Out of the way!” You see Crescent Blades part as Ezo and Kaja step into the circle, though they are trailed by an irritated city guard. Ezo pretends not to see you, casting a pitying glance at the official still lying on the ground, while Kaja glances at you discreetly before aiming her attention at $xname. “What’s the ruckus about?” she complains. “Me and my friend here were <em>so</em> enjoying our walk until we heard all this yelling!” Laying it on a bit thick. You infer with some humor that acting is not one of Kaja's talents. “Apologies for the inconvenience, but your presence is not required here,” one of the city guard, likely the leader of their group, states bluntly. “We have the situation under control.” “This does not look ‘under control’ to me,” Ezo sneers derisively, gesturing around her to the crowd gathered. “Can you not even keep a single teashop in order?” The city guard thins their lips. “With all due respect, this is not your concern. The city is under <em>our</em> jurisdiction—” “<em>Was</em> under your jurisdiction,” Ezo cuts off sharply. “As the Crown has decided to reside here at present, anything that might disturb $ctheir Imperial Majesty’s peace is henceforth the concern of the Imperial Guard. We outrank you. Understand?” The city guard scowls but stays silent, having no retort. Meanwhile the tax official, aided by their friends, scramble up to their feet. “As for you,” Ezo says, turning her cool glare onto the official. “What’s this I hear about taxes needing to be paid? The Crown has made no such adjustment; as you well know, $they won’t be making <em>any</em> decrees until $their coronation.” “I… I…” The tax official’s face, previously a vibrant shade of red, suddenly looks rather pallid. “I never meant…” “What’s wrong?” Kaja mocks. “You were ranting so eloquently before, and now you’re at a loss for words?” “It was a misunderstanding!” one of the other officials exclaims. “We- we were mistaken!” “Great.” Kaja gestures toward the door. “Please mistake your way back to wherever you came from. Unless you fancy spending a few nights in the dungeons for extortion?” “N-no, no, of course not.” The tax officials bow hastily at Kaja and Ezo, as well as Master Zîn, but you note they do not bow to $xname. “Please forgive us for this terrible insult!” “Oh, don’t you worry about forgiveness,” Ezo says. “We’ll be visiting the tax office later to make sure you understand.” As boldly as the tax officials entered the teashop, they slink off with their tails between their legs now, followed by the disgruntled city guards who seem none too pleased by Ezo and Kaja’s interference. Still, you consider it successful resolution considering the situation was about to escalate into an all-out brawl before. [[Continue|4.73b]] Seeing that the threat is gone, the Crescent Blades settle down at their tables again—now occupied with badmouthing all tax officials in the land—while $xname turns to Master Zîn. $cxthey bends down to kiss the back of her hand and then presses $xtheir forehead to it. “I’m sorry for the trouble, auntie,” $xthey says, raising $xtheir head to face her as she smiles fondly back at $xthem. “You incorrigible child,” Master Zîn scolds, though there is no ire to it as she pinches $xname’s cheek. “I could have ushered them out much quicker without your interference.” “I really did make things worse, didn’t I?” $xname appears genuinely remorseful as Master Zîn pats $xthem on the shoulder. “Stop pouting, it looks unbecoming on you.” Master Zîn turns her attention onto you; despite her warm demeanor toward $xname, you can’t help but feel a little nervous, and she notices. “Oh, do not look so frightened! Do I have you to thank for the timely interference of these dashing guards?” “Dashing?” you hear Kaja say from behind you. “Did she call me dashing? Ezo, she called me dashing.” “Please shut up.” You eye Master Zîn uncertainly. “I suppose so.” She bows her head to you, and now you know without a doubt that she’s aware of who you are. “Then you have my sincerest gratitude. If you’ll excuse me, I have many guests to attend to.” She casts $xname a pointed look. “Stay out of trouble, for your… friend’s sake.” $xname sighs. “Yes, auntie.” You both watch her leave, gracefully moving between the tables and engaging in conversation with other Crescent Blades, leaving you behind with $xname. Or, well, $xname as well as Ezo and Kaja, although the latter two are keeping a subtle distance as $xname turns to you. $cxtheir gaze is soft when $xthey meets your eyes; $xthey knows you called Ezo and Kaja here. <<if $res gt $flirt>>You look away, clearing your throat. “I should probably leave—” $xname laughs when you pull away, grabbing your hand and stopping you. “You’re not even going to let me thank you?” The beat of your heart pounds loudly, the skin of your hand engulfed in $xname’s warmth. “You don’t need to thank me.” “I’d like to.” $xname’s grip is not a harsh one, but you can’t bring yourself to free your fingers. “You didn’t need to step in back there, yet you did.” “Those officials were clearly in the wrong,” you state, frowning in distaste as you think back to it, glancing toward the entrance. “They had no right to treat Master Zîn that way, let alone talk to you like that!” When you look back at $xname, you find $xthem smiling at you so gently, and for a moment you are certain your heart is going to beat right out of your chest. “You’re very sweet.” You swallow thickly, mouth feeling dry as you suddenly find it empty of words, your gaze bound to $xname’s by some unnamed force, an attraction that feels too great to ignore.<<else>>“What?” you say innocently, unable to suppress your smile in return. “Do I have something on my face?” “Only beauty,” $xname replies without missing a beat, and you laugh. “If you wish to thank me, you don’t need to sweet talk me.” $xname arches a brow. “How else should I thank you, then?” Feeling daring—perhaps emboldened by how well everything went—you reach out and take $xname’s hand in yours, fingers curling lightly around $xtheirs. “I don’t need you to,” you reply earnestly. “I wanted to help, so I did.” “That’s noble of you,” $xname remarks, teasing. “Not at all.” You thread your fingers between $xtheirs, staring back into $xtheir eyes as you say softly, “I’m afraid my reasons were entirely selfish.” $xname’s gaze seems bound to yours, an attraction that almost seems to shorten the small distance between you that already feels far too great.<</if>> Behind you, Kaja clears her throat. “We should really leave soon. Very soon. As in, now.” Just like that, the spell between you and $xname breaks. $xname is the first to look away, casting an annoyed glare at Kaja before reluctantly releasing your hand. “It is best if you do not linger,” $xthey muses, though $xtheir brows are furrowed with displeasure. “$rname and <<if $dgender is 'male'>>Dara<<else>>Delal<</if>> are certainly going to chew me out for this.” “I’ll put in a good word for you,” you offer, and $xname sighs, dismissively waving a hand. “Not even a good word from you could dissuade <<if $dgender is 'male'>>Dara<<else>>Delal<</if>> from attempting to strangle me,” $xname bemoans, perhaps a tad bit exaggerated. “But I appreciate the thought.” “Will I see you tomorrow?” “I’ll be at the palace first thing in the morning.” $xname notices your reluctance to leave, causing $xthem to smile as $xthey makes a playful shooing motion with $xtheir hands. “Go on, get out of here. I’ll see you during breakfast.” You look up to the balcony to find Tûjo and Heval watching from upstairs, waving at them before casting one last look at $xname. “Tomorrow, then.” Turning around, you follow Ezo and Kaja out the door. [[Continue|4.74]] Getting yourself involved might only draw unwanted attention; besides which, you're certain $xname is more than capable enough to handle an incident like this. More than you, in any case. "Hold it!" $xname calls out over the yelling and shouting that fills the unruly teashop. $cxtheir mercenaries fall in line almost immediately, though a few particularly irate Crescent Blades have to be pulled away from the city guard by their comrades. "Now, wait just one moment!" The slighted tax official gets up to their feet, aided by their two companions. They're breathing hard, eyes wide and their gaze a little manic as they glare at $xname. You're starting to grow somewhat concerned; the official looks like they could die of a heart attack at any moment. "Your whole pretense here is rather endearing, but ultimately short-sighted," $xname says, gesturing with a finger at the three tax officials. "The plan was to harass the owner with some made up excuse about taxes and try to goad me into doing something against the law, no?" "$xname, you dare-!" $xname raises $xtheir hand. "Ah, ah! I'm not finished!" You watch with no small amount of amazement as $xname directs $xtheir speech to the audience, sauntering in a slow circle as $xthey addresses $xtheir Crescent Blades. "As we all know, the Crown arrived in Marabad yesterday," $xname says. "Why, we helped $them get here ourselves!" This draws agreement from the eager crowd. "That's right!" "It was thanks to us $they made it here in the first place!" Well, they're not wrong. "So then, my friends," $xname continues. "How do you think the Crown would feel if $they heard our esteemed official here order the arrest of $their very savior? The one who ensured our nation would see a ruler once more?" "Outraged!" "Furious, is what!" "Put them in the dungeons!" The crowd of Crescent Blades is getting rowdier, and the city guard appears more uncertain by the second; you notice a few of them even lower their weapons, exchanging looks with each other. Which is great and all, but did $xname really just refer to $xthemselves as your <em>savior</em>? "$name." A whisper on your left catches your attention, and when you glance over your shoulder you see Ezo and Kaja standing there, watching the proceedings. It's wise of them to avoid the use of your title, in case someone overheard. "This spectacle is drawing too much attention," Ezo murmurs. "We should leave soon." You nod in understanding, before your attention is drawn back to the ongoing argument. Or monologue, rather. "Now, wait," the tax official tries to say, but their cries are mostly drowned out by the mercenaries surrounding them. "Wait, wait-" "Furthermore!" $xname shouts, and the teashop falls silent as $xthey turns around and faces the tax official. "As an official of the state, you must know that lying about the Crown's decrees carries a severe punishment! So what say you to this charge? Are you willing to put your livelihood on the line to prove your words true? Why, I'll escort you to the Crown myself, if it pleases." “I… I…” The tax official’s face, previously a vibrant shade of red, suddenly looks rather pallid. None of the city guard are holding weapons anymore, watching on uneasily. “I never meant…" "It was a misunderstanding!” one of the other officials exclaims. “We- we were mistaken!” “Oh, indeed?" $xname says, brows arching in exaggerated surprise. "In that case, I believe you owe Master Zîn an apology, do you not?" “Y-yes, yes, of course!” The tax officials bow hastily at Master Zîn, but you note they do not bow to $xname. “Please forgive us for this terrible insult!” “I'm sure the city guard can handle the rest," $xname states, casting a look at the guards still gathered by the entrance. "Run along, now." As boldly as the tax officials entered the teashop, they slink off with their tails between their legs now, followed by the disgruntled city guards who seem none too pleased with the officials. Still, the situation has been resolved rather successfully by $xname, even if it was a bit dramatic. [[Continue|4.73a]] The eastern gates are right in view when you step out onto the street, but considering the small crowd gathered around the teashop—even larger now than when you first entered it—you think it might be better if you took a small detour to avoid drawing eyes. “There’s a secret entrance nearby,” you hear Ezo murmur from behind you, but when you glance over your shoulder, you can’t find her or Kaja anywhere. “Don’t worry. We’re still here, just out of sight. Head into the alleyway further ahead.” Is this the same trick $aname uses to sneak up on people? As you make your way through the crowd and slip into the alley, you keep looking behind you for a glimpse of Ezo or Kaja, but it truly appears as if they’re not there. “Don’t look so paranoid,” Kaja says, and it really sounds as if she’s right behind you. “We’re cloaked, that’s all.” “You’re invisible,” you infer as you walk through the narrow alley, ending up on a familiar route as you’ve navigated these parts before. “Neat trick, right?” “Take a left,” Ezo advises you, ignoring Kaja’s chatter. “Keep going until you see a building with a red rug hanging out the window.” You follow her directions, navigating the small paths shaded by the buildings surrounding you. It occurs to you that you don’t have much room for movement in these alleyways, which makes you uneasy. At least you have Ezo and Kaja with you, not to mention that you have a rough idea of how to get back out onto the main street should you need to escape. After a short while of walking, you turn a corner and spot the building with the red rug right ahead of you. “Is this it?” you quietly ask your guards. “Yes,” Ezo answers. “Walk around the back of it, there should be—” A chime sounds in the distance. [[Continue|4.75]] You halt, bemused by the peculiar sound. It’s not unusual to hear noise in a city like this, but that chime was so distinct. Echoing and drowning out all the rest. “What was that?” you hear Kaja whisper. The chime sounds again, louder this time, and when it fades away the world seems oddly silent. The distant chatter of people, usually always in the background, is absent. The only thing you can hear is the wind rushing in between the buildings. You look around you, searching your surroundings for where the sound might originate from, but you can’t see anything out of place. The chime sounds a third time, louder still. Kaja gasps. “Ezo—" “Kaja,” Ezo interrupts quietly. “Go.” “But—” “Go!” Before you can figure out what’s happening, you feel a hand clamp around your arm and drag you forward, toward the building with the rug. “What’s happening?” you ask, though you don’t resist; if your guards are panicking, it’s probably wise to follow their lead. “Just a small issue with the other guards,” Kaja says anxiously, trying to keep a lighthearted tone as she pulls you around the building toward the side, making you stand in front of the wall. You hear the chime once more. It sounds closer this time. “What issue?” Your whole body feels tense with nerves, eyes constantly flitting around to try and keep watch, but you have no idea what to look out for. In the wall, a brick next to your head suddenly lights up with the symbol of a snake. “No time to explain,” Kaja says, and you feel her hands on your shoulders, holding you from behind. “Just follow the tunnel.” “Kaja—” She shoves you forward. [[Continue|4.76]] Expecting a nose-first collision with the brick wall in front of you, when you fall <em>through</em> it and end up eating dirt instead, it takes you a moment to understand what happened. Scrambling up to your feet, you find yourself in a dark corridor only dimly lit by torches. In front of you is a flight of stairs leading down, no doubt into the tunnel Kaja mentioned. Behind you is the wall you fell through, yet when you press against it with your palm, it’s as solid as any other stone. <<if $blunt gt $charm>>“Shit.”<<else>>“Fantastic.”<</if>> You turn back around, taking a deep breath when faced with the darkness. Not like you have any other choice but to go forward. You take one of the torches from the wall to light the ground in front of your feet a little better as you descend the stairs. By this point you are sorely regretting not taking a weapon with you, but at least you have your magic if worst comes to worst. The tunnel appears well-traveled; there are many footsteps marked in the dust and the dirt below your feet. You wonder how many people know about this secret entrance, and whether you’ll be safe here. Hopefully whatever issue arose with the guards isn’t as serious as it sounded, yet that strange chiming sound… you can’t get it out of your head. As you imagine it, for a moment it almost seems as if… As if you can hear it. You stop walking, fingers clenching around the torch in your hand. Everything is silent. You can’t even hear the flames flickering on the torch—that can’t be normal—and then you hear it again. A chime, ringing clearly through the tunnel. Your body won’t move. It’s as if you're paralyzed, frozen like a statue while the chime sounds again, and again, and <em>again</em>, each time its echoes growing closer and closer. Your heart pounds, but you can’t hear its beating. All you hear is that chiming sound. A cold sweat breaks out on your back, your hands feel clammy and you’re starting to tremble. Whatever this is, it’s not natural. Your feet won’t move, no matter how much you will them to as the chiming draws nearer, louder, almost right beside your ear— <<if $magicpref is 'outer'>>Magic bursts out of you in a shockwave that makes the tunnel tremble, cutting through the noise of the chime.<<else>>Magic erupts inside your core, striking through your body like lightning. Suddenly you can hear your heartbeat again, cutting through the noise of the chime.<</if>> The command of your limbs returns to you instantly, and you do not hesitate: you <em>run</em>. Drawing on your magic like that was an effort that has you feeling lightheaded, especially releasing nearly all of it the way you did. It was the only way to break out of whatever charm or curse you were put under. But you cannot stop running. You hear footsteps behind you, chasing you, and you pray the entrance to the palace is nearby because you’re all alone down here. If you die now after all that you’ve been through, so close to becoming the Crown… you can’t suffer a fate like that. You <em>can’t</em>. Not after what it cost your parents to keep you safe. But the tunnel is long and winding and you feel weak, drained, out of breath. All it would take is one mistake, one slip, and everything would be over. <<if $rpoints gte 6 or $dpoints gte 6 or $xpoints gte 6 or $apoints gte 6>>Yet as you’re running for your life, you imagine the one person who wouldn’t hesitate to save you, wishing fiercely they were here with you. Unquestionably, the only one you could ever think of is… <<if $apoints gte 4>><<if $agender is "male">> [[...Azad.|5.1a][$apoints += 2]]<<else>>[[...Ashti.|5.1a][$apoints += 2]]<</if>><</if>><<if $rpoints gte 4>> <<if $rgender is "male">>[[...Rêzan.|5.1b][$rpoints += 2]]<<else>>[[...Rozerîn.|5.1b][$rpoints += 2]]<</if>><</if>><<if $dpoints gte 4>> <<if $dgender is "male">>[[...Dara.|5.1c][$dpoints += 2]]<<else>>[[...Delal.|5.1c][$dpoints += 2]]<</if>><</if>><<if $xpoints gte 4>> <<if $xgender is "male">>[[...Xelef.|5.1d][$xpoints += 2]]<<else>>[[...Xelara.|5.1d][$xpoints += 2]]<</if>><</if>><<else>>As you’re running for your life, you wish with all your heart that someone, <em>anyone</em> would come to save you. But no one comes. You never reach the end of the tunnel. When the chime sounds again, for a final time, your whole world goes dark. <b>BAD END</b><</if>><<set $loveinterest to "A">> <a data-passage="5.1"><img @src="setup.ImagePath+'act1.png'" id="imgact" width="290px"/><img @src="setup.ImagePath+'act1dark.png'" id="imgactdark" width="290px"/></a><<set $loveinterest to "R">> <a data-passage="5.1"><img @src="setup.ImagePath+'act1.png'" id="imgact" width="290px"/><img @src="setup.ImagePath+'act1dark.png'" id="imgactdark" width="290px"/></a><<set $loveinterest to "D">> <a data-passage="5.1"><img @src="setup.ImagePath+'act1.png'" id="imgact" width="290px"/><img @src="setup.ImagePath+'act1dark.png'" id="imgactdark" width="290px"/></a><<set $loveinterest to "X">> <a data-passage="5.1"><img @src="setup.ImagePath+'act1.png'" id="imgact" width="290px"/><img @src="setup.ImagePath+'act1dark.png'" id="imgactdark" width="290px"/></a> Seeing that the threat is gone, the Crescent Blades settle down at their tables again—now occupied with badmouthing all tax officials in the land—while $xname turns to Master Zîn. $cxthey bends down to kiss the back of her hand and then presses $xtheir forehead to it. “I’m sorry for the trouble, auntie,” $xthey says, raising $xtheir head to face Master Zîn as she smiles fondly down at $xname. “You incorrigible child,” Master Zîn scolds, though there is no ire to it as she pinches $xname’s cheek. “I almost made things worse back there, didn’t I?” $xname appears genuinely remorseful as Master Zîn pats $xthem on the shoulder. “Stop pouting, it looks unbecoming on you,” Master Zîn says, shaking her head. "You may have caused the problem, you also solved it; for that, I will thank you. Now, I have many of your friends to attend to. You stay out of trouble, young one!" $xname sighs. “Yes, auntie.” You both watch her leave, gracefully moving between the tables and engaging in conversation with other Crescent Blades, leaving you behind with $xname. Or, well, $xname as well as Ezo and Kaja, although the latter two are keeping a subtle distance as $xname turns to you. "And?" $xthey says eagerly. "And?" you repeat, slightly confused. $xname grins at you. "Were you impressed?" You let out a deep sigh, though you can't help but smile. "Yes, $xname, I was very impressed. Is that what you want to hear?" Behind you, Kaja clears her throat. “We should really leave soon. Very soon. As in, now.” $xname starts pouting again at that, but despite sulking $xthey seems unable to disagree with the sentiment. “It is best if you do not linger as I've caused quite the scene,” $xthey muses, though $xtheir brows are furrowed with displeasure. “$rname and <<if $dgender is 'male'>>Dara<<else>>Delal<</if>> are certainly going to chew me out for this.” “I’ll put in a good word for you,” you offer, and $xname sighs, dismissively waving a hand. “Not even a good word from you could dissuade <<if $dgender is 'male'>>Dara<<else>>Delal<</if>> from attempting to strangle me,” $xname bemoans, perhaps a tad bit exaggerated. “But I appreciate the thought.” “Will I see you tomorrow?” “I’ll be at the palace first thing in the morning.” You look up to the balcony to find Tûjo and Heval watching from upstairs, waving at them before casting one last smile at $xname. “Tomorrow, then.” Turning around, you follow Ezo and Kaja out the door. [[Continue|4.74]] <a data-passage="1.1"><img @src="setup.ImagePath+'act0.png'" id="imgact" width="290px"/><img @src="setup.ImagePath+'act0dark.png'" id="imgactdark" width="290px"/></a><img @src="setup.ImagePath+'logo.png'" width="243px">💜 <b>Thank you so much for playing!</b> 💜 If you had a good time with your playthrough and want more AToC content while waiting for the next chapter, consider pledging to <a href="https://patreon.com/qeresi">my Patreon</a>! On the Patreon you can find short bonus scenes featuring the Crown and the LIs, romantic snippets being posted for Crown/love interest pairings, and additional content such as previews and early access to future chapters, character Q&As, and development sneak peeks on the game's worldbuilding and lore. There's also my <a href="https://ko-fi.com/qeresi">my ko-fi</a> if you'd like to leave a one-time tip or subscribe for a small amount! Regardless, I'd love to be able to work on AToC and future interactive fiction full-time one day, so even a small donation helps me move closer towards that goal. As always, thanks for your support and until next time 💖 <<link "Replay the game">><<run UI.restart()>><</link>> [[Continue to the update (for if you accidentally saved on this screen)|14.1]]<<nobr>><<set $progress to "5">><div id="5.1">@@.chaptertitleact1;CHAPTER FIVE@@</div><<if $loveinterest is "R">><<set $afriend to true>><<set $xfriend to true>><<set $dfriend to true>><</if>><<if $loveinterest is "A">><<set $rfriend to true>><<set $xfriend to true>><<set $dfriend to true>><</if>><<if $loveinterest is "X">><<set $afriend to true>><<set $rfriend to true>><<set $dfriend to true>><</if>><<if $loveinterest is "D">><<set $afriend to true>><<set $xfriend to true>><<set $rfriend to true>><</if>> <<if $dgender is 'male'>><<set $xdnickname to 'Dara'>><<else>><<set $xdnickname to 'Delal'>><</if>><</nobr>><<if $loveinterest is "X">>@@.titleblack;The Lion@@ As the sun sets, the Red Lantern steadily fills up with customers. $xname’s awareness blankets the teashop, though $xtheir focus lies beyond it. $cxtheir eyes stare off into the distance, unseeing, as $xthey sorts through the hundreds of little flames between $xthem and the golden sun that wanders the city streets, accompanied by two, five, six- no, seven. Seven shadows. The first time $xname sensed $name’s presence in the forest, it was difficult to recognize. $cthey seemed like someone whose magic was only half-formed, a shell without contents; $xname nearly mistook $them for a child at first, though even a child’s magic would’ve been more stable than $theirs. Flickering, fluctuating, like it couldn’t decide what shape to take. $xname purposefully waited for $them by the riverbank while cleaning up, curious to see who the peculiar signature belonged to. Even coming face-to-face with $name, $xname didn’t realize <<if $pronouns is 'theythem'>>they were<<else>>$they was<</if>> the Crown until their magic connected through touch. Even now, $xname has to consciously focus on $name’s signature in order to keep track of it. <<if $pronouns is 'theythem'>>They’re<<else>>$cthey’s<</if>> not nearly as easy to sense as $rname, who makes no effort to mask $rtheir presence, shining from the palace like a guiding star. It still bemuses $xname that $xthey simply stumbled upon the Crown the way $xthey did. The possibility simply hadn’t occurred to $xthem. Why would it, when ten whole years passed without any sign of one? $xname never thought $xthey would ever return to Marabad’s Royal Palace, let alone while accompanying the new Crown. $cxthey doesn’t really believe in fate, but on occasions like this, $xthey can’t help but wonder.<</if>><<if $loveinterest is "R">>@@.titleblack;The Serpent@@ It has been a long time since Marabad’s palace has seen so many visitors. $rname remembers a time when these same halls attracted nothing but dust, stirred by a solitary breeze sweeping through the complex as if it were a hollow thing, nothing but a skeleton. With the arrival of the Crown, however, it is as if new life has been breathed into it. The hallways are filled with people; $rname can hardly take a step before running across a harried servant busy sweeping the floors, or carrying an armful of curtains or pillows that need to be washed, or scrubbing old stains out of the furniture as if Ashadūna herself had risen from the dead and would be inspecting the place. Perhaps in a way, she had. The servants maintained the most important rooms once $rname arrived in the city, such as $rtheir own bedroom, the reception hall and the offices of government officials in the western wing, but many of the smaller rooms have been left mostly abandoned until now. The nobility had little reason to visit the palace, after all; $rname had no power to fulfil any requests they might’ve had without a Crown to lend $rthem the authority. Now, however, that has changed. $rname greatly prefers the wide-eyed looks and flustered greetings $rthey receives from the servants over the thin smiles of nobles who hide their teeth behind their lips. “Perjin is fortunate,” $rname bemoans to Keko as they walk the gardens on the northern side of the palace together. “She can return to her shop whenever she likes to escape this nonsense.” $crthey has a clear view of the windows into the palace that provide a glimpse of government officials quarreling with nobility in the corridors; after the Crown left, $rname ordered a full accounting of Rojan’s treasury to be made of the past ten years, including taxes paid within the city of Marabad. The nobles hadn’t been too pleased with that. “Hem and haw as they might,” Keko says, glancing toward one of the nobles arguing heatedly with one of the poor officials, whose placating gesture of raised palms does nothing to stop the noble from ranting at them. “There’s little they can do but comply. You will have to bear with their theatrics for a little while, at least.” “I do not know how you manage to endure it with such grace,” $rname says, looking over at Keko. “Then again, I haven’t seen any nobles haranguing <em>you</em> over tax accounts. What’s your secret?” Keko smiles, the corners of his mouth lifting his grayed beard with the motion. “I was working in the palace by the time most of Marabad’s chosen children were still learning how to walk. Who would humiliate themselves by harassing a poor old servant such as I, who knows nothing of the matters of governing?” $rname laughs, averting $rtheir gaze to the pond of clear water stretching out across the garden as they tread the edge of it together. “Age does have some benefits.” “Lady Zerya encountered the same problems when she first became the Sorcerer,” Keko notes, and $rname keeps $rtheir gaze fixed onto the clear blue surface of the water. “She overcame them with time and experience, as I am sure you will as well.” As much as Keko’s words are meant to comfort $rthem, $rname cannot bring $rthemselves to fully believe them. Lady Zerya’s composure was unwavering; when $rname remembers the audience in the throne room that morning, $rthey cannot help but think Lady Zerya would’ve handled it so much better. She would’ve known not to respond to Lady Naza’s taunting, and she would not have let Steward Welat dictate the conversation. But, most of all, she would not have faltered in the presence of her Crown. Merely the thought of $name having witnessed $rname’s failure makes $rthem wince in embarrassment. Ever since Lady Zerya passed four years ago and the task of finding the Crown passed onto $rname, $rthey imagined meeting $name so many times—it frightened $rthem as much as it excited $rthem because of what it would mean. The fate of the empire hung in the balance, and each passing day without any sign of the Crown weighed on $rname like yet another failure. Not only failing $rtheir country, failing $rtheir family who adopted $rthem as an orphan, but failing Lady Zerya as well: the one who took $rthem under her wing, enduring sneers and mockery, ostracization from her peers for choosing an orphan without a name as her successor instead of so many other magi who would be more suited. But $name hadn’t even thought to ask $rname about any of that. Part of $rname feared $rthey might have been judged for it like $rthey had been judged $rtheir entire life, that $name might decide to replace $rthem with someone who actually knew what they were doing. Perhaps the possibility hadn’t even occurred to $name: $they accepted $rname without question, hadn’t cared that the most prestigious school in Rojan rejected $rthem before. Seeing $name for the first time made it real. The immense relief of finding $them was quickly replaced by that ever-present looming threat of failure in $rname's mind, of falling short and not only disgracing $rtheir late teacher, but now $rtheir Crown as well. “You must be patient with yourself, my <<if $rgender is 'female'>>lady<<else>>lord<</if>>,” Keko says gently, and $rname would’ve almost rather had a scolding for how young the kind reassurance makes $rthem feel. “I don’t have the time for patience,” $rname murmurs, standing still on the path as $rthey gazes into the pond, as if it holds an answer for $rthem that $rthey cannot yet see. “And neither does the Crown.”<</if>><<if $loveinterest is "D">>@@.titleblack;The Elephant@@ The palace guards are watchful. Even when they don’t immediately notice $dname’s presence, they observe every person who passes by in the corridors, even the servants who would usually not draw such scrutiny. They hardly react to $dname beyond a respectful nod, too focused on their task for any further formalities. That, at least, sets $dname somewhat at ease. $cdthey had been concerned the guards may have grown lax in the past ten years without a Crown. If they have, however, they don’t show it now; if nothing else, the Crown’s arrival and the flock of nobles that have overwhelmed the palace has proven sufficient motivation for them to take their posts seriously. Prior to the new Crown’s arrival, being a palace guard was considered to be little more than a cushy position for those who couldn’t cut it in the army, but whose families were too well off to resign their children to more humble professions. That is not to say the guards have won $dname’s approval, however. $cdthey spots more than a few who clearly have no idea how to actually watch for threats. They glance at people’s faces without bothering to even look for any sign of weapons they may be carrying on their person. $dname has to wonder whether most of them even know who is authorized to enter the palace and who isn’t. For the time being, however, concerns about security will have to wait—it is not $dtheir main area of expertise to begin with, after all. $dname has more pressing matters on $dtheir mind, the foremost of those being the state of Arsur’s military. Personal security is one thing; the Crown will need a unified army under $their command if <<if $pronouns is 'theythem'>>they are<<else>>$they is<</if>> to not only solidify $their legitimacy to rulers of other nations, but to protect the empire with. Unfortunately, the current state of Arsur’s army is fragmented at best. $dname stalks through the hallways, mood souring as $dthey recalls the countless futile arguments $dthey has had over the years with nobles and Mîrs alike whose heads were stuck too far up their own asses to spare a single thought to the safety of the country. The sacrifices $dname has had to make to ensure that very safety were not made lightly; the weight of them is bound to $dtheir feet even now, dragged along for a very long time, but never forgotten. With the Crown found—with $name here—$dname finally has the leverage $dthey needs to improve things, at least for $dtheir soldiers. To prevent any more senseless deaths that could’ve been avoided, had $dthey had more forces, had $dthey had more of even the most basic resources. Which all sounds well and good, but $dname is hardly a diplomat. $cdtheir lips thin with barely-contained distaste as $dthey spots a small throng of nobles gathered in the corridor around a doorway. They peer into one of the sitting rooms, among them a few familiar faces that $dthey has had such arguments with before. Getting a noble to commit soldiers has been nigh on impossible for the past few years, but perhaps now things have changed— “Oh, is that $dname?” $dname freezes upon hearing the voice emerge from the sitting room, and moments later a long, wooden branch curled into the shape of an arm emerges from the doorway, followed by the body of a tree. Kham’s head pokes out from the room, ducked beneath the top of the doorway to fit through it, many inches taller than the nobles surrounding her. Upon spotting $dname, her mouth widens into a broad smile. Dammit.<</if>><<if $loveinterest is "A">>@@.titleblack;The Hawk@@ The stars are blinding in the dark. $aname peers up at the ceiling of the temple, where an eternal night sky glimmers from the top of its dome, a small glimpse of reality. The astronomers and diviners are on the second floor, barely visible over the edge of the balcony, dressed in their pale blue robes as they point up at the formation of the stars, discussing it amongst each other. This section of the Sky Temple is closed to regular visitors. Were it not for the mass of people right outside the room, $aname would’ve liked to take $name along, if only to see what $their reaction to it would be. It’s easy to forget such luxuries are exactly that, <em>luxuries</em>. There are people who have lived in Marabad their entire lives who have never once glimpsed the inner walls of the temple, unable to afford the entry fee. $name seemed similarly unaccustomed to the sheer wealth of $their new title, but $aname wonders how long that initial phase of awe will last. How long until it becomes normal—expected, even? $aname averts $atheir gaze from the artificial night sky when $athey notices movement from the corner of $atheir eyes: a temple servant $athey has been waiting on, appearing from a hallway and hurrying back into the room, carrying a large wooden box in their hands. Their haste is understandable considering how busy the temple is with visitors; celestial divination is a practice reserved solely for the Crown and the state of the Empire, but there are many other forms practiced here accessible to those willing to pay for it. Face-reading, dream interpretation and—most expensively—examining the innards of sacrificed animals are methods all made available to the public. Now especially, with rumors of a new Crown having been found circulating the entirety of the city, many are eager to have their fates read to them. It has always sounded a little questionable to $aname’s ears; no diviner has ever been able to predict the arrival, or even the passing, of the Crown. That particular glimpse of the future has only been reserved for the Crown themselves, though even their visions never truly reveal exactly when their time of death nears, nor when they will be able to find their successor. It seems strange that priests should be able to predict the fates of people whose names will never be recorded in history, yet fail to do the same thing for those that will shape the country for generations. As $aname wonders what that might mean, if it means anything at all, the servant crosses the room, approaching $athem and setting the wooden box down in front of $atheir feet. “These are all the letters we’ve received, Royal Protector.” $aname frowns at the size of the box, big enough to fit several stacks of books within. “How many so far?” “Accounting for each individual person,” the servant says, “we’ve received close to four hundred. The total is much higher, considering repeat letters. These are only a small portion.” “Four hundred?” $aname repeats sharply, alarmed at the high number. Four hundred letters, and that must be only from those literate enough to write a letter to begin with. The true total might be much higher. “Why haven’t I heard anything about this from the city guard?” The temple servant shrugs helplessly. “When did this start?” “Almost a year ago.” At least four hundred people missing in one year, without any sign or warning. $aname frowns deeply; a year prior $athey was visiting other provinces while on the search for the Crown, and $athey only arrived in Rojan a month ago. Even so, the fact that it took a month for this issue to be brought to $atheir attention is troubling; were it not for Ezo’s talent of picking up on rumors, $athey might still not have heard of it. How many more people have gone missing during that time?<</if>> [[Continue|5.2]]<<if $loveinterest is "X">>Satisfied that $name’s signature is progressing steadily toward the underground tunnels, $xname turns $xtheir attention back to the teashop, seated alone at $xtheir table as $xthey observes. The few seats that weren’t taken by the Crescent Blades have been claimed by locals. The newcomers stick out to $xname from among the familiar auras of $xtheir Blades, like holes poked through a blanket. None of them are tax officials, $xname notes with some amusement as $xthey sips from $xtheir cup. The strong, earthy taste of black tea leaves blends with a touch of fragrance from rose petals, coloring it with a floral note. $cxthey tastes a hint of cinnamon as well, but it is so minor that it might have been unintentional; whoever made $xtheir tea must’ve touched some while preparing someone else’s drink. $xname’s table on the inner balcony of the upper floor gives $xthem a perfect view of the tables below. In the dim light of the candles, $xname’s magic heats $xtheir eyes and $xthey catches the gleaming of silver and copper, coins quickly exchanging hands after a lost game of backgammon between two of $xtheir mercenaries. One of the silver coins has a slight rusted edge, likely fake. “You’re not bullshitting me, are you?” Huner, the apparent winner of the game, remarks with a narrowing of his eyes as he shakes the coins in his hands, as if the sound alone could help him detect a fake. Ferhat, sitting across from him, acts affronted even as his aura shudders with nervousness and embarrassment, rippling through the air as clearly as a poorly plucked string. “Brother, how could I ever bullshit you?” “You bullshit me all the time!” Huner accuses, not needing the sharpness of $xname’s senses as Ferhat’s guilty expression tells him everything he needs to know. “You’re the biggest bullshitter in Rojan! How did you get this much silver when we haven’t been paid yet, huh?” “He pulled it out of his ass,” Şanazî, also sitting at their table, announces cheerfully. “Hey, do you shit silver?” one of the other Blades asks, teasingly elbowing Ferhat who shrinks back into his seat under Huner’s blistering glare. “Is that how you keep getting more?” “I once heard of a donkey that could shit gold,” another Blade from a nearby table chimes in sagely. “Ferhat, you can’t even shit gold?” Şanazî exclaims. “You’re worse than a donkey!” Under the roar of laughter from the Crescent Blades surrounding them, Ferhat’s humiliation reaches its peak, intensifying into an anger that cuts through the merriment like the edge of a knife—though $xname is the only one who senses it, considering everyone else seems oblivious. Just as Ferhat places his palms on the table, moving as if to rise from his seat and no doubt devolve this whole affair into a shouting match, $xname puts down $xtheir cup of tea. “Ferhat.” The laughter dies down as dozens of eyes look up toward $xname’s table, Ferhat freezing halfway to standing. What anger was there blunts into embarrassment once more as he slowly straightens up, craning his neck to glance up at $xname before lowering his head again, posture tensed from head to toe. $xname sighs; $xthey hates having to maintain order. Considering the red flush on Ferhat’s face, $xthey offers, “Don’t bet what you don’t have. If you need coin next time, just ask.” $cxthey pauses, adding with a grin, “Or you can actually try winning a game for once.” The anticipation and tension in the air dissipates gradually as Ferhat mutters, “Sorry, chief.” He turns to Huner. “Sorry, Huner. I got in over my head.” Huner snorts, tossing the coins back onto the table. “No one told you to bet coin, you little idiot. Next time bet me one of your knives!” “So you can serve us burnt <em>and</em> poorly butchered meat?” Şanazî taunts. “No thanks.” The lighthearted atmosphere returns as the remark draws chuckles from Ferhat and the others, Huner’s offended look carrying little sincerity behind it. “I can’t help that you eat your meat raw! That chicken from last night was still bleeding!” “It was not!” $xname leans back into $xtheir chair, turning $xtheir senses outside of the Red Lantern once more as $xthey searches for $name again. From the corners of $xtheir eyes $xthey notices Heval approaching with their helmet on; they went downstairs a while ago, keeping an eye on people coming and going from the entrance while Tûjo left to the tax office. Just to make sure the officials won’t make an even bigger mess.<</if>><<if $loveinterest is "R">>Before Keko can say anything more to that, the sound of approaching footsteps on the gravel path draws $rname’s attention. $crtheir jaw clenches as $rthey resists the urge to turn around and pretend $rthey does not see Lady Naza approaching, bright brown eyes honed in on $rname with the intensity of a hawk swooping down towards its prey. $crthey is more than thankful that Keko remains standing by $rtheir side as Lady Naza tilts her head into an imitation of a nod to both of them, the edges of her yellow robes draped over the ground with attending servants lingering right behind her, both of them carrying what looks to be rolls of papyrus. “Lady Naza,” $rname greets, turning to face her with cool civility. “Is there something you needed?” “On the contrary, I believe there’s something <em>you</em> need from me, is there not?” she replies with an amused smile, gesturing with a hand for the servants behind her to step forward. “The past ten years of tithes my house has paid to the city as well as the Imperial House, as you commanded.” $rname halts, blinking in surprise. “And you simply happened to have that lying around?” “Well, I had to go fetch it, didn’t I?” Lady Naza replies with laughter in her voice, and $rname can’t decide whether it’s meant to be mocking or not. “Unlike the rest of these incompetent fools, House Ishtal has its business in order. The officials may sort through it if they like, I’ve no head for numbers.” $rname exchanges a bemused look with Keko, whose brows are arched slightly, though he does not look entirely surprised. “Your diligence is appreciated,” $rname says at last, casting a look over the documents the servants carry with them. “You may deliver these at the treasury’s offices, then.” Lady Naza nods to the servants, who walk past $rname and Keko. There goes any hope of getting Lady Naza to leave with them. “Do I truly warrant such surprise?” Lady Naza says, smiling like she’s enjoying the look of disbelief on $rname’s face. “You insult me, Sorcerer! If I were to ever turn my back on the Imperial House, it would not be over mere <em>tax fraud</em>.” $rname, briefly, is at a loss for words. “Is that a threat?” Lady Naza stares back at $rthem for a moment, the smile fading from her face. She breathes out a long sigh, curling a wayward lock of her hair behind her ear with a finger. “Oh, this won’t do.” “Excuse me?” $rname glances at Keko, but he wears an impassive expression, giving little away of his thoughts. “Where are those pretty little claws you showed me earlier?” Lady Naza complains, frowning at $rname with something that almost reads like disappointment, or perhaps disapproval, on her face. “We cannot spar if you refuse to bring them out.” “This isn’t a game,” $rname snaps, realizing that $rthey’s being toyed with—just as before. “You speak of treason.” “I speak of nothing that hasn’t crossed the minds of every single noble in this palace already,” Lady Naza announces nonchalantly, studying the edges of her nails as if she has lost interest already. The look she casts $rname is unexpectedly sharp, cutting. “You’ll have to show more backbone if you do not want the steward and his ilk to walk all over you once the Crown has been coronated. Rojan’s nobles are best ruled by fear, don’t you know?” $rname pauses, taking another moment to regard Lady Naza more closely. Beneath the silk of her dress and the glittering of her jewels, $rname notices the age in her face and skin; the wrinkles lined around her eyes and mouth, the scars peeking out from beneath the fabric of her robes along the arch of her neck and trailing down the inner side of her arm that are still visible beneath her heavy necklaces and bracelets. $rname draws $rthemselves up to $rtheir full height, and though even with the heels of $rtheir shoes beneath $rthem $rthey only barely reaches Lady Naza’s shoulders, $rthey knows showing any kind of hesitation would mean losing this challenge leveled at $rtheir feet. “The steward will learn his place,” $rname replies. “As will you, Lady Naza. Of that I can assure you.” Lady Naza’s smile returns, perhaps a more honest one, and she bows her head as if that were the very thing she was waiting to hear all along. “My <<if $rgender is 'female'>>lady<<else>>lord<</if>>. Master Keko.” Without another word, Lady Naza walks past them, following after her servants.<</if>><<if $loveinterest is "D">>$dname lets out a deep breath, though $dthey does not bother to hide $dtheir exasperation or feign civility as $dthey approaches Kham and her gaggle of admirers. Or perhaps opportunists would be the more accurate term. “General,” one of them greets with a cool glare, evidently not too pleased by the interruption. “Do you have business with the princess? We were discussing—” “Move,” $dname states. The nobles cast each other uncertain looks, but none of them seem willing to challenge $dtheir authority. They step aside to let $dname through, though they linger to watch the conversation and their presence prickles into $dname’s spine; $dthey doesn’t like having them standing behind $dthem. $cdthey ignores them for the moment, turning $dtheir attention on a smiling Kham, no doubt entertained by the display. “Is it too much to ask you to assume human form while inside the palace?” $dname grouses, peering up at Kham who grins at $dthem from the doorway, her skeletal wooden wings stretched out behind her, wide enough to block access to the sitting room. “You're practically walking target practice. I pity your guards.” “Why, general, that’s what I have you for!” Kham says, the bright orange light of her eyes flickering with what seems to be amusement. “I’m sure you’ll be able protect me from the big, scary humans. You’re so strong, after all, and so <em>brave</em>—” $dname bristles even while $dthey steps back a little from the exaggerated flirtation, lifting $dtheir arms to fold them across $dtheir chest. Refusing to dignify the subtle mockery with a response, $dthey peers into the sitting room. “Speaking of your guards, where are they?” “Around,” Kham replies dismissively, and though her nonchalance annoys $dname, it is understandable; as a member of the royal family, Kham’s abilities are far beyond those of a mere guard. Still, having another set of eyes to watch one’s back is seldom a bad idea. $dname glances at the nobles hovering in the hallway like a pack of hyenas circling, setting $dtheir teeth on edge. “What were you discussing with the nobles?” “I didn’t know you were an interrogator as well as a general,” Kham says, the smile fading from her face and amusement leaking from her voice, replaced by a bored tone. “Did the Crown send you to hound me?” “The Crown would do no such thing,” $dname snaps, and Kham’s brows—or, at least, the wood above her eyes—stretches upwards at the loss of temper. “My, my, general, it doesn’t take much to earn your loyalty, does it?” she sneers with a voice that’s sugary sweet, staring down at $dthem for a long moment, tilting her head with curiosity while $dname purses $dtheir lips together before $dthey says something truly insulting in reply. “Or perhaps….” $dname tenses as Kham continues to stare at $dthem, probing gaze trying to find a way past $dtheir armor. $cdtheir expression hardens into stone, giving nothing away save for the glare in $dtheir eyes, and soon enough Kham relents. “No matter, I’m sure I’ll find out eventually,” she decides, cheerful grin returning to her face. “Now, was there something else before you so rudely interrupted me and my new friends?” $dname steps away, eager to leave. “See to it that you don’t cause a bigger commotion than you already have; the last thing the Crown needs is for you to get involved in some sort of altercation.” “I promise!” Kham replies. $dname has hardly ever seen such a bold-faced lie delivered so merrily, but $dthey’s not in the mood to get into it with Kham in front of all these nobles. $cdthey sweeps away, long cloak fluttering behind $dthem as $dthey leaves Kham and her nobles behind, marching through the corridors as if trying to outpace the truth of Kham’s words still trailing after $dthem. It’s not merely loyalty to the Crown as $dtheir liege, or duty to $dtheir country. It’s not even the prospect of improving the conditions for the soldiers under $dtheir command—even though all of those things are a part of it, they’re not the whole story. No, at the core of it, $dname knows $dtheir motivations are selfish. All $dthey ever wanted was a chance for redemption, and now, $dthey will finally have it. A chance that $name gave $dthem.<</if>><<if $loveinterest is "A">>“If you could drop these off at the palace at your earliest convenience, that would be appreciated,” $aname says, ignoring the surprise on the servant’s face at being addressed so politely by someone whose station far outranks theirs. “If you’d like an escort from the guards, let me know.” “Oh, the temple guards can accompany me,” the servant replies hastily, bowing deeply. “I’ll make sure the letters are delivered by tomorrow morning, <<if $agender is 'male'>>Lord<<else>>Lady<</if>> Protector.” $aname regards the bowed posture of the servant in front of $athem, their face obscured from sight, and $athey turns and departs without replying to their deference. It always has a way of making $athem uncomfortable. When $aname exits the circular room at the center of the temple, $athey finds $athemselves lost in the small crowds of people filling the hallways. It reminds $athem of why $athey thought it better to send $name away; too many people, too much noise, and far too much risk. $aname’s conversation with the head priest was—as $athey feared—a rather lengthy one as $athey was regaled with the laundry list of problems the temple has had to contend with in the absence of a Crown. $cathey didn’t get anything useful out of it beyond what Ezo already told $athem. Hopefully the letters that the families have written to the temple in a plea for help will offer some clarity, though it doesn’t change the fact that these people have apparently gone ignored by city officials for a year now. How utterly typical. $aname puts the matter aside for another time, redirecting $atheir frustration into focus as $athey senses the magic in the air. It’s a certain restlessness, flitting through the empty spaces between people like the way it shifts right before a storm; the spirits reflect the anxious and excited mood of the visitors, and $aname thinks it best $athey finds the exit before $athey draws any unwanted attention. The last thing $athey needs is to be held up by some noble’s petty concerns when $athey has been away from the Crown for too long already. $cathey inhales a quiet breath, steadily emptying the inner core of $atheir magic as $athey pours it out, like tipping a cup over and letting the water spill from it. $catheir aura extinguishes as if it was never there. The key is to stop before draining oneself completely, as that would lead to unpleasant consequences—thankfully, the discipline of it has been drilled into $aname’s head enough times for $athem to be intimately familiar with $atheir cut-off point. It’s the first phase to cloaking $athemselves, but $athey doesn’t need to go so far as physical cloaking to maneuver around the crowds; merely erasing $atheir presence is enough to go unnoticed by those who are untrained in magic, their gazes subconsciously passing over $athem as if they do not even see $athem. It leaves $aname free to quickly weave between the small groups without interruptions, moving through the corridors back toward the entrance of the temple. Most people do not truly understand how much they rely on magic without even realizing it. Even the least magically inclined among them tend to use at least <em>some</em> form of rudimentary sensory magic to keep track of their immediate environment, even if subconsciously. It’s an easy thing to take advantage of whenever $aname wishes to go unnoticed among a crowd with very little effort, particularly when $athey’s in a hurry, as $athey is now. $cathey takes $atheir responsibilities as the Royal Protector seriously, despite what the nobles may think. <em><<if $blunt gt $charm>>“Why are you protecting me?”<<else>>“Why protect me?”<</if>></em> $name’s question repeats in $atheir thoughts as $athey steps out onto the city square, making $atheir way back toward the palace. $catheir gaze lingers on the final burst of gold in the sky where the sun sets, its horizon hidden beneath the buildings that are left cloaked in shadow as the sky transitions into a darker blue, hues of pinks and purples trailing along the clouds. <em>Why</em>, the Crown asked $athem. The word lingers in the back of $atheir mind, just like a ghost $athey once thought dead and gone—one $athey chases still.<</if>> [[Continue|5.3]]<<if $loveinterest is "X">>“How you don’t suffocate in that mask is beyond me,” $xname remarks while Heval takes a seat, steel features staring impassively back at $xthem. “Anything of note?” $cxthey keeps $xtheir awareness tuned outwards, attention shifting between $xtheir long range sensing and $xtheir immediate surroundings when necessary. Doing both at the same time is impossible, but $xname has become very good at switching between the two quickly and fluidly, always keeping one in the back of $xtheir mind while focusing on the other. “Not that I could tell,” Heval replies, turning their head to look over the balcony railing toward the entrance on the floor below. Their hesitation seeps into the air between them and $xname, swaying back and forth like a boat stuck on the edge of capsizing. “What is it?” $xname prods when no response is forthcoming, watching as Heval takes a moment to remove their helmet, setting it down on the table between them. Their brows are pulled into a slight frown, wrinkling in that way they always do whenever Heval’s breaking their head over some sort of conundrum. “Chief,” they say, uncertainty reflected in their gaze. “How long are we going to stay in Marabad?” “Until the coronation.” $xname leans back into $xtheir chair, averting $xtheir eyes and instead peering out over the second floor in a show of nonchalance. “Perhaps a little longer.” “There aren’t any bandit camps left in the forest,” Heval starts, seeming to have practiced the argument they relay to $xname. “We’ve fulfilled our obligation to the steward and collected our reward. There’s no more reason for us to linger.” “$name needs us,” $xname interrupts plainly, and Heval’s frown deepens. “The Crown has entire <em>armies</em> at $their command now,” they argue. “As well as $aname and the Imperial Guards.” “Armies that have been sitting on their asses for the past ten years,” $xname scoffs, insulted by the comparison, though $xthey can’t deny that $aname and the Imperial Guards would make for an equal match. “The Crescent Blades may not be an army, we’re damn sure better fighters than any soldier could hope to be. Besides, can you think of a richer employer than the ruler of an empire?” Heval gives $xname a long look. “Is that really the only reason you want to work for the Crown?” As always, even without having sensing abilities, somehow Heval manages to see right through $xthem. $xname’s jaw clenches, tension balling in between $xtheir shoulders, the gaze $xthey throws across the table one of warning. “It’s the only reason that matters.” Heval’s frown softens. “$xname, at some point, you need to put the past to rest. You cannot keep carrying its weight like this.” $xname says nothing at first, reaching for $xtheir tea and knocking it back, making $xtheir throat burn from the heat as $xthey gets up from $xtheir chair. $cxthey doesn’t want to retread this old conversation again. “Tell the past to let me sleep at night,” $xthey says to Heval. “Maybe then I’ll put it to rest.” $cxthey leaves the table and heads for the stairs to go down a floor, eager for some fresh air and hoping a walk might clear $xtheir mind before bad memories begin to surface. $cxtheir thoughts linger on $name for a moment, seeking out $their presence once more. Heval sidetracked $xname from the task, but $xthey finds it quickly enough, nearer to the tunnels now. $xname weaves between the tables on the ground floor as $xthey heads straight for the doors, dodging attempts at conversation from $xtheir mercenaries before finally managing to step outside. $cxthey inhales a breath, holding it for a few seconds before slowly exhaling it again, focusing on $name’s bright presence to distract $xthem from more unpleasant thoughts. The streets are a little less lively as the sun sets, its descent hidden behind the buildings as it leaves behind streaks of purple and pink tinting the clouds in its wake. The last bursts of color against the darkening blue of the sky. $xname inhales once more— The air shudders with a sound. $cxthey holds $xtheir breath. Keeps holding it, thinking $xthey must have been mistaken, transfixed as all $xtheir focus shifts to $xtheir hearing for a moment, trying to catch it again. The meaningless chatter of people all around $xthem, a cat mewling for attention behind the teashop, someone shaking out their laundry two streets away. But then, from an even further distance, $xthey hears the barest echo of it. A chiming sound, near the tunnels. It rattles through $xtheir teeth, heartbeat skipping as $xtheir hand flies to the handle of $xtheir sword, gripping the pale white scimitar in a tight fist while $xtheir feet pound across the neat stone of Marabad’s winding road, running at a full sprint with only one thought going through $xtheir head. <em>$name.</em><</if>><<if $loveinterest is "R">>Only when Lady Naza has retreated far out of earshot does $rname let out a breath, easing $rtheir posture even though the tension continues to linger beneath $rtheir skin. “She is dangerous,” $rthey says to Keko, who hums in agreement. “I do not know if it is better to have her as an ally or an enemy.” “Whichever it may be,” Keko says, “it is not a decision you have to make alone.” $rname closes $rtheir eyes, taking a moment to simply breathe and calm the unease gripping $rtheir heart. Keko’s words remind $rthem of what is most important: $rthey is not alone in this. $crthey opens $rtheir eyes again, casting $rtheir gaze toward the sky. It’s getting late: the sun has dipped low in the sky, hidden behind the tall gates surrounding the palace as it descends toward its rest. The blue of the sky is paling, darkening, washed by pink and purple. “$cthey should be back by now,” $rname mutters, frowning slightly. $crthey takes a moment to concentrate, letting $rtheir magic breathe free, expanding it outwards to touch the wards spanning the entirety of the palace like an intricate spiderweb, trying to pick up a trace of $name’s presence but finding nothing. $crthey turns to Keko. “Have you received any word of Crown $name's arrival?” “One of the Imperial Guards mentioned $ctheir Imperial Majesty should be heading back to the palace,” Keko replies thoughtfully, brows furrowing as he regards $rname’s troubled look. “$cthey <<if $pronouns is 'theythem'>>have not<<else>>has not<</if>> yet approached any of the gates.” $rname senses nothing from the wards there; the gates are silent. “Perhaps the tunnels…” Then $rthey finds it. A single thread of the wards running through the tunnels, trembling and stretching as if it’s being pulled taut to the point of snapping, and $rname’s blood runs cold when $rthey senses the magic pulsing through the underground corridors. Within it, the light of a small sun flickering like a candle, on the verge of being extinguished. <em>$name</em>. “$rtitle $rname?” $rname has no time to answer Keko’s concern. Instead, $rthey runs.<</if>><<if $loveinterest is "D">>With $dtheir thoughts focused on the past, $dname’s attention slips away from $dtheir surroundings, so much so that when $dthey turns a corner $dthey almost doesn’t notice the figure standing in front of a certain section of the wall. Ostensibly, it’s a painting on the stone in the form of two snakes intertwined, but the glowing lines betrays its true purpose: an anchoring point for the wards that run through the palace. $dname has very little knowledge of magic and its inner workings, but even $dthey knows a ward when $dthey sees one; the lines that trace along the bodies of the snakes are not truly lines, but dozens of small sigils sorted in long rows. $dname halts, brows furrowing as $dtheir gaze flits to the person who has revealed the ward, seeming to be activating it as they hold out their palm, filled with several stones upon which more sigils are written. It takes $dname a moment of observation before $dthey recognizes them. “Siham,” $dname calls and the servant jumps, nearly fumbling the stones in their hands. “What are you doing?” “Oh.” Siham exhales in relief at the sight of $dname, straightening out their robes before bowing to $dthem. “General $dname, I thought you were a noble! I was… the wards around the palace, that is…” $dname glances down at the stones, burning with sigils of the elements. “You were reinforcing them?” They avert their gaze, appearing anxious. “I was attempting to. It occurred to me- after Princess Kham’s arrival…” $dname nods. “They were weakened. Do you know which sigils to use?” Siham glances up at $dthem. “Yes. Air for purification, earth for strengthening. I am not… formally trained, however, and the wards are much more complex than I anticipated. But $rtitle $rname is already so busy, and I thought—” $dname raises a hand. “Your intentions are admirable, but perhaps this is better left to an expert.” Siham deflates. “Yes. You are right, of course. I just thought… I don’t know what I was thinking. My deepest apologies.” $dname considers Siham for a moment, gaze softening. “You wished to help the Crown. I understand.” “Ah, well…” Siham appears flustered for a moment, ducking their head as their cheeks flush. “It was a silly idea—” They freeze, not finishing their sentence. $dname frowns, watching the color that came to their face before steadily drain out of it. “Siham? What is it?” A look of panic crosses their features, and suddenly they reach out, grabbing $dname by the arm. “The tunnels, we must go to the tunnels! The wards on the eastern side have been breached!” $dname glances to the guards stationed in the corridor who immediately straighten, stepping forward with a single look from $dname. “By who? How many?” “I don’t know, I can’t sense- but it- it doesn’t matter!” Their grip on $dname’s arm tightens, eyes wide in fright. “General, the Crown is in there.” $dname’s shock lasts for only a moment—$dthey steels $dthemselves, and moves. “Fetch as many guards as you can,” $dname orders Siham, who nods shakily, before $dthey turns to the ones present. “You two, follow me!” $cdthey breaks out into a run, cursing the heavy weight of $dtheir armor as $dtheir heart beats in tandem with $dtheir footsteps. $cdthey has to make it in time, because if $dthey doesn’t— <em>$name</em>.<</if>><<if $loveinterest is "A">>The city seems quieter than before, the square a little more empty as $aname leaves it behind and heads toward the palace. While $atheir sensory abilities are not fine-tuned, they are more than adequate enough to locate the signatures of the Imperial Guards $athey assigned to protect $name. Except… something is off. $aname isn’t entirely certain, but $athey walks a little faster as $athey thinks $athey senses something strange, something that almost feels like a presence of its own rippling through the environment. It comes in bursts, and as $aname’s hurried walk turns into a jog, it becomes harder and harder for $athem to sense the Imperial Guards. $cathey focuses on the one nearest to $athem as $athey rushes through the city streets, running now. A sense of foreboding brands urgency into $atheir feet while they pound across the stone streets, leading $aname into the maze of alleyways and side-streets toward one of $atheir guards. Ziryan should be close by. When $aname turns the corner, $athey almost halts at the sight that greets $athem. Ziryan is on the ground. Their back is pressed to the wall with someone leaning over them, hands wrapped around Ziryan’s neck, attempting to strangle the life out of them while Ziryan chokes, hands weakly grasping at their attacker’s dark robes. Thankfully, $aname is too well-trained to freeze up during such a crucial moment; when $atheir body moves, it does so with years of ingrained experience. $catheir fingers flash down to $atheir belt to unsheathe one of the two daggers strapped to $atheir waist beneath $atheir robe. $cathey raises $atheir arm and pulls it back, taking aim and releasing the dagger from $atheir hand with a single fluid motion. The dagger cuts through the air almost soundlessly, a flash of silver in fading sunlight before it finds its mark in the back of the assassin’s shoulder. It pierces through flesh, causing Ziryan's assailant to arch their back with a cry of pain. It’s all Ziryan needs to shove them off, though they are unable to do anything else as they gasp for breath, leaving $aname to handle their attacker. $aname closes the distance between them with a single lunge, the assassin unable to move out of the way to dodge $aname’s hands. $aname grabs them by the shoulders, yanking them off Ziryan and throwing them against the ground. The assassin screams as the handle of the dagger still buried in their back hits the stone, the blade of it forced in even deeper before the assassin manages to twist onto their side. The pain of it cripples them long enough for $aname to quickly kneel down beside them, noting the black mask covering their face. $cathey reaches down to press $atheir palm over it in order to read the assassin’s memories, but the moment $aname’s fingers touch the mask, it reacts. The black of it starts to glow a bright red, like coals being heated by flame, and $aname quickly snatches $atheir hand back as the assassin <em>shrieks</em>. Their screams echo horribly against the walls of the alleyway, fingers clawing at the edges of their mask as if trying to rip it off while thin trails of smoke start to pour from it. Their effort is in vain. The bright red glow of the mask sparks into white—the assassin’s screams cut off abruptly, their body going limp—and then slowly dims into black once more. $aname clenches $atheir jaw, pressing the back of $atheir hand against $atheir nose to protect against the stench: burnt flesh. The assassin is dead. Nameless, faceless, and dead. Another tool discarded. Whoever employs them must know about $aname’s ability to read memories and must have planned accordingly for it. Clearly they’d rather have dead assassins than give away their secrets—a careless wasting of life—but none of that is $aname’s priority at the moment, because if Ziryan was ambushed here… <em>$name</em>. $aname grabs the handle of $atheir dagger, yanking it out of the assassin’s back as $athey quickly gets up to $atheir feet again. $catheir muscles coil tight in tension as $athey looks at Ziryan, who’s still recovering from the attempted strangling. “Where?” Ziryan rubs their fingers over the red marks on their throat, voice coming out hoarse. “Kaja and Ezo- walking with $them- we were ambushed—" In a flash $aname is kneeling in front of Ziryan, gripping them by the shoulders, perhaps tighter than necessary. “Ziryan, <em>where</em>?” Ziryan gulps down a breath, choking out the words. “The tunnels- eastern tunnels—” $aname does not need to hear anything else: $athey runs.<</if>> [[Continue|5.4]] You can’t die here. The thought races through your mind as you run, bone-deep fear spurring you on. Not here. <em>Not here</em>. Alone, in the dark— <<if $intu gt $intel>>Fingers clasp around your arm, a hand trying to pull you back, and your body moves on instinct: spinning on your heels, you turn around and smash the torch in your hand into whoever it is that has a hold on you. You hear a scream, the light of the torch briefly revealing a figure clad in dark robes and face covered by a smooth mask, before the grip loosens around your arm and you turn and keep running. The torch in your hand flickers out, useless as a weapon or a light source; you have nothing but a stick to defend yourself with now, your magic too weak to protect you after you depleted it from breaking out of that horrible spell. Hopefully setting your pursuer’s robes on fire at least bought you a little bit of time. You try to think of what to do if this doesn’t shake them off, but your mind spins and you can’t think straight over the sound of your pounding heartbeat and your gasping breaths.<<else>> You hear footsteps close behind you, and you realize that your pursuer is quickly gaining on you. Having nothing in hand but your torch, your magic depleted after breaking out of that horrible spell, you have little in the way of defending yourself; you’ll have to take your pursuer by surprise. While not trained in combat, your mother taught you the basics concerning physical self-defense, and even in the heat of the moment you manage to recall her lessons about weak points. Eyes, nose, throat, center of the torso, groin. You ball your fist, heart racing like a rabbit as you slow down your run and spin on your heels to face the assassin. Briefly, the light from your torch reveals a figure clad in dark robes, face covered by a smooth mask, slowing to a halt in surprise before lunging for you—you take advantage, thrusting your fist into their throat. The choked noise from behind the mask is the only thing you need to turn and keep running as the figure stumbles back, hoping you’ll have bought yourself enough time to reach the end of the tunnel.<</if>> You do not even have enough air in your lungs to scream, to cry out for help even if someone were there to hear you. The fires from the torches hanging on the walls start to blend together as you run and your vision is filled with flames, reaching out as if they want to devour you, like they did your mother and father. Eyes trying to look past the fire, you peer toward the endless shadows that seem to stretch on for miles and miles, the possibility of escape becoming unlikelier by the moment, until… <<if $loveinterest is "R" or $loveinterest is "D">>Daylight.<<else>>“$name!”<</if>> [[Continue|5.5]]<<if $loveinterest is "R" or $loveinterest is "D">>Hope swelling in your chest, your legs move with renewed vigor and desperation both, taking you toward the column of golden light falling down at the end of the tunnel. It illuminates the edges of the stairs before figures appear from the top, quickly descending into the darkness you’re trying to escape. “It’s the Crown!” <<if $loveinterest is "D">>When the first person reaches the ground and you see the glow of the flames reflected against golden armor, your legs nearly give out from sheer relief. $dname. $cdthey runs right for you, your eyes meeting across the rapidly shortening distance between the two of you, and you pray that you’ll be quick enough to make it to $dname’s side. Once you reach $dthem, you’ll be safe—$dname will keep you safe. The presence of the assassin still at your back and the sight of $dname ahead of you has you running even faster, until your lungs burn in your chest and your calves scream for reprieve. But you’re almost there, you’ve almost reached $dname, just a little more— At that moment something flies past your head with a sharp hiss right by your ear and you almost stumble; it reaches $dname instead, who swats it away with $dtheir forearm. $cdtheir armor protects $dthem from the clash of metal as the throwing knife drops to the ground; if you weren’t in a state of panic already, you certainly are now. $dname has two guards at $dtheir back as they all rush toward you, the flicker of torchlight cast over $dname’s features revealing a look on $dtheir face that would’ve chilled you to the bone if it had been aimed at you: in the shadows of the tunnel $dtheir dark brown eyes appear pure black with intensity. Even with $dtheir focus on the assassin, one of $dtheir hands reaches out for you, grabbing your wrist as soon as you’re in reach and pulling you behind $dthem as $dthey steps between you and the assassin. You turn your head to look over your shoulder just in time to catch the silver glint of a blade raised up in the air, right before it comes swinging down onto $dname who stands in front of you, unarmed. Your breath catches, your voice coming out in a gasp as your lungs burn for air. “$dname!” The sword is aimed for $dtheir neck—but it never meets its target. All the force it was swinging down with suddenly disappears. The blade stops, as if suspended in mid-air, the tip of it visible right over $dname’s shoulder, barely touching the red cloak covering $dtheir armor. For one horrified moment you think the blade might’ve cut into $dname somehow, but when you step to the side to look, you see something completely different. $dname stands there and calmly holds the blade within $dtheir fist. $cdtheir <em>bare</em> fist. $cdthey’s not wearing any gauntlets, yet you can see no blood, no indication that the sword is cutting into $dtheir skin at all. The assassin appears just as surprised as you, and before they can recover, $dname grabs them by the throat and slams them into the wall, ripping the sword out their hand and tossing it aside as if it were a toy weapon. “Secure them,” $dname says to the palace guards while the assassin chokes in $dtheir grip. $dname holds them by the neck against the wall seemingly without effort—no doubt it helps that $dthey’s much taller and broader than the assassin in question. The guards quickly secure the assassin’s arms, but the moment they grab hold of them, something strange happens to the assassin’s mask: the black of it heats up into a bright red glow and you hear the assassin let out a stifled scream from behind it. $dname and the guards release them and quickly back away as smoke starts to pour from the edges of the mask. It sparks from red to white in a brief flash, and then the assassin’s screams go silent; an echo haunts the tunnel until that, too, fades. The mask dims back into black as the assassin drops to the floor, limp, and your stomach turns as you realize what just happened. The stench of burnt flesh finds your nose and you have to turn away from the body, pressing a hand over your mouth to keep from gagging. “Damn,” you hear one of the guards curse. “They’re dead, general.” $dname doesn’t so much as pause. “Take care of the body—make sure <em>no one</em> sees you, understood?” “Yes, general.” You squeeze your eyes shut for a moment, but you feel like you’re suffocating with that awful smell, stumbling away from the corpse with a hand pressed against the wall for balance. You’re still trying to catch your breath through your fingers, trying not to vomit, when you feel a touch on your shoulder. $dname’s hand is steadying. “Your Imperial Majesty, are you injured anywhere?” You shake your head, opening your eyes to look at $dname standing beside you. Concern is etched into $dtheir features as $dtheir hand lets go of your shoulder, and $dthey offers $dtheir arm instead. “Allow me to escort you outside.” You take it, eager to let $dname lead you out of the tunnels and away from this mess.<</if>><<if $loveinterest is "R">>As the first person descends the stairs, they hold what looks like an open flame hovering over their palm, illuminating their features in the dark—when you catch its reflection in two bright gray eyes, your legs nearly give out from sheer relief. It’s $rname. $crthey hurries toward you, several guards following $rthem. “$crnickname!” You cannot ease up yet, all too aware of the assassin at your back as you curse yourself for not bringing a weapon with you, your gaze focused ahead of you. If you can make it to $rname before the assassin catches up to you— $rname suddenly stops running. Your eyes go wide in panic and confusion, but then you see $rthem press $rtheir palms together, red sparks and tendrils flaring from $rtheir hands. When $rthey parts $rtheir palms again, from between them emerges a rod made of red light, of <em>lightning</em> condensed. $rname grips the rod with one hand, lifting it like a spear above $rtheir shoulder, and your heart jumps into your throat as you realize what $rthey’s planning. “Now!” $rthey calls to you, and you don’t hesitate: you throw yourself to the ground. The only reason why you know the bolt of lightning has passed you is because of the flash of red around you, passing in an instant; it hardly makes a sound in the air, not until it strikes true. Behind you comes a burst of noise, loud enough to be an explosion as it echoes through the tunnel. You lift up to your elbows, turning your head to look behind you and find the assassin sprawled out over the ground a mere few feet away, moaning weakly. The fact that they had been so close to catching you is an unpleasant thought, but at least you’re safe now. You scramble up to your feet, eager to put more distance between you and the assassin, turning away to look at $rname who runs to your side, followed by the guards. “$crnickname, are you alright?” $crthey takes you by the <<if $height is 'short' or $height is 'very short' or $height is 'average'>>shoulders<<else>>upper arms<</if>>, eyes looking you over from head to toe for any injuries. “Are you hurt? Did they—” “I’m okay,” you reassure $rthem while you take the moment to catch your breath, the guards rushing past the two of you to apprehend the assassin. $rname lets out a deep breath in relief, releasing your <<if $height is "short" or $height is 'very short' or $height is 'average'>>shoulders<<else>>arms<</if>> again. “Thank goodness. When I sensed the weakened wards, I thought… I don’t know what I would’ve done if—” “Your Imperial Majesty, $rtitle $rname,” one of the guards calls out, a note of alarm in their voice. “Come quickly, it’s the assassin!” Both of you turn to look at the assassin still lying spreadeagle on their back, not moving as they’re surrounded by guards, but you catch a glimpse of their mask: the black of it is glowing into a bright red. The assassin suddenly convulses on the ground, the edges of their mask starting to smoke as their hands grasp for it and you hear a wheezing gasp. “No!” $rname exclaims, rushing forward, but before $rthey can reach the assassin, the mask sparks into white and the assassin goes limp. Your stomach turns as you realize what just happened to them. One of the guards, while holding their nose closed, crouches down and checks the assassins pulse, then shakes their head. “They’re dead.” Moments later you understand why the guard is holding their nose; the stench of burnt flesh wafts toward you, and you turn away from the corpse, unable to bear the smell of it. “Ugh—please take care of it, and make sure nobody sees you,” you hear $rname say, the nasally quality to $rtheir voice indicating $rthey’s holding $rtheir nose shut as well. “$crnickname?” $crthey appears by your side again, eyeing you with worry as you press a hand over your mouth, feeling suffocated and sick as your lungs burn for fresh air. $rname stretches out $rtheir arm to you, offering it. “Let’s return to the palace.” You take it, eager to let $rname lead you out of the tunnels and away from this mess.<</if>><<else>><<if $loveinterest is 'X'>>The sound of $xname’s voice echoing from behind you nearly has your legs giving out from sheer relief, but you cannot stop running. Hope swelling in your chest, your legs move with renewed vigor and desperation both, taking you toward the column of golden light falling down at the end of the tunnel; all you need to do is outrun the assassin long enough for $xname to take them down, and then you’ll be safe. Which is easier said than done, perhaps, when your lungs burn for air and your calves are starting to ache from how hard you’re running—your stamina can hold for a long time when you pace yourself, but not when you’re sprinting at full speed. “Keep running, $name!” you hear $xname call out behind you, already much closer now than $xthey was before, and you keep your eyes aimed ahead at the exit, feeling the sweat soak through your clothes from the exertion and you don’t know how much longer you can keep going— A burst of heat suddenly erupts behind you and you nearly trip as you risk a glance over your shoulder, eyes going wide in alarm when all you see is a wall of flame. The assassin stumbles through it, stopping in place to pat down their robes as the flames recede—a mistake, it turns out. You’ve slowed down your run and are watching them warily when they suddenly fall over with a shriek, hitting the ground face-first, a bone white sword embedded between their shoulder blades. Behind them, a short distance away, is $xname. “Did I singe your cloak?” $xname says as $xthey slows into a walk, breaths only a little bit heavier from the exertion while $xthey approaches the assassin on the ground. “Sorry about that, I’ve no talent for outer magic.” You stare at $xname in disbelief, both at the casual feat of magic as well as the fact that $xthey simply hurled $xtheir sword at the assassin. You glance down at your cloak, and notice the edges of it are burned as $xname said. That was much too close for comfort. “Ah, shit.” $xname glares down at the assassin. “I didn’t mean to kill them, I was aiming for the shoulder.” You peer down at the assassin as you approach, frowning slightly when you notice a finger twitch and deciding to keep a safe distance, lingering a few feet away. “$xname, I think they’re still alive.” “What?” $xname frowns at you. “I don’t hear a heartbeat—” The assassin gasps, answering that question as $xname quickly crouches down beside them, rolling them onto their side with $xname’s blade still sticking out their back. $xname’s expression is thoughtful as $xthey eyes the assassin who’s choking on their own blood. “I’m not half as good at this as $aname is,” $xname mutters, “but it looks like we don’t have much time—” $cxthey presses $xtheir palm to the assassin’s mask, like you’ve seen $aname do before, but instead of a telltale flash of light something else happens. The black of the assassin’s mask heats into a bright red beneath $xname’s hand, causing $xthem to quickly jerk it away and stand up again, holding out an arm in front of you and pushing you back and away from the assassin. “Careful.” “What’s happening?” you ask, alarmed when you see smoke trailing out from around the edges of the mask—the glowing red of it sparks into white, briefly, and then slowly dims into black again. The stench of burnt flesh invades your nostrils and your stomach turns as you realize what just happened. $xname scowls down at the assassin, now a corpse, $xtheir gaze darkened. “A safeguard, no doubt, to make sure no one taps into their head.” You turn away from the body, unable to stand the smell as you stumble a few steps ahead, your legs feeling a little weak from how hard you pushed them while running. $xname is beside you in an instant, catching you by the elbow and supporting you. “You alright?” $xthey asks, brows furrowed in worry. “Come on, let’s get you out of here.” You’re certainly not going to protest that.<</if>><<if $loveinterest is 'A'>> The sound of $aname’s voice echoing from behind you nearly has your legs giving out from sheer relief, but you cannot stop running. Hope swelling in your chest, your legs move with renewed vigor and desperation both, taking you toward the column of golden light falling down at the end of the tunnel; all you need to do is outrun the assassin long enough for $aname to take them down, and then you’ll be safe. Which is easier said than done, perhaps, when your lungs burn for air and your calves are starting to ache from how hard you’re running—your stamina can hold for a long time when you pace yourself, but not when you’re sprinting at full speed. At that moment something flies past your head with a sharp hiss right by your ear and you almost trip, belatedly ducking what you assume must’ve been a throwing knife or something of the sort. The tunnel is too narrow for you to effectively dodge any more thrown your way, which means all you can do is run and pray $aname reaches the assassin before the assassin reaches you or turns you into skewered meat. The exit to the tunnels is getting closer as well. It motivates you to keep running, even while you feel the sweat soak through your clothes from the exertion, having faith that $aname will keep you safe— “$name, you can stop running!” You frown at the unexpected words, wary enough that you’re half-wondering if it’s some sort of trick from the assassin somehow, but when you dare a glance over your shoulder you see it’s not a trick at all. $aname stands in the middle of the tunnel with the assassin lying prone at $atheir feet, not a single weapon drawn and still dressed in $atheir casual light green robes. You stop running and take the time to catch your breath while you stare at $aname in astonishment. You watch $athem kneel beside the assassin, not touching them but seeming to be staring at their mask, only a little out of breath. When your breaths come a little less frantic, you start to make your way back to $aname, walking with your hands on your hips while your chest still heaves. “What… how did you do that?” $aname glances up at you, eyes looking you over from head to toe. When $athey seems reassured that you’re alright $athey looks back down at the assassin. “I have good aim.” You peer down at the assassin as well, and only then do you notice the dagger sticking out of their back. <<if $intel gt $intu>>It has cut through their spine, leaving them immobilized, but you realize $aname has managed to evade any vital organs.<<else>>It has cut through their spine, leaving them immobilized, though somehow they’re still breathing.<</if>> “Moving them is going to be a problem,” $aname mutters, frowning down at the assassin who is quietly wheezing, not even a single muscle twitching as they lay there on the ground. “Because of the dagger?” “Because of the mask.” $aname pulls $atheir dagger out, the assassin twitching with a weak groan, and gets back up to $atheir feet. “It’s rigged with magic. The assassin I ran into on my way here had their face melted off when I touched it. I’m not certain how it works or what triggers it, and I’d rather not risk accidentally killing what could be our only lead. We’ll need a magus to figure this one out.” <<if $kind gt $calc>>You grimace at the thought of someone’s face melting behind a mask, unable to tear it off as the skin burns beneath. “That’s a horrible way to go.”<<else>>“Harsh methods, but clever,” you mutter, troubled by the knowledge that whoever is after you would go so far as to sacrifice their own people to keep their secrets.<</if>> $aname meets your gaze, the furrow in $atheir brows deepening before $athey looks away again. “The other end of the tunnels are secured. Let’s leave this intruder here for the time being and head back up to the palace.” Mentioning the other end of the tunnel reminds you that you weren’t the only one in peril, though that escaped you in the moment due to the immediate the threat to your own life. “Ezo and Kaja?” you ask. “And the other guards, are they alright?” Surprise flits across $aname’s face before $atheir expression straightens out again, silent for a moment as $atheir eyes glance back toward the way you came. “I can sense all of them nearby. Ziryan is guarding the other end of the tunnel; the rest must be cleaning up.” You let out a relieved breath. “Good.”<</if>><</if>> [[Continue|5.6]]<<if $loveinterest is "A">>Leaving your assailant behind, you follow $aname toward the stairs that lead up to the palace. Right as the two of you climb up the steps, however, the doors at the top open up before you can get to them, letting in a burst of sunlight that makes you squint against the brightness. “$aname, $name!” You recognize $rname’s voice, glancing up to find both $rthem as well as $dname standing in the doorway, accompanied by what looks like a small legion of guards. “Your Imperial Majesty, are you unharmed?” $dname asks, looking you over for any signs of injury. <<if $pass gt $ass>>You allow $aname to answer for you, glancing at $athem and meeting $atheir gaze as you reach the top of the stairs. “There’s no cause for concern; I fended off the assassin,” $aname replies to $dname’s question, before turning to $rname. “They’re still pinned down in the tunnel, but be very careful when moving them. Their mask is rigged with magic that will kill them if triggered.”<<else>>“We’re both fine,” you answer as you and $aname reach the top of the stairs, glancing at the guards standing ready behind $dname. “$aname managed to pin down one of the assassins in the tunnel. We couldn’t bring them with us; there’s some sort of magic rigged in their mask that will kill them if you trigger it.”<</if>> “I will take care of it,” $rname says, seeming confident with this as magic is $rtheir area of expertise. $crtheir gaze lingers on you, still worried even though you’re not wounded. “Would you like to retreat to your chambers for the day, $rnickname? Princess Kham was hoping you would join her for dinner, but I imagine you would rather have the evening to yourself.” You let out a relieved breath at the suggestion, having been dreading the dinner with the princess after such a stressful incident. <<if $charm gt $blunt>>“Yes, I think I’ll do that. I’ll talk to you and $dname once you return.”<<else>>“Good idea. I’ll talk to you and $dname once you return.”<</if>> Looking over at $aname, it amuses you to see $athem equally relieved as you are as $dname orders the guards to go down the tunnels with $rname following behind them. It seems neither of you were looking forward to dinner with Kham. “Let’s go before the nobles start to come snooping,” $aname cautions you. “No doubt $xdnickname’s little army has drawn plenty of eyes already.” “Not eager to see Lord Farrukh again?” $aname sighs, though there is a glint of playfulness in $atheir eyes as $athey looks at you. “Don’t say his name, you might summon him.” You smile wryly at $athem. “<<if $charm gt $blunt>>Spirits forbid! We wouldn’t want <em>that</em>.<<else>>Like an obnoxious spirit? That does sound accurate.<</if>>”<</if>><<if $loveinterest is "X">>Leaving your assailant behind, you let $xname accompany you toward the stairs that lead up to the palace. Right as the two of you climb up the steps, however, the doors at the top open up before you can get to them, letting in a burst of sunlight that makes you squint against the brightness. “$xname, $name!” You recognize $rname’s voice, glancing up to find both $rthem as well as $dname standing in the doorway, accompanied by what looks like a small legion of guards. “Your Imperial Majesty, are you unharmed?” $dname asks, looking you over for any signs of injury, scowling when $dthey notices the singed edges of your cloak as $dthey turns a glare on $xname. “$xname…” “Don’t worry, I cleaned up the assassin for you,” $xname replies nonchalantly, interrupting whatever scolding $dname was about to give $xthem. “For which you’re welcome, by the way.” “They’re dead?” $rname asks, seeming disappointed, and $xname shrugs. “I tried capturing them, but their mask was rigged with magic; it blew up on me.” You interject, remembering the way you left Kaja and Ezo behind earlier; for all you know, they’re still fighting the assassins. “There might still be more of them on the other side of the tunnels. My guards sent me ahead and stayed behind to fend off the rest of the attackers. You should hurry.” $xname frowns slightly. “I can sense the guards as well as $aname there—it does seem like they’re still fighting.” “Then we have no time to waste,” $dname says, looking behind $dthem at the palace guards. “Move out!” You watch them leave, heading down the tunnels in strict formations with $dname following behind, though $rname lingers behind for a moment, $rtheir gaze focusing on you with worry. “Would you like to retreat to your chambers for the day, $rnickname?” $rthey suggests. “Princess Kham was hoping you would join her for dinner, but I imagine you would rather have the evening to yourself.” You let out a relieved breath at the suggestion, having been dreading the dinner with the princess after such a stressful incident. <<if $charm gt $blunt>>“Yes, I think I’ll do that. We’ll talk once you return.”<<else>>“Good idea. We’ll talk once you return.”<</if>> $rname nods, looking over at $xname with a doubtful look. “Try not to exhaust $them any further with your mischief, please. $cthey <<if $pronouns is "theythem">>need<<else>>needs<</if>> to rest.” “No mischief,” $xname says sweetly, even while giving you a roguish smile <<if $res gt $flirt>>that makes your heart beat a little faster<<else>>that has you smiling back, intrigued<</if>>. “Unless the Crown would wish it, of course.” $rname shakes $rtheir head with exasperation, reaching down into a pocket of $rtheir dress and pulling out a tablet you recognize, one $aname was carrying before to find $atheir way through the palace. $rname tosses it to $xname, who catches it one-handed. “Behave,” $rname emphasizes sternly, before turning away and heading down the stairs. “Bye, $rname, remember to be home before dinner!” $xname calls after $rthem innocently, still waving at $rthem when $rname flicks $rtheir hand and the stone doors slam shut in front of $xname’s face. $cxthey blinks. “How rude.” You can’t help but grin at $xtheir antics; you already feel much better than you did in the tunnels. Though the horrid ordeal is not forgotten so easily, $xname’s cheerfulness makes it easier to keep distracted from it. $xname turns away from the doors, returning $xtheir attention to you. “Let’s get going, shall we? I don’t fancy running into a noble, and neither do you, I assume.” “Definitely not.”<</if>><<if $loveinterest is "D">>Leaving your assailant behind, you let $dname accompany you toward the stairs that lead up to the palace. Right as the two of you climb up the steps, however, the doors at the top open up before you can get to them, letting in a burst of sunlight that makes you squint against the brightness. “$dname, $name!” You recognize $rname’s voice, glancing up to find $rthem standing in the doorway, accompanied by a few more guards. "There's no need for worry, $rtitle $rname," $dname says as you both step into the hallway. "The Crown is unharmed, and we've taken care of the assassin." $rname, whose eyes had been flitting over you in assessment, frowns with disappointment as $rthey turns back to $dname. "They're dead?" "Capture proved impossible." $dname's expression sours. "There was some sort of magic in their mask; it burned their face off when the palace guards and I tried to apprehend them." You interject, remembering the way you left Kaja and Ezo behind earlier; for all you know, they’re still fighting the assassins. “There might still be more of them on the other side of the tunnels. My guards sent me ahead and stayed behind to fend off the rest of the attackers. You should hurry.” $dname glances at you. "The palace guards I had with me are headed their way. If there are any assassins left, they'll be taken care of." The reassurance is unexpected, but not unwelcome. "Regardless, additional support couldn't hurt," $rname decides, turning to the guards $rthey has with $rthem. "Join the others in the tunnel, and make sure the Imperial Guards have the situation handled." One of the palace guards nods, leading the others down the tunnels in strict formation. $rname lingers behind for a moment, $rtheir gaze focusing on you with worry. “Would you like to retreat to your chambers for the day, $rnickname?” $rthey suggests. “Princess Kham was hoping you would join her for dinner, but I imagine you would rather have the evening to yourself.” You let out a relieved breath at the suggestion, having been dreading the dinner with the princess after such a stressful incident. <<if $charm gt $blunt>>“Yes, I think I’ll do that. We’ll talk once you return.”<<else>>“Good idea. We’ll talk once you return.”<</if>> From the corner of your eyes you see $dname looking rather relieved; it seems like $dthey wasn't enthused about the idea of dining with Kham either. "I'll be back as soon as I can." $rname looks at $dname, brows furrowed. "Try to keep the nobles away from $them, would you?" "You don't need to tell me that," $dname replies, looking annoyed merely at the thought of the nobility. "How much longer do the pests intend on staying in the palace?" Both you and $rname smile with amusement at $dname's impatient tone, $rname answering, "At least until the coronation." "<em>Ugh</em>." That about sums up your feelings on the matter as well. $rname inclines $rtheir head toward you before $rthey heads down into the tunnels, leaving you and $dname behind. $dname turns to you. "Allow me to lead the way."<</if>><<if $loveinterest is "R">> Leaving your assailant behind, you let $rname accompany you toward the stairs that lead up to the palace. Right as the two of you climb up the steps, however, the doors at the top open up before you can get to them, letting in a burst of sunlight that makes you squint against the brightness. “$rtitle $rname, Your Imperial Majesty!” You recognize $dname’s voice, glancing up to find $dthem standing in the doorway, accompanied by a small legion of guards. "Everything is fine, $dname," $rname says as you both step into the hallway. "$name is safe, and we've taken care of the assassin." $dname, whose eyes had been flitting over you to in assessment, frowns as $dthey turns back to $rname. "You could not capture them?" "Unfortunately not." $rname seems to share $dname's disappointment. "There was a ward placed upon their mask; my magic triggered it, and it killed them on the spot." You interject, remembering the way you left Kaja and Ezo behind earlier; for all you know, they’re still fighting the assassins. “There might still be more of them on the other side of the tunnels. My guards sent me ahead and stayed behind to fend off the rest of the attackers. You should hurry.” $rname glances at you. "I can sense them on the other side of the tunnel; all of them are accounted for, though I could not say what state they're in." "Then we have no time to waste," $dname says, looking behind $dthem at the palace guards. "Move out!" You watch them leave, heading down in the tunnels in strict formations with $dname following behind. Both you and $rname linger at the entrance of the tunnels for a moment, watching them leave. “Would you like to retreat to your chambers for the day, $rnickname?” $rthey suggests, looking back at you once the guards and $dname disappear from sight. “Princess Kham was hoping you would join her for dinner, but I imagine you would rather have the evening to yourself.” You let out a relieved breath at the suggestion, having been dreading the dinner with the princess after such a stressful incident. <<if $charm gt $blunt>>“Yes, I think I’ll do that. I'm afraid I'm too tired to entertain any guests at the moment.”<<else>>“Good idea. I don't think I have the energy for something like that right now.”<</if>> "As is understandable, considering the ordeal you've been through." $rname lifts $rtheir hand as if to touch your shoulder, but when $rthey catches you staring $rthey seems to think better of it and lowers it again, averting $rtheir gaze—to your disappointment. "In any case, ah… shall we head to your chambers? No nobles would dare disturb you there."<</if>> [[Continue|5.6a]][ <b>[[Character Traits]] updated</b> ] <<set $surnamereveal to true>>$rname blinks. “Harun $surname… that does sound familiar…” “The fact that he had a family name at all means he likely wasn’t a simple village priest,” $aname points out, and you halt at the remark, realizing that $athey’s right. Your mother did not have a family name, having grown up in your small hometown to a family of farmers—no one in that village had use for a family name, for that matter, because everyone knew each other. Yet you never stopped to think about why your father <em>did</em> have one. Seeing the troubled look on your face, $rname quickly changes the topic. “I’ll make inquiries at the school. They won’t be able to refuse any of my requests if I make them on your behalf.” You nod in understanding, even as you can’t quite decide whether you want $rname to find something or would rather hear nothing at all. “Thank you.” A brief silence falls, as no one seems certain of what to say. <<if $loveinterest is "R">>You glance at $rname, finding $rthem already looking at you. $crthey appears flustered for a moment, as if not having expected you to look up, but when $rthey parts $rtheir lips to speak, $xname beats $rthem to it.<</if>><<if $loveinterest is "A">>You look at $aname, finding $athem staring off into the distance, seemingly lost in thought. As if sensing your eyes on $athem, $athey looks up to meet your gaze and frowns slightly. When $athey parts $atheir lips to speak, however, $xname beats $athem to it.<</if>><<if $loveinterest is "D">>You glance at $dname, finding $dthem already looking at you. The frown on $dname’s face only deepens when your eyes meet. $cdthey lowers $dtheir crossed arms to $dtheir sides, parting $dtheir lips to speak when $xname beats $dthem to it, drawing an irritated glare from $dname.<</if>><<if $loveinterest is "X">>You glance at $xname, finding $xtheir gaze fixed on the edge of the table, as if the piece of wood had done something to insult $xthem personally. As if sensing your eyes on $xthem, $xthey looks up and meets your gaze, the tension immediately smoothing over on $xtheir face in a way that bothers you a little.<</if>> “So, this explains the hare-brained scheme to kill you in the tunnels,” $xname says, stating it almost dispassionately, as if you hadn’t just escaped from death only because <<if $loveinterest is "R">>$rname<</if>><<if $loveinterest is "A">>$aname<</if>><<if $loveinterest is "D">>$dname<</if>><<if $loveinterest is "X">>$xthey<</if>> noticed what was happening and got to you in time. “They’ve had their eye on you from the start.” You avert your gaze, painfully aware of the implications. Had you confessed about your family’s run-ins with the Followers of Vidarna sooner, you would likely not have been permitted to leave the palace, and perhaps this entire incident could’ve been avoided. “Even if that’s true, why take the risk now?” $dname replies, seeming in the mood to argue. “The timing still seems too dangerous. They could’ve waited for a more opportune moment.” While $xname scowls back at $dname, $xthey doesn’t contradict the point which admittedly is a good one. Why <em>did</em> the Followers make such a gamble? Surely they would’ve known that failure would only make it more difficult to get to you in the future. It almost seems desperate. “Whatever the reason, we won’t find out by sitting in a room and speculating about it,” $rname interjects, casting a poorly-disguised look of concern in your direction. “There are more urgent matters, such as what to do about the assassination attempt.” You give $rthem a questioning look. “What do you mean?” “The guards took care of the bodies,” $rname explains. “But no doubt it will draw attention. There will be questions, from the nobility and the public both—not to mention Kham. What do we tell them?” That is quite the problem, especially as you have no idea where to start. <<if $caut gt $adven>>Your own inclination is to hide the attempt to prevent a panic from breaking out and investigate it in the safety of privacy, though this would mean lying to both the nobles and the public.<<else>>Your own inclination is to inform everyone of the attempt as you might be able to flush out any spies by making them nervous, though this would be an admittedly risky move.<</if>> Some advice from people more experienced in dealing with such matters might offer you perspective. Looking toward your companions, you ask, “What do you all think?” [[Continue|5.13]] The room is exactly as you left it, looking almost unlived in with how neatly everything is cleaned. Even the bedsheets are made immaculately, only making them seem more inviting the longer you look at them. <<if $loveinterest is "A">>“I’ll tell the servants to fetch you some dinner,” $aname says as you walk toward your bed. “Do you need me to call Siham or Ishrah for you?” “Why?” you ask, confused by the question. “Not that it wouldn’t be nice to have their company.” $aname blinks at you, glancing down at your clothes and then looking away again, $atheir posture seeming somewhat stiff as $athey folds $atheir hands behind $atheir back. “I assumed you might want help changing.” <<if $res gt $flirt>>You part your lips to respond before you can even think of what to say to that. It leaves your mouth hanging half-open for a moment until you recover your composure, averting your gaze as well. “Ah, changing?" $aname seems to realize the implication and winces. "I meant that <em>they</em> could help you. I wasn't imagining that—" Of course. Why would $aname be interested in imagining something like that? "It's alright," you say quickly, the awkwardness starting to turn painful; you've truly made a fool out of yourself. "I'm fine. It’s still a little too early to be getting into bed.” $cathey takes a breath, covering $atheir eyes with $atheir fingers, muttering, "Spirits. I’ll get going, then, before I embarrass myself even further." Before $athey turns away and leaves, however, $athey pauses. "There are multiple guards stationed outside your room, so rest assured that you'll be safe here while I'm gone." The reassurance is a thoughtful one and makes the previous conversation a little less humiliating. You muster up a smile as $athey leaves the bedroom, closing the doors behind $athem.<<else>>Oh, but that is too easy. You do your best to suppress the grin on your face, looking away as you leave the inevitable question—<em>wouldn’t you rather help?</em>—unspoken. $aname strikes you as the shy sort, and you wouldn’t want to make $athem uncomfortable by being so bold. “What?” $aname asks, seeming to have noticed your poorly-hidden grin, and you shake your head. "Never mind." You smooth out your expression; you doubt $aname would be interested, anyway. While it's a little difficult to read $athem because of $atheir composure, you get the impression that $aname is far too focused on $atheir duties to consider flirting around with the Crown. “It’s still a little too early to be getting into bed, that's all.” $aname stares at you a moment longer with a quizzical frown, and you amuse yourself quite a bit with how befuddled $athey looks. $cathey gives up eventually, however, turning back toward the doors. “In any case, I’ll be back soon. There are multiple guards stationed outside your room, so rest assured that you’ll be safe here while I’m gone.” The reassurance is a thoughtful one, and you smile as $athey leaves the bedroom, closing the doors behind $athem.<</if>><</if>><<if $loveinterest is "X">>"Want me to get you dinner?" $xname suggests as you walk toward your bed. "I don't know about you, but I'm starving. All I've had today is breakfast and tea." "If you were hungry, why didn't you eat at the teahouse?" you ask, settling down at the edge of your mattress for a moment to let your feet rest. $xname lingers near the doors, a slow smile unfurling on $xtheir face as $xthey leans against the doorframe, the vivid green of $xtheir eyes intent on you. "Let's just say I was hungry for something other than food at that point." <<if $res gt $flirt>>The weight of your clothes feels especially apparent when the skin underneath starts to heat with the suggestion, and you avert your eyes, trying to collect yourself. "You're really forward, aren't you?" $xname rights $xthemselves again, the intensity in $xtheir gaze lessening. "Should I stop?" "No, no, just…" You sigh, frustrated by your own shyness. "What do I even say to that? <em>Enjoy your meal</em>?" The comment draws a fit of laughter from $xname, and while you feel embarrassed you think it's worth it just to hear the warm sound. "That would be the perfect response!" $xname grins at you with mirth. "I should get us some food. Sit tight, I'll be back in a second."<<else>>Your brows arch high while your lips spread into a smile to match $xname's. "Then how come you didn't have a taste?" The intensity in $xname's gaze has your blood running hot beneath your skin, your gazes locked for what feels like an eternity; your body is tense with anticipation, waiting for $xname's answer. You watch as $xthey takes $xtheir bottom lip between $xtheir teeth, biting down on it, your gaze fixated on the reddening skin before it's released. $xname straightens, clearing $xtheir throat. "I should get us some food, before you talk me into a bad idea. Sit tight, I'll be back in a second."<</if>> $cxthey leaves, closing the doors behind $xthem. You find it astonishing how easily $xname always manages to take your mind off things, even something as severe as an assassination attempt. Now by yourself, $xtheir absence is notable.<</if>><<if $loveinterest is "R">>"I should find a servant to bring us dinner," $rname decides as you walk toward your bed. "Will you be alright on your own?" "Why wouldn't I be?" you reply. "There are still guards stationed outside my room, right?" "Yes, of course, I meant…" $rname pauses, frowning slightly as $rthey averts $rtheir gaze. "I suppose my real question is whether <em>I'll</em> be alright leaving you on your own." <<if $res gt $flirt>>"Oh." You're touched by the concern, especially because of how honest it is; it makes sense that $rname would be anxious to keep you safe after an incident like that, but it still warms you to hear $rthem say it. "$rname, I'll be fine. I promise." $rname looks up to meet your gaze, still not seeming entirely at ease with leaving, but seeing your reassuring expression, $rthey relents. "Alright. I'll be back soon. Try not to leave the room, and just to be safe, stay away from the windows, and also—" "$rname," you interject gently, repeating, "I'll be fine." $crthey takes a breath, slowly nodding. "Right." You watch $rthem leave the room, closing the doors behind $rthem.<<else>>"Oh, $rname," you say softly, feeling touched by the concern, especially because of how honest it is. "I'll be fine, I promise." $rname looks up to meet your gaze, still not seeming entirely at ease with leaving, tension brimming from $rtheir stiff posture. That won't do. "You know, the servants might talk if you stay holed up in my chambers the whole time," you tease, smiling playfully. "Not that I mind." "Oh!" $rname averts $rtheir gaze, flitting around the room as if $rthey suddenly doesn't know where to look. "I- of course, that would be most improper, I should- I should go. I'll be back soon." You chuckle, and the sound draws a shy smile from $rname, who seems reassured by your lighthearted mood. You watch $rthem leave the room, closing the room behind $rthem.<</if>><</if>><<if $loveinterest is "D">>"I will find someone to serve us dinner," $dname announces as you walk toward your bed. "Do you have any preferences, $name?" You glance up at $dthem at the use of your name, unable to suppress your smile. $dname stares at you with a slightly confused frown. "Did I say something funny?" <<if $res gt $flirt>>"No, it's only…" You take a breath, your shyness rearing its head as you hesitate to speak<<if $pass gt $ass>>, averting your eyes<</if>>. "I like it when you say my name." <<if $pass gt $ass>>When you get nothing but silence in return, you dare a glance at $dname, who stands near the doorways staring<<else>>$dname stares back<</if>> at you with a blank look<<if $ass gt $pass>>, seeming at a loss for words<</if>>. There's a dark red bloom beneath the tanned, tawny tones of $dtheir skin. "$dname?" you prompt anxiously, wondering if you've just made things awkward. $dname blinks, as if waking from a trance, then quickly looks away, the red on $dtheir cheeks spreading to the rest of $dtheir face. "My apologies, I was… lost in thought for a moment. I'll be back momentarily with our dinner." Without another word, $dthey strides out of the room, closing the doors behind $dthem.<<else>>Your smile widens as you hum. "It's only… could you say that again?" "Say what again?" "My name," you clarify patiently. "I like the way you say it. I think I want to hear it one more time before you leave." You get nothing but silence in return as $dname stands there near the doorways staring at you. It was meant to be a tease, and you expect $dthem to start uttering an objection, yet you find $dthem quiet. All $dtheir attention is focused on you, the look in $dtheir dark eyes unexpectedly intense, drawing you in—but you get only a glimpse of it. $cdthey parts $dtheir lips, but then halts, averting $dtheir eyes. There's a dark red bloom beneath the tanned, tawny tones of $dtheir skin. "I'll be back momentarily with our dinner." Without another word, $dthey strides out of the room, closing the doors behind $dthem and leaving you dazed at what just happened. Whatever that intensity was, it has left you wanting more; who knew $dname had that in $dthem? Too bad $dthey left so quickly.<</if>><</if>> It leaves you to wander through your room, but rather than ponder the day’s events you find yourself looking for a distraction, leading you toward the bookcases lining the leftmost walls of your room. You peruse the titles, though what you find are mostly books of history, as well as military tactics, accounts of famous battles—these must have belonged to Crown Ferzan. Curiously, you find quite a few books of poetry as well, but nothing of fiction aside from that. No books on magic, either. Eventually you find something that piques your interest, your gaze falling upon its title with curiosity: <em>The Reign of the Sunburst Crown</em>. That was Ardashir's epithet, if you remember correctly. Pulling it from the shelf, you take it with you as you settle down at the low table on the other end of your room. <<if $magicpref is "outer">>You decide to light the candle sitting in the center of the table as the sky grows ever darker outside. Taking its wick between two fingers, you direct the magic in the air, carefully transforming it into heat until the wick sparks into flame.<<else>>You decide to light the candle sitting in the center of the table as the sky grows ever darker outside. Taking its wick between two fingers, you attempt to heat it into flame—it sparks a little out of your control, and you quickly yank your hand back with a hiss as you nearly burn the pads of your fingers. Outer magic is not your preference for a reason.<</if>> Now supplied with sufficient lighting to read, you open the book. Your eyes skim the list of contents, each detailing a different period of Crown Ardashir’s life. You figure you may as well start at the beginning, though this is one of the few stories you know quite well because of its significance: the feud between Ardashir and Vidarna that would have lasting consequences for years to come, and one that shaped your own life forever. You often wonder what would’ve happened had the two brothers been able to set their rivalry aside and work together. Would the nobles that supported them even have allowed their cooperation? As you read through the first chapter of the book, detailing Ardashir and Vidarna’s childhood while being mentored by the Eleventh Crown, you become so lost in its retelling that you startle when the doors to your bedroom swing open again a short while later. <<if $loveinterest is "A">>$aname steps inside, followed by a servant carrying a tray of food—a hearty stew and roasted meats, from what you can make out. You put the book aside as $aname joins you at the table. “Did I interrupt your reading?” $aname asks with a glance at your book, and you shake your head while the servant begins to unload the dishes onto the table.<</if>><<if $loveinterest is "X">>$xname steps inside, carrying a tray of food—a hearty stew and roasted meats, from what you can make out. You put the book aside as $xname joins you at the table. “Busy reading?” $xname asks with a glance at your book, and you shake your head while you help $xthem unload the dishes onto the table.<</if>><<if $loveinterest is "R">>$rname steps inside, followed by a servant carrying a tray of food—a hearty stew and roasted meats, from what you can make out. You put the book aside as $rname joins you at the table. “Oh, were you reading?” $rname asks with a glance at your book, and you shake your head while the servant begins to unload the dishes onto the table.<</if>><<if $loveinterest is "D">>$dname steps inside, followed by a servant carrying a tray of food—a hearty stew and roasted meats, from what you can make out. You put the book aside as $dname joins you at the table. “Pardon the interruption,” $dname says with a glance at your book, and you shake your head while the servant begins to unload the dishes onto the table.<</if>> “It’s fine, I can read later.” [[Continue|5.8]] <<set $royalhis to true>><<set $ardashir to true>>[ <b>Royal Codex updated | [[Lessons in History]] unlocked</b> ] <<if $loveinterest is "A">>You eat together in silence, though you wouldn’t call it entirely amicable. It feels a little awkward, mainly due to how $aname keeps glancing up at you as if $athey’s on the verge of saying something, but then seeming to change $atheir mind, returning to sipping from $atheir cup. <<if $ass gt $pass>>Eventually, your curiosity gets the better of you. “What is it?” $aname’s eyes widen slightly in an almost startled look, as if $athey hadn’t expected you to ask $athem about it. Putting your spoon back down into your bowl of stew, you elaborate, “You keep staring at me like you want to say something.”<<else>>“$aname?” $cathey looks up at you. “Yes?” You hesitate for a moment, not wanting to make the atmosphere any more awkward than it already is, but resolving whatever it is that’s on $aname’s mind might help. “It’s only, you keep staring at me like you want to say something.”<</if>> $aname looks away, remaining silent. You wait patiently, eventually rewarded for it when $athey says, “I wanted to apologize.” That, you did not expect. “Whatever for?” you reply, taken aback. “I left you when I should’ve stayed by your side.” $aname appears genuinely troubled by it, judging from how deep the furrow between $atheir brows is. “I misjudged the severity of the situation, and you ended up in danger because of it.” Ah, so <em>that’s</em> what this is about. You suppose from $aname’s point of view, even an attempt on your life might be seen as a failure on $atheir part, but to you, that doesn’t seem like a fair assessment. Especially when you’re the one who kept your past encounters with the Followers a secret; $aname was operating with incomplete knowledge at best. $cathey even warned you about it last night, didn't $athey? That withholding information might put you in danger. If anyone is responsible for this, you would say it's you instead of $aname. “You’re not to blame for the Followers trying to kill me,” you insist. “I had plenty of guards around to protect me; no one could’ve expected the Followers to stage an ambush, especially using such strange magic.” The chiming sound is unpleasant to remember, causing goosebumps to break out on your skin when you recall the way it echoed in your head, leaving you paralyzed. “That’s not good enough.” $aname looks frustrated, remaining silent for a long moment before $athey quietly says, “I’m supposed to be your protector.” <<if $pass gt $ass>>You almost reach out to take $atheir hand from across the table, wanting to offer comfort, but think better of it and keep your hand on your knee instead.<<else>>You reach out your hand, intending to take $atheirs from across the table, but then halt when you see the cautious look on $atheir face. You pull your hand back, moving on and pretending nothing happened to prevent more awkwardness.<</if>> “You are,” you reassure $athem with sincerity, astonished that $athey could ever judge $athemselves inadequate after the way $athey saved you. “And you did protect me. You kept me safe—” “I abandoned you.” You sigh at the stubborn adamance. “<<if $charm gt $blunt>>Isn’t that a little dramatic? $aname, you’re starting to sound like $xname.<<else>>$aname, do I really need to order you to stop blaming yourself?<</if>>” That, at least, gets you a smile. A soft one that emphasizes the dimples in $atheir cheeks, and you swear you’ve never seen anything prettier. After a moment, $aname seems to catch $athemselves and clears $atheir throat, straightening out $atheir expression. “As forgiving as you are, I have to maintain my standards.” “You are only human, in case you didn’t know,” you remark, wondering where $athey learned to be so critical of $athemselves. “Besides, you were there for me when it counted, and that…” Trailing off, you look away for a moment, almost bemused at the realization that you were saved by someone else and what it means. Left alone after your parents died, you learned not to count on anyone but yourself. Being protected by someone else, a near-stranger, is so foreign to you that you almost don’t know how to deal with it. “It means a lot,” you finish, <<if $pass gt $ass>>avoiding $aname’s eyes on you<<else>>meeting $aname’s eyes once more, staring at you in surprise<</if>>. “I won’t forget it.” This silence between you feels more weighted, but also much more bearable. It’s one of mutual understanding, at least to an extent. There’s still much about $aname that you don’t know, but you are struck with the desire of wanting to find out. "I…" $aname stares at you, sentence trailing off as if forgetting that $athey's in the middle of speaking. <<if $res gt $flirt>>You feel flushed under $atheir gaze,<<else>>You smile, just as drawn to $athem as $athey is to you,<</if>> wondering what it is $athey sees that has $athem struck wordless. Eventually $athey snaps out of it, quickly averting $atheir eyes. "I was only doing what was required of me." Of course. <<if $flirt gt $res>>The smile falters a little on your face.<<else>>You feel a pang of embarrassment.<</if>> $cathey was merely doing $atheir duty, nothing more. At that point you hear a knock on the doors of your bedchambers, $rname’s voice filtering in. “$name, may we intrude?”<</if>><<if $loveinterest is "X">>While you eat together, $xname takes it upon $xthemselves to make conversation while simultaneously stuffing $xtheir mouth with bread, though $xthey doesn't talk and chew at the same time at least. "How come you didn't have a weapon with you?" It's a little embarrassing to admit that it slipped your mind, as you've never used a weapon before. Unless farming tools count as one, but you never lugged those around, having always relied on your magic to keep you safe instead. You never expected encountering anything like that chiming sound. <<if $charm gt $blunt>>"I probably should have taken one with me," you say. "It didn't occur to me, I suppose."<<else>>"I forgot I even had the option," you say honestly. "It didn't occur to me to bring one."<</if>> $xname arches $xtheir brows at you. "What, you think I gave you my dagger as decoration?" You stare blankly at $xname, realizing you forgot all about the dagger $xthey gave you. Reading the thought from your face, $xname frowns at you. "Don't tell me you <<if $charm gt $blunt>><em>forgot</em><<else>>forgot about that too<</if>>?" <<if $charm gt $blunt>>"In my defense, I had a lot going on," you say, though you give $xthem an apologetic look. "Besides which, I figured I would be safe enough with $aname and all my other guards.<<else>>"I did." You give $xthem an apologetic look. "I assumed $aname and my other guards would be enough to keep me safe.<</if>> I didn't anticipate being ambushed in broad daylight, let alone whatever that chiming sound was." "I guess I can understand that," $xname concedes, though $xthey doesn't seem happy about it. "Still, you could've saved yourself a lot of grief if you had my dagger to stab the assassin with. Though that might be wishful thinking on my part; you're clearly not trained with weapons." While $xname is right about your lack of training, you think there might be one other reason for why having $xtheir dagger with you wouldn't have worked. "Even if I had it with me and was trained," you start, hesitating before you continue, "I don't know if I would've been able to use it." $xname looks befuddled by this. "Why not?" <<if $calc gt $kind>>You stare down into your bowl of stew, frowning as your lack of experience weighs on you once more. "I've never hurt anyone before, let alone killed someone. I think it's likelier that I would freeze up rather than use the dagger."<<else>>You avert your eyes, knowing this will likely sound stupid to a mercenary. "I've never hurt anyone before, let alone killed someone. I don't know if I'll ever be able to, either."<</if>> At first, $xname is silent, and when you glance up at $xthem you catch $xthem appearing almost conflicted as $xthey looks at you. When your eyes meet, however, $xthey quickly wipes the expression from $xtheir face, replacing it with a more neutral one. <<if $kind gt $calc>>"You will, eventually,"<<else>>"You'll learn how eventually,"<</if>> $xthey says, picking up $xtheir cup and sipping from $xtheir drink while you stare at $xthem. "Maybe you'll be spared from having to do it with your own two hands… though that might be worse. But at some point, you're going to kill someone. More than one person, most likely. It's inevitable." <<if $calc gt $kind>>Taking a breath, you try not to let the words get to you; from the moment you decided to seek out the throne, you tried to come to terms with the truth that $xname speaks. It comes with being the Crown; you have to reconcile yourself with that. "I know."<<else>>The nausea you feel at the thought is difficult to suppress. It's something you've tried not to think about even as you knew that becoming the Crown would mean making such difficult decision, no matter how much you wish that it didn't. "I know."<</if>> $xname lowers $xtheir cup as $xthey looks back into your eyes, and for a moment, $xtheir gaze seems to soften. $cxthey doesn't say anything more, instead reaching out across the table, placing $xtheir hand on top of yours. You wonder how many lives that same hand has taken. How many lives your own hand will take. At that point you hear a knock on the doors of your bedchambers, $rname’s voice filtering in. “$name, may we intrude?”<</if>><<if $loveinterest is "D">>You eat together in silence, and to your surprise you find it to be a comfortable one. More than anything, it strikes you how quiet $dname can be when $dthey's not speaking, $dtheir movements small and controlled, though that might be in part because of the heavy armor $dthey's wearing. That can't be comfortable to sit in. Curious, you ask, “Do you always wear armor?” $dname looks up from the meat $dthey's been cutting with a knife, seeming to think about the question before answering. “Not while I’m sleeping,” $dthey says at length, and out of anyone else’s mouth it might’ve sounded like a dry quip, but $dname answers you so seriously you’re starting to wonder if $dthey’s even capable of being sarcastic. “I figured,” you reply with amusement. “And when you’re not sleeping? Do you ever take it off?” $dname tilts $dtheir head at you, as if the answer is obvious. “When it needs to be repaired.” You sigh. “$dname, I meant… do you ever simply wear regular clothes?” “Ah.” $dname frowns. “I can’t remember.” “You can’t remember?” you repeat, baffled. “Now we really need to get you out of that armor.” $dname's knife halts its cutting as $dthey stares at you, $dtheir face reddening again. <<if $res gt $flirt>>The implication of your words occurs to you moments later. "I meant that you should wear regular clothes!" you say hurriedly, mortified at being misunderstood. "Not that- not whatever it is you're thinking!" "I'm not thinking anything!" $dname sputters. "I knew very well what you meant!" You both look away from each other, and you reach for your cup of water, lifting it to hide your face behind as you take a sip. "Right."<<else>>The implication of your words occurs to you moments later, and you start to laugh—for once, that hadn't been your intent. "I meant that you should wear regular clothes," you explain, which only seems to embarrass $dname further. "I knew that," $dthey says quickly, looking away and glaring down at $dtheir roasted beef as if it were the blame for the misunderstanding. "Right, of course."<</if>> $dname sighs, putting $dtheir knife down as $dthey looks back up at you. "I'm most comfortable in my armor, it's what I'm used to. Walking around only in fabric makes me feel bare." You remember $dthem saying something like that to you before, earlier in the day when you were talking about the pleasure houses. "Makes sense. You must've been in the army for a long time." $dname glances away for a moment, before stating, "I was quite young when I first enlisted, yes." "What made you join?" $dname is silent for a short while, gaze drifting off somewhere else—to a memory, most likely—before $dthey snaps out of it. "Nearly everyone in my family has served at one point or another, including my mother. My other parent hasn't, but they supported my decision." "You never had any interest in anything else?" you question, though that's mainly because you're having a hard time imagining anyone willingly signing up for it. The attacks at the borders the past ten years have been relentless; the Arsurian army has been fighting a small war all this time, stopping countless invasion attempts. "It wasn't a matter of interest," $dname replies. "I wouldn't like to meet anyone interested in the rigors of being a soldier; the army has a way of attracting the most zealous and sadistic among us." You're taken aback by the blunt words, which must show on your face as $dname gives you an amused look. "Sorry, I just didn't expect…" "The truth?" $dname shakes $dtheir head. "I'd be a poor general if I couldn't admit that much. The reason I and many others enlisted was because we knew someone needed to defend the country at its most vulnerable; in truth, I'm not certain if I would've signed up otherwise. But there are always others who see it as an opportunity instead of duty." You've never thought about it that way before, being that you never spared much of a thought for the army beyond that it was guarding Arsur's borders. But to have someone in charge of it who's willing to be honest and who sees things so clearly is reassuring. "I'm glad I have you as my general," you say, and $dname appears briefly surprised by the praise, but then inclines $dtheir head—you're not sure, but you think you see $dtheir lips bend a little, almost into a smile. "I hope to serve you well." You spend a moment simply admiring the touch of softness to $dtheir features, so rare on $dtheir face, until you're interrupted. There's a knock on the doors of your bedchambers, $rname's voice filtering in. "$crnickname, may we intrude?"<</if>><<if $loveinterest is "R">>You make conversation as you eat together, though $rname does most of the talking as you focus on getting some food in you, too tired and hungry to make for a proper conversational partner. "I was looking to find Siham and Ishrah for you, but it seems Keko needed them for something," $rname recounts thoughtfully. "No doubt relating to the nobles at the palace. You'd think they owned the place, the way they prance about." "Prance?" you repeat with amusement, taking a piece of bread for yourself. "I don't think I want to imagine Steward Welat prancing." $rname laughs, holding up a hand over $rtheir mouth as if to hide the sound even as $rthey chuckles. "That would be a sight!" You smile, unable to muster up the energy for much else, and it seems $rname notices as $rtheir laughter fades. "Are you alright, $name?" $rthey asks gently. "Fine." You wave $rtheir concern away. "I'll be glad once I get to retire for the night, but I should speak to the others first." $rname hums, gaze drifting along the table filled with dishes, though $rthey doesn't continue eating, a brief silence settling in the room. You manage to finish your cup of water when $rthey speaks again, tentatively. "You've had two attempts on your life within the span of two days." $crthey gives you a long look, almost seeming puzzled. "Forgive me if this is out of line, but… you're taking it much better than I would've expected. You don't seem to be in a state of shock, either." Averting your gaze, you focus on your bowl of meat stew so as to avoid $rname's gaze. You're used to surviving, scraping by however you can, but hearing that might upset $rname, or worse. $crthey might pity you for it. "I take it you haven't experienced many attacks yourself?" you say, evading the question. $rname seems to notice if the way $rtheir head tilts slightly is any indication, but $rthey's graceful in how $rthey allows you to get away with it. "No, I cannot say I have," $rthey admits, gaze turning distant for a moment. "Usually $aname and the Imperial Guards get some sort of warning whenever someone is plotting an attempt. We have our own spies, after all, but the fact that not even <em>they</em> saw this coming… it's troubling." "You handled yourself well for someone not used to it," you say, recalling the way $rname used $rtheir magic so impressively down in the tunnels. "I've never heard of anyone use lightning the way you do." $rname glances away, seeming embarrassed. "It's… a highly unorthodox method. You're not meant to handle lightning like I did; it's <em>very</em> difficult to control, and you run the risk of serious injury or even death if you do. Most magi would manifest it from the air, at a safe distance." That piques your interest. You know $rname didn't get accepted into the School of Marabad, so you suppose it makes sense $rthey'd use other forms that aren't strictly instructed by teachers. "Was it something Lady Zerya taught you?" "Oh, no, she would not have approved," $rname says with a slightly awkward smile. "I, ah, I came up with it myself." Your brows arch. "On your own? It sounds incredibly risky. Weren't you afraid you might hurt yourself?" "A little pain in pursuit of greater skill is a small price to pay, in my opinion," $rthey replies, and though $rthey appears very aware of your judgment, there is no doubt in $rtheir voice, no hesitance whatsoever. "I knew my limits, and I knew I would be able to manage it. Besides, the sense of accomplishment the first time I succeeded… I wouldn't trade that for anything." For a moment, you find yourself mesmerized by the happiness that lights up $rname's eyes as $rthey recalls the feeling. $rname doubted $rthemselves so much after the meeting with the nobles that you assumed it was a problem $rthey had in general, but not when it comes to magic, it seems. $crtheir confidence as well as pride is captivating. $rname notices your staring, smile faltering. "Sorry, did that sound too conceited?" "No, no, not at all," you say quickly. "I was only—" A knock on the doors of your bedchamber interrupts your sentence, $dname's voice filtering in from outside. "Your Imperial Majesty, may we intrude?"<</if>> [[Continue|5.9]]<<if $loveinterest is "A">>Whatever moment there was between you and $aname passes. “Come in,” you call out to $rname, watching the doors open again. $rname steps inside, followed by $dname as well as one other person you didn’t expect to see. “$xname?” $xname gives you a smile and a short wave, the first to saunter over to the table and settle down beside $aname with total nonchalance. “You’ve had quite the eventful day, haven’t you?” “That’s one way to describe it,” you reply, unable to so much as muster up a smile. “When did you get here?” $rname and $dname follow $xname, $dname sitting down next to you with an irritated look aimed at $xname—no different from how $dthey usually looks at $xname, really—while $rname gracefully lowers $rthemselves to sit beside $xname. “I was on my way to the tunnels, but seeing as $aname was closer to you than I was, I stuck around to help the guards fight the assassins,” $xname explains, pilfering a bit of bread from the table, stuffing it into $xtheir mouth.<</if>><<if $loveinterest is "X">>Whatever moment there was between you and $xname passes as $xthey pulls $xtheir hand back. You miss its warmth instantly. "Come in," you call out to $rname, watching the doors open again. $rname steps inside, followed by $dname as well as one other person. "$aname!" "Took you long enough," $xname greets $aname, grinning. "Were the assassins really giving you that much trouble?" $aname scoffs as $athey approaches the table, sitting down beside $xname. "As if." $cathey turns $atheir attention on you. "Forgive me for leaving $xname to assist you. I was preoccupied with capturing one of the assassins along with the other guards." $xname frowns at $athem while $rname and $dname takes their seats as well, $rname sitting beside you while $dname sits next to $aname. "Hey, what's wrong with me? I kept $them safe, didn't I?" "You are not a delicate bodyguard even under the best circumstances," $aname replies dryly. Your singed cloak can certainly attest to that.<</if>><<if $loveinterest is "D">>Whatever moment there was between you and $dname passes. “Come in,” you call out to $rname, watching the doors open again. $rname steps inside, followed by $aname as well as one other person you didn’t expect to see. “$xname?” You can almost <em>hear</em> $dname roll $dtheir eyes. $xname gives you a smile and a short wave, the first to saunter over to the table and settle down beside you with total nonchalance. “You’ve had quite the eventful day, haven’t you?” “That’s one way to describe it,” you reply, unable to so much as muster up a smile. “When did you get here?” $rname and $aname follow $xname, $aname sitting down next to $dname while $rname gracefully lowers $rthemselves to sit beside $xname. “I was on my way to the tunnels, but seeing as $dname was closer to you than I was, I stuck around to help $aname and the guards fight the assassins,” $xname explains, pilfering a bit of bread from the table, stuffing it into $xtheir mouth.<</if>><<if $loveinterest is "R">>Whatever moment there was between you and $rname passes. “Come in,” you call out to $dname, watching the doors open again. $dname steps inside, followed by $aname as well as one other person you didn’t expect to see. “$xname?” $xname gives you a smile and a short wave, the first to saunter over to the table and settle down beside $rname with total nonchalance. “You’ve had quite the eventful day, haven’t you?” “That’s one way to describe it,” you reply, unable to so much as muster up a smile. “When did you get here?” $dname and $aname follow $xname, $dname sitting down next to you while $aname sits down beside $xname. “I was on my way to the tunnels, but seeing as $rname was closer to you than I was, I stuck around to help $aname and the guards fight the assassins,” $xname explains, pilfering a bit of bread from the table, stuffing it into $xtheir mouth.<</if>> “So they’re all okay?” you ask. “The guards, I mean.” <<if $loveinterest is "D">>“They're all fine," $rname reassures you. “Only a few injuries, from what we know." "No reported deaths?" $dname asks. "That's good." You blink at the blunt question while $xname rolls $xtheir eyes.<<else>>“Aside from a few injuries, there haven’t been any reported deaths,” $dname informs you and you blink at the blunt statement while $xname rolls $xtheir eyes.<</if>> Even $aname looks exasperated, though $atheirs seems more fond than annoyed. $dname looks between the three of you in confusion. “What?” “Nothing,” $aname says. “Only that you have the sensitivity of a boulder.” “Sometimes being straightforward is preferable,” $rname says, attempting a defense, though it’s half-hearted at best as $rthey glances at $dname. “Though you really could do with a little more tact.” $dname grunts, crossing $dtheir arms with a scowl and saying nothing more. <<if $loveinterest is "D" or $loveinterest is "A" or $loveinterest is "X">>“In any case,” $rname continues, turning $rtheir attention to you. “The guards and <<if $loveinterest is "A">>$xname<</if>><<if $loveinterest is "D">>$xname and $aname<</if>><<if $loveinterest is "X">>$aname<</if>> managed to capture one of the assassins alive. It’s doubtful they would know anything of use, but it’s better than nothing.”<<else>>"Anyway," $xname interjects, turning $xtheir attention to you and $rname. "$aname and I captured one of the assassins alive. $rname, if you can figure out how to get rid of the mask, $aname could read their memories. Though I doubt $athey'll find anything useful." "I'll take care of it," $rname states confidently.<</if>> You nod in understanding<<if $loveinterest is "R">> as well<</if>>, and as your thoughts return to the incident and you remain silent, the others begin to talk among themselves. “Why would the Followers take such a risk?” $aname says and you almost wince; none of them know about your history with the Followers, after all. “So close to the coronation, they must’ve known security would’ve been difficult to overcome.” “There was that strange sound they used to paralyze the guards,” $xname mentions, grabbing <<if $loveinterest is "D" or $loveinterest is "R" or $loveinterest is "A">>more <</if>>bread from the basket. “No idea what it is, but it was a pain to deal with. I couldn’t use any magic because I had to keep disrupting its effects.” “This must have been planned,” $dname says, casting an annoyed look at $xname when $xthey <<if $loveinterest is "R" or $loveinterest is "D" or $loveinterest is "A">>continues to eat<<else>>starts to eat<</if>> the bread, tearing off large chunks with $xtheir teeth. “Perhaps even long before the Crown’s arrival.” “Regardless, the questions remains: why?” $rname seems frustrated most of all. “It seems so reckless. Uncharacteristic, even. The Followers aren’t known for being this bold. Something must have driven them to do it, but—" You speak before you can change your mind. “I have something to confess.” <<if $pass gt $ass>>You force the words from your mouth before you can think better of it.<<else>>You’ve made up your mind, interrupting with certainty.<</if>> “Something that might explain why the Followers did this.” [[Continue|5.10]] All four pairs of eyes stare at you. The weight of their attention is a heavy one, which makes what you are about to admit to all the more difficult. You do not think you could tell the whole story, not yet, but this second assassination attempt—so soon after the first one—has made you realize the Followers won’t be cowed so easily. You’ve always known that their goal was to kill you, but the way they’re pursuing you now that you’ve reached your goal borders on irrational. Ambushing you in this way, especially considering the additional security, was an incredibly precarious move on their part. One that will likely backfire on them, considering you’ve managed to capture one of their assassins alive. So why risk it? There is only one reason you can think of. Taking a deep breath, you steady yourself, trying to detach yourself from the memories that play out in your head as you search for the words. While you steel your nerves, your gaze meets <<if $loveinterest is "R">>$rname’s, who watches you with curiosity and worry both. $crtheir frown breaks, and though $rtheir smile is a faint one, it is also reassuring, silently promising that everything will be alright.<</if>><<if $loveinterest is "A">>$aname’s, watching you quietly with no discernible emotion on $atheir face until $athey sees you looking. $catheir features soften and $athey gives you a subtle nod in support, and you know $athey’ll have your back no matter what.<</if>><<if $loveinterest is "D">>$dname’s, peering at you attentively as $dthey waits for you to speak. There is no pressure for you to hurry, merely a silent patience that is much more accepting than you would’ve expected.<</if>><<if $loveinterest is "X">>$xname’s, regarding you with a focused interest and not much else. You can’t tell what $xthey’s thinking, but the smile $xthey gives you is an encouraging one; it makes you feel a little braver.<</if>> Looking away, you close your eyes for a moment as you gather your thoughts, and when you open them again, you finally speak. “Before I came here…” you start, then pause; the word <em>before</em> feels so unimaginably weighted in your mouth, trying to encompass an entire life within its letters even as it can never truly describe it. “Before I came here, I was already on the run.” You can almost feel the numerous questions that statement evokes rising into the air, filling up the room even as they go unspoken. You pay it no heed, grateful for the lack of interruption because you’re not sure you’ll be able to tell this story otherwise. “It began when I was eight, maybe seven years old.” That frantic night, bits and pieces of it left in your memories, faint impressions of a confused and frightened child who was torn away from home and everything familiar, thrust into the life of a refugee. “Back then, my parents… they were already running from the Followers of Vidarna.” You avoid the looks burning holes right through you, averting your gaze toward the windows, staring at the small lantern lights lined along the paths of the gardens. “It was because of my father, I thought,” you say quietly, one hand clenching into a fist on top of your knee as you wonder how much of this could’ve been avoided if your parents had simply told you the truth from the start. “I don’t know why. Maybe it was another lie they told me; they were never entirely honest with me. All I knew for the longest time was that the Followers were after us because of my father, and that we had to remain on the run. That is… until I turned fifteen, and Crown Ferzan passed away.” You can almost feel the phantom touch of your mother’s hands on your cheeks, gold reflected in the dark brown of her eyes that gazed at you back then, wide with fear. <em>“Your eyes are cursed.”</em> Yet, all things considered, her reaction was almost subdued. So was your father’s when you found him again that night, even as frightened as he appeared at the sight of your eyes—neither of them needed a moment to work through what was happening, moving on again just as quickly. At the time you assumed it was because you were in such great danger that stopping at any point would allow the Followers to find you again, but now you can’t help but wonder… did they know all along that you would eventually be chosen as the Crown? You can’t help but doubt every single thing they’ve told you, uncertain of what was truthful and what was a lie told to ‘protect’ you. Now that they’re gone, you’ll never know with any certainty. <<if $loveinterest is "D">>“$name?” You look up to meet $dname’s concerned eyes, only then noticing how hard you’re clenching your jaw and inhaling another breath to try and ease the tension. From the corners of your eyes you notice the other three react to $dname’s use of your name, $xname’s brows in particular arching high as $xtheir gaze flits between the two of you. “Sorry,” you mutter, looking away again. “I was lost in thought for a moment.”<</if>><<if $loveinterest is "R">>You feel a touch on your wrist from across the table. “$name?” You glance at the soft hand offering you comfort,<<if $height is "tall">> fingers almost appearing small against your own<</if>><<if $height is "very tall">> fingers appearing small against your own,<</if>> and look up to meet $rname’s concerned eyes. It still startles you to think you no longer have to suffer through these moments alone. “I’m alright.” You look away again. “I need to say this.”<</if>><<if $loveinterest is "A">>“$name.” You look up to meet $aname’s eyes, brows slightly furrowed as $athey looks you over. “Perhaps you should get some sleep. We can continue this in the morning.” “No, I’m fine.” You exhale a deep breath, having only just noticed how hard you’re clenching your jaw. “I need to say this.” $aname looks like $athey wants to argue, but after a long moment, offers a short nod.<</if>><<if $loveinterest is "X">>“$name, still with us?” You look up to meet $xname’s eyes across from you, arms folded over $xtheir chest as $xthey looks at you with concern. “Maybe we should do this in the morning,” $xthey starts to offer, but you shake your head. “If I don’t say this now, I don’t know if I ever will.”<</if>> [[Continue|5.11]] After your composure has resettled and you feel steady enough to continue, you pick up where you left off. “After my eyes turned gold, it only got worse. My parents kept us on the run; they didn’t want me to become the Crown. They said it would be too dangerous, that the Followers would try to kill me as soon as I revealed myself.” <<if $charm gt $blunt>>The laugh you give rings hollow even to your own ears, fading as quickly as it came.<<else>>You glare down at your fists, clenched on your lap.<</if>> “I suppose they were honest about that, at least.” Now for the hardest part. “So, we kept running and hiding, until a year ago.” You keep your gaze fixed onto your hands. “I don’t know how, but they found us, and when they did…” The rest of the words are lodged in your throat, but you know you’ll have to face this eventually. If not now, when you still have the opportunity to come to terms with it, then in the future, and that might not be during a moment of your own choosing. <<if $charm gt $blunt>>“Well…” You try to numb yourself to it, to keep from reliving it like you’ve already had to do so many times before. “There’s a reason I came here alone.<<else>>You force the words out and then try to move past them as quickly as possible, as if that would make it hurt less. “My parents died.<</if>> I managed to survive on my own, and made it here.” You look up at $rname, moving on before anyone can react; you don't want to hear any apologies, any condolences. The time for that has long passed. Right now, the only thing you want are answers. “My father told me to find you.” From the corner of your eyes you see the other three stare at you. $aname looks away again, while you think you see both $dname and $xname frowning, but you do not care to meet their eyes. $rname appears the most affected by your admission, and you can’t hold $rtheir gaze for long because of the sympathy you see reflected there. It's too painful. “You have no idea why the Followers were after your father?” $dname asks quietly, and you’re grateful for the distraction, latching onto the topic as the resentment that accompanies it is much easier to bear than the grief. “No.” You frown deeply, remembering all the times your questions were evaded or outright refused. “As far as I know, my father used to be a priest in our hometown. I don’t know what he could’ve done to have the Followers hounding him.” “Was he an official priest?” $rname asks, seeming to have gotten the hint that you’d rather not go too much into depth about the deaths of your parents. “If so, he would’ve attended the School of Marabad. They might still have records of him being a student there—we might be able to find people who knew him. What were your parents’ names?” That idea hadn’t even occurred to you, mostly because you didn’t know that the School of Marabad kept records of students. You’re not sure whether your father was an official priest or whether he simply took on the role, but it would explain all his expertise in magic. “Harun and Nazire,” you reply quietly, realizing you’ve never spoken their names out loud before. $rname hums, appearing thoughtful. “Do you know your father's family name?” Another name you’ve never had to consider before. You realize you’ve almost forgotten it when it takes you a moment to remember what it was. It was passed down from your grandmother to your father, then to you. Your mother did not have one, or you would’ve been able to choose. The ancestor your father's side of the family inherited the name from was apparently a renowned poet, though you've never read any of the poems yourself. It has been a long time since you’ve given it any thought, but the name was… <ul class="a"> <li>[[Xanî|5.12][$surname to "Xanî"]]</li> <li>[[Erdelanî|5.12][$surname to "Erdelanî"]]</li> <li>[[Teyran|5.12][$surname to "Teyran"]]</li> <li>[[Cizîrî|5.12][$surname to "Cizîrî"]]</li> <li>[[Koyî|5.12][$surname to "Koyî"]]</li> <li>[[Goran|5.12][$surname to "Goran"]]</li> <li>[[Qubadî|5.12][$surname to "Qubadî"]]</li> <li>[[Herîrî|5.12][$surname to "Herîrî"]]</li> </ul>“Cover it up,” $xname states without hesitation, which surprises you a little, though it shouldn’t. You already know from personal experience that $xname has no qualms about lying when it suits $xthem—a thought that $xname must be able to read from your face, as $xthey smiles apologetically. “Causing an uproar right before your own coronation might not be ideal, is all I’m trying to say. Besides, the nobles might see this as a sign of weakness.” “Or strength,” $rname points out. “Lady Naza might appreciate such a bold move, although I’m not sure it’s worth the gamble merely to impress her.” $aname sighs, waving dismissively with $atheir hand. “Forget the nobles, it’s not worth the risk. If any of them are spies for the Followers, it might compromise our ability to keep the prisoner safe. Or, at least, not-dead.” “I agree,” $dname says, gaze flitting from $aname back to you. “Informing the nobles might bring more trouble than it’s worth.” $rname seems to be the only one willing to entertain the notion of revealing the assassination attempt to the nobles, though you can see the benefit in how it might earn you Lady Naza’s respect. “What about the public?” you ask. “Most of you would suggest keeping it a secret from them as well, then?” <<if $loveinterest is "R" or $loveinterest is "A">>“I would,” $rname starts, surprising you, but $aname interjects before $rthey can lay out $rtheir argument. “If there are assassins roaming the streets, the public should at least know,” $athey reasons, frowning at $rname—it seems they have switched places in this instance. “Perhaps not that the Crown was targeted, but that the streets may not be safe at night. It would allow us to increase the city guard as well.” “Or it could incite a panic,” $rname replies, giving $aname a questioning look. “Would that not make it more difficult for you, as Royal Protector?” “How so?” $aname appears curious rather than skeptical. “Do you expect the public to start rioting?” “Nothing so extreme, but the people of Marabad are already on edge due to the arrival of the Crown,” $rname says, reminding you of the endless crowds that greeted you once you returned to the city from Kartan’s Forest. “It might make them more alert to possible threats, but it might also make them paranoid.” $aname arches $atheir brows slightly. “You have little faith in the citizens, it seems.” “I would say you have far too much of it.” $rname turns to look at you, expectant. “What do you think, $name?” You consider the argument, as you can see where both of them are coming from. <<if $intu gt $intel>>“My first instinct is to <<if $caut gt $adven>>keep things quiet<<else>>inform everyone<</if>>, but this kind of decision probably shouldn’t be made impulsively.<<else>>“I can see most merit in <<if $caut gt $adven>>keeping things quiet<<else>>informing everyone<</if>>, but I have little experience in things like these.<</if>>”<</if>><<if $loveinterest is "X" or $loveinterest is "D">>“There might be some benefit in informing the public,” $dname says thoughtfully, reasoning out loud. “We would not inform them on the attempt of your life, of course, but warning them to be on the look-out—” “Really?” $xname cuts in, features twisted into a skeptical expression. “You’d rather risk panicking the public? Covering it up is the best option.” $dname scoffs with open distaste. “Yes, we all know how you feel about telling the truth.” …This might be getting out of hand. “That would’ve been hurtful,” $xname sneers, “if I cared for your opinion, that is. Alas, hypocrites rank very low on the list.” “Of course, I forgot—you care for no one’s opinion but your own!” <<if $ass gt $pass>><<if $blunt gt $charm>>“Enough,” you interrupt, frowning at them both once the argument starts getting out of hand. “I asked for your advice, not your squabbling.” $dname flinches, hastily bowing $dtheir head. “My apologies, I forgot myself. It won’t happen again.”<<else>>“Are you quite done, or do you need some privacy?” you interrupt, shooting them both expectant looks. “Perhaps I should give you the room?” “That won’t be necessary!” $dname exclaims, shooting a glare at $xname. “My apologies. It won’t happen again.”<</if>> When you look over at $xname, $xtheir scowl smooths over with amusement as $xthey bends into a mocking bow. “Your Imperial Majesty.”<<else>>You clear your throat, the slight but purposeful sound of it enough to draw both $dname’s as well as $xname’s attention as they look at you. <<if $blunt gt $charm>>“We should move on,” you state, eager to get past the arguing.<<else>>“If you’re done, perhaps we should move on?” you consider, giving them both expectant looks as you’re eager to get past the arguing.<</if>> $dname at least has the decency to look embarrassed as $dthey bows $dtheir head with a murmured apology. $xname, on the other hand, merely shrugs and shoots you a cheeky grin.<</if>><</if>> At the very least, you have a better idea now about which direction to go in with both the nobles as well as the general public, though there is still one other factor you haven’t yet discussed. “What about Kham?” Once you’ve pointed that out, your four companions exchange looks with each other, though none of them seem as eager to voice their opinions on Kham. “I’m not sure,” $aname is the first to admit, and it seems none of the other three are certain on what to do either if their silence is any indication. “You may want to tell her for her own safety, but it’s difficult to say whether she would be appreciative of the warning or unimpressed by the breach in security.” “Regardless, the peris form no threat in that regard,” $rname adds. “They have no interest in most human affairs beyond observation, which means they’re highly unlikely to collaborate with the Followers.” Which means whether or not you decide to tell Kham, at the very least, you won’t have to worry about where her loyalties lie. That doesn’t take away from the fact that you still have quite a few decisions to make regarding this matter, however. As much as you’ve asked for advice, no one else in this room can have the final say; this is a choice you must make on your own. You take a breath, trying to consider each angle. Informing the nobles might garner you goodwill, or risk a breach of security. Informing the public might keep them vigilant for threats, or panic them. Informing Kham might earn you her appreciation, or it might hurt your standing with her. It’s impossible to know how things will turn out, and you suppose spending ages considering the matter won’t clarify things any further. You’ll have to make a decision. “Concerning the nobles,” you start, pausing as you consider what to do on that front. <ul class="a"> <li>[[You decide to hide the attempt on your life.|5.14][$hidenobles to true]]</li> <li>[[You decide to inform them on the attempt on your life.|5.14]]</li> </ul> <<if $hidenobles is true>><<if $caut gt $adven>>“The risk is too great,” you say.<<else>>“While I’m not afraid of the risk, telling them about something like this so close to the coronation is probably a bad idea,” you consider.<</if>> “We’ll keep it a secret from them.” “A wise choice,” $dname says, and for once $xname appears to agree, as well as $aname judging from the approving looks you get. $rname’s brows wrinkle slightly, but when you look to $rthem, $rthey inclines $rtheir head. “If you think it best. What about the general public?”<<else>><<if $caut gt $adven>>“While risky, I think it’s better in the long run to garner some goodwill,” you say.<<else>>“Getting on their good side early on seems like the best thing to do here,” you consider.<</if>> “We should inform them.” $rname appears pleased, smiling at you in approval, though $rthey’s the only one. “Are you certain?” $dname asks, and for once $xname appears to share $dtheir concern, as well as $aname judging by the doubtful looks thrown your way. $dname is also the first to accept your decision, however. “We will trust in your judgment. What about the public?”<</if>> The second part of the equation. <ul class="a"> <li>[[You decide to hide the presence of assassins in the city.|5.15][$hidepublic to true]]</li> <li>[[You decide to inform them of the presence of assassins in the city.|5.15]]</li> </ul><<if $hidepublic is true>>“We should avoid panicking the citizens unnecessarily,” you state next. “Don’t inform them of any assassins.” <<if $loveinterest is "D">>$dname frowns deeply this time, glancing at $xname and then back to you, frown deepening even further while $xname gloats. “I knew you’d see it my way,” $xthey says, casting $dname a taunting smirk that has $dname’s jaw clenching in irritation. Both $aname and $rname stare at $dthem, no doubt curious to see how $dthey’ll react. You tense a little, wondering whether you should be regretting your decision until $dname then turns to address you. “You’ll have my full support,” $dthey promises with nothing but sincerity, and you relax again with relief. “What should we do about Kham, then?”<</if>><<if $loveinterest is "X">>$xname grins widely at you, ignoring $dname completely even while $xthey gets glared at. “Great minds do think alike, don’t they?” You smile back at $xthem with amusement, and you can’t help but feel pleased when $xname winks at you. $dname seems less than appreciative of the moment $dthemselves, though $dtheir interruption is a polite one. $cdthey clears $dtheir throat. “If that’s settled, what should we do about Kham?”<</if>><<if $loveinterest is "A">>$aname’s expression barely changes save for the slightest twitch of $atheir mouth, slightly downturned, though $athey does not comment. Instead, $athey merely gives you a nod of acknowledgment, and you try not to squirm under $atheir gaze. From the corner of your eyes, you see $xname shooting $aname a knowing smirk that goes completely ignored, while $dname merely watches on stoically, or perhaps obliviously. “You’ve made the right choice,” $rname meanwhile assures you warmly, and you catch $aname glancing between the two of you, expression still blank though $atheir posture shifts, arms crossing over $atheir chest. “What about Kham?” $athey interjects, and not very gently. $rname appears amused by the interruption rather than offended, however, so you figure $aname must not be truly upset as you decide to move on.<</if>><<if $loveinterest is "R">>$rname’s expression brightens at hearing your decision, not bothering to hide how satisfied $rthey is. “Yes, I fully agree.” You smile back at $rthem, already thinking your decision worth it if it pleased $rname. $aname looks between the two of you with a look of amusement—one $xname shares while $dname looks on stoically, or perhaps obliviously—before $athey lets out a sigh. “I suppose I should’ve seen this coming” $athey mutters, and before you can ask what $athey means, $athey moves on. “What about Kham?”<</if>><<else>>“The public deserves to be made aware about the danger,” you state next. “We should let them know.” <<if $loveinterest is "R">>$rname doesn’t hide the disappointment on $rtheir face, which causes you to frown, though $rthey’s quick to cover it with an impassive expression. “Of course. I understand.” At least $aname approves. “Good.” When $athey glances at $rname, however, $athey seems amused as well as exasperated. “Disagreements happen to everyone, $rname. I’m sure the Crown isn’t any less fond of you because of it.” $rname’s eyes go wide and $rtheir lips part in flustered surprise. $xname seems supremely entertained, judging by the grin on $xtheir face, while $dname rolls $dtheir eyes. You, however, pause at the choice of words. <em>Fond</em> of…? “What about Kham?” $aname asks before either of you can react to the comment, and after an awkward moment of silence passes, you decide to move on as well.<</if>><<if $loveinterest is "A">>$aname simply nods. You give $athem an expectant look, having anticipated a little more than that, and as if $athey cannot hold it back any longer a smile curves $atheir lips, dimpling in $atheir cheeks. “I’m glad you agree.” You can’t help but smile back, having all but forgotten about everyone else in the room until $rname interrupts the moment. “Shall we move on, then?” $rthey says, and you blink and look away from $aname to find $xname and $rname both seeming amused, while $dname appears oblivious to whatever has them entertained, much like you. “What should we do about Kham?”<</if>><<if $loveinterest is "X">>$xname frowns slightly, but then shrugs, as if dismissing the matter altogether as $xtheir gaze turns apathetic. Somehow you find that worse than if $xthey argued the point with you. “Your judgment speaks well of you,” $dname comments approvingly, which helps you feel a little bit better—until you see $xname start to glare at $dname. “You love kissing ass, don’t you?” $xthey mocks. When $xthey sees both you as well as $aname and $rname frowning at $xthem for the unexpectedly sharp insult, $xthey raises $xtheir palms. “Fine, fine. I’ll keep my mouth shut.” $dname doesn’t even appear offended or indignant; you catch $dthem squinting at $xname with suspicion before glancing over at you. Whatever realization dawns on $dthem at that moment, however, $dthey decides not to share it. “What about Kham?” $dthey asks.<</if>><<if $loveinterest is "D">>The look $dname gives you isn’t quite a smile, though the corners of $dtheir mouth do twitch upwards and $dtheir eyes crinkle with pleasant surprise. It briefly draws your attention to the pretty mole beneath $dtheir left eye, adding to the softness of $dtheir expression. “Indeed we should,” $dthey agrees, and you certainly feel like you’ve made the right choice with how warm $dname’s approval is—nearly forgetting about $xname. $cxthey doesn’t seem as annoyed as you expected $xthem to be, though. If anything, $xthey’s looking between you and $dname with curiosity at first, then amusement as a grin spreads on $xtheir face. Both $rname and $aname seem more focused on $dname, however, appearing intrigued and almost bemused. “So, about Kham,” $xname says pointedly, flustering $dname who quickly averts $dtheir gaze from you while you pretend not to notice.<</if>><</if>> You don’t have as much direction about what to do with Kham, so you suppose this one you'll have to make based on your <<if $intu gt $intel>>own intuition<<else>>own thoughts<</if>>. <ul class="a"> <li>[[You decide to hide the assassination attempt from Kham.|5.16][$hidekham to true]]</li> <li>[[You decide to tell Kham about the assassination attempt.|5.16]]</li> </ul> Seeing how none of your companions have any strong opinions on the matter, they all accept your decision without much debate, which you’re grateful for. The day’s events are starting to weigh on you now that the most important issues are out of the way, and you feel yourself yearning for your bed, a yawn rising up from your throat into your mouth. “We should let you rest,” $rname notes as you try to hide the yawn behind your palm, though you’re so tired you’re unable to fully stifle it. <<if $hidenobles is false and $hidekham is true>>“I’ll inform the steward and the other nobles about the attempt.”<</if>><<if $hidenobles is true and $hidekham is false>>“I’ll inform Princess Kham about the attempt.”<</if>><<if $hidenobles is true and $hidekham is true>>“At least I won’t have to worry about delivering unpleasant news to the nobles or to Princess Kham.”<</if>> <<if $hidepublic is false>>“In the meantime, I’ll let the city guards know to spread the word,” $aname adds. “That should take care of everything… for tonight at least.”<<else>>“That takes care of everything, then,” $aname says, seeming a little tired $athemselves. “For tonight, at least.”<</if>> Right. Now that you’re the Crown, decisions like these will be a common occurrence. You let out a deep sigh, eager to go to sleep and let your mind rest—hopefully without any nightmares, this time. Rising from your seat on the pillow, you're followed moments later by the others. <<if $charm gt $blunt>>“Thank you all for… well… everything. I think I’m ready to call it a night.”<<else>>“Thank you all for helping me through this, but I really would like to go to sleep now.”<</if>> <<if $loveinterest is "A" or $loveinterest is "D" or $loveinterest is "X">>“Of course,” $rname says while you walk over to your bed, eager to stretch out on top of the soft covers. “Don’t be afraid to call for us if you need us. We’ll be nearby.” That does make you feel much more at ease, sitting down on the edge of your mattress and allowing your feet some rest. “Thank you, $rname.” $crthey gives you a smile. “Good night, $name.” The others bid you a good night as well, all save for <<if $loveinterest is "A">>$aname who lingers behind. “Something wrong, $aname?”you ask, and $athey hesitates for a moment. “Are you certain you’ll be alright by yourself?” “Aside from you, I imagine there must be at least a dozen other guards stationed outside of my room,” you say, though the concern $athey’s showing you is pleasing. “Unless you… wanted to stay over<<if $comfortbya is true>> again<</if>>?” $aname appears to be conflicted for a moment, before $athey shakes $atheir head. “You should be fine now, there’s no reason for me to linger.” <<if $pass gt $ass>> The question leaves your mouth before you can think to stop yourself. <</if>>“Not even if I asked you to?” You want $athem to stay, you realize. It seems only obvious; $athey's your Royal Protector, of course you would feel safer with $athem nearby. Yet part of you knows that's not all there is to it. It's been so long since you've enjoyed anyone's company, since it set you at ease instead of make you more nervous and paranoid. $aname almost seems to consider it as $athey studies you with a look you can’t read, but then $athey averts $atheir eyes, turning away and toward the doors. “Good night, $name,” $athey says softly, closing the door behind $athem as $athey heads out. It leaves you by yourself, accompanied only by the sting of foolish disappointment.<</if>><<if $loveinterest is "X">>$xname who lingers behind. You find $xtheir tone sincere with worry as $xthey asks, “Will you be alright by yourself?” You arch your brows slightly. “I’m fairly certain there are at least a dozen guards stationed outside of my room, so I wouldn’t say I’m by myself to begin with.” $xname hums thoughtfully, gaze averting toward the windows for a moment as $xthey says, “Fifteen, to be precise. Including $aname.” $cxthey looks back at you, grinning at the frown on your face as $xthey casually walks along the foot-end of your bed, eyes slowly trailing up the mattress to where you’re sitting. $cxtheir voice lowers to a murmur, so soft you feel its caress up your spine. “So you don’t need me to sleep over? That’s a shame.” <<if $pass gt $ass>><<if $res gt $flirt>>You swallow thickly, feeling your skin burning up under that gaze,<<else>>Your skin burns up under that gaze,<</if>><<else>>You stare back at $xthem with open interest, even while your skin burns up under that gaze,<</if>> but before you can reply, $xname’s grin dims to a softer smile, shaking $xtheir head as if shaking off whatever thought occurred to $xthem. “You should sleep,” $xthey says, turning away toward the doors. “Good night, $xnickname.” $cxthey closes them behind $xthem, the phantom heat of $xtheir eyes left behind on your skin.<</if>><<if $loveinterest is "D">>$dname who lingers behind. “You don’t mind being left by yourself?” $dthey questions, brows furrowed with concern, and it makes you smile. “I should be well-guarded now,” you reply, reassuring $dthem. “I might not be able to get a good night’s rest after all of that, but I’ll be safe. Why? Were you intending on staying?” $dname looks away. “<<if $comfortbyd is true>>It is best not to make a habit of that.<<else>>That would not be the best idea.<</if>> People talk.” You almost ask what $dthey would do if you asked $dthem to keep you company, but you already know the answer to that: $dthey would stay, even if it would make $dthem uncomfortable. Dismissing the thought, you say instead, “You’re right.” Even though you would like for $dthem to stay, you would never want to pressure $dthem into it. $dname nods, and maybe it’s your own wishful thinking but $dthey seems reluctant to leave as $dthey slowly turns toward the doors, muttering a soft, “Good night, $name.” $cdthey closes them behind $dthem when $dthey leaves, leaving you alone with the echo of your name on $dtheir lips.<</if>><</if>><<if $loveinterest is "R">>“Of course,” $dname says while you walk over to your bed, eager to stretch out on top of the soft covers. “We will be nearby if you need us, Your Imperial Majesty.” That does make you feel much more at ease, sitting down on the edge of your mattress and allowing your feet some rest. “Thank you, $dname.” $cdthey inclines $dtheir head in a bow. “Sleep well.” The others bid you a good night as well, all save for $rname who lingers behind. $crthey’s not looking at you, fidgeting with a bracelet on $rtheir wrist for a moment before $rthey finally meets your questioning gaze. “Will you be alright, staying in your room alone?” $rthey asks, glancing away again and brushing $rtheir long hair back behind an ear. “Not that… I’m asking to stay over, but… never mind. Forget what I was saying, I should—” “$rname,” you quickly stop $rthem before $rthey can hurry out the door. When $rthey halts, you try to keep a careful tone, not wanting to scare $rthem off. “Thank you.” $crthey looks bemused. “For what?” “For being worried about me.” You smile,<<if $res gt $flirt>> a little timid,<</if>> and $rname simply stares at you as if flustered. “I’m glad you’re my friend.” $crthey glances away, but $rthey’s unable to hide the way $rtheir lips curve into a pleased smile of their own, peering shyly through $rtheir lashes as $rthey says, “And I’m glad you’re mine. Good night, $name.” Heading through the doors, $rthey closes them behind $rthem, leaving you alone with a single word singing through your head: <em>mine</em>.<</if>> [[End Chapter|6.1]]<<nobr>><<set $progress to "6">><div id="6.1">@@.chaptertitleact1;CHAPTER SIX@@</div><<if visited("6.1") is 1>><<if $hidekham is true and $hidenobles is true and $hidepublic is false>><<set $hidenobleskham to true>><</if>><<if $hidekham is true and $hidepublic is true and $hidenobles is false>><<set $hidekhampublic to true>><</if>><<if $hidenobles is true and $hidepublic is true and $hidekham is false>><<set $hidenoblespublic to true>><</if>><<if $hidekham is true and $hidenobles is true and $hidepublic is true>><<set $hideall to true>><</if>><<if $hidekham is false and $hidenobles is false and $hidepublic is false>><<set $hidenone to true>><</if>> <<if $hideall is false and $hidenone is false>><<if $hidenobles is true and $hidekhampublic is false>><<set $khampoints += 1>><</if>> <<if $hidekham is true and $hidenoblespublic is false>><<set $khampoints -= 1>><</if>> <<if $hidepublic is true and $hidenobleskham is false>><<set $publicfavored -= 2>><<set $khampoints += 1>><<set $elitefavored += 2>><<set $cs -= 1>><</if>> <<if $hidenobleskham is true and $hidepublic is false>><<set $publicfavored += 2>><<set $elitefavored -= 2>><<set $khampoints -= 1>><<set $cs += 1>><</if>> <<if $hidekhampublic is true and $hidenobles is false>><<set $khampoints -= 1>><<set $publicfavored -= 1>><<set $elitefavored += 1>><</if>> <<if $hidenoblespublic is true and $hidekham is false>><<set $elitefavored -= 1>><<set $publicfavored -= 1>><<set $khampoints += 1>><</if>><<else>> <<if $hidenone is true>><<set $cs -= 2>><<set $nazapoints += 4>><</if>> <<if $hideall is true>><<set $elitefavored -= 1>><<set $publicfavored -= 1>><<set $khampoints -= 1>><<set $cs += 4>><</if>> <<if $hidepublic is true and $hideall is false>><<set $cs -= 1>><</if>><<if $hidenobles is true and $hideall is false>><<set $cs += 1>><</if>><</if>><</if>> <<if $hidekham is false and $hidepublic is false and $hidenobles is true>>@@.titleblack;The Vultures Circle@@<</if>> <<if $hidenobles is false and $hidepublic is false and $hidekham is true>>@@.titleblack;The Forest Watches@@<</if>> <<if $hidenobles is false and $hidekham is false and $hidepublic is true>>@@.titleblack;The Crowds Await@@<</if>> <<if $hidenobleskham is true>>@@.titleblack;Among the Crowds@@<</if>> <<if $hidekhampublic is true>>@@.titleblack;Among the Vultures@@<</if>> <<if $hidenoblespublic is true>>@@.titleblack;Among the Forest@@<</if>> <<if $hidenone is true>>@@.titleblack;The Weight of Truth@@<</if>> <<if $hideall is true>>@@.titleblack;The Weight of Secrets@@<</if>> <<if $loveinterest is "R">><<set $afriend to true>><<set $xfriend to true>><<set $dfriend to true>><</if>> <<if $loveinterest is "A">><<set $rfriend to true>><<set $xfriend to true>><<set $dfriend to true>><</if>> <<if $loveinterest is "X">><<set $afriend to true>><<set $rfriend to true>><<set $dfriend to true>><</if>> <<if $loveinterest is "D">><<set $afriend to true>><<set $xfriend to true>><<set $rfriend to true>><</if>> <<if $loveinterest is 'A' or $loveinterest is 'X' or $loveinterest is 'D'>><<if $comfortbyr is true>><<set $rfriendship += 1>><</if>><</if>><<if $loveinterest is 'R' or $loveinterest is 'X' or $loveinterest is 'D'>><<if $comfortbya is true>><<set $afriendship += 1>><</if>><</if>><<if $loveinterest is 'A' or $loveinterest is 'R' or $loveinterest is 'D'>><<if $comfortbyx is true>><<set $xfriendship += 1>><</if>><</if>><<if $loveinterest is 'A' or $loveinterest is 'X' or $loveinterest is 'R'>><<if $comfortbyd is true>><<set $dfriendship += 1>><</if>><</if>><</nobr>> The waters flood your home. You watch from above, hanging high in the too-bright sky as the tides rise more and more, slowly swallowing up the farm where you spent most of your childhood. An ache settles beneath your ribs, piercing through your chest. Stretching your hand out toward your former home, you can’t stop yourself from yearning for it, wishing to see it one last time. Like a star falling, you drop without a warning. As your back breaks through the surface of the water below, the sun dies on your final breath, a last gasp before the darkness wraps you in its embrace. You sink. Even as you drown, you feel no need to breathe; it is painless, almost tender. Slowly, gently, the water pulls you under like a loving parent beckoning you to sleep. Your limbs are too heavy to lift, your eyelids slowly slipping shut. Longing you can’t admit in the daylight rushes up to the surface of your mind, more honest now than ever before: Safety, protection. That’s all you ever wanted. Before your consciousness slips away you catch a glimpse of your childhood home, glowing with a dying light in the darkness of the water. Nothing but remnants left of it, aged wood collapsed into itself, like a sunken ship that lays forgotten on the ocean floor. Then, your eyes shut. You sleep—for an instant, for an eternity—and then you wake, to the caress of fingertips against your cheek. Your mother’s whisper: “Wake up, my love. It’s time to greet the sun.” When you open your eyes, you are in a water temple. One you’ve visited before. You drift in its centermost pool, gazing up at the streams running across the ceiling above you. There is something, a lingering pain, somewhere in the depths of your chest. Your hand reaches for it, palm pressing over your heart where it aches the most. Not even the soothing touch of cool water can temper the way it hurts. <em>Let go</em>, the temple says. “It’s mine to keep,” you reply, your voice a faint echo, swallowed up by the sound of the water around you. Your hand clenches into a fist atop your heart. <em>It will drown you.</em> You close your eyes. <ul class="a"> <li>[[“Then let me drown.”|6.2][$spirits to 'somber']]</li> <li>[[“It's all I have left.”|6.2][$spirits to 'sympathetic']]</li> <li>[[“I won't let it.”|6.2][$spirits to 'admiring']]</li> </ul><<if $loveinterest is "A">>You both leave the large stone doors leading down to the tunnels behind you. $aname guides you towards your chambers, seeing as you haven’t memorized the lay-out of the palace yet. Not that memorizing it would help you much, considering the hallways shift around—the corridors you’re in now are almost identical to all the others you’ve seen so far, light stone with occasional paintings of serpents or carvings of mountains. There aren’t any windows, however, which means you must be somewhere in the innermost parts of the palace. $aname leads you along, seeming sure of $atheir way, and though you know the palace must still be filled with nobles you do not encounter anyone save for the occasional servant hurrying along to somewhere, though they always halt in their tracks to bow to you. One of them, having been carrying a stack of large tomes, nearly tips over when they try to bow while still holding the books. $aname manages to catch them with a palm pressed against the spines of the books, pushing them upright and helping them along. “I’m never going to get used to that,” you declare after the servant has scurried away again, and $aname shoots you a glance from over $atheir shoulder, one you can’t quite read. “What?” “Nothing.” Before you can question $aname further, $athey leads you around the corner of the hallway and suddenly you find yourself in front of the doors of your bedchambers. “Oh.” You frown, turning to look behind you. “But—” The windowless hallway that you were walking in moments ago is gone, replaced with the familiar one that offers a view of the royal gardens. “I’m not sure I like that,” you mumble, looking at $aname to find $athem regarding you with mild amusement. “It can be a bit disorienting.” $cathey pushes the doors of your bedchambers open, gesturing with a hand for you to step inside. After another glance at the unassuming corridors behind you, you do so, eager to leave the events of the day behind you.<</if>><<if $loveinterest is "X">>The two of you leave the large stone doors behind you as $xname leads the way towards your chambers, seeing as you haven’t memorized the lay-out of the palace yet. Not that memorizing it would help you much, considering the hallways shift around—the corridors you’re in now are almost identical to all the others you’ve seen so far, light stone with occasional paintings of serpents or carvings of mountains. There aren’t any windows, however, which means you must be somewhere in the innermost parts of the palace. Though you know the palace must still be filled with nobles you do not encounter anyone save for the occasional servant hurrying along to somewhere, though they always halt in their tracks to bow to you. When one of them, having been carrying a stack of large tomes, tries to bow to you $xname stops them. “You’ll fall over if you do that. Just keep moving, I’m sure the Crown won’t mind. Right?” $cxthey glances at you for confirmation, and you nod, telling the servant, “Go on.” No point in having your servants trip over themselves and risk injury merely over decorum. “I’m never going to get used to that,” you declare after the servant has scurried away again, and $xname snorts. “Give it a few months.” Before you can reply to that, $xthey leads you around the corner of the hallway, and suddenly you find yourself in front of the doors of your bedchambers. “Oh.” You frown, turning to look behind you. “But—” The windowless hallway that you were walking in moments ago is gone, replaced with the familiar one that offers a view of the royal gardens. “I’m not sure I like that,” you mumble, looking at $xname to find $xthem pushing the doors of your bedchambers open. “It’s a neat trick to fool intruders, at least,” $xthey considers, looking back at you and gesturing to the room. “Want to head in?” After another glance at the unassuming corridors behind you, you do so, eager to leave the events of the day behind you.<</if>><<if $loveinterest is "D">>The two of you leave the large stone doors behind you as $dname guides you towards your chambers, seeing as you haven’t memorized the lay-out of the palace yet. Not that memorizing it would help you much, considering the hallways shift around—the corridors you’re in now are almost identical to all the others you’ve seen so far, light stone with occasional paintings of serpents or carvings of mountains. There aren’t any windows, however, which means you must be somewhere in the innermost parts of the palace. Though you know the palace must still be filled with nobles you do not encounter anyone save for the occasional servant hurrying along to somewhere, though they always halt in their tracks to bow to you. One of them, having been carrying a stack of large tomes, nearly tips over when they try to bow while still holding the books. $dname manages to catch them with a palm pressed against the spines of the books, pushing them upright and helping them along. “I’m never going to get used to that,” you declare after the servant has scurried away again. $dname continues to lead you on through the corridor. "Does it make you uncomfortable?" "A little." You consider $dname's straight-backed posture. "I suppose that must seem silly to you, what with having soldiers salute you all the time." "It's understandable for someone not accustomed to it," $dname considers, glancing at you from over $dtheir shoulder. "But it is something you will have to get used to, eventually." Before you can reply to that, $dthey guides you around the corner of the hallway, and suddenly you find yourself in front of the doors of your bedchambers. “Oh.” You frown, turning to look behind you. “But—” The windowless hallway that you were walking in moments ago is gone, replaced with the familiar one that offers a view of the royal gardens. “I’m not sure I like that,” you mumble, looking at $dname to find $dthem pushing the doors of your bedchambers open. “Neither do I,” $dthey grumbles, looking back at you and gesturing to the room. After another glance at the unassuming corridors behind you, you do so, eager to leave the events of the day behind you.<</if>><<if $loveinterest is "R">>The two of you leave the large stone doors behind you as $rname leads you towards your chambers, seeing as you haven’t memorized the lay-out of the palace yet. Not that memorizing it would help you much, considering the hallways shift around—the corridors you’re in now are almost identical to all the others you’ve seen so far, light stone with occasional paintings of serpents or carvings of mountains. There aren’t any windows, however, which means you must be somewhere in the innermost parts of the palace. Though you know the palace must still be filled with nobles you do not encounter anyone save for the occasional servant hurrying along to somewhere, though they always halt in their tracks to bow to you. One of them, having been carrying a stack of large tomes, nearly tips over when they try to bow while still holding the books. $rname twists $rtheir wrist and the books that were in the midst of falling stop in mid-air, floating there as if held up by an invisible gust of wind. The servant quickly recollects their books while apologizing profusely, and $rname reassures them with a graceful smile. "It's alright, but make sure to be more careful in the future. We wouldn't want you to hurt yourself by accident." Once the servant has scurried away again with their stack of books, you sigh. "I'm never going to get used to that." $rname continues to lead you on through the corridor, though $rthey casts you a curious look over $rtheir shoulder. "I suppose it must seem quite strange to you, to have people bowing at the sight of you." "More than strange, it seems surreal," you reply, wondering whether the servants would've still bowed had you been dressed as you were a few days ago, in your dirtied and worn robes. "You'll grow accustomed to it eventually," $rname replies. "I did." Before you can reply to that, $rthey guides you around the corner of the hallway, and suddenly you find yourself in front of the doors of your bedchambers. “Oh.” You frown, turning to look behind you. “But—” The windowless hallway that you were walking in moments ago is gone, replaced with the familiar one that offers a view of the royal gardens. “I’m not sure I like that,” you mumble, looking at $rname who smiles at you. “I imagine you must find it disorienting," $rthey concedes, "but the magic behind it is truly fascinating. No less than fifty architects worked on the mechanisms of the shifting corridors—there were all sorts of problems with the stone materializing in improper places, walls spontaneously exploding and such." "Exploding?" you repeat faintly, casting a suspicious look at the walls surrounding you as $rname laughs. "There's no danger of it now, I promise." $crthey pushes open the doors of your bedchambers for you. "Shall we head inside?" After another glance at the unassuming corridors behind you, you do so, eager to leave the events of the day behind you.<</if>> [[Continue|5.7]] by <a href="https://ataleofcrowns.tumblr.com">qeresî</a> Daybreak. You hear your name as you return to awareness, light glowing through your eyelids. There are fingers on your arm, gently shaking you. “Crown $name… Crown $name!” When you peel your eyes open, you’re greeted by Ishrah’s worried face, her dark red curls escaped from her ponytail and messily framing her face. She releases her hold and takes a step back as you squint up at her harried appearance. You feel lethargic, as if you haven’t slept at all during the night. While gaining your bearings, you hear the odd sound of water sloshing around, near your bed. “Ishrah?” As you sit up, your gaze shifts from her to the floor, and for a moment you think you’re still in your dream. Your entire bedroom is flooded. The water reaches up to Ishrah’s ankles, making the hem of her robes float around her legs. “What—” Your rub at your eyes, but the water doesn’t disappear. You look back up at Ishrah, baffled. “What on earth happened?” “Um, as you can see, there’s been a bit of a… flood.” Ishrah smiles a little awkwardly, looking over toward the open door of your bathroom where you can hear an uneven flow of water pouring down. It’s spilling forth in powerful currents, flooding not only your room but also the hallway of the palace as the doors have been left open. You can make out Siham inside the bathroom, standing over the stone countertop. His hands are stretched out and glowing a faint orange light, as he's likely trying to stop the flow of water pouring out from the holes in the wall. <<if $intel gt $intu>>“A malfunction with the bathroom sigils?” you guess, frowning at the state of your bedroom. You’ve never heard of sigils malfunctioning in this way, though. If they stopped working, then there should have been no water coming out of the holes at all. This seems more like they were overloaded with magic. “No, someone would have to do this intentionally.” At least the books have been removed from the lower rungs of your bookcases, but everything else is soaked in water. You watch a lone teacup float along the surface, bumping into Ishrah’s leg. “Maybe,” Ishrah says uncertainly, bending down to pick up the teacup. “It happened so suddenly! The guards outside your door noticed it first. Siham is doing his best to try and fix them.”<<else>>“Whatever happened, I didn’t do it,” you say, blinking at the state of your bedroom. You think would’ve noticed had you used magic to flood your quarters, even if unintentionally. At least the books have been removed from the lower rungs of your bookcases, but everything else is soaked in water. You watch a lone teacup float along the surface, bumping into Ishrah’s leg. “Siham thinks maybe the sigils malfunctioned,” Ishrah offers. “He’s trying to fix them right now.” You consider the idea, but then frown, shaking your head. “It seems more like they were tampered with.” If the sigils stopped working, water shouldn’t have been coming out at all. No, someone would have to do this intentionally.<</if>> At that moment, the sound of rushing water coming from the bathroom stops, and you hear a triumphant cry. “I did it!” Siham drags his feet through the water as he leaves the bathroom with a pleased smile, though it slips away when he notices you sitting up in your bed. “Your Imperial Majesty, good morning! I, ah, tried to fix the flooding, the water has stopped now.” <<if $kind gt $calc>>You smile back at him, grateful; tinkering with sigils is considered tricky outer magic due to the precision required. Getting dressed up and having breakfast with water rushing everywhere would’ve been difficult, to say the least. “Thank you, Siham.” “It was nothing,” Siham says hurriedly, fidgeting with the edge of his sleeve. “I’m glad to be of use.”<<else>>“I didn’t know you had a talent for warding magic,” you say, impressed; they can be difficult to navigate for most, let alone tinker with due to the precision of outer magic required in dealing with them. “Oh, well,” Siham stammers, growing shy under your gaze as you make note of his skill. It could be useful in the future. “These sigils are very simple, really. It was nothing.”<</if>> “Don’t be so shy, Siham!” Ishrah says encouragingly. “You did great!” Siham averts his gaze, cheeks flushing dark pink. You take pity on the poor thing, redirecting Ishrah’s attention to you. “So, what do we do about all this water?” [[Continue|6.3]] It’s at that moment you notice someone approach from the hallway. $rname cuts an elegant figure in $rtheir flowing dress, its fabric dyed in rich shades of purple with white embroidery along its hem. Unlike Siham and Ishrah, however, the water never touches $rtheir feet; it surges around $rthem, parting for $rthem as $rthey walks through the doorway. <<if $loveinterest is "R">> $crtheir eyes light up when $rthey sees you, though $rtheir bright smile is quickly dampened as $rtheir eyes return to the scene in your bedroom. Even though you weren’t the one to cause this mess, you can’t help but feel a little embarrassed. Can you go <em>a single day</em> without something awful happening, or is this just the way things are going to be from now on?<</if>> “My Crown,” $rname says, brows furrowed with concern as $rthey looks from you to the water flooding your quarters. “I would wish you a good morning, but…” “Tell me about it.” You sigh, gaze falling on the way the water circles around $rname. You regard the effect with curiosity. $crthey must be continuously channeling magic into the water in order to keep that up, yet $rthey doesn’t seem remotely bothered by it—the average person would be left winded within seconds from doing something like that. “Isn’t that a waste of energy?” “I don’t want my dress to get wet,” $rname replies, casting a somewhat annoyed look at the water below. “Allow me to handle this for you. Were the sigils halted?” “Yes, Siham took care of it,” you say, then wish you hadn’t, because Siham seems to turn into stone when $rname looks at them. “Oh?” $rname appears surprised, then turns to head into the bathroom, gesturing with $rtheir finger for Siham to follow. “Siham, was it? Did you redirect the flow of water as well?” “Y-yes, my <<if $rgender is 'male'>>lord<<else>>lady<</if>>!” Siham says, startling from their petrified state at the question as they hurry after $rname. “It- it would’ve clogged up the whole system, otherwise. The walls might’ve cracked, s-so….” “You did well,” $rname says approvingly. “I’ll take care of the rest.” [[Continue|6.4]]<div align='center'>@@.chaptertitle;THE ARSURIAN CALENDAR@@ <b><span style="color:#BE2528">CURRENT DATE:</span> 553 AE</b>,<em> $day $month </em> @@.descriptive;<em>AE</em>: Ashadūna's Era, counting from the number of years since Ashadūna's coronation. The weekdays in the calendar are simply named First, Second, Third, and so on.@@</div> <img @src="setup.ImagePath+'fullcalendarlight.png'" id="imgcal"/><img @src="setup.ImagePath+'fullcalendardark.png'" id="imgcaldark"/> @@.titlepurple;Holidays & Harvest Festivals@@ Holidays are special days related to either a cultural tradition, or a commemoration of historical events and figures. Harvest festivals are agricultural celebrations during which communities gather to share common meals and socialize. There is also the distribution of food, especially to those in need. <b>Zam</b>, the Spirit of Earth, is especially celebrated during these festivals. @@.footnote;<em>select the month to view relevant holidays</em>@@ <<click "@@.stattext;<b>REMEMBRANCE</b>@@">><<toggleclass "#section1" "hidden">><</click>> <div id="section1" class="hidden">@@.descriptive;<b><span style="color:#d10000">1 Fire Festival</span></b>, celebrating the new year and the end of winter. The Spirit of Fire, Atar, is also worshipped. <b>11 Outdoors Festival</b>, celebrating the arrival of spring. <b>21</b> Remembering and celebrating Ashadūna's birthday@@.</div><<click "@@.stattext;<b>BLESSINGS</b>@@">><<toggleclass "#section2" "hidden">><</click>> <div id="section2" class="hidden">@@.descriptive;<b>12-16 Mid-spring harvest</b>, the days to mark the time when cattle give birth and yield milk, the harvest of winter crops.@@</div><<click "@@.stattext;<b>PROMISE</b>@@">><<toggleclass "#section3" "hidden">><</click>> <div id="section3" class="hidden">@@.descriptive;<b>4 Water Festival</b>, in honor of the element of water and its Spirit, Apas. <b>27 Foundation Day of Arsur</b><<if $ashaduna is true>>, the day the Monarchy of Ardia and the lands of Sur were united by Ashadūna. This day also celebrates the fall of King Ishtiveg<</if>>.@@</div><<click "@@.stattext;<b>DAWNING</b>@@">><<toggleclass "#section4" "hidden">><</click>> <div id="section4" class="hidden">@@.descriptive;<b>3 Longest Day</b>, celebrating the summer solstice. <b>12-16 Summer harvest</b>, the days to mark the season of the mid-summer harvest as well as the sowing of summer crops.@@</div><<click "@@.stattext;<b>LIGHT</b>@@">><<toggleclass "#section5" "hidden">><</click>> <div id="section5" class="hidden">@@.descriptive;<em>Last year, your parents passed away some time during this month; you don't remember the exact date.</em> <b>7 Nature Festival</b>, celebrating the creation of plants, vegetables and crops.@@</div><<click "@@.stattext;<b>LIBERATION</b>@@">><<toggleclass "#section6" "hidden">><</click>> <div id="section6" class="hidden">@@.descriptive;<b>5 Liberation Day</b><<if $ashaduna is true>>, celebrating the province of Zerat being liberated from its occupiers and its lands returned to the tribes of Sur<</if>>. <b>21 Coronation Day</b> of the Twenty-First Crown. <b>26-30 Last summer harvest</b>, the days to mark the season of harvest of the last summer crops.@@</div><<click "@@.stattext;<b>FALLING</b>@@">><<toggleclass "#section7" "hidden">><</click>> <div id="section7" class="hidden">@@.descriptive;<b>8-13 Festival of Cleansing</b>, also known as the Half Year Festival in honor of the Spirit, Sraoša, who presides over conscience and morality. <<if $xfriend is false and $dfriend is false>><<if visited("10.35") gte 1>>During this time, one's spirit is meant to be cleansed from impurities such as bad thoughts, selfishness and greed. Most celebrate it by showing kindness and generosity to their loved ones, asking for forgiveness and forgiving others, and helping their communities. Aggression, violence and waging war during this time is strictly forbidden.<</if>><</if>> <b>18 Sky Festival</b>, in honor of the element of the sky and its Spirit, Asman. <b>26-30 Herding days</b>, marking the need to prepare for the onset of cold months: the time for the herding of cattle from pastures, the mating of cattle, and the end of annual trade caravans.@@</div><<click "@@.stattext;<b>WATER</b>@@">><<toggleclass "#section8" "hidden">><</click>> <div id="section8" class="hidden">@@.descriptive;<b>15 Day of Victory</b>, celebrating Ardashir's victory over his brother, Vidarna, and the end of the civil war. On that day there was a historic flooding of the province of Penawar, stranding Vidarna in his hideout and allowing Ardashir to capture him.@@</div><<click "@@.stattext;<b>FIRE</b>@@">><<toggleclass "#section9" "hidden">><</click>> <div id="section9" class="hidden">@@.descriptive;<b>29-30</b> The anniversary of Ashadūna's death is remembered on the first day, and the creation of the current line of Crowns is celebrated on the second day. The celebration is concluded once the current Crown lights a divine flame within the Royal Palace.@@</div><<click "@@.stattext;<b>MOURNING EMBERS</b>@@">><<toggleclass "#section10" "hidden">><</click>> <div id="section10" class="hidden">@@.descriptive;<b>6 Longest Night</b>, a tradition of the winter solstice. <span style="color:#d10000"><b>12 Your birthday</b></span> <b>16-20 End year</b>, the time to start preparations for next year's agricultural season.@@</div><<click "@@.stattext;<b>WARDING</b>@@">><<toggleclass "#section11" "hidden">><</click>> <div id="section11" class="hidden">@@.descriptive;<b>16 Day of Kindling</b>, celebrates the first kindling of fire discovered by humanity in ancient times. On this day communities begin to congregate an hour before sunset, preferably near a stream of water, to begin the festivities. After sunset, outdoor fires are lit in an act of defiance against the cold and darkness of winter.@@</div><<click "@@.stattext;<b>REFLECTION</b>@@">><<toggleclass "#section12" "hidden">><</click>> <div id="section12" class="hidden">@@.descriptive;<b>21-30 Vigil for the Departed</b>, ten days of remembering those who passed away, welcoming their spirits on the first day and sending them off on the last day.@@</div> <<back>><center>@@.titleblack;THE CRESCENT BLADES@@ <img @src="setup.ImagePath+'crescent.png'" width=79%></center> <div id="codexspecial">The Crescent Blades were formed unofficially in 542 AE. $xname, not yet named the Pale Sword, founded it as a small mercenary band at age 17, joined by Heval and Tûjo as fellow founding members. Their base of operations was initially located in Zeratun, where they took on odd jobs such as protecting storefronts or apprehending thieves. Soon, however, they graduated to protecting traveling caravans across the country, gaining the attention of wealthy merchants and powerful nobles. As the reputation of the Blades grew, so did their members and their accomplishments. A decade later, and its membership consists only of the best talent. Şanazî is a good example: she is one of the most accurate archers to be found across Arsur, able to shoot a feather falling from a bird from across a meadow. $xname is the face of the Crescent Blades, known as their illustrious leader, the Pale Sword. It can be said that $xname is the Blades’ most effective recruiter, mainly due to $xtheir reputation and long list of accomplishments. However, Tûjo and Heval have both been equally important in solidifying the Crescent Blades as the most renowned mercenary band on the continent. Heval, while a fearsome warrior at first sight, has command of the resources and logistics of the Blades. Armor and weapons, food stores, lodgings, the distribution of payment—essential parts of keeping such a large mercenary band working efficiently as possible. Heval ensures it’s taken care of, so that the rest of the Blades can focus on what they do best. Tûjo, on the other hand, is the navigator. He has a discerning eye, seeking out worthwhile jobs for the Blades and planning the journeys that they take all across Arsur. No one else in the Blades is as well-traveled, and knows the terrain of various provinces as well as Tûjo does. He is a very skilled judge of which quests will be worthwhile to embark on, ensuring that the Blades never waste their time. With these three at its core, the Crescent Blades no longer know any rivals. They are a peerless mercenary band, expected to remain for many more years to come. <<back>></div> Double-click this passage to edit it. Double-click this passage to edit it.[[End Chapter|Ending Screen]] <b>NOTE:</b> Remember to save on <b>this</b> screen, not the next one, or your save will not function when the next chapter is released! Double-click this passage to edit it.@@.chaptertitle;CROWNS OF OLD@@ <blockquote><em>“Arsur is my temple and I am its priest.”</em> —<b>Crown Ashadūna, 11 AE</b></blockquote> @@.footnote;<em>select the title to view information about the Crown</em>@@ <<click "<b>@@.stattext;THE FIRST CROWN@@</b>">><<toggleclass "#section1" "hidden">><</click>> <div id="section1" class="hidden">@@.footnote;<b>Reign:</b> 0 AE - 31 AE@@ <b><span style="color:#733cc2">Crown Ashadūna</span></b>, fondly remembered as the Mother of the Mountains, is the founder as well as the First Crown of the Arsurian Empire. She was born in the Monarchy of Ardia as the daughter of King Ishtiveg, before Ardia became the province of Rojan. When her nation was on the brink of war with the tribes of Sur and the land of Hathura, she usurped her father's throne, managing to unite the three under a single Empire. Even so, she was known to be a very accomodating ruler, allowing the provinces to be under the direct rule of local leaders rather than forcing them to assimilate. She considered the multitude of cultures within Arsur to be its strength rather than its weakness, and judged it as vital to ensure Arsur's continued existence.</div><<if $dlore is true>> <<click "<b>@@.stattext;THE TENTH CROWN@@</b>">><<toggleclass "#section21" "hidden">><</click>> <div id="section21" class="hidden">@@.footnote;<b>Reign:</b> 243 AE - 281 AE@@ <span style="color:#733cc2"><b>Crown Jiyan</b></span>, also known as Love-blind Jiyan, was a capable ruler whose reign was marred by their personal love affair with a provinicial army commander named Asin. Some in the Imperial Court raised concerns regarding their relationship, though back then it was not yet considered something forbidden, as there had been no precedent for it. The provincial army commanders answer directly to the High General and the Crown, which meant that for Asin, he would always have to defer to Jiyan’s judgments. Their disagreements regarding military matters are what began to sour their romance: Asin started voicing opinions on the Imperial Army, which was far beyond his station, and Jiyan started belittling Asin's opinions on matters he did have expertise in. The last straw came when Jiyan ordered Asin to round up a group of nobles in Zerat who had been vocally critical of them. Asin knew it would inflame the situation, but he was also incensed to be condescended to yet again, for a moment forgetting his rank. His outright refusal infuriated Jiyan who, in another moment of impulsiveness, stripped Asin of his rank. To Asin, it felt like betrayal of the worst kind. He was disgraced, humiliated. For the servants and guards who witnessed the fight between the two, it was no surprise when a few weeks later, reports came in that Zerat's provincial army had joined the ranks of the rebellious nobles and had begun an uprising in earnest. Once Asin was arrested and put to the sword, Jiyan was not there to witness his execution.</div><</if>> <<click "<b>@@.stattext;THE ELEVENTH CROWN@@</b>">><<toggleclass "#section2" "hidden">><</click>> <div id="section2" class="hidden">@@.footnote;<b>Reign:</b> 282 AE - 315 AE@@ <span style="color:#733cc2"><b>Crown Zana</b></span>, also known as Peacemaker Zana, is known for not having a single war break out during their reign. This was an impressive feat, especially when Arsur was still so young and its relations with its neighbours were even younger. Zana, born into a family of merchants, was known for their diplomatic savvy; they were the one to establish the first trading agreements with the Kingdom of Qathesh and several Thalloi city-states, despite the many battles between the nations that had been fought ever since the Empire's founding. Their reign would, unfortunately, be marred by their successors and the war that broke out after.</div> <<click "<b>@@.stattext;THE TWELFTH CROWN@@</b>">><<toggleclass "#section3" "hidden">><</click>> <div id="section3" class="hidden">@@.footnote;<b>Reign:</b> 317 AE - 358 AE@@ <span style="color:#733cc2"><b>Crown Ardashir</b></span>, also known as The Sunburst Crown, is most well known for the War for the Crown as well as causing a split that created the Followers of Vidarna. However, there is more to be said about his reign. He was a well known advocate for education. The Provincial School System is perhaps among his greatest feats, a first step in ensuring education for all citizens who wanted it. The Crowns after him, however, later added limitations to entry, and transformed the schools to be almost exclusively magic-focused. The building of more schools, as Ardashir had originally intended, was halted by his successor, and later entirely forgotten.</div> <<click "<b>@@.stattext;THE EIGHTEENTH CROWN@@</b>">><<toggleclass "#section4" "hidden">><</click>> <div id="section4" class="hidden">@@.footnote;<b>Reign:</b> 457 AE - 522 AE@@ <b><span style="color:#733cc2">Crown Keybanû</span></b>, also known as Immortal Keybanû, is the longest reigning Crown in Arsur's history so far. With her rule lasting for 65 years, surviving multiple wars as well as 361 assassination attempts, her epithet was given to her while she was still alive, unlike most other Crowns who typically receive them after their death. Keybanû was an unusual Crown in many ways, exemplified by the words she uttered during her coronation: “I dream not of empires and crowns, but of free lands with free people.” She is most known for gaining the land of Ivia as Arsurian territory. It was ceded to her through treaty with its then-ruler, in exchange for the Empire's protection against other nations looking to conquer it; Arsur's reputation of allowing vassal states to keep their own local leadership made it a mostly peaceful transition. However, there were many who disagreed with her decision to become involved with Ivia's affairs, and some time after it became Arsurian territory, Ivia would cause problems far beyond her reign.</div> <<click "<b>@@.stattext;THE NINETEENTH CROWN@@</b>">><<toggleclass "#section5" "hidden">><</click>> <div id="section5" class="hidden">@@.footnote;<b>Reign:</b> 522 AE - 535 AE@@ <b><span style="color:#733cc2">Crown Piruz</span></b>, sometimes derided as Cowardly Piruz, is one of the least popular Crowns in Arsur's history. After Crown Keybanû passed away and left behind Ivia in his care, Crown Piruz—wanting nothing to do with such a controversial legacy, and being pressured by the growing poverty within the Empire—sold its territory to the Thalloi nobility who had settled there. Various Thalloi city-states sought to replace local leaders and split Ivia apart in smaller territories for each city-state, but with Arsur's army retreating from Ivia, Ivia's population saw the opportunity to rebel against its fractured and weaker Thalloi leaders. Thus began the Ivian Revolt. Piruz sought to eliminate the rebels, even lending the Thalloi nobles Arsurian soldiers to help quell the revolt, but his efforts would turn out to be futile. His health having come under duress due to the stress of the situation, Piruz passed away at only 33 years old from illness before the revolt could be fully stamped out, leaving Ivia in his successor's hands.</div> <<click "<b>@@.stattext;THE TWENTIETH CROWN@@</b>">><<toggleclass "#section6" "hidden">><</click>> <div id="section6" class="hidden">@@.footnote;<b>Reign:</b> 535 AE - 542 AE@@ <b><span style="color:#733cc2">Crown Ferzan</span></b>, also known as Ferzan the Bold, is thus far the shortest reigning Crown in Arsur's history, as well as the oldest to be coronated at 45 years of age. Before this, having an adult be coronated as the Crown was unheard of since Ashadūna founded the Empire. Despite his short reign, within only a few years Ferzan managed to stabilize the crisis of poverty within the Empire, and was even in the process of establishing a unified peace treaty with the Ivian rebels and the city-states of Thallos, in order to free Ivia and return it to being an independent nation once and for all. It was in the midst of these negotiations that he was assassinated, likely by the Followers of Vidarna, though this is not public knowledge. Instead, many believe his assassin to be a nobleman from a Thalloi city-state, which in turn has caused civil war to erupt within Thallos that still wages to this day. Ivia's fate, such as it is, remains uncertain--for now, Thallos has mostly retreated from the region due to its own civil war, though some parts of Ivia remain under Thalloi rule. Despite receiving his vision, Ferzan's successor could not be found, even after his death. This caused chaos in the Empire, the fate of the Crowns hanging in the balance for ten long years... until you appeared.</div> <<back>>@@.titleblack;THE PERIS@@ An excerpt from <em>Discourses on Youtab</em>, written by Amal Shaer, foremost scholar of Peri Studies at the School of Marabad: <blockquote><em>“...but in fact, this brings the central claim of Youtab's work itself into question: that peris as a whole should be considered a separate entity from Arsur. Youtab claims that, in order to respect their sovereignty, we must distinguish them from Arsur as their own nations. This assertion may seem enlightened, but stripping away its empty rhetoric exposes little more than a child's understanding of the peris themselves, and, most importantly, ignores the dangers inherent within classifying the peris as outsiders. It must be noted that the implication that peris cannot be understood by human standards is akin to denying them personhood. While they may be spirits instead of human, they must still be considered a people. As my esteemed colleague, Barzu Zahir, noted in their most renowned work,</em> Distinctions Among the Peris of Zerat<em>, even within a single province various groups of peris tend to adapt to the human civilizations that surround them. This is done by necessity. After all, despite their attempts at isolationism, interactions - and conflicts - between peris and humans are unavoidable. To distinguish peris as something foreign to us, separate from Arsur, is to look upon their lands as territory yet to be conquered. Is that not, after all, what drove the magus Kartan to lay claim upon Anshan in the first place?”</em></blockquote> <<back>> Double-click this passage to edit it.<<if $dgender is "male">>@@.titlepurple2;Dara Sîdar@@ @@.footnote;[dah-rah · see-dahr]@@<<endif>><<if $dgender is "female">>@@.titlepurple2;Delal Sîdar@@ @@.footnote;[deh-lahl · see-dahr]@@<<endif>> The military has always played a pivotal role in Arsur's existence. It has been used both as a tool for territorial expansion as well as a shield to defend the Empire with during the reigns of Crowns past, depending on who was in power. That same shield failed ten years ago for the first time. $dname was determined to become the General of the Arsurian Empire in order to succeed where the previous General failed. When the Twentieth Crown was assassinated and the ones responsible escaped, many put the blame at the Imperial Army's feet, and by extension $dname's predecessor, who was forced to resign the position. $dname's road to becoming the General was an arduous one. It was $dtheir talent and $dtheir strategic brilliance--deterring multiple attacks on Arsur's border from hostile nations--which earned $dthem the position through hard work and perseverance. <<back>>@@.chaptertitle;THE ORDER OF EVENTS SO FAR@@ <b><em>As recorded by Crown $name in $their journal:</em></b> @@.intelcharm;<<if $caut gt $adven>><b>527, 12 Mourning Embers</b> -- The day I was born. <b>535-537</b> -- We went on the run. What triggered it? Did they find out I would be the Crown, or was it something else? <b>543, 24 Remembrance</b> -- Ferzan assassinated, I was chosen as the successor. Mother seemed to know something about it, but can't recall her exact words. <b>545, during the summer</b> -- We visited Marabad. Relevant? Could father have been visiting the School? Seems like such a huge risk in hindsight. <<if $yekbuncodex is true>><b>Solved</b>: Father visited the School of Marabad to talk to Scholar Yekbûn.<</if>> <b>549</b> -- Lady Zerya passed away, $rname became the Sorcerer. <b>552, Month of Light</b> -- FoV found us. <b>553, Month of Liberation</b> -- Arrived in Marabad, found $rname, made it to the Royal Palace. Survived 2 assassination attempts so far. Will have to be more careful. <b>553, 21 Liberation</b> -- Coronation day.<<else>><b>527, 12 Mourning Embers</b> -- The day I was born. <b>535-537</b> -- We went on the run. What triggered it? Did they find out I would be the Crown, or was it something else? <b>543, 24 Remembrance</b> -- Ferzan assassinated, I was chosen as the successor. Mother seemed to know something about it, but can't recall her exact words. <b>545, during the summer</b> -- We visited Marabad. Relevant? Could father have been visiting the School? Even I might not have risked that. <<if $yekbuncodex is true>><b>Solved</b>: Father visited the School of Marabad to talk to Scholar Yekbûn.<</if>> <b>549</b> -- Lady Zerya passed away, $rname became the Sorcerer. <b>552, Month of Light</b> -- FoV found us. <b>553, Month of Liberation</b> -- Arrived in Marabad, found $rname, made it to the Royal Palace. Survived 2 assassination attempts so far. Let's keep up the winning streak. <b>553, 21 Liberation</b> -- Coronation day.<</if>>@@ [[View in regular font|intel no font]] <<back>> Double-click this passage to edit it.@@.chaptertitle;THE ORDER OF EVENTS SO FAR@@ <b><em>As recorded by Crown $name in $their journal:</em></b> @@.intelblunt;<<if $caut gt $adven>><b>527, 12 Mourning Embers</b> -- The day I was born. <b>535-537</b> -- We went on the run. What triggered it? Did they find out I would be the Crown, or was it something else? <b>543, 24 Remembrance</b> -- Ferzan assassinated, I was chosen as the successor. Mother seemed to know something about it, but can't recall her exact words. <b>545, during the summer</b> -- We visited Marabad. Relevant? Could father have been visiting the School? Seems like such a huge risk in hindsight. <<if $yekbuncodex is true>><b>Solved</b>: Father visited the School of Marabad to talk to Scholar Yekbûn.<</if>> <b>549</b> -- Lady Zerya passed away, $rname became the Sorcerer. <b>552, Month of Light</b> -- FoV found us. <b>553, Month of Liberation</b> -- Arrived in Marabad, found $rname, made it to the Royal Palace. Survived 2 assassination attempts so far. Will have to be more careful. <b>553, 21 Liberation</b> -- Coronation day.<<else>><b>527, 12 Mourning Embers</b> -- The day I was born. <b>535-537</b> -- We went on the run. What triggered it? Did they find out I would be the Crown, or was it something else? <b>543, 24 Remembrance</b> -- Ferzan assassinated, I was chosen as the successor. Mother seemed to know something about it, but can't recall her exact words. <b>545, during the summer</b> -- We visited Marabad. Relevant? Could father have been visiting the School? Even I might not have risked that. <<if $yekbuncodex is true>><b>Solved</b>: Father visited the School of Marabad to talk to Scholar Yekbûn.<</if>> <b>549</b> -- Lady Zerya passed away, $rname became the Sorcerer. <b>552, Month of Light</b> -- FoV found us. <b>553, Month of Liberation</b> -- Arrived in Marabad, found $rname, made it to the Royal Palace. Survived 2 assassination attempts so far. Let's keep up the winning streak. <b>553, 21 Liberation</b> -- Coronation day.<</if>>@@ [[View in regular font|intel no font]] <<back>>@@.chaptertitle;THE ORDER OF EVENTS SO FAR@@ <b><em>As recorded by Crown $name in $their journal:</em></b> @@.intucharm;<<if $adven gt $caut>><b>527, 12 Mourning Embers</b> -- MY BIRTHDAY <b>535-537</b> -- Left the village behind and had to run. Not sure if it was because of me or father. Don't know which would be worse. <b>543, 24 Remembrance</b> -- Ferzan got assassinated, my eyes turned gold. Mother wasn't happy. IMPORTANT!: What did she say to me back then??? <b>545, during the summer</b> -- Stayed in Marabad. Don't remember why, but father was gone a lot. Was he going to the School? Something feels off. Way too risky for a holiday visit. <<if $yekbuncodex is true>><b>Solved</b>: He went to the school to speak to Scholar Yekbûn, about me. I almost wish I hadn't found out.<</if>> <b>549</b> -- Lady Zerya passed away, $rname became the Sorcerer. <b>552, Month of Light</b> -- FoV found us. Father told me to find $rname. Seems only logical, but... <b>553, Month of Liberation</b> -- I arrived in Marabad, made it to the Royal Palace. Finally something going right. Aside from 2 assassination attempts so far, anyway. Well done, myself! <b>553, 21 Liberation</b> -- MY CORONATION<<else>><b>527, 12 Mourning Embers</b> -- My birthday! <b>535-537</b> -- Left the village behind and had to run. Not sure if it was because of me or father. Don't know which would be worse. <b>543, 24 Remembrance</b> -- Ferzan got assassinated, my eyes turned gold. Mother wasn't happy. What did she say to me back then??? <b>545, during the summer</b> -- Stayed in Marabad. Don't remember why, but father was gone a lot. Was he going to the School? Something feels off. Far too risky for a holiday visit. <<if $yekbuncodex is true>><b>Solved</b>: He went to the school to speak to Scholar Yekbûn, about me. I almost wish I hadn't found out.<</if>> <b>549</b> - Lady Zerya passed away, $rname became the Sorcerer. <b>552, Month of Light</b> -- FoV found us. Father told me to find $rname. Seems only logical, but... <b>553, Month of Liberation</b> -- I arrived in Marabad, made it to the Royal Palace. Finally something going right. Aside from 2 assassination attempts so far, anyway. I should really try to avoid those more. <b>553, 21 Liberation</b> -- My coronation!<</if>>@@ [[View in regular font|intu no font]] <<back>>@@.chaptertitle;THE ORDER OF EVENTS SO FAR@@ <b><em>As recorded by Crown $name in $their journal:</em></b> @@.intublunt;<<if $adven gt $caut>><b>527, 12 Mourning Embers</b> -- MY BIRTHDAY <b>535-537</b> -- Left the village behind and had to run. Not sure if it was because of me or father. Don't know which would be worse. <b>543, 24 Remembrance</b> -- Ferzan got assassinated, my eyes turned gold. Mother wasn't happy. IMPORTANT!: What did she say to me back then??? <b>545, during the summer</b> -- Stayed in Marabad. Don't remember why, but father was gone a lot. Was he going to the School? Something feels off. Way too risky for a holiday visit. <<if $yekbuncodex is true>><b>Solved</b>: He went to the school to speak to Scholar Yekbûn, about me. I almost wish I hadn't found out.<</if>> <b>549</b> -- Lady Zerya passed away, $rname became the Sorcerer. <b>552, Month of Light</b> -- FoV found us. Father told me to find $rname. Seems only logical, but... <b>553, Month of Liberation</b> -- I arrived in Marabad, made it to the Royal Palace. Finally something going right. Aside from 2 assassination attempts so far, anyway. Well done, myself! <b>553, 21 Liberation</b> -- MY CORONATION<<else>><b>527, 12 Mourning Embers</b> -- My birthday! <b>535-537</b> -- Left the village behind and had to run. Not sure if it was because of me or father. Don't know which would be worse. <b>543, 24 Remembrance</b> -- Ferzan got assassinated, my eyes turned gold. Mother wasn't happy. What did she say to me back then??? <b>545, during the summer</b> -- Stayed in Marabad. Don't remember why, but father was gone a lot. Was he going to the School? Something feels off. Far too risky for a holiday visit. <<if $yekbuncodex is true>><b>Solved</b>: He went to the school to speak to Scholar Yekbûn, about me. I almost wish I hadn't found out.<</if>> <b>549</b> - Lady Zerya passed away, $rname became the Sorcerer. <b>552, Month of Light</b> -- FoV found us. Father told me to find $rname. Seems only logical, but... <b>553, Month of Liberation</b> -- I arrived in Marabad, made it to the Royal Palace. Finally something going right. Aside from 2 assassination attempts so far, anyway. I should really try to avoid those more. <b>553, 21 Liberation</b> -- My coronation!<</if>>@@ [[View in regular font|intu no font]] <<back>>@@.chaptertitle;THE ORDER OF EVENTS SO FAR@@ <b><em>As recorded by Crown $name in $their journal:</em></b> <<if $caut gt $adven>><b>527, 12 Mourning Embers</b> -- The day I was born. <b>535-537</b> -- We went on the run. What triggered it? Did they find out I would be the Crown, or was it something else? <b>543, 24 Remembrance</b> -- Ferzan assassinated, I was chosen as the successor. Mother seemed to know something about it, but can't recall her exact words. <b>545, during the summer</b> -- We visited Marabad. Relevant? Could father have been visiting the School? Seems like such a huge risk in hindsight. <<if $yekbuncodex is true>><b>Solved</b>: Father visited the School of Marabad to talk to Scholar Yekbûn.<</if>> <b>549</b> -- Lady Zerya passed away, $rname became the Sorcerer. <b>552, Month of Light</b> -- FoV found us. <b>553, Month of Liberation</b> -- Arrived in Marabad, found $rname, made it to the Royal Palace. Survived 2 assassination attempts so far. Will have to be more careful. <b>553, 21 Liberation</b> -- Coronation day.<<else>><b>527, 12 Mourning Embers</b> -- The day I was born. <b>535-537</b> -- We went on the run. What triggered it? Did they find out I would be the Crown, or was it something else? <b>543, 24 Remembrance</b> -- Ferzan assassinated, I was chosen as the successor. Mother seemed to know something about it, but can't recall her exact words. <b>545, during the summer</b> -- We visited Marabad. Relevant? Could father have been visiting the School? Even I might not have risked that. <<if $yekbuncodex is true>><b>Solved</b>: Father visited the School of Marabad to talk to Scholar Yekbûn.<</if>> <b>549</b> -- Lady Zerya passed away, $rname became the Sorcerer. <b>552, Month of Light</b> -- FoV found us. <b>553, Month of Liberation</b> -- Arrived in Marabad, found $rname, made it to the Royal Palace. Survived 2 assassination attempts so far. Let's keep up the winning streak. <b>553, 21 Liberation</b> -- Coronation day.<</if>> <<back>>@@.chaptertitle;THE ORDER OF EVENTS SO FAR@@ <b><em>As recorded by Crown $name in $their journal:</em></b> <<if $adven gt $caut>><b>527, 12 Mourning Embers</b> -- MY BIRTHDAY <b>535-537</b> -- Left the village behind and had to run. Not sure if it was because of me or father. Don't know which would be worse. <b>543, 24 Remembrance</b> -- Ferzan got assassinated, my eyes turned gold. Mother wasn't happy. IMPORTANT: What did she say to me back then??? <b>545, during the summer</b> -- Stayed in Marabad. Don't remember why, but father was gone a lot. Was he going to the School? Something feels off. Way too risky for a holiday visit. <<if $yekbuncodex is true>><b>Solved</b>: He went to the school to speak to Scholar Yekbûn, about me. I almost wish I hadn't found out.<</if>> <b>549</b> -- Lady Zerya passed away, $rname became the Sorcerer. <b>552, Month of Light</b> -- FoV found us. Father told me to find $rname. Seems only logical, but... <b>553, Month of Liberation</b> -- I arrived in Marabad, made it to the Royal Palace. Finally something going right. Aside from 2 assassination attempts so far, anyway. Well done, myself! <b>553, 21 Liberation</b> -- MY CORONATION<<else>><b>527, 12 Mourning Embers</b> -- My birthday! <b>535-537</b> -- Left the village behind and had to run. Not sure if it was because of me or father. Don't know which would be worse. <b>543, 24 Remembrance</b> -- Ferzan got assassinated, my eyes turned gold. Mother wasn't happy. What did she say to me back then??? <b>545, during the summer</b> -- Stayed in Marabad. Don't remember why, but father was gone a lot. Was he going to the School? Something feels off. Far too risky for a holiday visit. <<if $yekbuncodex is true>><b>Solved</b>: He went to the school to speak to Scholar Yekbûn, about me. I almost wish I hadn't found out.<</if>> <b>549</b> - Lady Zerya passed away, $rname became the Sorcerer. <b>552, Month of Light</b> -- FoV found us. Father told me to find $rname. Seems only logical, but... <b>553, Month of Liberation</b> -- I arrived in Marabad, made it to the Royal Palace. Finally something going right. Aside from 2 assassination attempts so far, anyway. I should really try to avoid those more. <b>553, 21 Liberation</b> -- My coronation!<</if>> <<back>><<if $calc gt $kind>>“I’m sure you’re doing fine,” you point out to $rthem. “You’ve made it this far, haven’t you?” “That’s… true,” $rname admits, albeit somewhat hesitantly.<<else>>“You’re doing better than most would,” you point out to $rthem. “Try not to be so hard on yourself.” “That’s easier said than done,” $rname says with a sigh.<</if>> “I wish I had more time to plan, but the coronation cannot wait. Without the Mîrs recognizing you as their ruler, we’ll have a difficult time getting anything accomplished.” “It’s an important ceremony, sure,” you agree. “But that doesn’t mean it has to be perfect. You shouldn’t have to run yourself ragged like this.” $crthey smiles at you, and though it eyes a little tired, you can see the warmth in it. You wish you could smooth out those shadows beneath $rtheir eyes with your fingers. “It’ll only be for a few more days,” $rname says in an attempt to reassure you. “Truthfully, it’s not so great a sacrifice; I’ve lived in luxury for over half my life. I’ve no room to complain about a little fatigue.” “Luxury and stress,” you remark. $crthey has a tense relationship with the nobility, to put it generously, and has been powerless to do anything about it until you showed up. There was no guarantee that you would, either. “You do live a very wealthy life, but that doesn’t mean you should disregard your health.” $rname inclines $rtheir head, letting out a quiet exhale. “You’re starting to sound like Lady Zerya.” “I’ll take that as a compliment.” You remain adamant, not wanting to let $rthem dismiss the matter so easily. “I’m assuming you didn’t get any sleep, either?” “Ah…” $rname smiles apologetically at you. “Very little, I’m afraid. But don’t worry, everything should be much less hectic once the coronation is over with. I’ll be able to catch a good night’s rest then.” “Promise?” You <<if $res gt $flirt and $pass gt $ass>>force yourself to <</if>>look $rthem in the eyes, in order to convey that you’re serious about $rthem getting the rest $rthey needs. Right when $rtheir gaze meets yours from across the table, a gentle wind sweeps in through the windows and breezes softly through $rtheir hair, the black strands blown across $rtheir face. You’re enthralled by the sight of $rtheir long locks caressing $rtheir lips as $rthey brushes them back again, only realizing what you’re doing when Siham walks past your table to the bathroom, startling you out of your gazing. When you look back up to $rname’s eyes, you find them a little wider, almost startled. $crtheir pupils are larger than before, the black stark against the flawless gray of $rtheir irises. You hardly notice the way the silence stretches on until you feel the air around you grow even heavier than before. The sudden spike of magic and a rippling of blue light in the air is your only warning before the lone pitcher of water on the table starts to tremble, and then cracks. Both you and $rname flinch in surprise, but thankfully the crack in the pitcher is not enough to shatter it. Although it did shatter the atmosphere. [[Continue|6.7]]<<if $caut gt $adven>>“It’s not paranoia,” you say to $rthem. “You’re right to be cautious.”<<else>>“Considering everything that’s happened in the span of, what, two days?” you sat to $rthem. “I wouldn’t call that paranoia.”<</if>> “An awful lot has happened in such a short amount of time,” $rname acknowledges, letting out a deep sigh before looking at you with a slight wrinkle between $rtheir brows. “And most of it has happened to you. How are you managing it, $name?” <<if $charm gt $blunt>>“Are you kidding?” you say, gesturing around you. “Compared to where I’m sleeping now, I may as well have been rolling around in the dirt before.”<<else>>“Almost getting killed twice was definitely… stressful,” you admit. “But I’m not in a mood to complain; I’ve gone from sleeping in the wilderness to sleeping among silk sheets.”<</if>> $rname blinks, glancing around at your luxurious quarters. “I admit, I’ve gotten so accustomed to places like this I barely even notice it anymore. It’s good to be reminded of how fortunate we are.” “It puts things in perspective,” you agree, glancing down at the brittle edges of your nails. Even if Ishrah and Siham did the best they could in taking care of them for you, some things can’t be fixed overnight. “Sometimes it makes me wonder whether I’m spoiled,” $rname muses, the tip of $rtheir finger idly tracing one of the chains of $rtheir layered necklace. “Uncle Faraj and my cousins live in a much bigger house than they used to, but they still live in our old district. I try to visit it often, to remind myself what I’m doing all of this for, but… I’m afraid I lose sight of it sometimes.” While you listen, you nearly become sidetracked by the way $rtheir slender fingers twist into $rtheir necklace. The pretty chain that initially drew your attention is quickly outshone by the chains wrapped around $rtheir neck, down to the hint of collarbone peeking out from beneath the cut of $rtheir dress. Looking back up to $rtheir face, you refocus on the conversation, <<if $res gt $flirt>>hoping $rthey didn’t catch you staring.<<else>>saving your appreciative stares for another time<</if>>. “I’m sure you won’t,” you say in response to $rtheir concern. “Even in the very short time we’ve known each other, you’ve been really dedicated to your duties.” You pause, eyeing the shadows beneath $rname’s eyes. “Maybe even too much so. I’m assuming you didn’t get any sleep last night?” “Ah…” $rname smiles apologetically at you. “Very little, I’m afraid. But don’t worry, everything should be much less hectic once the coronation is over with. I’ll be able to catch a good night’s rest then.” “Promise?” You <<if $res gt $flirt and $pass gt $ass>>force yourself to <</if>>look $rthem in the eyes, in order to convey that you’re serious about $rthem getting the rest $rthey needs. Right when $rtheir gaze meets yours from across the table, a gentle wind sweeps in through the windows and breezes softly through $rtheir hair, the black strands blown across $rtheir face. You’re enthralled by the sight of $rtheir long locks caressing $rtheir lips as $rthey brushes them back again, only realizing what you’re doing when Siham walks past your table to the bathroom, startling you out of your gazing. When you look back up to $rname’s eyes, you find them a little wider, almost startled. $crtheir pupils are larger than before, the black stark against the flawless gray of $rtheir irises. You hardly notice the way the silence stretches on until you feel the air around you grow even heavier than before. The sudden spike of magic and a rippling of blue light in the air is your only warning before the lone pitcher of water on the table starts to tremble, and then cracks. Both you and $rname flinch in surprise, but thankfully the crack in the pitcher is not enough to shatter it. Although it did shatter the atmosphere. [[Continue|6.7]]<<set $rconfidesinyou to true>><<if $blunt gt $charm>>“I’d be happy to listen if you need someone to vent to,” you tell $rthem. “You don’t have to hold it in.”<<if $confideinr is true>> $crthey has done the same for you, after all.<</if>><<else>>“Tell me about it,” you say, smiling at $rthem. “No, really, tell me. I’m a good listener.”<<if $confideinr is true>> $crthey has done the same for you, after all.<</if>><</if>> “I…” $rname averts $rtheir gaze for a moment. “We don’t have a lot of time before breakfast, and Kham is expecting you to be punctual…” <<if $pass gt $ass>>“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” you reassure $rthem, now a little worried you might’ve put $rthem in an awkward position. <<if $res gt $flirt>>Navigating all these small social steps is proving to be somewhat of a challenge, considering you’re not used to having conversations like these<<else>>You hope you didn’t come across as pushy; you really only wanted to give $rthem an opportunity to vent<</if>>. “But I promise, it’s no bother to me.” “Are you sure?” $rname says, appearing a little embarrassed as $rthey fiddles with one of the chains of $rtheir layered necklace. “Well, if it’s really alright with you…”<<else>>“$rname, I promise it won’t be a burden to me,” you reassure $rthem, wondering if it’s normal for $rthem to bottle everything up like this. “If you’re uncomfortable talking to me about it, I'll understand, but—” “Oh, no, it’s not that!” $rname says quickly, then looks away again, appearing a little embarrassed as $rthey fiddles with one of the chains of $rtheir layered necklace. “I suppose I was worried that I’d burden you with my troubles, but, if it’s alright with you…”<</if>> You try not to get sidetracked by the way $rtheir slender fingers twist into $rtheir necklace, but it’s rather distracting. The pretty chain that initially drew your attention is quickly outshone by the chains wrapped around $rtheir neck, down to the hint of collarbone peeking out from beneath the cut of $rtheir dress. Clearing your throat and looking back up to $rtheir face, you refocus on the conversation, <<if $res gt $flirt>>hoping $rthey didn’t catch you staring<<else>>saving your appreciative stares for another time<</if>>. You give $rname an encouraging nod. “Go on, I’m listening.” $crthey is silent for a moment, continuing to fidget with $rtheir necklace as $rthey seems to be gathering $rtheir thoughts. You wait patiently, the background noise of Siham and Ishrah tidying up your room filling the silence, until $rthey finally speaks. “There is so much uncertainty involved,” $rname admits, dropping the chain of $rtheir necklace. “I’ve been trying to make as many preparations as possible, but it’s as if I’m walking in the dark. Before you came, I thought I had everything under control. I knew where the spies were and how to keep an eye on them, I knew what to do next if I didn’t find you in Marabad, but when you appeared so suddenly…” $crthey halts, appearing mortified. “Not that any of this is your fault! I am- that is, we are all overjoyed that you appeared. It’s only—” “It threw all your plans off course,” you finish, understanding what $rthey’s getting at. $rname nods, brushing a lock of $rtheir hair behind $rtheir ear, the long ends of it moving like silk across $rtheir shoulder. “Yesterday, when I thought I adjusted everything accordingly… well, <em>that</em> happened, and it threw everything into disarray all over again.” $crthey sighs, a hint of irritation making it into the wrinkle between $rtheir brows. “There's also the fact that you’re supposed to have a Royal Secretary who plans out your day-to-day for you, and addresses the nobility and the Mîr in your stead. Unfortunately, that position is as of yet a vacant one, as are many others. Keko, $aname and I have been compiling a list of candidates to fill the empty spots as much as possible, but until then, we’ve had to split those duties amongst ourselves.” “No wonder you’re exhausted,” you note, realizing you hadn’t even considered that someone would need to take on those responsibilities. “I’m assuming you really didn’t get any sleep, then?” “Ah…” $rname smiles apologetically at you. “Very little, I’m afraid. But don’t worry, everything should be much less hectic once the coronation is over with. I’ll be able to catch a good night’s rest then.” “Promise?” You <<if $res gt $flirt and $pass gt $ass>>force yourself to <</if>>look $rthem in the eyes, in order to convey that you’re serious about $rthem getting the rest $rthey needs. Right when $rtheir gaze meets yours from across the table, a gentle wind sweeps in through the windows and breezes softly through $rtheir hair, the black strands blown across $rtheir face. You’re enthralled by the sight of $rtheir long locks caressing $rtheir lips as $rthey brushes them back again, only realizing what you’re doing when Siham walks past your table to the bathroom, startling you out of your gazing. When you look back up to $rname’s eyes, you find them a little wider, almost startled. $crtheir pupils are larger than before, the black stark against the flawless gray of $rtheir irises. You hardly notice the way the silence stretches on until you feel the air around you grow even heavier than before. The sudden spike of magic and a rippling of blue light in the air is your only warning before the lone pitcher of water on the table starts to tremble, and then cracks. Both you and $rname flinch in surprise, but thankfully the crack in the pitcher is not enough to shatter it. Although it did shatter the atmosphere. [[Continue|6.7]]<<set $rconfidesinyou to true>>$rname appears uncertain. “We don’t have a lot of time before breakfast, and Kham is expecting you to be punctual…” <<if $calc gt $kind>>“Let her wait,” you say, smiling conspiratorially at $rname. “It can’t hurt to make her sweat a little. Figuratively speaking.”<<else>>“I can spare a little bit of time,” you assure $rthem. “Really, it’s no bother.”<</if>> $rname frowns a little, still seeming unsure, but then finally nods. “Well, if it’s really alright with you…” You give $rname an encouraging nod. “Go on, I’m listening.” $crthey is silent for a moment, fidgeting with $rtheir necklace as $rthey seems to be gathering $rtheir thoughts. You wait patiently, the background noise of Siham and Ishrah tidying up your room filling the silence, until $rthey finally speaks. “There is so much uncertainty involved,” $rname admits, dropping the chain of $rtheir necklace. “I’ve been trying to make as many preparations as possible, but it’s as if I’m walking in the dark. Before you came, I thought I had everything under control. I knew where the spies were and how to keep an eye on them, I knew what to do next if I didn’t find you in Marabad, but when you appeared so suddenly…” $crthey halts, appearing mortified. “Not that any of this is your fault! We are all overjoyed that you appeared. It’s only—” “It threw all your plans off course,” you finish, understanding what $rthey’s getting at. $rname nods, brushing a lock of $rtheir hair behind $rtheir ear. “Yesterday, when I thought I adjusted everything accordingly… well, <em>that</em> happened, and it threw everything into disarray all over again.” $crthey sighs, a hint of irritation making it into the wrinkle between $rtheir brows. “There's also the fact that you’re supposed to have a Royal Secretary who plans out your day-to-day for you, and addresses the nobility and the Mîr in your stead. Unfortunately, that position is as of yet a vacant one, as are many others. Keko, $aname and I have been compiling a list of candidates to fill the empty spots as much as possible, but until then, we’ve had to split those duties amongst ourselves.” “No wonder you’re exhausted,” you note, realizing you hadn’t even considered that someone would need to take on those responsibilities. “I’m assuming you really didn’t get any sleep, then?” “Ah…” $rname smiles apologetically at you. “Very little, I’m afraid. But don’t worry, everything should be much less hectic once the coronation is over with. I’ll be able to catch a good night’s rest then.” It won’t help ease the pressure, though. You refrain from making the comment to $rname, as you’re sure $rthey’s very much aware of it $rthemselves; there is so much that needs to be done as soon as the coronation is over. “Hopefully it’ll allow us to focus on the things that are actually important instead of all this pomp and circumstance,” you hear $rname murmur, though it mostly seems to be meant for $rthemselves. You both fall into a companionable silence as you sink into thought, comforted at least by the fact that neither of you are alone in this. Still, the task ahead of you is a monumental one, especially as you’ve barely had the time to get your bearings. Everything seems to be moving so fast, when only a few days ago you were— The sound of the pitcher cracking interrupts your reminiscing. [[Continue|6.7]]“An awful lot has happened in such a short amount of time,” $rname acknowledges, letting out a deep sigh before looking at you with a slight wrinkle between $rtheir brows. “And most of it has happened to you. How are you managing it, $name?” <<if $charm gt $blunt>>“Are you kidding?” you say, gesturing around you. “Compared to where I’m sleeping now, I may as well have been rolling around in the dirt before.”<<else>>“Almost getting killed twice was definitely… stressful,” you admit. “But I’m not in a mood to complain; I’ve gone from sleeping in the wilderness to sleeping among silk sheets.”<</if>> $rname blinks, glancing around at your luxurious quarters. “I admit, I’ve gotten so accustomed to places like this I barely even notice it anymore. It’s good to be reminded of how fortunate we are.” “It puts things in perspective,” you agree, glancing down at the brittle edges of your nails. Even if Ishrah and Siham did the best they could in taking care of them for you, some things can’t be fixed overnight. “Sometimes it makes me wonder whether I’m spoiled,” $rname muses, fiddling with one of the chains of $rtheir layered necklace. “Uncle Faraj and my cousins live in a much bigger house than they used to, but they still live in our old district. I try to visit it often, to remind myself what I’m doing all of this for, but… I’m afraid I lose sight of it sometimes.” “I’m sure you won’t,” you say in response to $rtheir concern. “Even in the very short time we’ve known each other, you’ve been really dedicated to your duties.” You pause, eyeing the shadows beneath $rname’s eyes. “Maybe even too much so. I’m assuming you didn’t get any sleep last night?” “Ah…” $rname smiles apologetically at you. “Very little, I’m afraid. But don’t worry, everything should be much less hectic once the coronation is over with. I’ll be able to catch a good night’s rest then.” It won’t help ease the pressure, though. You refrain from making the comment to $rname, as you’re sure $rthey’s very much aware of it $rthemselves; there is so much that needs to be done as soon as the coronation is over. “Hopefully it’ll allow us to focus on the things that are actually important instead of all this pomp and circumstance,” you hear $rname murmur, though it mostly seems to be meant for $rthemselves. You both fall into a companionable silence as you sink into thought, comforted at least by the fact that neither of you are alone in this. Still, the task ahead of you is a monumental one, especially as you’ve barely had the time to get your bearings. Everything seems to be moving so fast, when only a few days ago you were— The sound of the water pitcher cracking interrupts your reminiscing. [[Continue|6.7]]<<if $calc gt $kind>>“That’s… true,” $rname admits, albeit somewhat hesitantly.<<else>>“That’s easier said than done,” $rname says with a sigh.<</if>> “I wish I had more time to plan, but the coronation cannot wait. Without the Mîrs recognizing you as their ruler, we’ll have a difficult time getting anything accomplished.” “It’s an important ceremony, sure,” you agree. “But that doesn’t mean it has to be perfect. You shouldn’t have to run yourself ragged like this.” $crthey smiles at you, though it eyes a little tired. You’re sure you yourself don’t exactly look like the picture of well-rested, either. The only reason you’re not collapsing from exhaustion right now is because you haven’t had time to work through everything that has happened so far. “It’ll only be for a few more days,” $rname says in an attempt to reassure you. “Truthfully, it’s not so great a sacrifice; I’ve lived in luxury for over half my life. I’ve no room to complain about a little fatigue.” “Luxury and stress,” you remark. $crthey has a tense relationship with the nobility, to put it generously, and has been powerless to do anything about it until you showed up. There was no guarantee that you would, either. “You do live a very wealthy life, but that doesn’t mean you should disregard your health.” $rname inclines $rtheir head, letting out a quiet exhale. “You’re starting to sound like Lady Zerya.” “I’ll take that as a compliment.” You remain adamant, not wanting to let $rthem dismiss the matter so easily. “I’m assuming you didn’t get any sleep, either?” “Ah…” $rname smiles apologetically at you. “Very little, I’m afraid. But don’t worry, everything should be much less hectic once the coronation is over with. I’ll be able to catch a good night’s rest then.” It won’t help ease the pressure, though. You refrain from making the comment to $rname, as you’re sure $rthey’s very much aware of it $rthemselves; there is so much that needs to be done as soon as the coronation is over. “Hopefully it’ll allow us to focus on the things that are actually important instead of all this pomp and circumstance,” you hear $rname murmur, though it mostly seems to be meant for $rthemselves. You both fall into a companionable silence as you sink into thought, comforted at least by the fact that neither of you are alone in this. Still, the task ahead of you is a monumental one, especially as you’ve barely had the time to get your bearings. Everything seems to be moving so fast, when only a few days ago you were— The sound of the water pitcher cracking interrupts your reminiscing. [[Continue|6.7]] You watch on with interest, restricted to your bed for the moment due to the water surrounding you; you have no intentions of getting your feet soaked. $rname stands in the bathroom beside Siham and stretches out a hand, $rtheir palm facing down toward the water. A frown appears on $rname’s face, considering the small flood with confusion and curiosity reflected in $rtheir gaze. “$rtitle $rname?” Siham says hesitantly, seeing that $rthey has paused. “Is something wrong?” Shaking $rtheir head, $rname’s frown evens out. “That remains to be seen.” After $rtheir foreboding words, $rtheir stretched out hand starts to glow a soft purple, the light enveloping it like a glove. When $rname creates a swirling motion with it, you see the water below it mirror its motion. “Gather,” $rname says unexpectedly, and Siham appears just as bewildered by it as you are. While the flood might’ve been magical in nature, the water is still a basic element; control over it should be instinctive and unspoken, it should not require a command. Unless… Are spirits involved? You watch with concern as $rname creates a small whirlpool of water in the bathroom. As $rthey lifts $rtheir hand upward, the vortex of water follows its movement while it continues to swirl in the air. The motion is effortlessly fluid as $rname guides the twisting stream toward the drain on the bathroom counter. The water in your bedroom starts to quickly ebb back toward the bathroom as $rname controls the stream, both Siham and Ishrah watching on with admiration. As elegant as it appears, even from a distance you can feel the controlled force of $rtheir magic creating an invisible path for it through the air, keeping even the smallest drops from spilling. Soon even the water that flooded over into the hallway has returned to the bathroom. Once the last of it disappears down the drain, you feel as if the air around you <<if $spirits is 'somber'>>grows heavier. It doesn’t impede your breathing, but the warmth in your bedroom suddenly feels more humid.<</if>><<if $spirits is 'admiring'>>appears to brighten, even though there is no direct sunlight shining on it.<</if>><<if $spirits is 'sympathetic'>>becomes restless. There's an anxious energy humming in the air that feels foreign.<</if>> “There.” $rname doesn’t have a hair out of place as $rthey returns to the bedroom, Siham following with a dazed look of awe on his face, and no wonder. Had you tried to move all that water, you would’ve doubtlessly worked up a sweat, but $rname doesn’t look even close to being winded. “That was amazing!” Ishrah blurts out, then snaps her mouth shut again as $rname gives her an amused look, redness spreading in her cheeks. “Thank you,” $rname replies kindly, getting a small smile from Ishrah before $rthey returns $rtheir attention to you. “From the look on your face, I assume you’ve noticed the change in the air.” You nod, asking the question foremost on your mind. “Why were there spirits attached to the water?” $rname gives you a long look, seeming thoughtful for a moment before $rthey says, “They weren’t attached to the water, $rnickname. They were—and currently still are—attached to you.” [[Continue|6.5]] The water temple. <<if $blunt gt $charm>>Ah, shit.<<else>>Well, that’s not good.<</if>> “To $ctheir Imperial Majesty?” Siham says in alarm, glancing from $rname back to you. “That’s- should I call for a priest?” “Wait,” Ishrah interrupts, still confused. “So, there are spirits attached to Crown $name… but what does that have to do with the bathroom flooding?” You let out a deep sigh, resisting the urge to crawl back under the covers as you rub at your eyes. “I visited the water temple yesterday, and must have brought water spirits back with me without noticing. When I had an intense dream last night, the water spirits must have reacted to it.” Now that the flood has been taken care of, the spirits are no longer housed in the water but are simply hovering around you—hence the heaviness in the air. “That can happen?” Ishrah says, surprised. “Without forming a concord?” “Sometimes, yes,” $rname answers, approaching your bed and sitting down on the edge of it beside you, looking at you questioningly. “Did you do something to draw their attention while visiting the temple?”<<if $comfortbyr is true>> You’re reminded of when you had your nightmare and $rname was there to comfort you. <<if $loveinterest is 'R'>>For a moment, you can almost feel the phantom touch of $rtheir soft hands on your cheeks<<if $res gt $flirt>>, heating up your skin<</if>>.<<else>>It was a kindness you hadn’t expected, perhaps a form of friendship you’re not used to.<</if>><</if>> “I think so.” Your hand moves up to cover your chest on its own as you remember the ache that tore through it. <<if $caut gt $adven>>“I meant only to rest for a moment, but I was careless. It’s my fault.”<<else>>“I thought it would be fine to stop by for a moment, but I guess the spirits had other ideas.”<</if>> $rname frowns, appearing troubled. “Temple rituals are not my specialty. Perhaps we should heed Siham’s suggestion and send for a priest.” “There’s no need for that,” you reply dismissively; while the air around you is heavy, it isn’t charged with malice. If anything, it feels somber. “I’m not possessed, so it’s not as if the spirits can be expelled. <<if $intel gt $intu>>They are calm at the moment and will not cause any further disturbances, so long as I keep my emotions under control. If necessary, I’ll form a concord with them until I can return them to the temple.<<else>>They won’t cause any more messes so long as I keep a level head. If they start to act up, I’ll form a concord to keep them in line.<</if>>” “You seem to know a lot about spirits, Crown $name!” Ishrah remarks, impressed. You give her a slight smile. “My father was a priest, after all.” You suppose <em>that</em>, at least, wasn’t a lie. Slipping out of from beneath the covers, you get out of bed and take a moment to stretch, relieved to find you’re not particularly sore or tired. Other than the dream waking you up earlier than usual, you can’t remember the last time you slept so well thanks to how comfortable your new bed is. “So, what’s on the agenda today?” you ask $rname, who’s still seated on your bed. At your question, $rname lets out a deep sigh. <<if $charm gt $blunt>>“Judging by that, maybe I should get back into bed.”<<else>>“That sounds bad.”<</if>> “It’s going to be a busy day, for both of us,” $rname admits, rising from the bed and smoothing down the skirt of $rtheir dress. “<<if $hidenobles is false>>The nobility is in an uproar, demanding another audience—I’ve rejected them out of hand, of course. However, Princess Kham still<<else>>Princess Kham<</if>> expects you to attend breakfast with her in an hour, considering you missed dinner with her last night.” Siham and Ishrah seem to take that as a cue to get busy with their tasks. Ishrah skips over to your closets, three of them sitting side by side next to the windows. They easily dwarf your bookcases in size, filled to the brim with shelves of clothing judging by the one Ishrah opens up, perusing the contents while humming a soft tune. Siham meanwhile gets to tidying the room, pulling back the curtains fully to let in more light; the sun has barely risen, not yet visible from behind the walls surrounding the Royal Palace. You and $rname move out of the way as Siham gets to making your bed, continuing your conversation as you head to the low table on the other side of your room. $rname fetches the pillows that drifted off during the small flood, setting them down for you to sit on; to your surprise, they're completely dry. Did $rthey pull the water even out of the pillows, as well? [[Continue|6.6]]“I would’ve preferred a less stressful start to my day,” you say to $rname as you both sit down, remembering that your first meeting with Kham was a tense one. <<if $hidekham is false>>You choose your words carefully, uncertain of how much Ishrah and Siham know, or are allowed to know. “I assume you’ve told her about last night? How did she react?” “I got little more than a hum in reply.” $rname answers, seeming frustrated by that fact. “She’s difficult to read. You’ll have to prod her about it during breakfast.” That should prove interesting<<if $caut gt $adven>>, as well as risky<</if>>. <<if $blunt gt $charm>> Charming people isn’t your strong suit, <<if $kind gt $calc>>but perhaps you can win her over. You’ll have to use some cunning, even if that goes against your nature.<<else>>but even so you’ve learned how to coax information out of people. Hopefully you’ll be able to glean something useful.<</if>><<else>>Thankfully charming people is your strong suit, <<if $kind gt $calc>>so hopefully you’ll be able to win her over. You’ll have to use some cunning, even if that goes against your nature.<<else>>and you know how to coax information out of people. Hopefully you’ll be able to glean something useful.<</if>><</if>><</if>><<if $hidekham is true>>Especially considering you need to keep the assassination attempt from last night a secret.<</if>> You don’t know enough to make any judgments yet; as far as you know, no one in the palace aside from $rname, $aname and the Imperial Guards knew of you leaving. Then again, a servant or a guard or even a noble could’ve spotted you without your knowledge and informed your assassins. You don’t even know with certainty whether they were Followers of Vidarna or another faction entirely. <<if $intel gt $intu>>In this case, even your intuition seems undecided.<<else>>It is better to gather information and evidence first. You can’t risk your own biases blinding you to crucial information, not with your life on the line.<</if>> <<if $caut gt $adven>>Perhaps it’s safest to assume <em>everyone</em> is a suspect at this point.<<else>>At least getting to the bottom of this won’t be a boring endeavor, if nothing else.<</if>><<if $hidenone is true>> “Lady Naza has also requested a meeting,” $rname states, which surprises you somewhat. “It concerns the assassination attempt. That will have to wait until tomorrow, however; your schedule for today is booked full.” “You mentioned last night that she might approve of me revealing it to the nobles,” you recall, and $rname nods. “More than that, you informed Kham as well as warned the public,” $rthey states, brushing back a long lock of $rtheir hair. “While it has certainly caused unrest, it has also caught Lady Naza’s attention. You may have earned her respect, but that remains to be seen.” “Let’s hope so.”<</if>> “Moving on,” $rname continues, “$dname and $aname would like to speak to you about matters of security as well.” That makes sense, though you get the impression $rname is being vague with $rtheir wording on purpose. Whatever $dname and $aname have to say, it must be a sensitive matter. “Once that’s finished, we will need to go over the festivities planned for your coronation, as well as security measures.” As if having visualized the entire day ahead of $rthem, a look of weariness crosses $rname’s face. Only then do you notice the dark shadows beneath $rtheir eyes. “That should be all of it, for today at least.” You have no doubt that out of everyone in the palace, $rthey—as well as the servants—have been running themselves ragged preparing for a coronation on such short notice. As daunting as your task seems so far, at least you didn’t have to plan everything out down to the smallest details. “$rname,” you say, brows furrowing with concern. “Did you get <em>any</em> sleep last night?” $crthey looks surprised at the question, but then smiles fondly at you, fading some of the weariness in $rtheir features. “Thank you for being worried about me, but I’m quite alright. A little nervous, I suppose. I really want the coronation to go smoothly. If I were to make a mistake, or if something were to happen…” $crthey stops $rthemselves, taking a deep breath and smoothing out the anxiety on $rtheir face. “My apologies. I don’t mean to worry you with my paranoia. It has just… been a long few days.” <ul class="a"> <<if $loveinterest is "R">><<if $rgender is "female">><li>[[Encourage her to confide in you.|6.6ra][$rpoints += 3]]</li><li>[[Point out that she has made it this far; she can handle whatever comes next.|6.6rb]]</li><li>[[Assure her that she's not paranoid, but right to be cautious.|6.6rc][$rpoints += 1]]</li><<else>><li>[[Encourage him to confide in you.|6.6ra][$rpoints += 3]]</li><li>[[Point out that he has made it this far; he can handle whatever comes next.|6.6rb]]</li><li>[[Assure him that he's not paranoid, but right to be cautious.|6.6rc][$rpoints += 1]]</li><</if>><<else>><li><<if $blunt gt $charm>>[[“I can listen if you need someone to vent to. You don’t have to hold it in.”|6.6fa][$rfriendship += 1]]<<else>>[[“Tell me about it. No, really, tell me. I’m a good listener.”|6.6fa][$rfriendship to $rfriendship + 1]]<</if>></li><li><<if $calc gt $kind>>[[“I’m sure you’re doing fine. You’ve made it this far, haven’t you?”|6.6fc]]<<else>>[[“You’re doing better than most would. Try not to be so hard on yourself.”|6.6fc]]<</if>></li><li><<if $caut gt $adven>>[[“It’s not paranoia. You’re right to be cautious.”|6.6fb]]<<else>>[[“Considering everything that’s happened in the span of, what, two days? I wouldn’t call that paranoia.”|6.6fb]]<</if>></li><</if>> </ul><<unset $confideinr>>$rname gives <<if $rfriend is false>>a somewhat awkward smile, not meeting your eyes directly<<else>>an amused smile<</if>>. “It seems your spirits are growing restless.” <<if $charm gt $blunt>>“Did they become <em>my</em> spirits already?” you bemoan,<<else>>“I do not claim these spirits,” you state,<</if>> not looking forward to the headache this is no doubt going to turn into. <<if $charm gt $blunt>>“I hope the temple will take them back. Do you think I could dump them in the garden lake for a while and come back to fetch them later?” $rname gives you a long, somewhat judgmental stare. “What?” “$crnickname, they’re <em>spirits</em>, not fish.” “They both live in water, it’s practically the same thing.”<<else>>“My father’s spirits were a lot more polite than this. I should teach them some manners if they insist on hanging around.” $rname gives you a long, somewhat incredulous stare. “$crnickname, they’re <em>spirits</em>, not dogs.” “Then they should act like it!”<</if>> The pitcher starts to tremble again, the water inside sloshing violently until it spills over onto the table. You frown in the general direction of the air. <<if $blunt gt $charm>>“You realize you are a guest in my house? Is this how house guests are supposed to behave? Breaking pitchers and spilling water everywhere?”<<else>>“Oh, pardon me honored guests of mine, are the lakes in the <em>Royal Gardens</em> of the <em>Throne of Ashadūna</em> not good enough for you? I suppose you would rather spend your time throwing tantrums and breaking my pitchers!”<</if>> $rname looks stunned when the pitcher stops shaking and the air lightens again, but then starts to laugh, shaking $rtheir head in disbelief. “I can’t believe you shamed them into submission. <<if $rfriend is false>>$name, you are a marvel!<</if>>” You grin back at $rthem, <<if $rfriend is false>>deeply pleased at the compliment<<else>>shrugging nonchalantly<</if>>. “If there’s anything spirits understand, it’s the rules of hospitality." You cast a judgmental look at the air above you, where the spirits flicker with embarrassed white flashes of light. "Especially since I visited <em>their</em> house first and was very respectful.” At that point the conversation is interrupted. “Um, excuse me, but…” Both you and $rname look up at Ishrah, standing beside your table and looking quizzically at the cracked pitcher. When she notices the two of you staring at her, she straightens up, appearing a little nervous. “An Imperial Guard has requested to speak to you, Crown $name. It’s about an urgent matter, relating to yesterday?” “An Imperial Guard?” you repeat, somewhat confused. “What about $aname?” “$aname should still be resting,” $rname explains, answering for Ishrah. You're briefly distracted by the motion of $rname's forefinger, guiding the water spilled over onto the table back into the pitcher in a casual but elegant motion. “$cathey still had work to do after you went to sleep last night, I’m afraid it took a bigger toll on $athem than usual.” $rname taps $rtheir temple, which is enough of a hint for you to understand $rtheir meaning while Ishrah still appears confused: interrogation. It must be about the assassin that was captured yesterday. <<if $afriend is false>> Hearing that $aname was so exhausted after the interrogation makes you feel worried. $rname doesn’t seem overly concerned, which is the only reason why you’re not asking to visit $aname at the crack of dawn. Besides which, $athey probably needs $atheir rest more. Hopefully you can catch up with $athem later today, although seeing $athem again after the way you said goodnight yesterday does make you feel a little embarrassed.<<else>> $rname doesn’t seem overly concerned about $aname, so you assume it’s not anything to be too worried about.<</if>> “Alright.” You nod at Ishrah. “Send in the guard.” [[Continue|6.8]] Ishrah and Siham both leave the room to give you privacy, letting in the Imperial Guard. They’re not wearing their helmet, and you recognize them immediately by the red cloth wrapped around their forehead, gathering up the thick bush of dark brown curls atop their head. How they manage to fit all of that hair beneath their helmet is a mystery. Ziryan bows to you and $rname, and you notice them carrying a small pouch in their left hand. “Your Imperial Majesty, $rtitle $rname.” They hold the bow, waiting to be addressed. <<if $charm gt $blunt>>“Ziryan, was it?” you say, smiling up at them as they break their bow and look back at you in surprise. “I don’t believe I’ve ever gotten an introduction from you, but I hope I remembered your name right.”<<else>>“Hello, Ziryan,” you greet them, and as they break their bow they look at you in surprise. “Ah… did I get your name wrong? You never gave me an introduction, so I’m not sure how to address you.”<</if>> Ziryan looks back down at the ground, appearing somewhat embarrassed. “Uh… well, that is…” “Introductions to the Crown are usually only reserved for those with an appropriate station,” $rname explains when you’re confused by Ziryan’s hesitance. <<if $kind gt $calc>>You frown at first, opening your mouth to argue against that by using Kaja and Ezo as an example, until you remember you were only introduced to them due to your own insistence. Taking a moment to think about it, you realize it <em>would</em> be inconvenient to be introduced to every servant in the palace.<<else>>You give $rname a curious look as you remember very clearly being introduced to Kaja and Ezo, but then also recall it was due to your own insistence on meeting them. Otherwise you imagine it <em>would</em> be inconvenient to be introduced to every servant in the palace.<</if>> Recalling the seemingly endless introductions you received from the nobility yesterday, you’re not exactly eager to go through that again. “Still,” you say, turning your attention back to Ziryan. “I’ve noticed you a couple of times now, so if you don’t mind—” But to your confusion, Ziryan bows again and says: “A thousand apologies, your Imperial Majesty.” You stare at them, taken aback, while $rname lets a laugh slip that $rthey tries to cover up with a cough. “For what?” you ask, bemused. “My ability to hide my presence is still insufficient.” From how they’re bending their head nearly <em>inward</em> to hide their face, you suspect they’re rather embarrassed about this fact. You do remember $aname calling their technique sloppy the other day. “If I had been properly skilled, Your Imperial Majesty should not have noticed my presence even once. Please forgive this humble servant for being an eyesore—” Either Ziryan is a very new recruit from the army, or they have taken on all of $dname’s worst mannerisms. “Let’s calm down,” you cut them off, starting to grow uncomfortable with the groveling while $rname has $rtheir head suspiciously turned away, hand pressed over $rtheir mouth and shoulders silently shaking. “I didn’t mean that I saw through your invisibility. It’s because you came to me and apologized for what happened in the forest, remember? And then the other day, you and $aname helped escort me out of the palace.” Ziryan glances up from their bow, looking at you sheepishly. “Oh.” You gesture with a hand for them to straighten. “So, did I get your name right?” They finally seem to ease up at that. “Yes, Your Imperial Majesty. My name is indeed Ziryan—any address is fine. I have only been with the Imperial Guards for a month. Please forgive my lack of skill.” You sigh. “It seems that every time I see you, you’re apologizing for something. Let’s try not to make it a habit, yes?” “As you say, Your Imperial Majesty,” Ziryan mutters, staring down at the ground again, a slight flush creeping up their cheeks. [[Continue|6.9]]“So, what was it that you came here to report, Ziryan?” $rname asks kindly, finally speaking after having had $rtheir apparent fill of entertainment watching you flail. $crthey is very deliberately avoiding your glare. As if suddenly remembering the pouch they’re carrying, Ziryan awkwardly kneels down, extending it toward $rname. “I was told by the general to bring this to your attention. It was found in the tunnels, as well as on the body of one of the assassins from yesterday.” The look in $rname’s eyes sharpens to the edge of a knife as $rtheir eyes hone in on the pouch, taking it from Ziryan’s hands. You watch with anticipation as $rthey reaches into the pouch, but what $rthey takes out is a sight most unexpected. The deep blue petal of a flower. $rname’s frown mirrors your own uncertainty as $rthey carefully puts the petal on the table between the two of you. “The assassins had flowers on them?” Ziryan appears just as puzzled by this as the two of you. “Apparently so, my <<if $rgender is 'male'>>lord<<else>>lady<</if>>. We could not find the entire flower, however; it seems they did their best to destroy it. There were only a few petals left.” “Why would assassins carry flowers?” $rname wonders out loud, reaching into the pouch to take out a few more petals and placing them on the table as well. “And why these specific ones—whatever they are? I’m afraid botany is not within my expertise.” <<if $intu gt $intel>>“A macabre signature, perhaps?” you speculate, though it’s a wild guess at best. “Gifts? Or warnings?”<<else>>“It must’ve had some kind of use for them, or they wouldn’t bother carrying it,” you remark, though it’s close to pointing out the obvious.<</if>> You have very little to go on, so you decide to take a closer look at the petals. Something about how the edges of the petals all seem to curve outwards is familiar to you. Have you seen these somewhere before? You reach over the table, taking three of the petals to try and arrange them into the shape of a flower in between your thumbs and forefingers. The petals do seem unusually thick and almost hard, though the texture is still smooth. Just as you thought, the shape they make is one you know. “I think… I may have seen these before.” But where and when, exactly, did you see them? “You have?” $rname says eagerly. “Do you know what kind of flower it is?” You try to think back—logically, the last place you would’ve seen flowers is in the forest outside the city. It suddenly comes to you, in a very recent memory. You were walking in the forest with $aname and $xname, heading to meet $rname— <em>“Want to pick one?” “Better not, wouldn’t want to upset a peri.”</em> “Singing flowers,” you say, and then it all makes sense. “The chiming sound!” $rname exclaims at the same time as the realization comes to you. You don’t know how, but these assassins used singing flowers to try and ambush you, and they almost succeeded. You and $rname look at each other, the same thought likely passing through your minds at that moment. It seems your breakfast with Kham might end up being even more important than you first thought. [[Continue|6.10]]<<if $rfriend is false and $rconfidesinyou is true>>As Ziryan takes their leave again, waiting for you outside your room, $rname catches your attention. "$name, about earlier..." $crthey trails off for a moment, seeming to be avoiding your eyes. "Earlier?" "When you allowed me to air my grievances." $rname brushes a lock of $rtheir hair back behind $rtheir ear, though now $rthey finally does meet your gaze, giving you a shy smile. "This may sound strange, but... I wanted to thank you for it. I can't remember the last time I was simply allowed to complain, if you can believe it." "That's what friends are for," you say, smiling back at $rthem--your smiles come so easily whenever you're around $rthem, your cheeks are still getting used to the motion. "Complain to me whenever you want, $rname. Spirits know I'll be doing the same to you." Mirth glitters in $rname's eyes as $rthey looks at you. "I'm truly fortunate," $rthey says, speaking it so softly you think perhaps $rthey hadn't even meant to say it out loud, but before you can reply, $rthey rises from $rtheir seat. "I'll let you get dressed. You have a busy day ahead--we'll see each other in the afternoon again." You nod, letting $rthem go even though you're a little disappointed at having $rthem leave again. It can't be helped, though; $rthey still has the staff vacancies to account for with Keko, after all. The sooner that's done, the sooner $rname will gain some room to breathe.<</if>><<if $rconfidesinyou is true and $rfriend is true>>As Ziryan takes their leave again, waiting for you outside your room, $rname catches your attention. "$name, about earlier..." $crthey trails off for a moment, seeming to hesitate for a moment. "Earlier?" "When you allowed me to air my grievances." $rname smiles warmly at you. "I wanted to thank you for it." "That's what friends are for," you reply easily. "Complain to me whenever you want, $rname. Spirits know I'll be doing the same to you." "I'll look forward to it," $rname says, smile turning playful. "The nobility alone will give us plenty of reasons to complain, I'm sure." "I've no doubt about that." $rname sighs, likely already imagining it in $rtheir head. "I'll let you get dressed. You have a busy day ahead--we'll see each other in the afternoon again." You nod, letting $rthem go even if you would've liked to chat for a while longer. $crthey still has the staff vacancies to account for with Keko, after all. The sooner that's done, the sooner $rname will gain some room to breathe.<</if>><<if $rconfidesinyou is false and $rfriend is true>>$rname parts from you soon after to let you get dressed, as $rthey has to meet up with Keko to continue discussing the vacancies for staff and servants in the palace. It sounds incredibly tedious, but it has to be done by someone, unfortunately. The sooner the better.<</if>> After Ishrah and Siham have helped you get ready, Ziryan accompanies you to the dining area where Kham is, seeing as how you don’t yet have a stone tablet that allows you to navigate the palace on your own. Considering the very recent assassination attempt, however, you don’t begrudge the security measure, even if it means having your movements restricted. As reasonable as it is, it does still make you uncomfortable. You’re not used to having no exit strategy or a plan of escape of your own. Having to rely on strangers for your safety is unnerving, to say the least. You glance down at your<<if $clothing is 'shalwar'>> tunic and<</if>> $clothing, wearing a blue-and-gold color scheme today. To you, the golden threads woven through the blue fabric look appropriately extravagant, but you have no idea if Kham will be sufficiently impressed. Your clothes are thankfully lighter than the ones from yesterday, but you’ve still had to sit for Ishrah to apply the face paint. That, it seems, is not optional. More than anything you hope you can convince Kham to tell you more about the singing flowers. They aren’t exactly difficult to find, but you’ve never heard of them being used like this before. The chiming sound from the singing flower is capable of both attracting insects for pollination while warding off any animals that may eat it. They’re a shepherd’s worst nightmare; sheep are known to bolt at the slightest noise of the chiming. The ones that venture too close become paralyzed. But it isn’t supposed to affect humans. If anything, most people find it a pleasant sound. How did the assassins strengthen it to such an extent? Regardless, you’ll have to talk to Kham first, which means you need to decide on an approach. It all depends on how much you trust her with the truth, and this time you have no one to ask for advice. After considering all the angles, you’ve decided you… <ul class="a"> <li>[[…will ask her about the flower outright.|6.11][$khamproach to 'honest']]</li> <li>[[…will test her by mentioning it casually, as if it’s simply small talk.|6.11][$khamproach to 'test']]</li> <li>[[…won’t mention the flower directly, but try to guide her onto the topic.|6.11][$khamproach to 'secret']]</li> </ul><<unset $rconfidesinyou>><<if $khamproach is 'honest'>><<if $kind gt $calc>>You have no reason to suspect Kham or any of the peris of having a connection to the assassins, but that doesn’t mean the honest approach is necessarily the most careless one. In the unlikely case she <em>does</em> know something, asking it out of the blue may catch her off guard and reveal something crucial.<<else>>The honest approach may seem naive at first glance, but utilized properly, it can tell one just as much if not more than using deception. The trick is the timing; if Kham knows anything important, asking her about the flowers suddenly may cause her to let something slip.<</if>><</if>><<if $khamproach is 'test'>><<if $kind gt $calc>>While this is not usually the way you like to operate, you’ve had to learn how to do it in order to survive.<<else>>This seems the wisest approach, and one you’ve become skilled in over the years.<</if>> Getting Kham to be comfortable around you so that she lets her guard down might serve you better than outright lying or being straightforward. The chance that she might reveal something important would be likelier, or so you guess; you don’t know her well enough to say with certainty, but this is the best approach you can think of.<</if>><<if $khamproach is 'secret'>><<if $kind gt $calc>>It is not that you suspect her or the peris of having anything to do with the assassins; what motive would they have, after all? But, as uneasy as it makes you to admit it, the possibility <em>does</em> exist. <<else>>While you have no reason to suspect Kham or the peris of having anything to do with the assassins, that doesn’t rule out the possibility completely. When operating as blindly as you are, with as little information as you have, it is better to be paranoid than too trusting.<</if>> Tipping her off to your knowledge of the singing flower, whether it be due to the assassins or due to the well-known protectiveness of the peris over nature, may cause trouble down the line.<</if>> Mind made up and plan prepared, you feel more confident as you follow Ziryan down a long hallway. They stop near two large, open double doors which must lead to the dining area where Kham is. <<if $charm gt $blunt>>Steeling yourself with a charming smile painted on your lips,<<else>>Smoothing out your expression into one of calm confidence,<</if>> you head toward the doors when the sound of unexpected voices has you halt before you even reach them. “Kham,” you hear $xname’s voice say from inside,<<if $loveinterest is 'X'>> the sound of it having you straighten up with attention,<</if>> “if I cared about trees, I would have asked.” You exchange a look with Ziryan, whose wide-eyed expression indicates they also did not expect $xname to be present. <<if $loveinterest is 'X'>>Surprising though it may be, you can’t say that it’s unwelcome. Quite the opposite.<</if>> “Arrogant as always,” Kham replies, and it’s the first time you hear her speak with noticeable irritation. “For someone who has spent weeks sheltered in <em>our</em> forest, you are certainly ungrateful.” Sensing the conversation is taking a turn for the worse, you prepare to make an appearance, but what $xname says next piques your interest and stays your hand. “Did you know that the tribes of Sur reject the notion of territorial assertions altogether?” $xname replies, and you can almost hear $xthem smiling with smugness. “To them, the thought that any one group has a definitive claim on land, or nature itself, is the height of arrogance. What do the peris of Anshan think about that?” You know very little about the tribes of Sur yourself beyond historical knowledge, considering they mainly reside in the province Zerat and the southern parts of Arsur nowadays. Deciding it can’t hurt to listen for a while longer, you hover beside the doorway, waiting to hear Kham’s response. “If you are suggesting that peris of Anshan are in any way comparable to your human dynasties, you are sorely mistaken,” Kham says sharply. “We have never laid a claim on nature, as you well know. We protect it–mainly from humans, need I remind you.” “Yet a moment ago you called it <em>your</em> forest,” $xname points out; whether $xthey even believes anything $xthey's saying is in doubt. It's equally possible $xthey's merely trying to get a rise out of Kham. “Shall I generously assume that was merely a slip of the tongue?” “Regardless of word choice, our culture has far more in common with the tribes of Sur than your waning empire,” Kham snaps. $xname merely laughs in response. “Oh, did the tribes of Sur establish a monarchy when I wasn’t looking, <em>princess</em>?” You hear the disconcerting noise of wood cracking. The sound has Ziryan’s hand reflexively reaching down to the hilt of the sword strapped to their hip, fingers curling around it. You raise a hand at them, indicating for them to relax as you step out into the doorway, deciding you have let $xname antagonize Kham for long enough. [[Continue|6.12]] To your surprise, $xname and Kham aren’t the only ones in the room. Instead of a low table, this room has one high enough for chairs—probably more comfortable for Kham that way—with not only $xname but also $dname sitting on the left side of the table, Kham across from them. Has $dname been silently observing the conversation this entire time? All occupants in the room turn their heads to look at you, though $dname and Kham are the only ones who appear surprised to see you. Kham must not have any sensory abilities either, then. $dname is the first to rise from $dtheir chair to greet you, inclining $dtheir head in a small bow. “Your Imperial Majesty.” <<if $loveinterest is 'D'>> While $dthey bows, however, $dtheir eyes look up to meet yours, something you don’t think is entirely proper to do, which makes you smile before you can help it. $dname quickly looks away again as $dthey straightens up, waiting for you to take a seat.<</if>> Meanwhile, $xname greets you with a grin and a wave of $xtheir hand as $xthey lazily rises from $xtheir chair<<if $loveinterest is 'D'>>, though from the sly look $xthey gives $dname, you’re certain $xthey noticed that little exchange<</if>><<if $loveinterest is 'X'>>, adding a ridiculous wink that you know is not proper etiquette, but that makes you smile even so<</if>>. “$name, <<if $loveinterest is 'X'>>you look as radiant as ever<<else>>glad you could join us<</if>>! Kham and I were having quite an interesting discussion—” “Insulting is how I would put it,” Kham sneers, casting $xname a glare that burns brightly in her orange eyes, sparks of red flaring within. The long fingers of her wooden hand are clenched around the edge of the table, a crack visible within the wood. When she notices you looking at it, the branches of her hand carefully retract. She looks a little ridiculous in the chair, her skeletal wings alone dwarfing it in size; she's several heads too tall for it. “My apologies, Crown.” The anger in her face smooths out as her mouth stretches into a smile. “I was carried away by the Pale Sword’s childish games. It is a pleasure to see you, considering you could not make it to our dinner last night.” <<if $hidekham is false>>While she has no eyelids, the holes of her eye sockets narrow with a weighted look—she knows about the assassination attempt, after all. You remind yourself to keep a calm countenance as you move toward the chair at the head of the table.<<else>>You cannot detect any underlying tone to her words, and there shouldn’t be, considering she doesn’t know about the assassination attempt. It puts you a little more at ease as you move toward the chair at the head of the table.<</if>> $rname advised you on proper seating right before $rthey left, so you know to do that much at least. When you sit down, so do $dname and $xname—Kham, you assume, did not stand up as she sees you as an equal. You’re glad this breakfast is a private gathering, or you have no doubt it would’ve left a bad impression on the nobility. From across the table, however, you catch $xname staring at you. Or rather, staring at a spot above your head with a frown, a somewhat confused look on $xtheir face. $cxthey must be able to sense the spirits, unlike $dname or Kham, apparently. You decide to ignore it for now; the last thing you need is for Kham to know about that. “Good morning,” you reply <<if $charm gt $blunt>>pleasantly<<else>>politely<</if>>, determined to handle this better than you did your audience with the nobility. <<if $hidekham is false>><<if $charm gt $blunt>>Rather than dive right into the assassination attempt, you decide to ease into it first as you address Kham. “I hope your stay at the palace has been pleasant so far?” “Oh, it has been wonderful,” Kham says, smiling widely. “Seeing all the humans scurry around in a panic, the nobles getting into their insignificant little quarrels—I could not have asked for better entertainment!” “Well,” you say, your diplomatic smile starting to strain a little on your face; you’ve had enough of being talked down to. “I’m pleased we could offer you amusement, if nothing else. No doubt living in Anshan must be rather dull in comparison.” Kham gives you a long, considerate look, her own smile unmoving from her face. <<if $loveinterest is 'X' or $loveinterest is 'D'>>You notice <<if $loveinterest is 'D'>>$dname<</if>><<if $loveinterest is 'X'>>$xname<</if>> gazing at you from the corners of your eyes, watching you, while <<if $loveinterest is 'D'>>$xname<</if>><<if $loveinterest is 'X'>>$dname<</if>> has an eye on Kham<<else>>From the corners of your eyes you notice both $xname and $dname watching Kham, having decided to observe and let you take the lead on the conversation<</if>>. “Such is the price to pay for stability,” she says after a moment, perfectly composed. It appears you’ll have to try harder to ruffle her, or perhaps it’s something about $xname specifically that makes her raise her hackles. “Something you are sorely lacking if last night is any indication.” It seems Kham is not very interested in small talk.<<else>>Seeing it pointless to waste time on small talk, you decide to dive right into it. “I’m sure you are aware of the incident that occurred, so I hope you won’t hold my absence against me.” “Of course not,” Kham replies immediately, her usual carefree countenance seeming to have returned now that $xname is no longer needling her. “It must have been quite frightening for you! I’m sure you were very scared.” The sympathetic words are negated by her condescending tone, done on purpose to provoke you, no doubt. <<if $loveinterest is 'X' or $loveinterest is 'D'>>You notice <<if $loveinterest is 'D'>>$dname<</if>><<if $loveinterest is 'X'>>$xname<</if>> gazing at you from the corners of your eyes, watching your reaction closely, while <<if $loveinterest is 'D'>>$xname<</if>><<if $loveinterest is 'X'>>$dname<</if>> watches Kham <<if $loveinterest is 'D'>>with a frown<</if>><<if $loveinterest is 'X'>>with an unimpressed look<</if>><<else>>From the corners of your eyes you notice both $xname and $dname watching Kham, having decided to observe and let you take the lead on the conversation<</if>>. Instead of reacting to it, you give her an even stare in return. “Fear had nothing to do with it. Dealing with the threat took longer than I anticipated, and I had no time to spare on entertaining a guest. You understand, of course, that I must prioritize matters of actual importance in these circumstances.” If the jab gets to Kham at all, she doesn’t show it. She merely hums, appearing perfectly composed; it appears you’ll have to try harder to ruffle her, or perhaps it’s something about $xname specifically that makes her raise her hackles. “Well, I am certainly glad you had the time to spare today,” Kham says. “There must not be anything important happening, I suppose?” She certainly doesn’t hold back.<</if>><<else>><<if $charm gt $blunt>>“I hope your stay at the palace has been pleasant so far?” “Oh, it has been wonderful,” Kham says, smiling widely. “Seeing all the humans scurry around in a panic, the nobles getting into their insignificant little quarrels—I could not have asked for better entertainment!” “Well,” you say, your diplomatic smile starting to strain a little on your face; you’ve had enough of being talked down to. “I’m pleased we could offer you amusement, if nothing else. No doubt living in Anshan must be rather dull in comparison, then?” Kham gives you a long, considerate look, her own smile unmoving from her face. <<if $loveinterest is "X" or $loveinterest is "D">>You notice <<if $loveinterest is "D">>$dname<</if>><<if $loveinterest is "X">>$xname<</if>> gazing at you from the corners of your eyes, watching you, while <<if $loveinterest is "D">>$xname<</if>><<if $loveinterest is "X">>$dname<</if>> has an eye on Kham<<else>>From the corners of your eyes you notice both $xname and $dname watching Kham, having decided to observe and let you take the lead on the conversation<</if>>. “Oh, most certainly,” she says after a moment, perfectly composed. It appears you’ll have to try harder to ruffle her, or perhaps it’s something about $xname specifically that makes her raise her hackles. “I cannot boast of any monarch of the peris ever being assassinated, after all.” It seems Kham is not very interested in small talk.<<else>> Seeing it pointless to waste time on small talk, you decide to dive right into it. “I’m sure you have been informed that something important came up last night; I hope you won’t hold my absence against me.” “Of course not,” Kham replies immediately, her usual carefree countenance seeming to have returned now that $xname is no longer needling her. “I know very well the importance of ruling one’s territory; it must be very difficult for you, as someone who has been doing this for a mere two days.” The sympathetic words are negated by her condescending tone, done on purpose to provoke you, no doubt. <<if $loveinterest is "X" or $loveinterest is "D">>You notice <<if $loveinterest is "D">>$dname<</if>><<if $loveinterest is "X">>$xname<</if>> gazing at you from the corners of your eyes, watching your reaction closely, while <<if $loveinterest is "D">>$xname<</if>><<if $loveinterest is "X">>$dname<</if>> watches Kham <<if $loveinterest is "D">>with a frown<</if>><<if $loveinterest is "X">>with an unimpressed look<</if>><<else>>From the corners of your eyes you notice both $xname and $dname watching Kham, having decided to observe and let you take the lead on the conversation<</if>>. Instead of reacting to it, you give her an even stare in return. “My lack of experience does not change the fact that I have a duty to my country, and as such I had no time to spare on entertaining a guest. You understand, of course, that I must prioritize matters of actual importance in these circumstances.” If the jab gets to Kham at all, she doesn’t show it. She merely hums, appearing perfectly composed; it appears you’ll have to try harder to ruffle her, or perhaps it’s something about $xname specifically that makes her raise her hackles. “Well, I am certainly glad you had the time to spare today,” Kham says. “There must not be anything important happening, I suppose?” She certainly doesn’t hold back.<</if>><</if>> [[Continue|6.13]] Just as she speaks the words, servants you haven’t seen before enter the room, carrying trays filled with plates of breads, fruits and vegetables, as well as platters of sliced meats and cheeses. It gives you a moment to breathe before having to respond, not to mention the fact that your stomach is rumbling as you passed on dinner last night. One of the servants fills up your cup with freshly brewed black tea, and when you raise it up to your lips to blow on it, the others seem to take it as a signal to start eating. $xname goes right for the flatbread and the slices of white cheese while also pulling the bowl of black olives towards $xthemselves. “Must you hog all the olives?” $dname says with annoyance, trying to reach over and prick one with $dtheir fork. $xname pulls it out of reach. “Ah, ah! I’ve laid claim on these olives—or, as Kham puts it, I 'protect' it now. You must pay me an olive tax if you wish to take one. Give me three slices of cheese.” “That’s not how governing works,” Kham says, the wooden features of her face somehow managing to convey mild disgust. “Or taxes.” “That is not how anything works,” $dname agrees. “This is basic bartering, at most.” “Oh, really?” $xname says with exaggerated surprise. “It all sounds like robbery to me!” “Says the mercenary,” Kham scoffs. “Look here, I may kill people for a living but I’ve never robbed anyone who wasn’t rich.” “Three slices of cheese for a single olive is absurd,” $dname cuts in, which has $xname arching $xtheir brows. “I thought you just said this isn’t how governing works, yet you’re already buying into it?” $xname shakes $xtheir head, deeply disappointed as $xthey laments philosophically, “In the end, peri or human, we are all motivated by greed.” “How about this,” $dname says, a vein swelling in $dtheir forehead, “I’ll give you a taste of the bottom of my shoe, completely for free—” <ul class="a"> <li><<if $charm gt $blunt>>[[“Please don't start throwing shoes over the breakfast table.”|6.14a]]<<else>>[[“Do not.”|6.14a]]<</if>></li> <li><<if $intu gt $intel>>[[“Whatever you do, don't knock over my tea.”|6.14c]]<<else>>[[“Is this really necessary?”|6.14c]]<</if>></li> <li><<if $kind gt $calc>>[[“Why is it that every time you two interact, you end up bickering? Do I need to call a priest for an intervention?”|6.14b]]<<else>>[[“Do you two rehearse this beforehand? Is this a theater performance? Is that what's happening?”|6.14b]]<</if>></li> </ul> It looks like liquid as it falls into the cup, glowing a bright pink, wisps of it rising from the cup like smoke. You can almost taste it in the air, slightly sweet on your tongue. “It is similar to a juice, if you were wondering,” Kham informs you as she lifts the cup to her mouth. “The magic is pulled from fruits and flowers. I would tell you to try it, but most humans cannot absorb magic like this without risking a heart attack.” “I bet I could do it,” $xname says, eyeing the cup of liquid magic with skepticism. “Feel free to choke on it,” $dname grumbles, causing $xname to laugh, which only seems to annoy $dthem more. “Ha, good one, $xdnickname!” “Don’t use my chosen name, we are not friends.”<<if $khamproach is 'secret' or $khamproach is 'test'>><<if $khamproach is 'secret'>> While $dname and $xname bicker, you’re struck by Kham’s words. The opportunity presents itself so unexpectedly you almost miss it; this is the perfect way to ask her about the singing flower without mentioning it! “Flowers, too?” you ask Kham, your surprise not entirely feigned; you know little of the eating habits of peris, after all. “Does it matter what kind?” Kham, who was looking at $dname with sympathy, seems more than willing to answer your question. “So long as the flower possesses a certain amount of magic, its kind only matters for the flavor. The flowers in this particular extract are from snapping blooms, the kind that can pierce through skin. It has a tangy taste to it that I like.” “Interesting,” you comment, trying to keep a nonchalant tone as you slice a chunk off your hard boiled egg. “What are your favorite flowers to… drink, if that is the right term? The snapping blooms, or other ones?” “Hmm, I <em>do</em> like the snapping blooms…” Kham thinks on it for a moment—$xname and $dname’s arguing has also died down at this point, both eating and listening to the conversation. “I would have to say either these, the blue siren, or the frosted tulip, though those only sprout in winter.” The blue siren strikes a chord. “The blue siren?” Kham pauses for a moment, her hand that was reaching for her cup pausing around it as her eyes focus on you. You nearly hold your breath. “It’s a specific type of singing flower,” Kham explains after a moment, lifting her cup and taking another long sip from her drink. “It’s known for producing a chiming sound.”<</if>><<if $khamproach is 'test'>> While $dname and $xname bicker, you’re struck by Kham’s words. The opportunity presents itself so unexpectedly you almost miss it; this might be the perfect time to ask about the singing flowers. “Flowers, too?” you ask Kham, your surprise not entirely feigned; you know little of the eating habits of peris, after all. “Does it matter what kind?” Kham, who was looking at $dname with sympathy, seems more than willing to answer your question. “As long as the flower possesses a certain amount of magic, its kind only matters for the flavor. The flowers in this particular extract are from snapping blooms—the kind that can pierce through your hand. It has a tangy taste to it that I like.” “Interesting,” you comment, trying to keep a nonchalant tone as you slice a chunk off your hard boiled egg. “So if you wanted to… drink a singing flower, for example, you would only need to extract its magic?” You watch Kham’s reaction closely when you mention the flower. Her hand that was reaching for her cup pauses around it, her eyes now focused on you. “Those are one of my favorites, actually,” she says, and you cannot tell whether she means anything by it or if it is an earnest remark. “Particularly the blue siren. Its chiming sound is rather striking.”<</if>> Neither $dname or $xname visibly reacted until that point, but once <<if $khamproach is 'honest'>>you mention<<else>>Kham mentions<</if>> the chiming sound, you’re certain they must be paying attention. You watch Kham closely for any sort of reaction as you inquire further, hoping your known lack of experience and knowledge will work in your favor for once. “I think I’ve heard of a flower like that before. Is it true it can attract people to it, with the sound?” “Mainly bees, in my experience,” Kham says, appearing amused by the question. “But its hypnotic effect doesn’t work on people, no. If one is attracted by the sound, it’s merely because it’s pleasant to listen to.” “It must have a lot of magic, to be able to do that at all.” “Rather than its attractive qualities, what fascinates me more is its paralyzing effect on predators,” Kham comments, and you cannot tell whether it is an innocent remark or a purposeful one. Does she know why you’re asking, or is it an earnest interest that she’s taken to discussing with you? “Paralyzing, with its chime?” you prod further, having forgotten about eating as you listen to Kham’s response with rapt attention. “Yes, its ability to stun animals that might graze it is quite unique.” Kham signals with her hand for a servant to fill up her cup once more. “I have often wondered why it is that it does not work on peris or humans. I suppose us peris might have a natural resistance to it, as spirits, and perhaps the amount of magic within a human is too large for it to be influenced by the sound.” “But if a human were to, say, have very little natural magic?” you suggest. “Less than even a child, for example?” Kham, having been preoccupied with watching the servant pour her drink before, snaps her gaze back to you at the question. The silence between you stretches on, until she finally says<<if $hidekham is false>><<if visited("6.14") is 1>><<set $khampoints -= 1>><</if>>, “I must say, I’m disappointed, Crown. Here I thought we were starting to become friends!” Shit. Did she realize? “I’m not sure what you mean,” you reply, feigning ignorance, and Kham lets out a deep sigh. “It is obvious you’re hiding something,” she states. “Though I do not know why you would be interested in a mere flower. To answer your question: yes, I suppose it could be possible. However, I imagine any human that had less magic than a child would probably be dead.”<<else>>, “Yes, I suppose it could be possible. However, I imagine any human that had less magic than a child would probably be dead.”<</if>> You nod, frowning as you think it over. It seems Kham has no further answers for you.<</if>><<if $khamproach is 'honest'>> While $dname and $xname bicker, you’re struck by Kham’s words. The opportunity presents itself so unexpectedly you almost miss it; this is the perfect moment to ask her about the singing flower. “Flowers, too?” you ask Kham, your surprise not entirely feigned; you know little of the eating habits of peris, after all. “That reminds me about something I wanted to ask you, relating to flowers. One in particular.” Kham, who was looking at $dname with sympathy, seems more than willing to answer your question. “Of course.” “I am interested in learning more about singing flowers,” you say, making sure to watch her reaction closely when you say the next part. “Particularly ones that produce a chiming sound.” “Oh?” Kham’s facial expression hardly changes, save for the wood of her brows lifting slightly. “You must mean the blue siren. It is the only type of singing flower that produces a chime.” You’ll have to look up the blue siren later; you’re certain there must have been research done on it. “Yes, that must be it, then. I was wondering if it was possible for the chiming sound to work on humans, as well. Either to attract or to paralyze.” “Not in my experience,” Kham says, appearing amused by the question. “Although I have often wondered why that is as well, why the chiming sound does not work on either humans or peris. I suppose us peris might have a natural resistance to it as spirits, and perhaps the amount of magic within a human is too large for it to be influenced by the sound.” “But if a human were to, say, have very little innate magic?” you suggest. “Less than even a child, for example? Could it work then?” Kham, having been preoccupied with watching the servant pour her drink before, snaps her gaze back to you at the question. The silence between you stretches on, until she finally says, “Yes, I suppose it could be possible. Though I imagine any human that had less magic than a child would probably be dead.” You nod, frowning as you think it over. It seems Kham has no further answers for you.<<if $hidekham is false>><<if visited("6.14") is 1>><<set $khampoints += 2>><</if>> “I must say, I’m pleased to be of service,” she remarks, startling you out of your thoughts, and for once the smile on her face appears to be a genuine one. “You have been surprisingly forthcoming with me thus far, especially considering the state of your empire. It is appreciated.” That catches you by surprise. “Well, you are a guest in my home, after all. It’s only natural.” Kham appears pleased with your remark. “That attitude speaks well of you, Crown.”<<else>><<if visited("6.14") is 1>><<set $khampoints += 1>><</if>> “I must say, I’m surprised you came to me with this question,” she remarks, startling you out of your thoughts. “I would think you would wish to consult your human scholars, first.” “That would take too long,” you say honestly. “You are just as reliable a source as far as the flowers in Anshan are concerned, no?” Kham appears pleased with your remark; flattery does have its uses. “I am indeed.”<</if>><</if>> [[Continue|6.15]]<<set $theperis to true>>[ <b>New Character Codex unlocked</b> ] “As illuminating as this conversation has been,” $xname announces then, getting up from $xtheir seat, “I’m afraid I’m needed elsewhere.” <<if $loveinterest is 'X'>>“You’re leaving already?” you say, trying to keep your disappointment from showing, but considering the grin $xname gives you $xthey has doubtlessly picked up on it. “Don’t worry, you’ll see me later in the afternoon,” $xname promises. “The Crescent Blades will be helping with security for the coronation, after all. You and I have a lot to discuss.” That sounds like a promise—one you can look forward to, in any case.<<else>>“You are?” you say, mildly surprised that $xname actually has business to attend to. $cxtheir carefree attitude tends to be deceiving. “Don’t sound so shocked,” $xname replies, pretending to be affronted. “The Crescent Blades will be helping with security for the coronation, after all. We have a lot to discuss.”<</if>> $cxthey winks at you before $xthey turns to leave, patting $dname on the pauldron as $xthey walks past and giving Kham a half-hearted wave. “Enjoy the rest of your meal!” As soon as $xname has left $dname lets out a sigh that sounds like it originated from the deepest, oldest parts of $dtheir soul. “$cxthey ate half the bread. <em>Half</em> of all the bread. My horse doesn’t eat as much food as $xthey does.” “In $xtheir defense,” you start, ignoring the long-suffering look $dname gives you, “bread is good.” “Bread tastes quite good, I agree,” Kham says, to your surprise. “I thought you only drank your…” You pause. “<<if $charm gt $blunt>>Pardon me, but does<<else>>Does<</if>> it have a name? I’m assuming it’s not 'flower juice'.” “This particular concoction is called a berry and bloom extract,” Kham answers you helpfully, raising her cup before taking another sip. “You are half-right. I may not be able to eat food as I am now, but I am able to in my human form.” “How come you’re not in your human form right now, then?” Kham grins. “Because it’s easier to push the human nobles around when I look like a walking tree. They should thank my mother for sending me; none of my older siblings are small enough to fit comfortably in this palace. It is so restrictive.” $dname, who resigned $dthemselves to quietly eating $dtheir breakfast, gives Kham a disapproving look. “Please stop treating the nobles like your personal toys.” “Oh, what are they going to do, look down their noses at me?” Kham huffs a laugh at her own joke. “They can’t! Because I’m—” “Because you’re very tall, yes, we know,” $dname mutters, pinching the bridge of $dtheir nose while you try not to grin, if only for $dname’s benefit. [[Continue|6.16]] Thankfully the rest of your breakfast passes by much more smoothly than the tense conversation you had with Kham at the start. $dname’s presence in that regard is surprisingly helpful, though you can’t help but wonder how $dthey and $xname ended up joining Kham in the first place. <<if $khampoints lte 0>>“Far be it from me to keep you, Crown,” Kham says by the end of breakfast, after you let her know you have other matters to attend to. “I can find something more entertaining to occupy myself with, I’m sure.” She appears apathetic about your departure, and you wonder whether you should be concerned only for a brief moment before discarding the thought. You have a hundred things more important to worry about than whether Kham is sufficiently entertained or not.<</if>><<if $khampoints gt 0 and $khampoints lte 2>>“Well, this was certainly a pleasant diversion!” Kham says by the end of breakfast, after you let her know you have other matters to attend to. “Thank you for entertaining me, Crown.” From Kham’s content mood you conclude that breakfast was mostly a success. While you might not have gotten as much information on the blue siren as you initially hoped, Kham gave you a good lead to follow up on.<</if>><<if $khampoints gt 2>>“Already?” Kham bemoans, seeming disappointed at having you leave at the end of breakfast when you announce you have other matters to attend to. “Fine, fine, I suppose I can’t keep you all to myself. We <em>must</em> do this again soon, however. I insist!” From Kham’s cheerful mood you conclude that breakfast was a great success. While you might not have gotten as much information on the blue siren as you initially hoped, Kham gave you a good lead to follow up on. If the fact that she’ll be missing you is any indication, it seems you’ve made yourself quite popular with the peri princess.<</if>> $dname insists on accompanying you as you leave, though you suspect it’s mostly so $dthey won’t be left alone with Kham. You ask $dthem to lead you out to the gardens, feeling a need for some fresh air and to stretch your legs a little. “How did you and $xname end up together with Kham in the first place?” you ask as you walk the corridors together. “I heard $aname hadn’t been feeling well after last night, so I decided to visit $athem this morning,” $dname explains, looking tired just from remembering it. “On my way there I happened to run into Kham, who demanded I accompany her to a dining area. Along the way we both had the misfortune of stumbling across $xname, who insisted on coming along.” “Yet you let $xname pester Kham on purpose,” you point out, and $dname glances at you, brows slightly arched. $cdthey seems surprised that you noticed. “Did $xname know about the flower?” “No,” $dname says, $dtheir lips curving unexpectedly, and for a moment $dthey appears mildly amused. “$xname makes it a habit of being a menace, I merely took advantage. I anticipated that you would want to ask her about the flower, so I let $xname needle her in advance—I thought it might get her to slip up once you spoke to her.” “But wouldn’t $xname teasing her just make her put her guard up?” $dname sighs. “Her guard is up regardless; she won’t lower it no matter how much you sweet talk her. It’s better to aggravate her and look for cracks in her composure.” <<if $charm gt $blunt>>“So, what’s the verdict?”<<else>>“Then, did you notice anything during breakfast?”<</if>> you ask. “Because from where I was sitting, I couldn’t tell much from her reactions. Or lack thereof.” “She gave very little away,” $dname admits, appearing thoughtful as $dtheir gaze drifts along the windows of the hallway, revealing the sunny weather outside gracing the Royal Gardens. “I could not say if she was hiding her own curiosity, or if she truly knew something more. What matters now is what she will do next. But…” You look expectantly at $dname. “But?” “There is one thing that troubles me,” $dname says, brows furrowing in thought. “Do you recall when you first met her? She had guards to accompany her, yet every time I’ve seen her since, her guards are nowhere to be found.” “Maybe they’re invisible?” you suggest. “Like the Imperial Guards?” “That is a possibility,” $dname admits, but doesn’t look entirely placated. “But even if that is the case, it bothers me that I can’t keep an eye on them.” “Do you suspect Kham of something?” “I have no reason to,” $dname says. “But that is the trouble with Queen Nis and her family. They are remarkably secretive, even to their allies. No one outside of their inner circles could say if anything has changed in the past ten years.” $dname gives you a questioning look. “What about you? Do you trust her?” <ul class="a"> <li>[[“No. At this point, I don’t trust anyone.”|6.17][$khamtrust to 'no']]</li> <li>[[“I see no reason to distrust her, in any case.”|6.17][$khamtrust to 'yes']]</li> <li>[[“It’s too early to say. It would be good to stay cautious, if nothing else.”|6.17][$khamtrust to 'undecided']]</li> </ul><<if $khamtrust is 'no'>>“Yes, in your current position it would be best to remain suspicious,” $dname agrees, leading you toward an open doorway that functions as the entrance to the garden on your right side.<</if>><<if $khamtrust is 'yes'>>“Merely because you do not know of a reason to distrust her, does not mean that there isn’t any,” $dname says, leading you toward an open doorway that functions as the entrance to the garden on your right side. You arch your brows at $dthem. “That sounds a little paranoid, $dname.” “I’d rather you be paranoid than dead,” $dthey states, and you find it hard to argue with that sentiment.<</if>><<if $khamtrust is 'undecided'>>“That is reasonable enough,” $dname considers, leading you toward an open doorway that functions as the entrance to the garden on your right side.<</if>> <<if $hidenobles is false>>The gardens, you notice, are utterly devoid of the nobles you saw roaming around yesterday. The paths that lead along the lakes are completely abandoned, nothing but the sound of bird song and the occasional breeze through the tops of the trees breaking the silence. When $dname catches you staring, $dthey explains, “$rtitle $rname chased the nobles out. They were demanding another audience with you after last night, so boundaries had to be drawn.” “I’m certainly not going to complain,” you confess, relieved you won’t have to deal with them again—at least until your coronation.<<else>>There are nobles roaming about again, like they were yesterday after their audience with you. They walk along the paths that border the lakes, a few having settled down on stone benches or on blankets on the grass. Upon your entrance, however, you notice several palace guards blocking the nobles that notice you from approaching you, warning them back and away. They start to clear out a large section of the garden without even having to be told. When $dname catches you staring at the spectacle, $dthey explains, “$rtitle $rname’s instructions. $crthey was very clear about the nobles not being allowed to approach you today.” You make a mental note to thank $rthem for that later.<</if>> $dname guides you to a roofed structure shaped in an octagon, only large enough to allow a low table and pillows for seating. It’s certainly better than sitting on the grass or one of the stone benches<<if $hidenobles is true>>, like some nobles are doing<</if>>. As you sit down on a pillow, you notice $dname does not follow your example. <<if $loveinterest is 'D'>>“Where are you going?”<<else>>“Leaving already?”<</if>> you ask, having been under the impression that $dthey’d be sitting with you. “I still need to visit $aname,” $dthey reminds you. “It will only take a short while.”<<if $loveinterest is 'D'>> “Ah.” That’s only reasonable, but you can’t help but feel a little disappointed. It must show on your face, because as $dthey looks down at you, $dname appears conflicted. $cdthey parts $dtheir lips to speak, and you wait with anticipation. After a moment passes, however, $dname smooths out $dtheir expression and says, “We will both meet you in the dungeons afterwards. Your Imperial Majesty.” $cdtheir bow seems stiffer than usual, and you avert your gaze as $dthey turns around and walks back the way you came. It’s silly to feel bothered by it, but all these rules of decorum are really starting to annoy you.<</if>><<if $loveinterest is 'A'>> “Maybe I should come along?” you say, frowning with concern. $rname also mentioned it before, but you didn’t know it was serious enough to warrant a visit. “To make sure $athey’s fine.” $dname gives you a funny look. “That won’t be necessary; it would draw needless attention. We wouldn’t want anyone to think the Royal Protector has weakened at such a critical time.” You sigh, understanding the rationale, even if you’re not pleased with it. “Then, just make sure $athey’s doing alright in my stead.” “Well, yes, that is what I was planning on.” $dname gives you a long look, seeming to consider something, but then shakes $dtheir head and bows. “Your Imperial Majesty.” You watch $dthem turn around and walk back the way you came, leaving you by yourself.<</if>> [[Continue|6.18]] Thankfully, you’re not alone for very long. Siham and Ishrah appear in the palace corridor, and Ishrah spots you immediately, waving enthusiastically through the window. It brings a smile to your face, and you wave back as they enter the garden and join you at the table. “Hello again,” you greet, glad to not be sitting here by yourself. Without even noticing it you’ve already started to become used to Siham and Ishrah’s company; you find them both easy to talk to. They don’t expect anything from you, nor do you have to worry about being judged. “How was your breakfast, Your Imperial Majesty?” Siham asks, hands folded formally in front of them while Ishrah gives them an amused look. “Do you require any additional refreshments?” You could do without the formality, but you’ll have plenty of time to work on that with Siham. “I require you to join me at the table, for one.” “Gladly!” Ishrah chirps, immediately taking a seat on the pillow on your left. Siham looks like they’re pulling teeth as they take the pillow on your right. After a moment, as if making sure the pillow won’t bite them for sitting down, they seem to relax as well. “Breakfast<<if $khampoints lte 0>> was… well, it probably could’ve gone better,” you admit.<</if>><<if $khampoints gt 0 and $khampoints lte 2>> went fairly well,” you consider.<</if>><<if $khampoints gt 2>> went unexpectedly well,” you say.<</if>> “What have the two of you been up to?” “After we cleaned up your quarters, we helped Keko instruct the new servants that joined the palace staff today,” Ishrah says, beaming with pride. “I was <em>so</em> nervous because it was my first time, I just kept babbling at them! Siham did great, as always, although… I think most of the servants were a little scared of him.” Siham fidgets a little on the pillow, averting his gaze when you give him a questioning look. “I don’t see why. I merely instructed them on what to do.” They seem so shy toward you that you have a hard time imagining it at first, but considering the formal way they talk, you’re starting to understand why a new servant might be a little intimidated. [[Continue|6.19]] As you listen to Ishrah chatter on for a while longer, telling you all about how she and Siham helped train the new servants, you’re starting to feel a physical weight on your shoulders. The water spirits that were dormant until now are starting to act up again, and you think you know why. “Ishrah, do you have something for me to write on?” you ask during a pause in the conversation. <<if $intel gt $intu>>“I’d like to record my thoughts. It’s to sort out my head.” Ishrah looks concerned. “Are you feeling alright, Crown $name? Should I call a healer?” “No, that’s alright.” You frown, trying to think of a way to explain this to her. “It’s just that my mind gets overfull sometimes. Too many thoughts swirling around. It helps me to write it down, get everything into order.” From the somewhat confused expression on her face, you suppose she can’t relate. Lucky her. “Oh, I know what that feels like,”<<else>>“I’m afraid I’ll forget everything later unless I write it down now.” “Forget what, Crown $name?” “You know.” You gesture vaguely around you. “Everything that has happened so far, people I’ve met, things like that.” There’s also the fact that your head feels like it’s starting to throb with the amount of issues weighing on you--<em>literally</em>, thanks to the water spirits. “That’s a good idea; writing things down is always helpful,”<</if>> Siham chimes in, then looks almost surprised at his own casual interjection. It pleases you to see it, though; he must be getting more comfortable around you. “Do you write as well?” you ask encouragingly, and after a moment of hesitation, Siham nods. “I have a journal,” he replies. “It helps with keeping track of my daily duties. I’m sure I could find you an empty book to write in if you’d like, Your Imperial Majesty.” <<if $charm gt $blunt>>You smile. “I’d appreciate that, if it’s not too much of a bother.”<<else>>“Thank you,” you say for the second time that day, though it seems to affect Siham no less than the first time. “If it’s not too much of a bother, of course.”<</if>> “Not at all, I’ll go find one immediately!” Siham says, standing up straighter just to bow, before hurrying towards the doors. After they’ve left, you share a look with Ishrah, who grins back at you. “Don’t worry, he’ll get used to you eventually.” [[Continue|6.20]] As you wait for Siham to return, you decide to pass time by chatting to Ishrah some more. “By the way, what is the exact date of today? I’m afraid I may have lost track.” “Oh, today is 18 Liberation,” Ishrah says, appearing thoughtful. “The summer harvest festival is coming up next week, too… and after that, the Half Year festival.” You’d completely forgotten about the latter, even though you remember it to be a very important one. “I’m not used to keeping track of festivals and holidays anymore. It’d be nice to have a calendar to remind myself.” “Well, I don’t know much about the other holidays, but I can tell you about the harvest festivals,” Ishrah says brightly. She sits up straight and clears her throat, continuing in a very serious voice that you’re certain is imitating Siham: “In the month of Blessings there’s the spring harvest. That’s usually when the cattle give birth, which means you can milk them, and then there’s also the harvest for winter crops. In the month of Dawning, there’s—” “The months of Dawning and Liberation have summer harvests,” you state, knowing these festivals by heart. “I know there’s another during the month of Falling, for bringing in the cattle from herding, and the end year preparations for the winter are done during the month of Mourning Embers.” Ishrah’s eyes light up as you recount the other ones you know of, excitedly leaning forward across the table. “Yes, that’s exactly right!” [[Continue|6.21]] Your weary tone has both $dname and $xname halting, the former having the decency to look embarrassed while the latter merely grins at you. <<if $intu gt $intel>>"I promise to protect your tea with my life," $xname says, and $dname glares at $xthem. "No one will be knocking anything over!" $dname turns to you. "My apologies, Your Imperial Majesty."<<else>>"Entirely necessary," $xname says, and $dname glares at $xthem. "<em>Not</em> necessary." $dname turns to you. "My apologies, Your Imperial Majesty."<</if>> $cdthey returns $dtheir attention to the breakfast table, taking $dtheir pick of the vegetables—and keeping it far away from $xname while doing so. You decide you’d rather start with the hard boiled eggs, and eye the various fruit jams with indecision, wondering whether to try the pomegranate, cherry or the rose petal jam first. Kham is the only one who doesn’t seem to be eating, not until a servant brings a tray carrying a golden pitcher accompanied by a tall cup to her part of the table. The pitcher is decorated rather unusually, sigils inscribed in its steel, most of which you don’t recognize. The servant places the cup in front of Kham, and then pours the content of the pitcher into it. The substance that comes pouring out of the pitcher, however, isn’t a drink at all. It is pure magic. [[Continue|6.14]]<<if $charm gt $blunt>>Your weary tone has both $dname and $xname halting, the former having the decency to look embarrassed while the latter merely grins at you. "It could be a fun early morning exercise-" "$xname, <em>no</em>."<<else>>Your warning tone has the intended effect, at least; both $dname and $xname stop, turning their attention to you. "Why not?" $xname teases. "It could be a fun early morning exercise-" "$xname, <em>no</em>."<</if>> Meanwhile $dname presses $dtheir lips together, letting out a deep breath through $dtheir nose while $dthey takes $dtheir pick of the vegetables—keeping it far away from $xname while doing so. You decide you’d rather start with the hard boiled eggs and some bread. Eyeing the various fruit jams with indecision, you wonder whether to try the pomegranate, cherry or the rose petal jam first. Kham is the only one who doesn’t seem to be eating, not until a servant brings a tray carrying a golden pitcher accompanied by a tall cup to her part of the table. The pitcher is decorated rather unusually, sigils inscribed in its steel, most of which you don’t recognize. The servant places the cup in front of Kham, and then pours the content of the pitcher into it. The substance that comes pouring out of the pitcher, however, isn’t a drink at all. It is pure magic. [[Continue|6.14]] Your incredulous tone has both $dname and $xname halting, the former having the decency to look embarrassed while the latter merely grins at you. <<if $kind gt $calc>>"Please don't," $xname says gravely. "I promise to be $dname's best friend for the rest of my life, so long as you do not call a priest!" You sigh. "Just... try to behave yourself, alright?"<<else>>"No rehearsals necessary," $xname says proudly. "All of this is pure improvisation! You may applaud if you wish." "I'll pass."<</if>> Meanwhile, $dname presses $dtheir lips together, letting out a deep breath through $dtheir nose while $dthey takes $dtheir pick of the vegetables—keeping it far away from $xname while doing so. You decide you’d rather start with the hard boiled eggs, and eye the various fruit jams with indecision, wondering whether to try the pomegranate, cherry or the rose petal jam first. Kham is the only one who doesn’t seem to be eating, not until a servant brings a tray carrying a golden pitcher accompanied by a tall cup to her part of the table. The pitcher is decorated rather unusually, sigils inscribed in its steel, most of which you don’t recognize. The servant places the cup in front of Kham, and then pours the content of the pitcher into it. The substance that comes pouring out of the pitcher, however, isn’t a drink at all. It is pure magic. [[Continue|6.14]][ <b>Lessons in History updated</b> | <b>[[The Arsurian Calendar]] unlocked</b> ]<<set $calendar to true>><<set $day to 18>> It’s at that point that Siham appears in the palace corridors again, holding a large book while walking so fast they nearly run over another servant. “Siham, you really don’t need to hurry on my account,” you call out to them, worried they’re going to trip over their own feet and injure themselves. Siham slows down as they enter the garden, but only by a little. “I’ve found a book that I judged suitable, Your Imperial Majesty,” Siham says, slightly out of breath as they set down the book in front of you, as well as a bottle of ink and a thin, perfectly carved reed pen. The book itself is bound in a deep red hue, the top of its front cover depicting a golden sun, its rays stretching downwards. You can see why Siham thinks this book would suit you. “Thank you,” you say, opening up the book on the first page, finding it perfectly blank, waiting to be written in. You hesitate; it has been a while since you last wrote anything, and you’re worried your handwriting might be shaky as a result. Marring such an elegant book with poorly drawn scratches of ink makes you cringe. To your surprise, Siham pulls out additional sheets of papyrus from an inner pocket of their robe. “I thought you might wish to practice, Your Imperial Majesty.” “Oh, that was thoughtful of you.” Siham settles down on their pillow again, and they and Ishrah watch as you dip the tip of your pen in the ink, and finally put it to the page, slowly practicing by writing down your name. The first few tries appear clumsy and messy, but as you keep trying, your hand remembers the motions once more until your handwriting finally appears passable: <<if $intel gt $intu and $blunt gt $charm>>@@.intelblunt;$name $surname@@ “Your style radiates confidence!” Ishrah admires, peering at your practice sheets. “Mine is always so messy.”<</if>><<if $intel gt $intu and $charm gt $blunt>>@@.intelcharm;$name $surname@@ “The curls are so elegant,” Ishrah admires, peering at your practice sheets. “Mine is always so messy.”<</if>><<if $intu gt $intel and $blunt gt $charm>>@@.intublunt;$name $surname@@ “The letters are so big,” Ishrah admires, peering at your practice sheets. “But that makes it easier to read! Mine is always so messy.”<</if>><<if $intu gt $intel and $charm gt $blunt>>@@.intucharm;$name $surname@@ “The curves are so charming!” Ishrah admires, peering at your practice sheets. “Mine is always so messy.”<</if>> “Glad you approve,” you reply with a smile, before you finally take to your journal, feeling confident enough to start writing in it. But where to begin? Perhaps the order of events until now would be most useful. It’ll help you keep track of all that has happened so far. You could also write a little bit about the people you’ve met. Bending over the journal, Siham and Ishrah politely avert their gazes as you get to writing. [[Continue|6.22]][ <b>[[Lessons in History]] updated | The Order of Events So Far unlocked</b> ] [ <b>[[Character Codex]] updated</b> | <b><em>Major Figures</em> updated</b> ]<<set $timeline to true>> While writing about <<if $loveinterest is 'A'>>$aname<</if>><<if $loveinterest is 'D'>>$dname<</if>><<if $loveinterest is 'R'>>$rname<</if>><<if $loveinterest is 'X'>>$xname<</if>> in particular, you find it difficult to keep from dedicating a whole page to <<if $loveinterest is 'A'>>$athem<</if>><<if $loveinterest is 'D'>>$dthem<</if>><<if $loveinterest is 'R'>>$rthem<</if>><<if $loveinterest is 'X'>>$xthem<</if>> alone. You manage to control yourself only in case someone is bold enough to go snooping through your journal, in which case your particular interest would likely be painfully apparent. That’s an embarrassment you’d rather not experience. By the time you’re done writing you’re already on your way to filling up several pages. Aside from the timeline you’ve written out on the first page, the rest are a loose collection of observations simply to get all your thoughts out of your head. “Do you feel better now, Crown $name?” Ishrah asks when she notices you’re done writing, and you nod, rolling your shoulders and feeling them to be lighter already. The spirits hanging around you seem calm. “Much.” “Can we fetch you something to drink?” she asks, peering up at the cloudless sky where the sun is blazing across the garden, the chirping of crickets audible in the distance. Thankfully you dressed lightly today, or you’d be sweating. Before you can respond, you’re distracted by the figure of Ziryan heading your way. You hadn’t even noticed when they left your side, considering $dname escorted you to the gardens. <<if $hidenone is true>>Watching them approach, you notice something odd: they’re holding a yellow tulip in their right hand. What is it with today and flowers? Ishrah and Siham seem equally curious about the flower, but as Ziryan arrives at your table and bows to you, they both keep silent. “Ziryan,” you greet, giving them a meaningful look as you nod at the flower in their hand. “Is that a gift for someone?” They look a little nervous, looking down at the tulip with uncertainty. “Well… yes. It was given to me by Lady Naza, who insisted I pass it on to you on her behalf, Your Imperial Majesty.” “Lady Naza?” you repeat, surprised. That is the last person you expected to receive a gift from. “Yes, she was very insistent.” Ziryan looks conflicted about giving the tulip to you, frowning down at it. “I made sure it is safe, but… it may not be proper.” You consider the flower in their hand with bemusement. “Why a tulip?” “If I may, Your Imperial Majesty,” Siham says, and when you nod at them, they explain, “Such flowers are common gifts among the nobility, though it mainly serves the purpose of covert communication. Every flower has a meaning. A yellow tulip, in this instance, symbolizes showing respect or admiration.” You give Siham and impressed look. “You know that off the top of your head?” “I thought it might be useful,” Siham says, ducking their head a little to avoid your gaze while Ishrah takes the tulip from Ziryan in your stead. “But this is a good thing, then, isn’t it?” Ishrah says excitedly, twisting the stem of the tulip between her fingers and making it spin. “I’ve heard Lady Naza is <em>very</em> hard to impress. You must have left a good impression on her, Crown $name!” You doubt that. It must be as $rname said yesterday; revealing the truth of the assassination attempt to the nobles and Kham, as well as warning the public, must have won her over. Though it remains to be seen how far her respect or admiration goes. Returning your attention to Ziryan, you ask, “Was that the only reason you came over here?” “No, there was one more thing,” Ziryan says.<<else>>“Ziryan,” you greet as you watch them bow in front of your table, giving them a curious look. “Is something wrong?” “No, Your Imperial Majesty,” Ziryan says, straightening up again when you motion at them with your hand.<</if>> “I’ve been ordered by $dname to escort you to the dungeons below the palace. $cdthey and Captain $aname- that is, the Royal Protector, are both waiting for you.” <<if $loveinterest is 'A'>>Wasting no more time, you rise to your feet, smoothing out your $clothing before you gesture for Ziryan to lead the way. It seems $aname is feeling well enough to go down to the dungeons, at least, so that eases some of your worry.<<else>>You rise to your feet, gesturing for Ziryan to lead the way.<</if>> Ishrah and Siham follow your example, getting up to their feet to accompany you when Ziryan stops them. “I’m afraid this concerns sensitive matters,” they say, though not unkindly; they give Ishrah and Siham an apologetic smile. “If $ctheir Imperial Majesty needs anything, I can attend to $them.” [[Continue|6.23]] You walk after Ziryan, relying on them to guide you as you haven’t the faintest idea where the dungeons are located. Truthfully, after yesterday’s incident you’re not eager to go below ground again, but you <em>are</em> eager to get to the bottom of this assassination attempt. “Ziryan,” you say as they lead you through the corridors, causing them to glance at you from over their shoulder. “Isn’t it a problem to have dungeons right below the palace? <<if $calc gt $kind>>What if a prisoner escapes?” “To be specific, Your Imperial Majesty, the term ‘<em>dungeons</em>’ may not be entirely accurate,” Ziryan clarifies. “Marabad has a separate prison for those who have broken the most important laws. The dungeons in the palace function more as temporary holding cells. They are not meant to house anyone permanently.” “In other words, they were built in case someone is arrested on palace grounds,” you surmise. “Or when the prisoners in question need to be hidden, like now.” “Yes, Your Imperial Majesty, that is correct.”<<else>>What if a prisoner’s family wants to see them?” From the way Ziryan glances back at you a second time, they seem taken aback by your question. “Oh, well, the dungeons in the palace function more as temporary holdings cells, Your Imperial Majesty. They are not meant to house anyone permanently; the prisoners here will be transported to Marabad’s prison, which is in a separate location. Their families could visit them there.” “Did I ask a strange question?” you ask. “No, Your Imperial Majesty,” Ziryan says, casting you a thoughtful look. “Just… an unexpected one.”<</if>> The large, stone doors you eventually arrive at are similar to those that lead to the underground tunnel. It depicts a carving of an open-mouthed snake, and when Ziryan pulls out their tablet, pressing it against the sigil on the wall, the snake’s fangs illuminate. <<if $height is 'tall' or $height is 'very tall'>>You look over Ziryan’s shoulder, tall enough<<else>>You lean around Ziryan<</if>> to peer down the stairway leading down to the dungeons, torches lit on the walls providing enough light to see. Ziryan takes one of the torches off the wall. “Please watch your step, Your Imperial Majesty.” With that, you follow Ziryan down into the dungeons below. [[Continue|6.24]] It doesn’t look like what you expected. There are no black iron bars, no dark and rough stone, no rats scurrying around in the shadows. It looks remarkably similar in build to the bathing chambers you visited; the walls and floor are made of smooth white tiles, though they have no particular decoration. The torches are bright enough to provide ample illumination, almost as bright as it would be upstairs. The cells themselves—if you can even call them that—are separated by thick walls, but the fronts of them appear to be completely open. It takes you a moment to spot it, but rather than iron bars, a translucent magical barrier has been placed instead, the slight blue sheen it gives off reminding you of the shields the city guards used during the protests a few days ago. The inside of the cells are furnished remarkably well, save for the dust that has accumulated on the surfaces. While the prisoners here would have no privacy to speak of, there are actual beds with sheets placed inside the cells, including additional desks and chairs to sit down at. Some of the cells look better furnished than others; where one cell may be sparse, you spot one cell that has a rug and even an actual bookcase inside it, a small stack of books settled on the desk. “Most people who end up in these holding cells are nobles,” Ziryan informs you when they notice you staring. “They haven’t been used in a very long time.” “Does Marabad’s prison also look like this?” “Not at all.” Before you can continue asking Ziryan more, you reach the end of the corridor, turning around the corner where you spot $dname and $aname ahead of you, standing in front of a cell. Their voices carry as they discuss something with each other in quiet tones, but the echo makes it difficult to understand their words. As Ziryan takes position against the wall, you keep walking ahead, both of them turning their heads to look at you when they notice your approach. <<if $loveinterest is 'D'>>You catch $dname’s eyes first, your lips pulling up into a smile before you even notice it. The corners of $dname’s mouth twitch, almost approaching a smile of $dtheir own before $dthey catches $dthemselves and smooths out $dtheir expression again. <<if $blunt gt $charm>>“$dname,”<<else>>“Hello again, general,”<</if>> you greet, keeping it simple as you’ve already seen $dthem earlier. $dname inclines $dtheir head. “Your Imperial Majesty.” After your gaze lingers on $dname likely a little bit too long, you finally turn your attention on $aname, hoping $athey didn’t notice. “$aname, how are you feeling? I was told you had a headache after yesterday.” From the way $aname looks between you and $dname, $athey <em>definitely</em> noticed. “I’m better now, thank you. It was a minor setback, nothing more.” “Setback?” you question.<</if>><<if $loveinterest is 'A'>>You catch $aname’s eyes first, your relief to see $athey looks fine reflected in your smile. $aname’s own neutral expression doesn’t change, but you notice $athem take a step toward you as you make your way over, as if to meet you halfway. “$aname,” you greet $athem, eyes flitting over $atheir form to make sure $athey really is fine. <<if $blunt gt $charm>>“I heard you haven’t been feeling well.”<<else>>“How are you feeling? $dname told me you had a headache.”<</if>> $aname nods, both a greeting and an acknowledgement. “I’m feeling better now, Your Majesty. There’s no need for concern.” Maybe it’s your imagination, but $athey seems stiffer than usual. Even $dname appears to notice, if the subtle frown $dthey gives $aname is any indication; there is very little of $atheir usual nonchalance to be found. You’re reminded of how you left things yesterday, $atheir quiet rejection—<<if $charm gt $blunt>>your usual charm fails you.<<else>>your response ends up stilted.<</if>> “Oh. That’s… good.” The atmosphere turns awkward at once. $aname remains silent, gaze averted, and you struggle to come up with anything to say. “Why don’t you inform the Crown on what exactly happened yesterday?” $dname suggests, and it says something that <em>$dname</em> has to be the one to save the conversation. You look at $aname expectantly, deciding to focus on important matters is better than stewing in your own embarrassment about last night.<</if>><<if $loveinterest is 'R' or $loveinterest is 'X'>>Your gaze settles on $dname first. <<if $blunt gt $charm>>“$dname,”<<else>>“Hello again, general,”<</if>> you greet, keeping it simple as you’ve already seen $dthem earlier. $dname inclines $dtheir head. “Your Imperial Majesty.” You turn your attention on $aname next, taking your time to talk to $athem as clearly something happened yesterday to have $athem feeling unwell. “$aname, how are you doing? I was told you had a headache.” $aname nods, both as a greeting and an acknowledgement. “I’m better now, thank you. It was a minor setback, nothing more.” “Setback?” you question.<</if>> [[Continue|6.25]]“You are aware of my insight,” $aname says, and you <em>think</em> you know what $athey’s referring to, but thankfully $athey also clarifies it for you. “The ability that allows me to look through people’s memories, it is what the magi call insight, which I use for interrogation. It isn’t infallible, however, especially for those who know to take precautions against it beforehand.” “I thought it was called <em>divine</em> insight?” $dname questions in between, and $aname waves it off with $atheir hand in an annoyed gesture. “A few priests complained that it would be blasphemy to do so, hence it was officially shortened to insight—but by all means, feel free to keep calling that.” “Divine insight does sound more impressive,” you agree, earning an amused look from $aname. Political discourse around naming conventions aside, though, you’re starting to get an idea of what happened. “The assassins took precautions, then. What kind?” “A mental ward,” $aname says. “It is what activated the mask. $rname suspects the ward activates on the condition that its wearer is convinced their mission will end in failure.” “You can put a ward on someone’s <em>mind</em>?” $dname repeats, appalled. “Magic users… ugh.” “Beyond activating the mask, the mental ward also functions as a barrier against mindreading abilities such as mine,” $aname continues, ignoring $dname. “Trying to breach the mental ward of the surviving assassin took more energy than I expected. Whoever crafted these wards is highly skilled, beyond your average magus.” “Did you succeed?” $aname averts $atheir gaze, looking into the cell the three of you are standing in front of. “No, unfortunately not.” Following $atheir gaze, for the first time you notice someone lying on the bed. You hadn’t spotted them before because they’re dressed in plain beige robes, matching the bedsheets, and they haven’t so much as moved or made a sound. “Is that…?” “One of the assassins, yes,” $aname confirms, a dark look passing in $atheir eyes, but not for the reasons you initially assume. “Interrogation was impossible. The mental ward functions not only as a trigger for the mask, but also as a failsafe for when the mask is removed. When I attempted to read their memories, the ward destroyed their mind.” “Destroyed it?” you repeat, looking back at the prisoner lying motionlessly on the bed. “So, their memories are gone?” “Their memories, thoughts, basic rationality…” $aname shakes $atheir head, appearing weary. “I was still connected to their mind when it happened. Thankfully I managed to pull out before getting caught up in the ward, but that’s why I suffered from a headache afterwards.” Which means, if $aname hadn’t pulled out, $atheir mind could’ve been destroyed as well. <<if $afriend is true>>“Why didn’t you mention this yesterday?” $dname demands to know, leveling $aname with a scowl. “Nothing happened,” $aname points out. “I’m reporting it now because the Crown needs to know.” “Still, this is serious, $aname,” you say, disturbed at the thought that there is magic out there capable of destroying people’s <em>minds</em>. “I’m glad you’re alright, but next time, don’t wait to tell me or anyone else.” $aname nods in acknowledgement, though from the way $athey crosses $atheir arms, you can tell all the attention is starting to make $athem uneasy.<<else>>“Why didn’t you say anything yesterday?” you ask, disturbed at the thought that $aname’s <em>mind</em> could’ve been destroyed and you wouldn’t have even known about it. “You should’ve woken me up.” “You needed your rest,” $aname reasons, turning around only halfway to look at you, but not facing you fully. “I knew the risks when I developed this ability, and I know the risks whenever I interrogate someone. In this case, I decided it was one worth taking.” <<if $charm gt $blunt>>“You might have known the risks, but I didn’t,” you reply, starting to grow frustrated. “I never agreed to you doing this.”<<else>>“Yet you never gave me a chance to decide,” you point out, growing frustrated. “You didn’t even inform me beforehand.”<</if>> This appears to be the wrong thing to say, if the way $aname's posture tenses is any indication. “It was not for you to <<if $charm gt $blunt>>agree<<else>>decide<</if>> on what I chose to risk,” $aname replies coolly, and you give $athem a startled look. “I was the one who was targeted and nearly killed,” you argue, $atheir composure in the face of your concern and frustration only agitating you further. “I think I have some say in someone deciding to risk their mind on my behalf.” “I suppose if I had told you, you would have simply ordered me not to do it,” $aname says, a bit of $atheir composure finally cracking as you hear resentment leaking in through $atheir tone. “Forgive me for forgetting my station, Your Imperial Majesty.” You get the sense that whatever this disagreement is, that it’s not entirely about you. It's the first time you truly feel the weight of your title affecting your relationship with others, because $aname is right, isn't $athey? If you had known, you could've very easily ordered $aname not to do it, and there wouldn't have been anything $athey could've done but comply. Perhaps that restriction is what $aname truly resents and is lashing out at, not you. Even so, that doesn’t take away from the fact that $athey’s assuming the worst from you. On a matter where all you want is to ensure $atheir safety, no less. <<if $calc gt $kind>>Your jaw clenches. “That’s not what this is about, and you know it. Don’t blame me for being worried about you.”<<else>>It actually stings, and your expression shows it. “I wouldn’t do that, and it hurts that you think I would. Do you think so little of me?”<</if>> $aname’s arms slip out of their folded position across $atheir chest, hanging down to $atheir sides as the tension drains from $atheir posture, eyes widening slightly. <<if $calc gt $kind>>“$name, I didn’t mean…”<<else>>“No, $name, I didn’t mean…”<</if>> $catheir gaze moves over to $dname, who has been standing there witnessing your entire argument, and both of you become acutely aware of your audience at the same time. $dname, on $dtheir end, is staring off into the prisoner’s cell the entire time, seeming unconcerned. When $dthey notices the sudden silence, $dthey glances at $aname and then at you. “Are you done?” You avert your gaze, embarrassed at how you got carried away. “Yes, I suppose we are.” Unfortunately, you still have questions that need to be answered, but now those are going to be supremely uncomfortable to ask what with your argument with $aname moments ago. You’ll have to set those feelings aside, however; there are more important things going on.<</if>> “You said whoever placed the wards has to be someone skilled,” you say<<if $afriend is false>> to $aname while avoiding looking at $athem<</if>>, returning to the matter at hand. “So the assassins did not place it on themselves?” “<<if $afriend is false>>...<</if>>I’ve never heard of anyone being able to place a mental ward on their own mind,” $aname says<<if $afriend is false>> after a brief pause<</if>>, wandering over to stand right in front of the barrier of the assassin’s cell. “Consider how often the average person changes their mind about something, or at the very least, has second thoughts. The slightest hesitation or doubt would make a mental ward crumble, especially one that has their life on the line.” $cathey falls silent for a moment, before adding hesitantly, “That is not to say that it is impossible, but it would be far easier for someone else to do so—another person’s magic holding it in place would be more effective.” You look back at the prisoner, brows furrowing deeply. It seems that whoever you’re dealing with is either an extremely dangerous magus, or is a group that has an extremely dangerous magus among their number. But that still leaves one important issue unresolved. "What do we do with the prisoner?" Neither $dname or $aname reply immediately, exchanging looks between the two of them, before $dname finally says, "They form no further threat, we can keep them here until you've decided what to do with them. Or, we could transport them to Marabad's prison. It's not as if anyone will get any information out of them." Making a life-and-death decision before you've even been coronated was certainly not on your list of things to do today. Deciding whether to keep the assassin here or move them out, at least, is something you're more comfortable with. <ul class="a"> <li>[[“Let's keep them here for now.”|6.26][$prisoner to 'palace']]</li> <li>[[“Have them moved to Marabad's prison.”|6.26][$prisoner to 'prison']]</li> </ul>“Understood,” $dname says with a nod. <<if $prisoner is 'palace'>>“We’ll inform the servants that they will need tending to.”<<else>>“We’ll arrange to have them moved as soon as possible.”<</if>> <<if $afriend is false>>You glance over at $aname, and while things between the two of you still feel a little tense, you can’t let that get in the way of everything else.<<else>>With that handled, you look back at $aname.<</if>> “Has $dname already told you about the blue siren?” “We were discussing that right before you joined us,” $aname confirms, displeasure pulling at the corner of $atheir mouth. “It’s concerning to say the least, most of all because there is no way for us to track where they got that flower. They grow freely in the forest.” <<if $intel gt $intu>>“But to amplify the blue siren’s natural traits would take resources of its own, wouldn’t it?” you consider. It’s difficult to pinpoint what kind of resources one would need seeing as you don’t know exactly how they managed to do it, but you suspect alchemy would be necessary in some form. “That is true,” $dname says, considering the suggestion with a thoughtful frown. “There is also the mask, which may provide more clues of its own.”<<else>>“If we can’t find any more leads from the flower, there’s always the mask,” you point out; you have a better feeling about finding something on the mask than the flower. “Whoever constructed it must have spent a lot of time on it, no?” “Probably so,” $dname acknowledges, considering the suggestion with a thoughtful frown. “If nothing else, they would need resources to alter the blue siren, as well.”<</if>> “The blue siren and the mask, then.” $aname nods to $athemselves. “Investigating those seem as good a place to start as any—but that only addresses <em>these</em> particular assassins.” In your memories you see the tip of an arrow pointed between your eyes, hearing the snap from the bowstring as it shoots toward you. In all the commotion from yesterday, you almost forgot about the spies among the Imperial Guards. “Back in the forest, you mentioned you weren’t able to find anything aside from who the spies were,” you remind $aname<<if $afriend is false>>, conversation between you flowing a little easier now you’re both focused on other matters<</if>>. “Did they have mental wards as well?” “No,” $aname says, a troubled look crossing $atheir face. “They had parts of their memories erased entirely, save for the directives they were given; small notes that they occasionally received while spying for the Followers.” $aname looks as if $athey’s about to say more, but then $atheir gaze shifts to $dname, whose shoulders seem tense even from beneath $dtheir armor. “Perhaps it’s better for $xdnickname to fill you in on the rest. You two go ahead and meet up with $rname upstairs, I still have a few things to discuss with the Imperial Guards.” [[Continue|6.27]] You glance over at Ziryan, the only visible guard nearby, though you suspect there must be more considering $aname spoke in plural. It must be a sensitive subject for $dname, whose expression is a stormy one, not even looking at you as $dthey starts to walk back the way you first arrived. Following after $dthem, the two of you remain in silence until you’ve passed by Ziryan, at which point you cautiously say, “You knew one of them well, didn’t you? The one called Nima.” $dname doesn’t reply immediately, a muscle in $dtheir jaw ticking, until $dthey eventually admits, “I did. She was an exceptional talent; I was the one who recruited her.” “Is she down here as well?” “She is.” You pass through the long corridor in what seems a matter of seconds, <<if $height is 'tall' or $height is 'very tall'>>keeping up with $dname’s long strides<<else>>barely keeping up with $dname’s long strides<</if>> as $dthey goes up the steps ahead of you. “Have you visited her?” $dname halts in front of you, frozen in the middle of the stairway for a brief moment. You’re beginning to realize $dtheir relationship with Nima must’ve been more than simply knowing her as a general would $dtheir soldier. “I haven’t,” $dname admits, then continues up the stairs without elaborating. You hurry to follow, not wanting to let $dthem evade the topic so easily. <ul class="a"> <<if $dfriend is false>><<if $dgender is 'female'>><li>[[Ask her why she hasn’t visited Nima yet.|6.27ra][$dpoints += 3]]</li><li>[[Assure her that she shouldn’t feel responsible for Nima.|6.27rb]]</li><li>[[Ask about their relationship.|6.27rc][$dpoints += 1]]</li><<else>><li>[[Ask him why he hasn’t visited Nima yet.|6.27ra][$dpoints += 3]]</li><li>[[Assure him that he shouldn’t feel responsible for Nima.|6.27rb]]</li><li>[[Ask about their relationship.|6.27rc][$dpoints += 1]]</li><</if>><<else>><li><<if $blunt gt $charm>>[[“Any reason why you haven’t gone to see her?”|6.27fa][$dfriendship += 1]]<<else>>[[“Why haven’t you? It’s not as if she can bite you from behind a barrier.”|6.27fa][$dfriendship += 1]]<</if>></li><li><<if $caut gt $adven>>[[“Were you two close, if you don’t mind me asking?”|6.27fb]]<<else>>[[“It sounds like you two were close.”|6.27fb]]<</if>></li><li><<if $calc gt $kind>>[[“If you feel guilty about it, don’t. She’s not your responsibility.”|6.27fc]]<<else>>[[“You know you’re not to blame for what she did, right?”|6.27fc]]<</if>></li><</if>> </ul><<if $blunt gt $charm>>“Any reason why you haven’t gone to see her?”<<else>>“Why haven’t you?”<</if>> you ask, squinting briefly against the sudden flood of daylight when the doors at the top of the stairs open up to let you both through. <<if $charm gt $blunt>>“It’s not as if she can bite you from behind a barrier.”<</if>> Once you’re back upstairs in the palace’s hallway, $dname turns around to face you with an incredulous expression on $dtheir face. “Does it not trouble you that she tried to kill you?” “Of course it does,” you answer, remembering all too vividly that moment where you saw the arrow shooting toward you, convinced of your own death. “But you’re more troubled by it than I am, aren’t you? I wasn’t the one who mentored her, after all.” From the way $dname winces, you know you’ve hit the nail on the head. $cdthey turns away from you, walking over toward one of the open windows lining the walls of the hallway, warm rays of sunlight gleaming off the golden scales of $dtheir armor. You join $dthem, standing beside $dthem as $dthey stares into the gardens. $cdtheir dark gaze sinks into a flowerbed of yellow tulips right below the window outside, swaying gently in the summer breeze. “Even if I were to beg for forgiveness on her behalf, it would not be enough to absolve her of her crime,” $dname says quietly, and it takes you aback. You hadn’t realized how much $dthey cared. “Had she succeeded, it could have destroyed the empire. I cannot—will not—save her from her fate. What point is there in visiting?” Her fate, which now lies in your hands. “You said you recruited her,” you say, letting the statement rest between the two of you as you wait for $dthem to elaborate. After taking a deep breath, $dthey does. “Yes, about five years ago. As I said, she was incredibly talented; we would spar together often. Had she remained in the army, she would’ve made it far. I didn’t know she was a Follower at the time I recruited her. It wasn’t until $rtitle $rname began $rtheir search that I became suspicious.” “Do you have any idea why she joined the Followers?” you ask, and $dname shakes $dtheir head. “Don’t you want to know?” “What good will knowing do?” $dthey replies wearily. “You clearly care about her.” $cdthey lifts $dtheir gaze and meets yours, the sunlight brightening $dtheir eyes into a rich brown. The unexpected depth within them has you staring, thinking you’ve never seen brown eyes that looked so beautifully warm before. “You have every reason to hate the Followers,” $dname says, snapping you out of your trance. “Why care what happens to one spy?” <<if $ass gt $pass>><<if $res gt $flirt>>“I care because you care,” you answer without having to think about it. “She means something to you, and you’re hurt by her betrayal. That’s reason enough.”<<else>>“She’s not just a spy to you,” you answer without having to think about it. “She’s someone you mentored and considered a friend. How could I not care?”<</if>> The look on $dname’s face is nothing less than conflicted, hesitance creeping into $dtheir lips as they part, but then close again. You wait patiently for $dthem to speak, though it’s not as sincere as you hoped for. “Regardless of my feelings, the fact remains that she tried to assassinate you,” $dname states, whatever vulnerability you saw in $dtheir eyes hardening again. “She must answer for that.” “Even if that’s not what you truly want?”<<else>><<if $res lt $flirt>>“It would be easy for me to dismiss her,” you admit, struggling with the weight of the words on your tongue before you finally let them fall. “I don’t think I could forgive her. My heart is not that big. But you saw something good in her, and I trust your judgment.”<<else>>“I know I shouldn’t; I know I should hate her,” you admit, struggling with the weight of the words on your tongue before you finally let them fall. “It’s not as if I forgive her, but… you saw something worthwhile in her, enough to recruit her, and I trust your judgment.”<</if>> “Evidently, you shouldn’t,” $dname says, the frustration in $dtheir tone meant entirely for $dthemselves. “I ignored all the signs and chose to believe in her, and it nearly cost you your life.” “You’re not to blame for that,” you start, but $dthey shakes $dtheir head.<</if>> “My duty to the empire,” $dthey says, meeting your eyes, “to <em>you</em>, must always come first.” Duty. It has only been a few days and you’re already tired of that word. Especially the way $dname wields it, placing it between the two of you like a wall. “You’re only human, $dname,” you remind $dthem, gently. $cdthey averts $dtheir gaze, saying nothing more, $dtheir head bowed as if an invisible weight were pressing down on $dtheir neck and shoulders, pushing them down. You feel a cool touch brush against your hand, a flicker of blue in the corner of your eyes—the spirits around you stir to life again, and before you know it, your fingers are already halfway to reaching for $dname’s. <<if $pass gt $ass>>Your hand pauses in mid-air, then drops to your side again, letting the moment pass by in silence.<<else>>Your hand pauses in mid-air, hovering there as the moment passes by in silence, before reluctantly returning to your side once more.<</if>> [[Continue|6.28]]<<if $calc gt $kind>>“If you feel guilty about it, don’t,”<<else>>“You know you’re not to blame for what she did, right?”<</if>> you say, squinting briefly against the sudden flood of daylight when the doors at the top of the stairs open up to let you both through. <<if $calc gt $kind>>“She’s not your responsibility.”<</if>> Once you’re back upstairs in the palace’s hallway, $dname turns around to face you, $dtheir expression difficult to read. “Every soldier under my command is my responsibility.” “Including all of their misdeeds, even if you had nothing to do with it?” $dname sighs and turns away from you, walking over toward one of the open windows lining the walls of the hallway, warm rays of sunlight gleaming off the golden scales of $dtheir armor. You join $dthem, standing beside $dthem as $dthey stares into the gardens. $cdtheir dark gaze sinks into a flowerbed of yellow tulips right below the window outside, swaying gently in the summer breeze. “I put her in a position that enabled her to try and hurt you,” $dname says, a dark look crossing $dtheir face. “The only one to blame for that is me.” “Right, you mentioned you recruited her,” you say, letting the statement rest between the two of you as you wait for $dthem to elaborate. After taking a deep breath, $dthey does. “Yes, about five years ago. As I said, she was incredibly talented—we would spar together often. Had she remained in the army, she would’ve made it far. I didn’t know she was a Follower at the time I recruited her; it wasn’t until $rtitle $rname began $rtheir search that I became suspicious.” “Do you have any idea why she joined the Followers?” you ask, and $dname shakes $dtheir head. “Don’t you want to know?” $dname is quiet for a long moment, but when $dthey replies, it isn’t to answer your question. “You have every reason to hate the Followers,” $dthey says, watching you curiously. “Why care what happens to one spy?” <<if $ass gt $pass>><<if $res gt $flirt>>“I care because you care,” you answer without having to think about it. “That’s all there is to it.”<<else>>“She’s not just a spy to you,” you answer without having to think about it.<</if>> The look on $dname’s face is nothing less than conflicted, hesitance creeping into $dtheir lips as they part, but then close again. You wait patiently for $dthem to speak, though it’s not as sincere as you hoped for. “She must answer for what she has done,” $dname states, whatever vulnerability you saw in $dtheir eyes hardening again. “Even if that’s not what you truly want?”<<else>><<if $res lt $flirt>>“It would be easy for me to dismiss her,” you admit, struggling with the weight of the words on your tongue before you finally let them fall. “I don’t think I could forgive her. My heart is not that big. But you saw something good in her, and I trust your judgment.”<<else>>“I know I shouldn’t; I know I should hate her,” you admit, struggling with the weight of the words on your tongue before you finally let them fall. “It’s not as if I forgive her, but… you saw something worthwhile in her, enough to recruit her, and I trust your judgment.”<</if>> “Evidently, you shouldn’t,” $dname says, the frustration in $dtheir tone meant entirely for $dthemselves. “I ignored all the warning signs and chose to believe in her, and it nearly cost you your life.” “You’re not to blame for that,” you start, but $dthey shakes $dtheir head.<</if>> “My duty to the empire,” $dthey says, meeting your eyes, “to <em>you</em>, must always come first.” Duty. It has only been a few days and you’re already tired of that word. Especially the way $dname wields it, placing it between the two of you like a wall. “You’re only human, $dname,” you remind $dthem, gently. $cdthey averts $dtheir gaze, saying nothing more, $dtheir head bowed as if an invisible weight were pressing down on $dtheir neck and shoulders, pushing them down. You feel a cool touch brush against your hand, a flicker of blue in the corner of your eyes—the spirits around you stir to life again, and before you know it, your fingers are already halfway to reaching for $dname’s. <<if $pass gt $ass>>Your hand pauses in mid-air, then drops to your side again, letting the moment pass by in silence.<<else>>Your hand pauses in mid-air, hovering there as the moment passes by in silence, before reluctantly returning to your side once more.<</if>> [[Continue|6.28]]<<if $caut gt $adven>>“Were you two close, if you don’t mind me asking?”<<else>>“It sounds like you two were close.”<</if>> you say, squinting briefly against the sudden flood of daylight when the doors at the top of the stairs open up to let you both through. Once you’re back upstairs in the palace’s hallway, $dname turns around to face you with a frown on $dtheir face. “Define <em>close</em>.” “Did you trust her?” From the way $dname scowls, you know that you’ve just touched on a sensitive subject. $cdthey turns away from you, walking over toward one of the open windows lining the walls of the hallway, warm rays of sunlight gleaming off the golden scales of $dtheir armor. You join $dthem, standing beside $dthem as $dthey stares into the gardens. $cdtheir dark gaze sinks into a flowerbed of yellow tulips right below the window outside, swaying gently in the summer breeze. “Of course I did,” $dname says quietly, and it takes you aback. You hadn’t realized how much $dthey cared. “I trusted her with my life, as I would any one of my comrades. Trust like that is indispensable when you head into battle together, but it can also leave you vulnerable.” $cdthey pauses for a long moment, letting out a deep breath. “Soldiers are expendable. When they die on the battlefield, they get replaced. When they turn on you… you cut them off. No exceptions.” It seems like a ruthless way of thinking, one you’re not sure you’re ready to understand, but from a strategic point of view you know that it makes sense. Even if $dname is clearly bothered by the prospect. “Do you have any idea why she joined the Followers?” you ask, and $dname shakes $dtheir head. “Don’t you want to know?” “What good will knowing do?” $dthey replies wearily. “You clearly care about her.” $cdthey lifts $dtheir gaze and meets yours, the sunlight brightening $dtheir eyes into a rich brown. The unexpected depth within them has you staring, thinking you’ve never seen brown eyes that looked so beautifully warm before. “You have every reason to hate the Followers,” $dname says, snapping you out of your trance. “Why care what happens to one spy?” <<if $ass gt $pass>><<if $res gt $flirt>>“I care because you care,” you answer without having to think about it. “She means something to you, and you’re hurt by her betrayal. That’s reason enough.”<<else>>“She’s not just a spy to you,” you answer without having to think about it. “She’s someone you mentored and considered a friend. How could I not care?”<</if>> The look on $dname’s face is nothing less than conflicted, hesitance creeping into $dtheir lips as they part, but then close again. You wait patiently for $dthem to speak, though it’s not as sincere as you hoped for. “Regardless of my feelings, the fact remains that she tried to assassinate you,” $dname states, whatever vulnerability you saw in $dtheir eyes hardening again. “She must answer for that.” “Even if that’s not what you truly want?”<<else>><<if $res lt $flirt>>“It would be easy for me to dismiss her,” you admit, struggling with the weight of the words on your tongue before you finally let them fall. “I don’t think I could forgive her. My heart is not that big. But you saw something good in her, and I trust your judgment.”<<else>>“I know I shouldn’t; I know I should hate her,” you admit, struggling with the weight of the words on your tongue before you finally let them fall. “It’s not as if I forgive her, but… you saw something worthwhile in her, enough to recruit her, and I trust your judgment.”<</if>> “Evidently, you shouldn’t,” $dname says, the frustration in $dtheir tone meant entirely for $dthemselves. “I ignored all the warning signs and chose to believe in her, and it nearly cost you your life.” “You’re not to blame for that,” you start, but $dthey shakes $dtheir head.<</if>> “My duty to the Empire,” $dthey says, meeting your eyes, “to <em>you</em>, must always come first.” Duty. It has only been a few days and you’re already tired of that word. Especially the way $dname wields it, placing it between the two of you like a wall. “You’re only human, $dname,” you remind $dthem, gently. $cdthey averts $dtheir gaze, saying nothing more, $dtheir head bowed as if an invisible weight were pressing down on $dtheir neck and shoulders, pushing them down. You feel a cool touch brush against your hand, a flicker of blue in the corner of your eyes—the spirits around you stir to life again, and before you know it, your fingers are already halfway to reaching for $dname’s. <<if $pass gt $ass>>Your hand pauses in mid-air, then drops to your side again, letting the moment pass by in silence.<<else>>Your hand pauses in mid-air, hovering there as the moment passes by in silence, before reluctantly returning to your side once more.<</if>> [[Continue|6.28]] As you ask your question you go up the steps, you squinting briefly against the sudden flood of daylight when the doors at the top open up to let you both through. Once you’re back upstairs in the palace’s hallway, $dname turns around to face you with an incredulous expression on $dtheir face. “Does it not trouble you that she tried to kill you?” “Of course it does,” you answer, remembering all too vividly that moment where you saw the arrow shooting toward you, convinced of your own death. “But you’re more troubled by it than I am, aren’t you? I wasn’t the one who mentored her, after all.” From the way $dname winces, you know you’ve hit the nail on the head. $cdthey turns away from you, walking over toward one of the open windows lining the walls of the hallway, warm rays of sunlight gleaming off the golden scales of $dtheir armor. You join $dthem, standing beside $dthem as $dthey stares into the gardens. $cdtheir dark gaze sinks into a flowerbed of yellow tulips right below the window outside, swaying gently in the summer breeze. “Even if I were to beg for forgiveness on her behalf, it would not be enough to absolve her of her crime,” $dname says quietly, and it takes you aback. You hadn’t realized how much $dthey cared. “What point is there in visiting?” Her fate, which now lies in your hands. “You said you recruited her,” you say, letting the statement rest between the two of you as you wait for $dthem to elaborate. After taking a deep breath, $dthey does. “Yes, about five years ago. I didn’t know she was a Follower at the time I recruited her; it wasn’t until $rtitle $rname began $rtheir search that I became suspicious.” “Do you have any idea why she joined the Followers?” you ask, and $dname shakes $dtheir head. “Don’t you want to know?” “What good will knowing do?” $dthey replies wearily. “You clearly care about her.” The look on $dname’s face is nothing less than conflicted, hesitance creeping into $dtheir lips as they part, but then close again. You wait patiently for $dthem to speak, though it’s not as sincere as you hoped for. “Regardless of my feelings, the fact remains that she tried to assassinate you,” $dname states, whatever vulnerability you saw in $dtheir eyes hardening again. “She must answer for that.” “Even if that’s not what you truly want?” “Our duty to the empire,” $dthey says, meeting your eyes, “must always come first.” <em>Our</em> duty. You’ve barely had the time to wrap your head around that word and all the weight it carries, even though you know it’s important. But who decides what duty is, and how to do it well? You’ve never understood what it is that defines it. “We are only human, $dname,” you remind $dthem, gently. $cdthey averts $dtheir gaze, saying nothing more, $dtheir head bowed as if an invisible weight were pressing down on $dtheir neck and shoulders, pushing them down. [[Continue|6.28]] As you speak you go up the steps, you squinting briefly against the sudden flood of daylight when the doors at the top open up to let you both through. Once you’re back upstairs in the palace’s hallway, $dname turns around to face you with a frown on $dtheir face. “Define <em>close</em>.” “Did you trust her?” From the way $dname scowls, you know that you’ve just touched on a sensitive subject. $cdthey turns away from you, walking over toward one of the open windows lining the walls of the hallway, warm rays of sunlight gleaming off the golden scales of $dtheir armor. You join $dthem, standing beside $dthem as $dthey stares into the gardens. $cdtheir dark gaze sinks into a flowerbed of yellow tulips right below the window outside, swaying gently in the summer breeze. “Of course I did,” $dname says quietly, and it takes you aback. You hadn’t realized how much $dthey cared. “I trusted her with my life, as I would any one of my comrades. Trust like that is indispensable when you head into battle together, but it can also leave you vulnerable.” $cdthey pauses for a long moment, letting out a deep breath. “Soldiers are expendable. When they die on the battlefield, they get replaced. When they turn on you… you cut them off. No exceptions.” It seems like a ruthless way of thinking, one you’re not sure you’re ready to understand, but from a strategic point of view you know that it makes sense. Even if $dname is clearly bothered by the prospect. “Do you have any idea why she joined the Followers?” you ask, and $dname shakes $dtheir head. “Don’t you want to know?” The look on $dname’s face is nothing less than conflicted, hesitance creeping into $dtheir lips as they part, but then close again. You wait patiently for $dthem to speak, though it’s not as sincere as you hoped for. “She must answer for what she has done,” $dname states, whatever vulnerability you saw in $dtheir eyes hardening again. “Even if that’s not what you truly want?” “Our duty to the empire,” $dthey says, meeting your eyes, “must always come first.” <em>Our</em> duty. You’ve barely had the time to wrap your head around that word and all the weight it carries, even though you know it’s important. But who decides what duty is, and how to do it well? You’ve never understood what it is that defines it. “We are only human, $dname,” you remind $dthem, gently. $cdthey averts $dtheir gaze, saying nothing more, $dtheir head bowed as if an invisible weight were pressing down on $dtheir neck and shoulders, pushing them down. [[Continue|6.28]]<<if $calc gt $kind>>“If you feel guilty about it, don’t,”<<else>>“You know you’re not to blame for what she did, right?”<</if>> you say, squinting briefly against the sudden flood of daylight when the doors at the top of the stairs open up to let you both through. <<if $calc gt $kind>>“She’s not your responsibility.”<</if>> Once you’re back upstairs in the palace’s hallway, $dname turns around to face you, $dtheir expression difficult to read. “Every soldier under my command is my responsibility.” “Including all of their misdeeds, even if you had nothing to do with it?” $dname sighs and turns away from you, walking over toward one of the open windows lining the walls of the hallway, warm rays of sunlight gleaming off the golden scales of $dtheir armor. You join $dthem, standing beside $dthem as $dthey stares into the gardens. $cdtheir dark gaze sinks into a flowerbed of yellow tulips right below the window outside, swaying gently in the summer breeze. “I put her in a position that enabled her to attempt an assassination on the Crown,” $dname says, a dark look crossing $dtheir face. “The only one to blame for that is me.” “Right, you mentioned you recruited her,” you say, letting the statement rest between the two of you as you wait for $dthem to elaborate. After taking a deep breath, $dthey does. “Yes, about five years ago. I didn’t know she was a Follower at the time I recruited her; it wasn’t until $rtitle $rname began $rtheir search that I became suspicious.” “Do you have any idea why she joined the Followers?” you ask, and $dname shakes $dtheir head. “Don’t you want to know?” The look on $dname’s face is nothing less than conflicted, hesitance creeping into $dtheir lips as they part, but then close again. You wait patiently for $dthem to speak, though it’s not as sincere as you hoped for. “She must answer for what she has done,” $dname states, whatever vulnerability you saw in $dtheir eyes hardening again. “Even if that’s not what you truly want?” “Our duty to the empire,” $dthey says, meeting your eyes, “must always come first.” <em>Our</em> duty. You’ve barely had the time to wrap your head around that word and all the weight it carries, even though you know it’s important. But who decides what duty is, and how to do it well? You’ve never understood what it is that defines it. “We are only human, $dname,” you remind $dthem, gently. $cdthey averts $dtheir gaze, saying nothing more, $dtheir head bowed as if an invisible weight were pressing down on $dtheir neck and shoulders, pushing them down. [[Continue|6.28]]$aname emerges from the holding cells a short while later, though $athey doesn’t appear surprised at finding the two of you still standing in the hall; it seems $atheir chat with the Imperial Guards was shorter than yours. “$rname is waiting,” $aname reminds the two of you, gesturing toward the hallway on the right. “Shall we?” <<if $dfriend is false>>“Of course,” $dname says, posture as straight and stiff as a board as $dthey attempts to wipe away any evidence of your conversation from $dtheir face. It shouldn’t bother you as much as it does.<<else>>“Yes, of course,” $dname says, slightly startled as if seeming to remember the reason why the two of you left the holding cells in the first place.<</if>> The three of you leave the dungeons behind, heading further into the hallway with $aname in front of you and $dname at your back. <<if $afriend is true>>“By the way, $name,” $aname says casually, earning a <<if $dfriend is false>>glare<<else>>frown<</if>> from $dname. “I heard you had a little incident in your quarters this morning. Something about the bathroom flooding?”<<else>>“I forgot to mention, Your Majesty,” $aname says, and you bite back a retort on the tip of your tongue at hearing the address. Even $dname casts a frown at $aname over it. “I heard your quarters were flooded this morning. Was everything resolved?”<</if>> Ah, yes. <em>That</em>. The reminder has the spirits attached to you stirring, and $aname reacts to it, glancing over $atheir shoulder at the flickers of blue flashing around and above your head. “Water spirits?” $athey guesses, seeming thoughtful as $atheir gaze lowers back to you, slowing down $atheir step so $athey can walk beside you as you talk. “From the water temple you visited with $xdnickname, I presume?” You hear $dname grunt from behind you. “Spirits are a pesky business. The sooner they’re gone, the better. I recommend you get a priest to expel them as soon as possible.” Looking behind you at $dname, you attempt to explain it to $dthem. “They’ve done me no harm—well, not physically. They only wish to help.” “See this from my perspective,” $dname says to you, casting a frown toward the spirits, flashing a darker blue now; you can feel their displeasure at $dname’s words. “If there came a situation where we needed to hide you, those spirits would make it impossible. They may as well be floating beacons above your head.” “They are not without reason,” $aname replies, arching $atheir brows at $dname. “I can sense their intentions, and they only wish to help. They would not put $name in needless danger.”<<if $afriend is false>> Oh, back to using your first name, then?<</if>> “Their intentions change with the weather,” $dname replies<<if $afriend is false>> while you try to suppress your annoyance<</if>>. “Who can really say what spirits want?” “I can, seeing as how they’re attached to me,” you reply, bemused. “Have you never interacted with spirits before?” $dname falls silent, looking away and avoiding your eyes. You get the impression that $dthey’s somewhat uncomfortable with the question. “No,” $dthey answers at length. “There has never been any need.” “Perhaps $dname is scared of spirits,” $aname wonders out loud, earning a furious glare from $dname. “That is childish, as well as ridiculous.” “Hm, I’m not convinced.” $aname glances over at $dname, a lopsided grin that dimples only $atheir right cheek. “Why don’t you carry $name’s water spirits, then?” $dname presses $dtheir lips together. “Thought so,” $aname says with smug amusement, nonchalantly reaching out a hand toward the spirits hovering around you. You can feel them shuddering the moment $aname’s fingers brush against them, before they all breathe a collective exhale—$aname’s calm composure is like a balm to them. They even feel tempted to attach themselves to $aname instead. “Are you trying to seduce my spirits?” you say incredulously, and $aname startles, giving you a wide-eyed look while $dname actually breathes a laugh behind you, quickly smothering it behind a glove. <<if $afriend is false>>$aname quickly retracts $atheir hand, averting $atheir eyes and looking straight ahead of $athem. “Of course not.” $catheir embarrassment would’ve been funnier, if not for the tense conversation you had before.<<else>>$aname sighs, though $atheir exasperation is good-natured as $athey lowers $atheir hand. “Don’t worry, they’re firmly attached to you.”<</if>> [[Continue|6.29]] You eventually arrive in front of a stately door, one that—unlike the dark stone doors you’ve seen before—is painted in silver. $aname knocks on the wood, and from within, you hear $rname’s voice sounding out to you. “Come in!” $aname opens the door but then steps aside, allowing you to go in first. You peer inside with curiosity, realizing the room is different from all the others you’ve seen so far. It is a large, circular room, with a ceiling that reaches much higher—that is, if there actually were a ceiling. You can see the sky above, letting in a bright pillar of sunlight that falls into the center of the room. The walls of the circular room are decorated almost entirely by bookcases, so tall that you see a small ladder braced against one in order to reach the topmost shelf. There are cabinets as well, filled with ingredients you’ve seen in many an alchemist’s shop; there’s a nearly identical basket of color-shifting snakeskin that you’ve seen in Perjin’s before. In the center of the room, you find a round table, laden with stacks of tomes and scrolls, various herbs and plants, many glass vials and an iron pot for brewing concoctions. $rname is bent over an open book, eyes searching for something on its pages when $rthey notices your entrance. Beside the book are the petals from the blue siren Ziryan showed you before. $rname must be researching it already. <<if $rfriend is false>>“Ah, $name!” $crtheir book immediately forgotten, $rname walks around the table to meet you near the doorway as $aname and $dname enter from behind you.<<else>>”Ah, there you are.” $rname smiles at you, inviting you further inside with a gesture as $aname and $dname enter from behind you as well.<</if>> “How was breakfast? I see you’ve brought $dname and $aname with you as well. Please, take a seat and tell me all about it.” $crthey points to the various chairs spread around the room. $rname’s workspace—or so you assume it to be—isn’t messy, but it’s something close to it. The books are all sorted very carefully, ingredients categorized with labels, and even the ones on the table are all placed in very orderly rows. It’s only that the placements themselves are a bit haphazard; you find an extraordinary tidy stack of books sitting on top of a random chair, as well as several scrolls bundled neatly together balancing precariously off the edge of a desk. Perhaps the best way you can summarize it is something along the lines of orderly chaos. $rname strikes you as the sort of person who needs everything in a <em>very</em> specific place, even if that place may not be entirely appropriate. Nothing is on the floor, at least. [[Continue|6.30]] As you and the others all grab chairs to sit around $rname’s round table, you relay to $rname how breakfast with Kham went, though $rname seems to already know most of what happened from the way $rthey nods knowingly every so often. “One of the Imperial Guards filled me in a short while ago,” $rname clarifies. “Though I still wanted to hear it from your perspective.” You cast a glance at $rname’s opened book and the blue siren’s petals lying on the table beside it. “Have you found anything so far?” $rname gives you a regretful smile. “If only I could read that quickly. I’m still familiarizing myself with the blue siren’s anatomy. I’ve also sent a message to Perjin; she is specialized in the use of gemstones, not flowers, but perhaps she knows something. Or, at the very least, she can point us to an expert in the School of Marabad who would know more.” “There is also the matter of the assassin’s mask,” $aname reminds, casting a curious look at the various objects littering the table. “Have you found anything on it?” “Not yet.” $rname sighs, leaning back against $rtheir chair, crossing one leg over the other while folding $rtheir arms as well. “I have a rough idea of how it works, at least, but I couldn’t tell you who made it. There are sigils carved on the inside of the mask that will brand the wearer’s face when first put on. It helps create the mental ward inside the wearer’s mind, keeping it stable.” <<if $calc gt $kind>>“The assassins must be incredibly dedicated, to be willing to have their faces branded,” you consider, which certainly sounds like something a cult like the Followers might do. You can’t conclude anything yet, however.<<else>>“That’s awful,” you say, horrified by the mere idea. “How could anyone go to such lengths? And <em>why</em>?”<</if>> One thing is certain: if having their faces branded isn’t enough to scare them off, then they’ll likely stop at nothing until they’ve killed you. The water spirits tremble, echoing your anxiety, filling the air with it like a ripple in the water. <<if $rfriend is false>>You feel a touch on your hand which you laid on your knee when you first sat down, $rname’s fingers lightly pressing against the back of it. When you look up, you meet a determined gaze reflected in two steely gray eyes. “I’ll find them, $name,” $rname promises you. “They won’t lay a finger on you, not while I’m here.” <<if $res gt $flirt>>You avert your eyes, looking back down at $rname’s hand on top of yours, gentle against your knuckles.<<else>>You look at $rthem in surprise and wonder both, not having expected the intensity in $rtheir words.<</if>> It makes your chest feel warm, soothing your spirits. You believe $rthem. “Thank you, $rname,” you say softly, <<if $pass gt $ass>>considering—fighting yourself—to turn your hand over<<else>>considering whether turning your hand over and grabbing $rtheirs back would scare $rthem off<</if>>. Before you can make a decision, $rname<<if $flirt gt $res>>, looking away with a quiet flush gracing $rtheir cheeks<</if>> removes $rtheir hand. $dname loudly clears $dtheir throat—you’d completely forgotten about $dthem and $aname also still being in the room, watching this exchange. <<if $res gt $flirt>>That’s embarrassing.<</if>><</if>><<if $rfriend is true>>“We’ll find them, $rnickname,” $rname reassures you, reminding you that you’re not alone in this. <<if $afriend is false>> You catch $aname’s eyes from across the table, and for a moment you forget all about the tension and awkwardness between you as $athey stares back into your eyes, a quiet resolve in $atheir gaze. “I won’t let anyone hurt you,” $athey promises, and as your chest warms over and your spirits are soothed by those simple but earnest words, you believe $athem. Even as you wonder what it means to be protected by someone who does not believe you in turn.<</if>><<if $dfriend is false>>You glance over at $dname sitting beside you, and what was meant to be a quick look turns into a stare as $dthey catches your eyes. $cdtheir gaze is steady, free of doubt or fear. “So long as I draw breath, $name, I will protect you.” Your chest warms; your spirits soothed. You believe $dthem. Even as you drown the word ‘<em>duty</em>’ echoing inside your head.<</if>><<if $xfriend is false>>“You’re safe with us.” You wonder if $xname would be so steadfast to reassure you. Perhaps if you paid $xthem enough, you think cynically, then immediately smother the thought for how it only serves to worsen your mood. Even if $xname were to promise you such a thing, could you believe $xthem? Believe, at least, that $xthey were sincere, and not motivated by coin?<</if>><</if>> [[Continue|6.31]] There’s another knock on the door at that moment, breaking up the atmosphere. When $rname calls them in, you notice it's an Imperial Guard from the dark armor and helmet they're wearing, but you’re somewhat disappointed to find it’s not Kaja or Ezo. Even though you know they’re both alright, you hoped you’d be able to talk to them more. They bow to you. “Your Imperial Majesty, I have a message for General $xdnickname.” “Go ahead,” you say, curious to know what this message is yourself. You watch the guard approach $dname, handing $dthem a small bit of folded papyrus. $dname opens it, glancing over the contents. A deep frown furrows $dtheir brows, though it appears to be a calculating one. $dname hands the note back to the guard after a moment and dismisses them with a gesture. The guard sparks a flame in their palm and burns it instantly, before bowing to $dname, then to you, and leaving the room once more. “What did the message say?” you ask $dname when $dthey remains silent, seeming lost in thought. $cdthey looks up at you, frown easing a little. “Mîr Behram will be attending the coronation after all.” “Was that ever in doubt?” $rname says. “To do otherwise would be a grave insult, one the Crown could not ignore without being humiliated.” “What are you thinking?” $aname asks, seemingly able to read something from $dname’s expression neither you or $rname can see; $aname has likely known $dname the longest, after all. “It is nothing but a hunch,” $dname mutters, then gets up from $dtheir chair, addressing you next. “I’ll have to confirm a few things first; I’d rather not waste your time by spending resources on a wild goose chase.” “I understand.” <<if $dfriend is false>><<if $res gt $flirt>>You hesitate, but then ask the question despite your better judgment<<else>>You pause for a moment, knowing this question might not be a good one to ask, but unable to resist it<</if>>. “Will I see you during dinner again?” $dname’s expression and posture shifts, assuming something much more formal. “I’m afraid not. Perhaps another day.” $cdthey bows before retreating from the room, leaving you behind with the bitter taste of regret from even bothering to ask.<<else>> $cdthey bows before taking $dtheir leave.<</if>> [[Continue|6.32]] After $dname has gone, $rname brings the conversation back on track. “Aside from finding the assassins, there are other matters we must discuss,” $rthey reminds you. “Ones relating to the coronation.” “Right.” You try to remember what $rthey told you this morning. “Matters of security for the coronation, you said? How big of a concern is it?” <<if $hidepublic is false>>“There has been more unrest ever since the announcements to look out for the assassins were made to the public,” $aname explains, appearing thoughtful rather than troubled. “Nothing approaching the crowds you saw a few days ago, but I’ve heard of certain districts defying orders from the city guard and establishing their own watch.”<<else>>“The crowds you saw a few days ago have already been disbanded by the city guard,” $aname explains, appearing thoughtful rather than troubled. “But that doesn’t mean public discontent has disappeared entirely. It would be reasonable to expect similar protests during the coronation as well.”<</if>> You remember those crowds all too well. The desperation, the fear, the frustration—it was an eruption of emotions finally boiling over. “This can’t be normal, can it? Unrest is to be expected, but…” $aname and $rname exchange a look, and $rname takes over where $aname left off. “You must understand, the city was essentially left to the whims of the nobles and Steward Welat for the past ten years; if $xname had not chased Mîr Behram to the borders of Rojan, he may very well have claimed the Royal Palace during your absence.” “Even when Crown Ferzan was still alive, he had to prioritize preventing a war with the states of Thallos over all but the most vital issues within the Empire,” $rname adds. “The situation deteriorated into neglect when he was assassinated.” “I assume we would want a lot of security during the coronation,” you say, not eager to repeat the experience of the huge crowds that greeted you when you returned to Marabad on horseback. “Well, to start with,” $rname says, “Would you even want the public to be able to attend the coronation? Or the nobility, for that matter?” “You mean I can also choose to have a private coronation?” you say, surprised it is even an option. “With no one attending it?” “No, there would still be a few attendees,” $aname corrects. “The only people who would be present would be ambassadors such as Kham and the Mîrs, as well as whoever they decide to bring along.” “It’s unusual, but not unheard of,” $rname elaborates. “Your eyes alone are sufficient enough proof—in comparison, the coronation is mostly a formality.” That is something to think about. If you were truly worried about another assassination attempt, you could choose to have a private coronation… or have it open for all. “What would you prefer?” $rname asks. <ul class="a"> <li>[[A coronation that is closed to both the public as well as the nobility.|6.33][$coronation to 'closed']]</li> <li>[[A coronation that is closed to the public, but open to the nobility.|6.33][$coronation to 'semiclosed']]</li> <li>[[A coronation that is open to both the public as well as the nobility.|6.33][$coronation to 'open']]</li> </ul><<if $coronation is 'closed'>>“The risk is too great,” you decide. “Let’s have it closed to both the public and the nobility.” “That may be safer,” $aname agrees, though $rname appears a little more unsure. “I’m not looking forward to handling the complaints from nobles,” $rthey admits when you look at $rthem for $rtheir opinion. “But we’ll deal with it. Your safety is more important.” “This will save a lot of coin on festivities as well,” $aname points out, which is something you hadn’t even considered. “You’ll be doing the treasury a favor.” [[Continue|6.34]]<</if>><<if $coronation is 'semiclosed'>>“I don’t think I have to worry about outright assassination attempts from the nobles,” you decide. “Let’s keep it closed to the public, but open to the nobles. I may be underestimating their stupidity, however.” $aname snorts. “Perhaps.” “This does seem a good middle road, at least,” $rname comments. “What about festivities, then? The nobles will likely be expecting a grand banquet, if nothing else.” <ul class="a"> <li>[[You will arrange additional festivities for the nobility.|6.34][$festivities to 'nobles']]</li> <li>[[You decide not to arrange for additional festivities.|6.34][$festivities to 'refused']]</li> </ul><</if>><<if $coronation is 'open'>>“Having a private coronation is akin to admitting I’m scared,” you decide. “I don’t want to project that kind of weakness. Whatever the danger, I have to appear strong.” “An admirable stance,” $rname says, though $aname looks less enthused. “Sorting out security is going to be a headache,” $athey says when you look at $athem for $atheir opinion. “But we’ll get it done.” “What about festivities?” $rname asks, brows furrowed slightly. “Parades in the streets, a banquet for the nobility, hiring performers and artists… things like that?” <ul class="a"> <li>[[You will arrange additional festivities for both the public as well as the nobility.|6.34][$festivities to 'both']]</li> <li>[[You will arrange additional festivities only for the nobility.|6.34][$festivities to 'nobles']]</li> <li>[[You will arrange additional festivities only for the public.|6.34][$festivities to 'public']]</li> <li>[[You decide not to arrange for additional festivities.|6.34][$festivities to 'refused']]</li> </ul> <</if>><<if $festivities is 'both'>>“Everyone will certainly be pleased to hear that,” $aname remarks. “It is also the standard, as far as coronations go. A big, bloated affair.” “You’re not fond of the idea, I take it?” you surmise. “I despise it utterly,” $aname states unequivocally. “It’s a bodyguard’s worst nightmare, but I suppose that’s why I get paid for doing this job.” “How dutiful of you,” $rname says wryly. “You’ve been hanging around $xname too much, $aname.” “Please,” $aname scoffs. “If I were concerned about my wages I would’ve become a magus. Besides, $xname takes most jobs based on how fun they will be, not because of the coin.” <</if>><<if $festivities is 'nobles'>>“The public may feel excluded, but at least the nobles will be satisfied,” $rname says with a sigh. “Which is very rare,” $aname adds, saying to you, “Enjoy it while it lasts. It will be <em>quite</em> fleeting.” “Thanks,” you reply sardonically. “I feel very reassured.” $aname shrugs. “Best to get used to it sooner than later. They’re impossible to please.” <</if>><<if $festivities is 'public'>>“It will certainly vex the nobles, but at least the public will be content,” $rname says with a sigh. “That sounds like a perfect plan,” $aname remarks with amusement, seeming to savor the idea of it. $rname rolls $rtheir eyes, though the edge of a smile on $rtheir lips makes it a fond gesture rather than annoyed. “Of course <em>you</em> would think so.” $aname grins back at $rthem. “As if you don’t enjoy annoying them as much as I do.” “I never claimed otherwise.” <</if>><<if $festivities is 'refused'>>“No festivities at all?” $aname says, surprised and amused at your decision. “I suppose you’re not fond of parties. That, or you’re quite frugal.” “A little bit of both,” you consider. “At least, not this particular party.” “Nothing wrong with being frugal,” $rname chimes in. “Besides, excluding both the nobles and the public might be wiser than favoring one over the other.” “<em>Might</em>,” $aname emphasizes. “They might also both be upset at the lack of a party.” <</if>>The next hour is spent outlining <<if $festivities is 'refused'>>the details of the coronation. Most Crowns in the past have apparently held a public parade through the city before arriving at the Sky Temple, where the coronation will be taking place. Having decided on not to have any festivities, however, you will be escorted to the Sky Temple privately, without anyone knowing aside from<<if $coronation is 'open' or $coronation is 'semiclosed'>> the nobility,<</if>> the Mîrs and Kham.<<else>>the extent of the festivities as well as the coronation itself.<</if>><<if $festivities is 'nobles'>> You’ll be escorted privately to the Sky Temple where the ceremony will take place, attended by the highest ranking nobility of Arsur, the Mîrs and Kham.<</if>><<if $festivities is 'public'>> You’ll hold a parade through the city to celebrate with the public, before arriving at the Sky Temple where the coronation will be taking place, attended by the highest ranking nobility of Arsur, the Mîrs and Kham.<</if>><<if $festivities is 'both'>> You’ll hold a parade through the city to celebrate with the public, before arriving at the Sky Temple where the coronation will be taking place, attended by the highest ranking nobility of Arsur, the Mîrs and Kham.<</if>><<if $coronation is 'closed'>> Most Crowns in the past have apparently held a public parade through the city before arriving at the Sky Temple, where the coronation will be taking place. Having decided on a closed ceremony, however, you will be escorted to the Sky Temple privately, without anyone knowing aside from the Mîrs and Kham.<</if>> Afterwards, you’ll return to the Royal Palace for the grand banquet held in the evening to celebrate your coronation. <<if $festivities is 'both' or $festivities is 'nobles'>>This will include the nobility as well<<else>>This will not include the nobility aside from the Mîrs, Kham, and the people they bring along<</if>>. “Do I have to memorize anything?” you ask. “Any vows, or a speech?” “Usually, yes,” $rname says. “But we’re holding the coronation on such short notice that it’s better to keep the ceremony as simple as possible. All you have to do is to listen to the high priest’s instructions, honoring the Spirits and the elements in a basic ritual.” You relax at hearing that. Spiritual rituals, at least, are something you can do. At that point there’s another knock on the door. This time a servant enters when called in by $rname, bowing separately at every person in the room starting from you, before finally turning to $rname, appearing a little nervous. “What is it?” $rname asks kindly. “It’s, um, a few of the nobles, $rtitle $rname,” the servant says, wringing their hands anxiously. “<<if $hidenobles is true and $hidepublic is false>>They’re demanding to know what the public announcements about wanted criminals are about.<</if>><<if $hidenobles is false and $hidepublic is false>>They’re very upset about the Crown’s breakfast with Kham.<</if>><<if $hidenobles is false and $hidepublic is true>>They’re very upset about the Crown’s breakfast with Kham.<</if>><<if $hidenobles is true and $hidepublic is true>>They’re very upset about the Crown’s breakfast with Kham.<</if>>” $rname sighs deeply, rubbing at $rtheir temple with $rtheir fingers. “I’ll be there momentarily.” The servant bows and hurriedly exits the room again. <<if $rfriend is false>>When $rname meets your gaze, $rthey looks reluctant to leave, even though you’ve already discussed most of what you needed to. “See you during dinner?” you offer, and $rname hesitates to answer. “Hopefully, if time permits it,” $rthey says, the way $rthey slowly rises from $rtheir seat a testament to how tired $rthey is. “If not, I’ll come find you before you go to sleep for a briefing on the day’s events.” “I’d rather you catch some rest yourself, $rname,” you say frowning slightly. “Anything else can wait until the morning.” $rname bows $rtheir head, the gesture a formal one, but the smile on $rtheir face genuine. “I can’t very well disobey an order.” $crthey looks over at $aname as well. “That should go for you too, $aname. Don’t overdo it.” “I’ll be fine, $rname,” $aname says, though it sounds more like a promise than a dismissal, which seems to reassure $rname as well. You both watch $rthem take $rtheir leave, closing the door shut behind $rthem.<<else>>“I suppose I should go take care of that,” $rname says, the way $rthey slowly rises from $rtheir seat a testament to how tired $rthey is. “If I don’t see you again today, I’ll give you a briefing on the day’s events tomorrow morning.” You nod. “Try and take it easy, $rname. If the nobles give you any trouble, don’t be afraid to kick them out.” $rname smiles mischievously. “Oh, I was planning on it.” $crthey looks over at $aname as well. “That should go for you too, $aname. Don’t overdo it.” “I’ll be fine, $rname,” $aname says, though it sounds more like a promise than a dismissal, which seems to reassure $rname as well. You both watch $rthem take $rtheir leave, closing the door shut behind $rthem.<</if>> [[Continue|6.35]]<<if $afriend is false>>Which, you realize belatedly, leaves you alone in a room with $aname. The tension between you settles like a physical weight in the room, not made any better by the fact that your spirits become heavier as a response. <<if $ass gt $pass>>You can’t just sit in awkward silence like this, so you decide to break it—if $aname is not going to talk about what happened earlier, you may as well take initiative.<<else>>You’re not sure how to break the awkward silence, but seeing as how $aname isn’t inclined to speak either, you decide a little personal comfort to find out what’s bothering $athem is a very small thing to sacrifice.<</if>> <<if $blunt gt $charm>>“Did I offend you, earlier?” you ask, not wanting to waste time dancing around the issue.<<else>>“Should I make a benign remark about the weather, or would you like to?” you say, deciding levity might be a safer approach.<</if>> $aname stares at you for a moment, then sighs. “I didn’t mean for it to turn into an argument.” “Neither of us did,” you acknowledge, giving $athem a questioning look. “What is it that bothered you about what I said? Did it sound like I was trying to order you around?” $cathey seems receptive to your earnest need to understand, at least, as $athey relaxes a little more in $atheir seat. “In a way. I realize that wasn’t your intent, but…” “By all means,” you say <<if $charm gt $blunt>>humorously<<else>>dryly<</if>>, “if you’re <em>that</em> bent on risking your life for me, who am I to stop you?” $aname snorts, rubbing a hand over $atheir face. “Admittedly, put like that, it does seem… silly.” “It’s not silly.” You realize you’ll have to be more aware of your status, especially around $aname, if you want to get to know $athem better. “You barely know me. Of course you’re cautious. For all you know, I could turn out to be a murderous tyrant.” “I wouldn’t go quite that far, but yes,” $aname says, a flicker of amusement in $atheir gaze before it shifts into something more apologetic. “I do appreciate your concern, but this is…” $aname pauses, gaze drifting away from you as an unreadable expression passes on $atheir face. “Finding the perpetrators is important to me.”<</if>><<if $afriend is true>>With $rname having left, you look over at $aname, trying to think of something to say when you remember the immense risk $athey took with the assassin earlier—without even telling anyone about it beforehand. When $dname became upset at $athem over it, $aname looked uncomfortable with $dtheir concern as well as yours. “You’re not used to having people worry about you, are you?” you say, figuring it’s as good a place to start as any when trying to get to know your Royal Protector. $aname seems surprised at the question, though that’s quickly replaced by amusement. “You sound like a spirit healer.” <<if $charm gt $blunt>>“It’s just something I noticed,” you reply, not wanting to let $athem evade this topic.<<else>>You ignore the attempt to evade the topic.<</if>> “Are you used to working alone?” “I wouldn’t say that.” $aname frowns slightly, gaze turning distant for a moment. “I’ve spent many years in the army. You have to get used to working with others there, or you won’t make it very far.” You try to make the question sound free from accusation, genuinely wanting to know why $aname is keeping $athemselves at such a distance. “Then why didn’t you tell me about your interrogation attempt yesterday?” “It’s nothing personal,” $aname says, giving you a measuring look. “I’m not certain that I can trust your judgment yet, as the Crown. It would’ve been the same if anyone else had been in your position. Especially with how much is at risk…” $cathey trails off, falling silent.<</if>> <ul class="a"> <<if $afriend is false>><<if $agender is 'female'>><li>[[Reassure her that you respect her boundaries.|6.36ra]]</li><li>[[Ask why this matters so much to her.|6.36rb][$apoints += 1]]</li><li>[[Ask her for a chance to prove yourself.|6.36rc][$apoints += 3]]</li><<else>><li>[[Reassure him that you respect his boundaries.|6.36ra]]</li><li>[[Ask why this matters so much to him.|6.36rb][$apoints += 1]]</li><li>[[Ask him for a chance to prove yourself.|6.36rc][$apoints += 3]]</li><</if>><<else>><li><<if $blunt gt $charm>>[[“I’d never force you to do anything you don’t want to do. That's a promise.”|6.36fb]]<<else>>[[“I promise, I would never order you to do something against your will.”|6.36fb]]<</if>></li><li><<if $caut gt $adven>>[[“This really matters to you, doesn’t it? Why is that?”|6.36fa]]<<else>>[[“Why does this matter so much to you?”|6.36fa]]<</if>></li><li><<if $calc gt $kind>>[[“All I want from you is a chance to prove I’m not what you think I am.”|6.36fc][$afriendship += 1]]<<else>>[[“Will you give me a chance to prove myself worthy of your trust, at least?”|6.36fc][$afriendship += 1]]<</if>></li><</if>> </ul> <<if $blunt gt $charm>>“I’d never force you to do anything you don’t want to do,”<<else>>“I promise, I would never order you to do something against your will,”<</if>> you say, thinking it important that $aname understands this, or $athey’ll never come to trust you. <<if $blunt gt $charm>>“That's a promise.”<</if>> $aname doesn’t respond immediately, silent for a while before $athey looks you in the eyes and says, “Promises, you should know, mean nothing to me.” You suppose you can understand that; talk is cheap, after all. “Then how do I prove it to you?” “If you <em>are</em> true to your word,” $aname says, “then it’ll come with time. Prove it with your actions.” You nod; perhaps not the answer you wanted to hear, but it’s a honest one. “That’s fair.” $aname gives you a measuring look. “Tell me, why does it matter so much to you whether I trust you or not?” That is a question you have to seriously consider. <<if $pass gt $ass>>“I suppose…” You hesitate for a moment, wondering if your response is too honest, but you can’t hope to win $atheir trust otherwise. “I suppose it’s because I want you to like me.” $aname’s brows arch sharply; that must be the last thing $athey expected to hear. “Why?” <<if $res gt $flirt>> “You seem like an interesting person,” you say, avoiding $atheir stare as you speak—meeting $atheir gaze now will almost certainly make you stammer.<<else>> “I find myself drawn to you,” you say, watching the way $aname’s eyes widen slightly at the admission.<</if>> “You’re a great warrior, you command respect from others, and… you don’t care what the nobles think. I think I could learn a lot from you.” $aname stares at you until, eventually, $atheir guarded expression cracks into a smile. $cathey shakes $atheir head, leaning back into $atheir seat as you admire the sight of $atheir dimpling cheeks, the way $atheir eyes brighten. “I didn’t expect that. Are you trying to flatter your way into my good graces?” <<if $flirt gt $res>>“That depends,” you say, finding yourself smiling back. “Is it working?” $aname breathes out a soft laugh. “We’ll see.”<<else>>“I know better than to try that,” you say, finding yourself smiling back. “I was only being honest.” “Yes, so it would seem,” $aname says, $atheir demeanor warmer toward you now—you count that as a step in the right direction.<</if>><<else>>“Truthfully, the answer to that is a simple one,” you say, knowing you can spend ages trying to circle around it, but if you want to win $aname over then being honest is your best bet. “It’s because I like you.” $aname’s brows arch sharply, $atheir eyes widening; that must be the last thing $athey expected to hear. “You like me? You barely even know me.” <<if $res lt $flirt>>“Well, I like what I’ve seen of you so far,” you say, unable to keep the playful tone out of your voice. “I’m sure I’ll like the rest, too.” $aname crosses $atheir arms over $atheir chest, eyeing you suspiciously. “Are you playing a game with me?” You sigh. “$aname, is it really so difficult to believe that I’m interested in you? You’re strong, capable, calm under pressure, and you aren’t afraid of the nobles. I find that admirable.”<<else>>“You left an impression on me,” you say, remembering very well the first time you met, the way $athey cut down the arrow meant to kill you. “Besides, I’m indebted to you. Twice now you’ve saved my life. Is it so strange that I’d want to get to know you better?” $aname blinks, as if $athey’s forgotten all about saving you, or perhaps because $athey didn’t expect you to express gratitude. “I… can’t argue with that.”<</if>> $cathey almost seems flustered by you, unsure of what else to say so $athey remains silent. You wish you knew what $athey’s thinking in this moment, if your words have changed anything at all. Eventually, $athey says, “You’re not what I expected from a Crown.” Progress. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”<</if>> [[Continue|6.37]] <<if $caut gt $adven>>“This really matters to you, doesn’t it?”<<else>>“Why does this matter so much to you?”<</if>> you say, wondering if perhaps you underestimated what being the Royal Protector means to $aname. “In part, I was trying to make up for my failure yesterday,” $aname finally admits, not looking at you as $athey does so. “Your failure?” you repeat, arching your brows. “What part of me being saved by you was a failure?” “The part that had you in danger in the first place,” $aname replies stubbornly. “It should never have happened. I know when I could have done better, and that was one such occasion. I should not have let you wander the city without making sure you had a proper escort.” “Do the Imperial Guards not count?” you question, bemused. “Evidently they’re not enough on their own,” $aname says, appearing frustrated by that fact. You’re getting a feeling that isn’t all there is to the story, but $aname doesn’t seem willing to elaborate any further on the subject. Instead, you think it better to change the topic, returning to your original argument. <<if $charm gt $blunt>>“You know,” you start, keeping your tone casual<<else>>“$aname,” you say, your tone serious<</if>>. “The fact that you’re so determined to throw yourself between me and danger is the whole reason I was worried about you earlier.” $aname gives you a strange look. “But why? It’s my duty to protect you, nothing more. I’m not doing it out of the goodness of my heart.” <<if $pass gt $ass>>“I suppose…” You hesitate for a moment, wondering if your response is too honest, but you can’t hope to win $atheir trust otherwise. “I suppose it’s because I want you to like me.” $aname’s brows arch sharply; that must be the last thing $athey expected to hear. “Why?” <<if $res gt $flirt>> “You seem like an interesting person,” you say, avoiding $atheir stare as you speak—meeting $atheir gaze now will almost certainly make you stammer.<<else>> “I find myself drawn to you,” you say, watching the way $aname’s eyes widen slightly at the admission.<</if>> “You’re a great warrior, you command respect from others, and… you don’t care what the nobles think. I think I could learn a lot from you.” $aname stares at you until, eventually, $atheir guarded expression cracks into a smile. $cathey shakes $atheir head, leaning back into $atheir seat as you admire the sight of $atheir dimpling cheeks, the way $atheir eyes brighten. “I didn’t expect that. Are you trying to flatter your way into my good graces?” <<if $flirt gt $res>>“That depends,” you say, finding yourself smiling back. “Is it working?” $aname breathes out a soft laugh. “We’ll see.”<<else>>“I know better than to try that,” you say, finding yourself smiling back. “I was only being honest.” “Yes, so it would seem,” $aname says, $atheir demeanor warmer toward you now—you count that as a step in the right direction.<</if>><<else>>“Truthfully, the answer to that is a simple one,” you say, knowing you can spend ages trying to circle around it, but if you want to win $aname over then being honest is your best bet. “It’s because I like you.” $aname’s brows arch sharply, $atheir eyes widening; that must be the last thing $athey expected to hear. “You like me? You barely even know me.” <<if $res lt $flirt>>“Well, I like what I’ve seen of you so far,” you say, unable to keep the playful tone out of your voice. “I’m sure I’ll like the rest, too.” $aname crosses $atheir arms over $atheir chest, eyeing you suspiciously. “Are you playing a game with me?” You sigh. “$aname, is it really so difficult to believe that I’m interested in you? You’re strong, capable, calm under pressure, and you aren’t afraid of the nobles. I find that admirable.”<<else>>“You left an impression on me,” you say, remembering very well the first time you met, the way $athey cut down the arrow meant to kill you. “Besides, I’m indebted to you. Twice now you’ve saved my life. Is it so strange that I’d want to get to know you better?” $aname blinks, as if $athey’s forgotten all about saving you, or perhaps because $athey didn’t expect you to express gratitude. “I… can’t argue with that.”<</if>> $cathey almost seems flustered by you, unsure of what else to say so $athey remains silent. You wish you knew what $athey’s thinking in this moment, if your words have changed anything at all. Eventually, $athey says, “You’re not what I expected from a Crown.” Progress. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”<</if>> [[Continue|6.37]] <<if $calc gt $kind>>“I understand that you have your misgivings,”<<else>>“I understand why you would be cautious of me,”<</if>> you say. <<if $calc gt $kind>>“And maybe this is a lot to ask, but all I want from you is a chance to prove I’m not what you think I am.”<<else>>“And maybe this is a lot to ask, but will you at least give me a chance to prove myself worthy of your trust?”<</if>> $aname appears a little surprised by your request, as if $athey hadn’t expected it. $cathey doesn’t respond immediately, however, letting the silence linger as $athey considers you with a pondering look. “Do you think you deserve that chance?” $athey finally asks, expression inscrutable. This feels a little like a test, but you’re not intimidated. You know exactly what it means to distrust others for your own sake, for your own survival; you couldn’t ever fault anyone else for doing the same. “I’m leaving that up to your judgment,” you answer simply, knowing that setting any kind of expectation here would be akin to entitlement. Either $aname will choose to give you a chance, or $athey won’t, but it’s not for you to demand one from $athem. Yet, if anything, $aname appears confused by your response. $cathey stares at you as if you put an unsolvable puzzle in front of $athem and asked $athem for an answer that $athey cannot give. “Tell me one thing,” $athey says, the brown in $atheir eyes deepened into a color that almost gleams amber from the sunlight in the room; $athey put $atheir chair right in the center of it, basking in its glow. “Why does it matter so much to you whether I trust you or not?” That is a question you have to seriously consider. <<if $pass gt $ass>>“I suppose…” You hesitate for a moment, wondering if your response is too honest, but you can’t hope to win $atheir trust otherwise. “I suppose it’s because I want you to like me.” $aname’s brows arch sharply; that must be the last thing $athey expected to hear. “Why?” <<if $res gt $flirt>> “You seem like an interesting person,” you say, avoiding $atheir stare as you speak—meeting $atheir gaze now will almost certainly make you stammer.<<else>> “I find myself drawn to you,” you say, watching the way $aname’s eyes widen slightly at the admission.<</if>> “You’re a great warrior, you command respect from others, and… you don’t care what the nobles think. I think I could learn a lot from you.” $aname stares at you until, eventually, $atheir guarded expression cracks into a smile. $cathey shakes $atheir head, leaning back into $atheir seat as you admire the sight of $atheir dimpling cheeks, the way $atheir eyes brighten. “I didn’t expect that. Are you trying to flatter your way into my good graces?” <<if $flirt gt $res>>“That depends,” you say, finding yourself smiling back. “Is it working?” $aname breathes out a soft laugh. “We’ll see.”<<else>>“I know better than to try that,” you say, finding yourself smiling back. “I was only being honest.” “Yes, so it would seem,” $aname says, $atheir demeanor warmer toward you now—you count that as a step in the right direction.<</if>><<else>>“Truthfully, the answer to that is a simple one,” you say, knowing you can spend ages trying to circle around it, but if you want to win $aname over then being honest is your best bet. “It’s because I like you.” $aname’s brows arch sharply, $atheir eyes widening; that must be the last thing $athey expected to hear. “You like me? You barely even know me.” <<if $res lt $flirt>>“Well, I like what I’ve seen of you so far,” you say, unable to keep the playful tone out of your voice. “I’m sure I’ll like the rest, too.” $aname crosses $atheir arms over $atheir chest, eyeing you suspiciously. “Are you playing a game with me?” You sigh. “$aname, is it really so difficult to believe that I’m interested in you? You’re strong, capable, calm under pressure, and you aren’t afraid of the nobles. I find that admirable.”<<else>>“You left an impression on me,” you say, remembering very well the first time you met, the way $athey cut down the arrow meant to kill you. “Besides, I’m indebted to you. Twice now you’ve saved my life. Is it so strange that I’d want to get to know you better?” $aname blinks, as if $athey’s forgotten all about saving you, or perhaps because $athey didn’t expect you to express gratitude. “I… can’t argue with that.”<</if>> $cathey almost seems flustered by you, unsure of what else to say so $athey remains silent. You wish you knew what $athey’s thinking in this moment, if your words have changed anything at all. Eventually, $athey says, “You’re not what I expected from a Crown.” Progress. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”<</if>> Though this does leave one question unanswered: why does $aname mistrust you to this extent in the first place? It could merely be $atheir cautious nature, but you're curious nonetheless. [[Continue|6.37]]$cathey doesn’t respond immediately, seeming to be thinking your question over, or weighing $atheir options in $atheir head. “In part, I was trying to make up for my failure yesterday,” $aname finally admits, not looking at you as $athey does so. “Your failure?” you repeat, arching your brows. “What part of me being saved by <<if $xfriend is false>>$xname<</if>><<if $rfriend is false>>$rname<</if>><<if $dfriend is false>>$dname<</if>> was a failure?” “The part that had you in danger in the first place,” $aname replies stubbornly. “It should never have happened. I know when I could have done better, and that was one such occasion. I should not have let you wander the city without making sure you had a proper escort.” “Do the Imperial Guards not count?” you question, bemused. “Evidently they’re not enough on their own,” $aname says, appearing frustrated by that fact. “The enemy is not only dangerously skilled in wielding magic of the mind, but can also alter the properties of magical plants unlike anything we have ever seen.” “$aname.” “We cannot even say with certainty whether the Followers of Vidarna are behind this, or someone else entirely,” $aname continues on, not seeming to have heard you as $athey leans $atheir elbows on $atheir knees, glaring down at $atheir folded hands. “It’s not as if the Followers wouldn’t have the motive for it, but—” “$aname!” you try again, raising your voice, and $aname finally stops, looking up at you. “Driving yourself out of your mind with possibilities isn’t going to help you solve this. You’re overthinking it.” “Then what should I do?” $aname poses wearily, settling down on a chair. “We have nothing else to go on, at the moment.” “Well, you don’t have to figure it out all by yourself,” you say. “I know you don’t trust me yet, but at least trust that I will do my best to keep myself safe.” $aname thinks about this for a moment, considering your words, and then nods. “Fair enough.” [[Continue|6.37]] $aname doesn’t respond immediately, silent for a while before $athey looks you in the eyes and says, “Promises, you should know, mean nothing to me.” You suppose you can understand that; talk is cheap, after all. “Then how do I prove it to you?” “If you <em>are</em> true to your word,” $aname says, “then it’ll come with time. Prove it with your actions.” You nod; perhaps not the answer you wanted to hear, but it’s a honest one. “That’s fair. Will you tell me one thing, at least?” $aname nods. “I can’t guarantee an answer, but feel free to ask.” “Why did you go so far during the interrogation?” you ask. “Why risk your mind like that?” $cathey doesn’t respond immediately, seeming to be thinking your question over, or weighing $atheir options in $atheir head. “In part, I was trying to make up for my failure yesterday,” $aname finally admits, not looking at you as $athey does so. “Your failure?” you repeat, arching your brows. “What part of me being saved by <<if $xfriend is false>>$xname<</if>><<if $rfriend is false>>$rname<</if>><<if $dfriend is false>>$dname<</if>> was a failure?” “The part that had you in danger in the first place,” $aname replies stubbornly. “It should never have happened. I know when I could have done better, and that was one such occasion. I should not have let you wander the city without making sure you had a proper escort.” “Do the Imperial Guards not count?” you question, bemused. “Evidently they’re not enough on their own,” $aname says, appearing frustrated by that fact. “The enemy is not only dangerously skilled in wielding magic of the mind, but can also alter the properties of magical plants unlike anything we have ever seen.” “$aname.” “We cannot even say with certainty whether the Followers of Vidarna are behind this, or someone else entirely,” $aname continues on, not seeming to have heard you as $athey leans $atheir elbows on $atheir knees, glaring down at $atheir folded hands. “It’s not as if the Followers wouldn’t have the motive for it, but—” “$aname!” you try again, raising your voice, and $aname finally stops, looking up at you. “Driving yourself out of your mind with possibilities isn’t going to help you solve this. You’re overthinking it.” “Then what should I do?” $aname poses wearily, settling down on a chair. “We have nothing else to go on, at the moment.” “Well, you don’t have to figure it out all by yourself,” you say. “I know you don’t trust me yet, but at least trust that I will do my best to keep myself safe.” $aname thinks about this for a moment, considering your words, and then nods. “Fair enough.” [[Continue|6.37]] $aname doesn’t respond immediately. $cathey lets the silence linger, considering you with a pondering look. “Do you think you deserve that chance?” $athey finally asks, expression inscrutable. “I’m leaving that up to your judgment,” you answer simply, knowing that setting any kind of expectation here would be akin to entitlement. Either $aname will choose to give you a chance, or $athey won’t, but it’s not for you to demand one from $athem. Yet, if anything, $aname appears confused by your response. “That’s… unexpected.” You smile, pleased that you’ve managed to catch $athem off guard. “Will you tell me one thing in return?” $aname nods. “I can’t guarantee an answer, but feel free to ask.” “Why did you go so far during the interrogation?” you ask. “Why risk your mind like that?” $cathey doesn’t respond immediately, seeming to be thinking your question over, or weighing $atheir options in $atheir head. “In part, I was trying to make up for my failure yesterday,” $aname finally admits, not looking at you as $athey does so. “Your failure?” you repeat, arching your brows. “What part of me being saved by <<if $xfriend is false>>$xname<</if>><<if $rfriend is false>>$rname<</if>><<if $dfriend is false>>$dname<</if>> was a failure?” “The part that had you in danger in the first place,” $aname replies stubbornly. “It should never have happened. I know when I could have done better, and that was one such occasion. I should not have let you wander the city without making sure you had a proper escort.” “Do the Imperial Guards not count?” you question, bemused. “Evidently they’re not enough on their own,” $aname says, appearing frustrated by that fact. “The enemy is not only dangerously skilled in wielding magic of the mind, but can also alter the properties of magical plants unlike anything we have ever seen.” “$aname.” “We cannot even say with certainty whether the Followers of Vidarna are behind this, or someone else entirely,” $aname continues on, not seeming to have heard you as $athey leans $atheir elbows on $atheir knees, glaring down at $atheir folded hands. “It’s not as if the Followers wouldn’t have the motive for it, but—” “$aname!” you try again, raising your voice, and $aname finally stops, looking up at you. “Driving yourself out of your mind with possibilities isn’t going to help you solve this. You’re overthinking it.” “Then what should I do?” $aname poses wearily, settling down on a chair. “We have nothing else to go on, at the moment.” “Well, you don’t have to figure it out all by yourself,” you say. “I know you don’t trust me yet, but at least trust that I will do my best to keep myself safe.” $aname thinks about this for a moment, considering your words, and then nods. “Fair enough.” [[Continue|6.37]] When the conversation comes to a comfortable halt, $aname suddenly gets up from $atheir chair, as if remembering the time. “We should find $xname.” <<if $xfriend is false>>Though you’re not about to protest seeing $xname, you don’t quite follow.<<else>>You blink, not following.<</if>> “$xname?” “Planning the ceremony is one thing, we also need to discuss security,” $aname reminds you. “The Crescent Blades will assist, and for that, we need to coordinate with them.” “Oh, right.” Considering all the things you’ve discussed with various people so far, the last item on your to-do list today had slipped your mind. As you glance down at the sunlight falling through from the ceiling, you noticed the rays have moved quite a bit while you spent time here. It must be well into the afternoon by now. You get up from the chair, and follow $aname as $athey leads you out of the room, into the corridors once more. “Do you know where $xthey is?” “Not far from here,” $aname says, and as you look around to try and recognize where you are, you realize the futility; the hallway where $rname’s workspace is <em>somehow</em> has no windows anymore, even though it did when you arrived. “Whose brilliant idea was it to make the palace’s corridors into shifting spaces?” you say out loud, though it’s more of a rhetorical question. While no doubt a very useful mechanism otherwise, it bothers you that you don’t have a clear map of the building in your head, aside from the general directions. “Think of it this way,” $aname says. “If there are ever intruders in the palace, they’ll have a much harder time finding you.” “Very comforting.” As you turn a few corners, traversing the hallways, you amuse yourself with counting the amount of snakes you see painted on the wall. You’ve spotted fifteen of them when $aname suddenly halts, though one of the snakes you saw had multiple heads and you’re not sure if that counts for one or for three— The sound of laughter ringing through the palace distracts you, coming from one of the rooms ahead. “Looks like we’ve found $xname,” $aname says, exchanging a wry look with you before you both head over to the last doorway on the right, where the sound of loud chatter originates. [[Continue|6.38]] You can make out $xname’s booming voice even from among the noise: “I swear upon my honor, it’s true!” “Your honor?” another voice replies mockingly, a familiar one, though you can’t immediately place it. “Swear it on your coin and maybe then I’ll believe you, mercenary.” “Chief’s not lying,” someone else says, probably one of the Blades, though you don’t recognize them. “$cxthey caught them with their pants down, naked as the day they were born!” There’s laughter in between the shouting, though that dies down immediately as soon as you and $aname enter. Or, specifically, when <em>you</em> enter and all the eyes in the room shift to look at you. When they realize who you are, they all immediately get up out of their seats to greet you as you enter. They were all seated on a long row of tables lining the room in a square shape, big enough to be a small banquet hall, though the furnishings are bare. There are several bowls of fruit and plates of pastries spread out over the tables, however. $xname is at the center of it, taking the largest, most ornate chair while Heval is on $xtheir right—with their mask on—followed by Tûjo and several other Crescent Blades, one of which you recognize as Şanazî. The rest, however, are still largely unfamiliar to you. On $xname’s left you find— “Ezo?” you exclaim in surprise, now recognizing it was her voice that you heard talking to $xname. “Kaja!” “Your Imperial Majesty!” Kaja shouts back. “Why are we yelling!” Ezo covers her eyes with her hand, which you notice is bandaged, while several of the Crescent Blades snicker. “Please forgive this one, Your Imperial Majesty. She was born slow.” You smile at them both, pretending you do not see Kaja stepping on Ezo’s foot and making her wince. “I didn’t expect to see the two of you here. I’m glad you’re both alright.” Kaja and Ezo both bow, the latter stating, “Nothing relieves us more than to see you unharmed, Your Imperial Majesty.” <<if $xfriend is false>>As they bow, you’re distracted by $xname, the remnants of laughter on $xtheir face twisting into a smirk as your eyes meet. $cxthey got out of $xtheir chair the slowest out of anyone there and is just as slow to bow to you, taking $xtheir time as $xthey straightens to $xtheir full height again, all but stretching—to show off, no doubt. You being aware of it does not prevent your eyes from lingering on $xtheir lean waist, however—just about the <em>only</em> part of $xthem that’s lean.<<else>>You meet $xname’s eyes next, who was the slowest to get out of $xtheir chair and is the slowest to bow, as well.<</if>> “Took your sweet time,” $xthey says cheekily. “I suppose I should get out of your seat, huh?” “I suppose you should,” you say, waiting as $xthey and the Blades move one seat over, and Kaja and Ezo free up a seat for $aname as well. “$aname,” $xname greets $athem next as you both move to take your seats. “Still have a headache?” “That depends, how long are you staying at the palace?” The Blades have a good laugh at $xname’s expense, who grins and lets them have their fun. Sitting down in the middle of all that noise and energy is definitely an experience, but having $aname sitting beside you with $atheir implacable calm is reassuring. “You are much funnier than people give you credit for, my friend,” $xname says to $aname, before turning $xtheir attention back to you. “So! We’re here to discuss business, I presume?” [[Continue|6.39]] “Security for the coronation,” you confirm. “Though admittedly, I don’t know much about how to arrange something like that.” “Of course not, that’s why you hired us,” $xname replies smoothly. “Which was an excellent decision on your part, I have to add.” “One that I can’t recall actively making,” you say slowly, narrowing your eyes at $xthem, and $xthey waves $xtheir hand before placing it casually on top of your shoulder<<if $xfriend is false>>, which does nothing to help you ease up, not when you can feel the warmth of $xtheir palm burning through your clothes<</if>>. “Excuse me,” Kaja says, frowning deeply. “Excuse me! Please refrain from touching the Crown. Spirits know where your hands have been.” $xname quickly removes $xtheir hand again, raising $xtheir palm peaceably, though $xthey says, “I’ll have you know I frequently wash my hands, they’re cleaner than a baby’s. Do you see these fingernails? Not a speck of dirt beneath!” $cxtheir short-clipped fingernails actually do look remarkably clean, but that’s neither here nor there. “It’s alright, Kaja, $xthey doesn’t mean anything by it.” You look back at $xname. “So, how exactly do we plan security for the coronation?” “That depends on who you want protected, $xnickname,” $xname answers nonchalantly, picking a grape from a bowl and popping it into $xtheir mouth as $xthey leans back into $xtheir chair. “Have you decided on the festivities yet?” Heval asks when $xname offers no further clarification, and you nod. <<if $festivities is 'refused'>>“There won’t be any public celebrations or any festivities for the nobles,” you lay out, getting surprised looks in return, though $xname mostly looks thoughtful. Or, as thoughtful as one can look while eating grapes. “It’ll just be the ceremony at the Sky Temple, and then the grand banquet back at the Royal Palace again.” “That makes our job <em>exceedingly</em> easy, doesn’t it?” $xname muses, sighing with what almost sounds like disappointment. “Ah, well. Maybe we’ll run across another assassin if we’re lucky.” “Your concern for the Crown’s safety is touching,” $aname states, laying the sarcasm on thick and getting a grin and a wink from $xname in return. “I am nothing if not loyal to my country.” [[Continue|6.40]]<</if>><<if $festivities is 'nobles'>>“There won’t be any public celebrations,” you lay out, getting surprised looks in return, though $xname mostly looks thoughtful. Or, as thoughtful as one can look while eating grapes. “It’ll just be the ceremony at the Sky Temple, with the nobility attending, and then the grand banquet back at the Royal Palace again.” “That makes our job easy, doesn’t it?” $xname muses, sighing with what almost sounds like disappointment. “Ah, well. Maybe we’ll run across another assassin if we’re lucky.” “Your concern for the Crown’s safety is touching,” $aname states, laying the sarcasm on thick and getting a grin and a wink from $xname in return. “I am nothing if not loyal to my country.” $xname’s humor fades, however, seeming to be considering what you said further. “Well, if the nobility is attending… I could put a few Blades on watch during the ceremony as well as additional protection, if you think it necessary.” <ul class="a"> <li>[[Agree to extra security during the ceremony.|6.40][$security to 'nobles']]</li> <li>[[Dismiss the need for extra security.|6.40][$security to 'refused']]</li> </ul><</if>><<if $festivities is 'public'>>“We’ll have a public parade,” you lay out, which seems to be what the Blades expected from the unsurprised looks you’re getting. “It’ll be a route from here to the Sky Temple for the ceremony. Afterwards, we’ll head back to the Royal Palace for the banquet.” “Yes, that’s about what we were expecting,” $xname muses. “It’ll be a challenge to keep an eye on the public, but it can be done. We’ll just have to charge you a little extra coin for it, but you don’t mind, do you? It’s all for your protection, after all.” “Your concern for the Crown’s safety is touching,” $aname states, laying the sarcasm on thick and getting a grin and a wink from $xname in return. “I am nothing if not loyal to my country.” $xname’s humor fades, however, seeming to be considering what you said further. “Well, if you’re going to have a public parade… I could spread out the Blades on watch during the event for additional protection, if you think it necessary.” <ul class="a"> <li>[[Agree to extra security during the parade.|6.40][$security to 'public']]</li> <li>[[Dismiss the need for extra security.|6.40][$security to 'refused']]</li> </ul><</if>><<if $festivities is 'both'>>“We’ll have a public parade,” you lay out, which seems to be what the Blades expected from the unsurprised looks you’re getting. “It’ll be a route from here to the Sky Temple for the ceremony. Afterwards, we’ll head back to the Royal Palace for the banquet.” “Yes, that’s about what we were expecting,” $xname muses. “It’ll be a challenge to keep an eye on the public, but it can be done. We’ll just have to charge you a little extra coin for it, but you don’t mind, do you? It’s all for your protection, after all.” “Your concern for the Crown’s safety is touching,” $aname states, laying the sarcasm on thick and getting a grin and a wink from $xname in return. “I am nothing if not loyal to my country.” $xname’s humor fades, however, seeming to be considering what you said further. “Well, if the nobility is attending the ceremony… but then, we also have the issue of the parade. We might be able to put the Blades as extra security on both, or you could prioritize if you wish.” <ul class="a"> <li>[[Agree to extra security only during the ceremony.|6.40][$security to 'nobles']]</li> <li>[[Agree to extra security only during the parade.|6.40][$security to 'public']]</li> <li>[[Agree to extra security during both the ceremony and the parade.|6.40][$security to 'both']]</li> <li>[[Dismiss the need for extra security.|6.40][$security to 'refused']]</li> </ul><</if>><<if $coronation is 'closed'>>“There won’t be any public celebrations or any festivities for the nobles,” you lay out, getting surprised looks in return, though $xname mostly looks thoughtful. Or, as thoughtful as one can look while eating grapes. “It’ll just be the ceremony at the Sky Temple, and then the grand banquet back at the Royal Palace again.” “That makes our job <em>exceedingly</em> easy, doesn’t it?” $xname muses, sighing with what almost sounds like disappointment. “Ah, well. Maybe we’ll run across another assassin if we’re lucky.” “Your concern for the Crown’s safety is touching,” $aname states, laying the sarcasm on thick and getting a grin and a wink from $xname in return. “I am nothing if not loyal to my country.” [[Continue|6.40]]<</if>><<if $coronation is 'closed'>><<set $security to 'undefined'>><<if visited("6.40") is 1>><<set $cs += 2>><</if>>“Keep the Blades focused on security during the banquet,” you decide. “I’ll have both the Imperial Guards, the palace guards and the city guards to watch out for everything else.” “If you say so.” $xname goes along with your decision easily enough, looking over at the Blades. “Looks like we’re going to have an easy time of it!” “I highly doubt that,” Tûjo says soberly, getting a frown from $xname. “Come on, Tûjo, we rarely get a job this straightforward—celebrate a little!” “The fact that it’s straightforward is precisely what worries me.” $xname rolls $xtheir eyes heavenward while $aname shoots Tûjo an approving look. “At least one of your mercenaries has some common sense.”<</if>><<if $security is 'refused' or $security is 'nobles'>><<if $security is 'refused'>>“Keep the Blades focused on security during the banquet,” you decide. “I’ll have both the Imperial Guards, the palace guards and the city guards to watch out for everything else.”<</if>><<if $security is 'nobles'>>“Keep the Blades focused on security during the ceremony,” you decide. “I’ll have both the Imperial Guards, the palace guards and the city guards to watch out for everything else.”<</if>> “If you say so.” $xname goes along with your decision easily enough, looking over at the Blades. “Looks like we’re going to have an easy time of it!” “I highly doubt that,” Tûjo says soberly, getting a frown from $xname. “Come on, Tûjo, we rarely get a job this straightforward—celebrate a little!” “The fact that it’s straightforward is precisely what worries me.” $xname rolls $xtheir eyes heavenward while $aname shoots Tûjo an approving look. “At least one of your mercenaries has some common sense.”<</if>><<if $security is 'public' or $security is 'both'>><<if $security is 'public'>>“Keep the Blades focused on security during the parade,” you decide. “I’ll have both the Imperial Guards, the palace guards and the city guards to watch out for everything else.”<</if>><<if $security is 'both'>>“Spread the Blades out over both the parade as well as the ceremony,” you decide. “With the Imperial Guards, the palace guards and the city guards there as well, it should be doable.”<</if>> “Leave it to us,” $xname says, seeming to be brimming with confidence even at the monumental task before $xthem. “We’ll make sure no one touches so much as a single hair on your pretty head.”<<if $xfriend is false>> Just as you thought it would before, that promise of safety doesn’t sound sincere coming from $xname. Not beyond the coin involved, in any case. $xname seems to notice your lack of a reaction from the way $xtheir smile falters a little, but thankfully $xthey seems to be the only one.<</if>> “Bravado can only take us so far, $xname,” Tûjo points out, getting a frown from $xname in return. “It’s not bravado,” $xthey argues. “We’ve pulled off much more difficult jobs than this!” “Not without cost.” $xname rolls $xtheir eyes heavenward while $aname shoots Tûjo an approving look. “At least one of your mercenaries has some common sense.”<</if>> Before $xname can retort, you cut off the argument before it can truly begin. “Then, all that’s left is to hammer out the details, right?” “Ah, yes.” $xname sighs, leaning back into $xtheir chair. “The boring part. Heval, go right ahead.” Apparently, $xname has no appetite for coordinating the entire event together with $aname—$xthey lets Heval do it instead, with the rest of the Blades as well as Ezo and Kaja chiming in occasionally. You listen<<if $xfriend is true>> attentively as the two of them discuss the finer points of the plan, such as the route you’ll be taking to the Sky Temple and how to best guard it, hoping you might learn something valuable about how to do this yourself in the future. The longer you try to pay attention, however, the harder it gets. While today was free from assassination attempts, you find yourself mentally drained rather than physically drained, and it’s starting to affect your focus.<<else>> to their conversation, trying to pay attention, but you soon realize it’s futile. $xname, sitting beside you, keeps drawing your eyes back to $xthem—this time, entirely unintentionally. At some point during Heval and $aname’s discussion $xname starts eating more grapes, stretched out on the chair as if $xthey owns it, legs spread wide. You glance down briefly at $xtheir thick thighs, even the layers of $xtheir draped skirt and pants unable to hide the muscle. When your skin starts to heat beneath your clothes, you avert your gaze again<<if $flirt gt $res>> if only not to give yourself away<</if>>, though what your eyes find next are not any less suggestive. Your stare lands on $xname’s lips as $xthey languidly bites a grape in half, then sucks the rest of it into $xtheir mouth, some of the juice still glistening on $xtheir lips. Of course, that is the exact moment $xname notices you staring. $cxthey grins, slow and wide, and your eyes are fixated on the tip of $xtheir tongue sliding over $xtheir lower lip, followed by $xtheir thumb, as if to wipe off the juice. $cxthey’s taking full advantage of $xtheir captive audience as you find yourself unable to look away, your imagination running off with what else $xname could do with those lips and that tongue.<</if>> It's at that point $xname<<if $xfriend is false>> turns away from you and<</if>> leans forward onto the table, interrupting the ongoing conversation. “If you all don’t mind,” $xthey says, “I’ll escort the Crown back to $their quarters. $ctheir Majesty looks like $they could use a break.” <<if $xfriend is false>>Trying to quell your less than innocent thoughts, you attempt to refocus, not wanting anyone else to notice anything about the exchange that just happened. Besides which, $xname is right: you <em>do</em> feel rather exhausted.<<else>>You might have been offended at how presumptuous $xname was being if $xthey wasn’t also completely right; $xthey likely sensed your exhaustion long before you did.<</if>> <<if $afriend is false>>$aname frowns slightly, giving you an assessing look, then nods in agreement, saying to you, “I’m sure you’ve heard enough talk for one day. Get some rest.” "I will." You want to say something more to $aname, if only because you see $atheir concern for you, but before you can think of anything else $athey has already averted $atheir gaze. Small steps, you suppose with a sigh, ignoring the look $xname gives you.<<else>>$aname glances at you, then nods in agreement, saying to $xname, “We’ll continue when you return.”<</if>> [[Continue|6.41]] You follow $xname out of the room, head feeling stuffed with information. Considering the sensitive nature of it, you judge it best not to write about any details in your journal later, but you’re going to have to write <em>something</em> down. You’ve never had to make such important decisions in a single day before, decisions that involve not only your own safety but those of others as well. You’re no longer responsible only for yourself. It is a difficult realization to get used to when you’ve spent the past year on your own, staying distant from people, but perhaps that is also what makes you feel the weight of it so much more. In truth, it’s terrifying. “What are you thinking about?” $xname, who has been quietly walking beside you this whole time, startles you out of your thoughts with $xtheir question. <<if $charm gt $blunt>>“Oh, nothing much, only the fact that I’m now responsible for millions of lives,” you say, forcing a casual tone.<<else>>“Only the fact that I’m now responsible for millions of lives,” you state, forcing a calm tone.<</if>> $cxthey snorts, patting you on the back. “I don’t envy you. Try not to think about it too much.” “How could I not think about it?” you say, frowning<<if $height is 'average' or $height is 'short' or $height is 'very short'>> up<</if>> at $xthem as you turn a corner, entering a familiar hallway with a view of the gardens. Your room should be just at the end of it. “If I make the wrong choice it could get people killed.” "Oh, most of your choices are probably going to end up getting <em>someone</em> killed," $xname replies easily, and your frown deepens into a scowl. "It's inevitable." "I'm sorry, was that supposed to make me feel better?" “$name, any decision you make is going to echo throughout the Empire, at times even affecting the entire continent,” $xname points out, which does nothing to make you feel less stressed. “If you obsess over the weight of your choices, you’ll become paralyzed by fear, and in that state you’re of no use to anyone.” That is a good point. Sometimes with how nonchalant $xname acts, you forget that $xthey has years of leadership experience under $xtheir belt. Perhaps the scale isn’t the same, but you’re certain $xthey’s had to make $xtheir fair share of difficult decisions while leading the Blades. “Don’t look so surprised,” $xname teases you, grinning knowingly. “I’m not just a pretty face, you know.” Remembering $xtheir conversation with Kham earlier, that much is apparent. Then again, you never thought otherwise. $xname hides so much of $xtheir true self, it’s difficult to get a read on $xthem at times, but $xtheir wit has never been in question. Even with $xtheir advice, however, it doesn’t make the weight you have to carry any lighter. [[Continue|6.42]] As you fall silent, continuing to walk, $xname keeps staring at you. “Are you about to cry?” You look back at $xthem, bewildered. “What?” $cxthey gestures at you with a circular motion of $xtheir hand, indicating your general vicinity. “I’m getting a sad feeling from your spirits.” “How did you—” you start, then pause; of course $xname would notice immediately, considering $xtheir sensory abilities. “Never mind. $xname, do you really ask people who are sad if they’re about to <em>cry</em>?” $xname shrugs. “I need to be prepared. If someone around me suddenly bursts into tears I tend to get uncomfortable. It’s all very awkward for everyone involved.” <<if $comfortbyx is false>>“That…” You blink at $xthem. <<if $blunt gt $charm>>“I would probably reconsider that approach.” “Sometimes it actually helps, you know,” $xname tells you very seriously. “<<else>>“Does that actually help?” “Now you mention it, yes, it does,” $xname answers very seriously. “<</if>><<else>><<if $blunt gt $charm>>“You comforted me just fine,”<<else>>“From firsthand experience, I can say you’re pretty good at comforting people, actually,”<</if>> you say, remembering the way $xname embraced you and calmed you down after you had your nightmare. “That was a special case,” $xname replies, but instead of elaborating, $xthey quickly moves on. “Usually my methods of comforting are more crass. With <</if>>Huner, for example. He once found an injured bird that laid dying on the ground and made a face, like he was about to start bawling his eyes out—” “Huner?” you ask. “One of the Blades, he’s usually in charge of cooking.” $xname waves $xtheir hand, indicating it’s not important. “In any case, I asked him if he was about to cry, and suggested that I fetch him something to weep on, like a cloth or some such, because I didn’t want him to ruin my tunic. And he got so angry at me he forgot all about crying. I’d call that a success.” You stare at $xthem. “$xname, why?” “I am very good at getting people angry at me, and sometimes, I use that power for good,” $xname replies with a playful grin. “<em>Sometimes</em>. Extremely selectively.” “Yes, of course,” you agree, trying to suppress your own smile and failing. “Spirits forbid we mistook you for being altruistic.” “Do not even utter such profanity,” $xname chastises you, scowling with exaggerated indignation. “Altruistic? Pah! Disgusting.” <ul class="a"> <<if $xfriend is false>><<if $xgender is 'female'>><li>[[Ask her what it would take for her to do something selflessly.|6.43ra]]</li><li>[[State that you don’t think she’s as selfish as she makes herself seem.|6.43rb][$xpoints += 3]]</li><li>[[Ask her why she values material things so much.|6.43rc][$xpoints -= 1]]</li><<else>><li>[[Ask him what it would take for him to do something selflessly.|6.43ra]]</li><li>[[State that you don’t think he’s as selfish as he makes himself seem.|6.43rb][$xpoints += 3]]</li><li>[[Ask him why he values material things so much.|6.43rc][$xpoints -= 1]]</li><</if>><<else>><li><<if $blunt gt $charm>>[[“What would it take for you to do something selflessly?”|6.43fa]]<<else>>[[“Are you saying you would never do anything out of selflessness?”|6.43fa]]<</if>></li><li><<if $caut gt $adven>>[[“You say that, but I think you're more generous than you let on.”|6.43fb][$xfriendship += 1]]<<else>>[[“You can drop the act, you know. I know you’re not wholly selfish at heart.”|6.43fb][$xfriendship += 1]]<</if>></li><li><<if $calc gt $kind>>[[“You do seem rather fixated on coin, at times. Why is that?”|6.43fc]]<<else>>[[“How come you're so fixated on coin? Is it really that important to you?”|6.43fc]]<</if>></li><</if>> </ul><<if $blunt gt $charm >>“What would it take for you to do something selflessly?”<<else>>“Are you saying you would never do anything out of selflessness?”<</if>> you question, watching $xtheir expression closely. You both come to a stop at the end of the hallway, your quarters just around the corner. $xname turns to face you, $xtheir gaze amused. “Are you trying to figure me out?” $xthey teases. “That’s adorable. But I should warn you, I’m not something as innocuous as a puzzle. You should be careful.” “I don’t think I have anything to fear from you,” you state, <<if $pass gt $ass>>standing your ground even while $xname leans in and you lean away reflexively, finding your back pressed lightly against the wall—<<if $res gt $flirt>>it takes all your composure to keep your voice steady<<else>>you manage to keep your voice even, though your lips turn up into a challenging smile<</if>><<else>>leaning in so that $xname leans away as if wanting to draw you in further, back pressing against a wall beside a window—it’s merely a game you’re playing, one to show $xname you’re not intimidated by $xthem<</if>>. “Otherwise, who would pay you?” $xname laughs heartily, the sound filling up the hallway. “Good point!”<<if $ass gt $pass>> <<if $height is 'short' or $height is 'average' or $height is 'very short'>>Even though you’re shorter than $xthem<<if $height is 'short' or $height is 'very short'>> by quite a bit, enough to where you nearly need to crane your neck to look at $xthem from this close<</if>>, $xname allows you to corner $xthem, appearing to be enjoying it if the smirk $xthey gives you is any indication.<<else>><<if $height is 'tall'>>Being around the same height as $xthem, it allows you to look straight into $xtheir eyes as you brace an arm against the wall beside $xtheir head, and $xname lets you. $cxthey seems to enjoy the bold move, if the smirk on $xtheir face is any indication.<</if>><<if $height is 'very tall'>>Being taller than $xthem, it allows you to use your height to your advantage as you corner $xthem, bracing an arm against the wall beside $xtheir head, and $xname lets you. If anything, $xthey seems to enjoy the bold move, if the smirk on $xtheir face is any indication.<</if>><</if>><</if>> “$name.” $xname’s<<if $pass gt $ass>> other<</if>> hand lifts to your face, $xtheir knuckles gently caressing your cheek, making your heart twist as $xthey murmurs, “Don’t try to turn me into something I’m not.” <<if $ass gt $pass>>You reach up, grabbing $xtheir hand but keeping it against your cheek as you gaze into $xtheir eyes, and the distance between you seems to shorten dangerously. “Is this little act how you keep people at a distance?” you challenge, your voice lowering before you can help it. “Seems a bit overdone, doesn’t it?”<<else>>You avoid looking into $xtheir eyes, knowing you’ll go weak in the knees the moment you do, and instead turn your face a little to the side just so you aren’t so utterly overwhelmed by $xthem. $cxthey moves back a little when $xthey notices, giving you some much needed breathing space. “I’m not,” you say, knowing better than to think $xthey’s being honest at any given moment. “I know you’re good at pretending, is all.”<</if>> Yet, $xname seems adamant. “I lie about a lot of things, $xnickname, but never about who I am.” You’re silent for a while, considering. “I don’t know whether to believe you.” $xname gives a single-shoulder shrug, the nonchalant gesture contradicting the intensity in $xtheir gaze as the green of it burns into your own. “You and most people.” Your lips part to reply when the moment is interrupted in perhaps the most embarrassing way possible. There’s a sharp ripple in the air followed by a flash of bright blue, the air around you suddenly feeling much more humid. $xname raises $xtheir brows, then starts to laugh as <<if $pass gt $ass>>$xthey pulls away from you<<else>>you pull away from $xthem<</if>>. “Sorry,” $xthey says, not at all apologetic as $xthey snickers like a child, looking far too pleased with $xthemselves. “Seems like I got your spirit friends a little too worked up.” <<if $res gt $flirt>>You resist the urge to bury your flaming face behind your hands,<<else>>You breathe out a sigh,<</if>> opting instead to pretend you don’t know what $xthey’s talking about. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.” “Oh, come now.” $xname raises a hand over your head<<if $height is 'short' or $height is 'average' or $height is 'very short'>>, which may as well be eye-level for $xthem<</if>>, reaching out to the spirits above you like $aname did before. “Where exactly did you find these little strays? Don’t tell me it was that water temple you visited with $xdnickname.” The humidity surrounding you gains heat, like ice melting in a summer blaze as the water spirits reflect $xname’s nature right back at $xthem, and it’s making you sweat beneath your clothes. You push $xname’s hand away. “Stop that. I can barely breathe as it is.” “Oh, pardon me,” $xname says, grinning widely. “Am I making you feel overheated?” Shaking your head, you move away from the wall and keep walking, determined not to let this distract you any longer. $xname is far from genuine; it would serve you best to remember that. [[Continue|6.44]]<<if $caut gt $adven>>“You say that, but I think you’re more generous than you let on,”<<else>>“You can drop the act, you know,”<</if>> you remark, remembering the precious dagger $xthey gave you, and the way $xthey treats $xtheir mercenaries like family. <<if $adven gt $caut>>“I know you’re not wholly selfish at heart.”<</if>> You both come to a stop at the end of the hallway, your quarters just around the corner. $xname turns to face you, eyes sparking with mischief. “Is that what you really think, or is that what you hope for?” $xthey teases. “You do like to perform,” you point out, <<if $pass gt $ass>>standing your ground even while $xname leans in and you lean away reflexively, finding your back pressed lightly against the wall—<<if $res gt $flirt>>it takes all your composure to keep your voice steady<<else>>you manage to keep your voice even, though your lips turn up into a challenging smile<</if>><<else>>leaning in so that $xname leans away as if wanting to draw you in further, back pressing against a wall beside a window—it’s merely a game you’re playing, one to show $xname you’re not intimidated by $xthem<</if>>. “The role of carefree mercenary suits you well, I admit. But that can’t be all that there is to you.”<<if $ass gt $pass>> <<if $height is 'short' or $height is 'average' or $height is 'very short'>>Even though you’re shorter than $xthem<<if $height is 'short' or $height is 'very short'>> by quite a bit, enough to where you nearly need to crane your neck to look at $xthem from this close<</if>>, $xname allows you to corner $xthem, appearing to be enjoying it if the smirk $xthey gives you is any indication.<<else>><<if $height is 'tall'>>Being around the same height as $xthem, it allows you to look straight into $xtheir eyes as you brace an arm against the wall beside $xtheir head, and $xname lets you. $cxthey seems to enjoy the bold move, if the smirk on $xtheir face is any indication.<</if>><<if $height is 'very tall'>>Being taller than $xthem, it allows you to use your height to your advantage as you corner $xthem, bracing an arm against the wall beside $xtheir head, and $xname lets you. If anything, $xthey seems to enjoy the bold move, if the smirk on $xtheir face is any indication.<</if>><</if>><</if>> When the look in $xname’s eyes then softens,<<if $pass gt $ass>> forearm bracing against the wall beside your head,<</if>><<if $pass gt $ass>> you know you’re in trouble<<else>> you know you’ve got $xthem where you want $xthem<</if>>. “$name.” $xname’s<<if $pass gt $ass>> other<</if>> hand lifts to your face, $xtheir knuckles gently caressing your cheek, making your heart twist as $xthey murmurs, “If you wish for me to treat you tenderly, you need only ask.” <<if $ass gt $pass>>You reach up, grabbing $xtheir hand but keeping it against your cheek as you gaze into $xtheir eyes, and the distance between you seems to shorten dangerously. “Don’t tempt me, $xname,” you respond with a warning tone. “I’ll start believing you.”<<else>>You avoid looking into $xtheir eyes, knowing you’ll go weak in the knees the moment you do, and instead turn your face a little to the side just so you aren’t so utterly overwhelmed by $xthem. $cxthey moves back a little when $xthey notices, giving you some much needed breathing space. “Do you say that to everyone you flirt with, or am I special?” you say, knowing better than to think this means something.<</if>> Yet, $xname seems undeterred. “I lie about a lot of things, $xnickname, but never about this.” “That’s a lie.” $xname gives a single-shoulder shrug, the nonchalant gesture contradicting the intensity in $xtheir gaze as the green of it burns into your own. “Perhaps.” <<if $ass gt $pass>>You give $xname a long look, trying not to get distracted by the pretty eyelashes framing $xtheir beautiful eyes.<<else>>You close your eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath to calm your pounding heart.<</if>> “And what is <em>this</em>, exactly?” “Hmm…” <<if $ass gt $pass>>$xname’s gaze trails over your face,<<else>>When you dare a glance at $xthem you find $xname’s gaze trailing over your face,<</if>> as if drinking in the sight of you. “Right now? I would call this a flirtation. But we can make it anything you want it to be.” Your lips part <<if $ass gt $pass>> as you search for something to say<<else>>as if to speak, even though you’re speechless<</if>>, when the moment is interrupted in perhaps the most embarrassing way possible. There’s a sharp ripple in the air followed by a flash of bright blue, the air around you suddenly feeling much more humid. $xname raises $xtheir brows, then starts to laugh as <<if $pass gt $ass>>$xthey pulls away from you<<else>>you pull away from $xthem<</if>>. “Sorry,” $xthey says, not at all apologetic as $xthey snickers like a child, looking far too pleased with $xthemselves. “Seems like I got your spirit friends a little too worked up.” <<if $res gt $flirt>>You resist the urge to bury your flaming face behind your hands,<<else>>You breathe out a sigh,<</if>> opting instead to pretend you don’t know what $xthey’s talking about. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.” “Come now.” $xname raises a hand over your head<<if $height is 'short' or $height is 'average' or $height is 'very short'>>, which may as well be eye-level for $xthem<</if>>, reaching out to the spirits above you like $aname did before. “Where exactly did you find these little strays? Don’t tell me it was that water temple you visited with $xdnickname.” The humidity surrounding you gains heat, like ice melting in a summer blaze as the water spirits reflect $xname’s nature right back at $xthem, and it’s making you sweat beneath your clothes. You push $xname’s hand away. “Stop that. I can barely breathe as it is.” “Oh, pardon me,” $xname says, grinning widely. “Am I making you feel overheated?” Shaking your head, you move away from the wall and keep walking, determined not to let this distract you any longer. $xname is far from genuine; it would serve you best to remember that. [[Continue|6.44]] <<if $calc gt $kind>>“You do seem rather fixated on coin, at times,”<<else>>“How come you're so fixated on coin?”<</if>> you say, watching $xtheir expression closely. <<if $calc gt $kind>>“Why is that?”<<else>>“Is it really that important to you?”<</if>> You both come to a stop at the end of the hallway, your quarters just around the corner. $xname turns to face you, $xtheir gaze amused. “What’s better in this life than coin?” $xthey replies, grinning widely. “I can think of a few things,” you start, <<if $pass gt $ass>>standing your ground even while $xname leans in and you lean away reflexively, finding your back pressed lightly against the wall—<<if $res gt $flirt>>it takes all your composure to keep your voice steady<<else>>you manage to keep your voice even, though your lips turn up into a challenging smile<</if>><<else>>leaning in so that $xname leans away as if wanting to draw you in further, back pressing against a wall beside a window—it’s merely a game you’re playing, one to show $xname you’re not intimidated by $xthem<</if>>. $xname’s grin turns sly. “Naughty things, I hope?”<<if $ass gt $pass>> <<if $height is 'short' or $height is 'average' or $height is 'very short'>>Even though you’re shorter than $xthem<<if $height is 'short' or $height is 'very short'>> by quite a bit, enough to where you nearly need to crane your neck to look at $xthem from this close<</if>>, $xname allows you to corner $xthem, appearing to be enjoying it if the smirk $xthey gives you is any indication.<<else>><<if $height is 'tall'>>Being around the same height as $xthem, it allows you to look straight into $xtheir eyes as you brace an arm against the wall beside $xtheir head, and $xname lets you. $cxthey seems to enjoy the bold move, if the smirk on $xtheir face is any indication.<</if>><<if $height is 'very tall'>>Being taller than $xthem, it allows you to use your height to your advantage as you corner $xthem, bracing an arm against the wall beside $xtheir head, and $xname lets you. If anything, $xthey seems to enjoy the bold move, if the smirk on $xtheir face is any indication.<</if>><</if>><</if>> <<if $pass gt $ass>>You feel a flush building in your cheeks, the heat flooding your face. “That’s... not what I meant.”<<else>>“You’re dodging the question,” you point out, arching your brows pointedly.<</if>> “Come now, $name,” $xname coaxes, $xtheir voice intentionally honey-sweet. “The answer is an obvious one, isn’t it? The wealthy may take it for granted, but for others… coin means everything. Why linger on the subject? Let’s talk of more pleasant things.” <<if $ass gt $pass>>You gaze into $xtheir eyes, and the distance between you seems to shorten dangerously. “Are pleasant things all you talk about?” you say, managing to keep your composure steady. “I’d rather not.”<<else>>You avoid looking into $xtheir eyes, knowing you’ll go weak in the knees the moment you do, and instead turn your face a little. $cxthey moves back a little when $xthey notices, giving you some much needed breathing space. “I’d rather not,” you say, knowing better than to think $xthey’s being honest at any given moment.<</if>> $xname gives a single-shoulder shrug, the nonchalant gesture contradicting the intensity in $xtheir gaze as the green of it burns into your own. “Suit yourself.” Your lips part to reply when the moment is interrupted in perhaps the most embarrassing way possible. There’s a sharp ripple in the air followed by a flash of bright blue, the air around you suddenly feeling much more humid. $xname raises $xtheir brows, then starts to laugh as <<if $pass gt $ass>>$xthey pulls away from you<<else>>you pull away from $xthem<</if>>. “Sorry,” $xthey says, not at all apologetic as $xthey snickers like a child, looking far too pleased with $xthemselves. “Seems like I got your spirit friends a little too worked up.” <<if $res gt $flirt>>You resist the urge to bury your flaming face behind your hands,<<else>>You breathe out a sigh,<</if>> opting instead to pretend you don’t know what $xthey’s talking about. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.” “Oh, come now.” $xname raises a hand over your head<<if $height is 'short' or $height is 'average' or $height is 'very short'>>, which may as well be eye-level for $xthem<</if>>, reaching out to the spirits above you like $aname did before. “Where exactly did you find these little strays? Don’t tell me it was that water temple you visited with $xdnickname.” The humidity surrounding you gains heat, like ice melting in a summer blaze as the water spirits reflect $xname’s nature right back at $xthem, and it’s making you sweat beneath your clothes. You push $xname’s hand away. “Stop that. I can barely breathe as it is.” “Oh, pardon me,” $xname says, grinning widely. “Am I making you feel overheated?” Shaking your head, you push away from the wall and keep walking, determined not to let this distract you any longer. $xname is far from genuine; it would serve you best to remember that. [[Continue|6.44]] As you speak, you both come to a stop at the end of the hallway, your quarters just around the corner. $xname turns to face you, $xtheir gaze amused. “Are you trying to figure me out?” $xthey teases. “I should warn you, I’m not something as innocuous as a puzzle. You should be careful.” “I don’t think I have anything to fear from you,” you reply. “Otherwise, who would pay you?” $xname laughs heartily, the sound filling up the hallway. “Good point!” “You’re not going to answer the question, are you?” $cxthey smirks, shrugging. “Where would be the fun in that? I would rather keep you guessing.” Fun for $xname, maybe, but you find it leaves you mostly confused and somewhat annoyed at having to constantly guess at $xtheir intentions. You don’t truly think $xname is as selfish as $xthey likes to paint $xthemselves, but you can’t say it with certainty, either. “$name,” $xname says, having noticed the thoughtful expression on your face. $cxtheir smirk fades a little, expression turning more serious. “Do us both a favor and don’t try to turn me into something I’m not.” <<if $charm gt $blunt>>You shrug, taking on a similar air of indifference as $xname did before.<<else>>You give $xname a measuring look.<</if>> “I know you’re good at pretending, is all.” Yet, $xname seems adamant. “I lie about a lot of things, $name, but never about who I am.” You’re silent for a while, considering. “I don’t know whether to believe you.” $xname gives you a smile in return, one you’re not sure is entirely genuine, which is only irritating you even further. “You and most people.” Your lips part to reply when the moment is interrupted in perhaps the most obnoxious way possible. There’s a sharp ripple in the air followed by a flash of vivid blue, the air around you suddenly feeling colder. $xname raises $xtheir brows, then starts to laugh. “Sorry,” $xthey says, not at all apologetic as $xthey snickers about it. “Seems like I annoyed your spirit friends a little too much.” You breathe out a sigh, opting instead to pretend you don’t know what $xthey’s talking about. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.” “Oh, come now.” $xname raises a hand over your head<<if $height is 'short' or $height is 'average' or $height is 'very short'>>, which may as well be eye-level for $xthem<</if>>, reaching out to the spirits above you like $aname did before. “Where exactly did you find these little strays? Don’t tell me it was that water temple you visited with $xdnickname.” The cold around you gains a bite, like an icy winter wind, and it’s making you shiver beneath your clothes. You push $xname’s hand away. “Stop that. I’m actually starting to get cold.” “I’m not fond of priests, but maybe you should consider calling one over,” $xname considers, literally poking at the air and getting another agitated flash from the spirits for $xtheir troubles. Shaking your head, you turn and keep walking, just about done with the day. [[Continue|6.44]] As you speak, you both come to a stop at the end of the hallway, your quarters just around the corner. $xname turns to face you, eyes sparking with mischief. “Is that what you really think, or is that what you hope for?” $xthey teases. “You do like to perform,” you point out. “The role of carefree mercenary suits you well, I admit. But that can’t be all that there is to you.” $xname gives you a long look, the amused grin on $xtheir face seeming to fade a little. “Don’t go looking for things that aren’t there, now.” “Are you saying you’re a callous scoundrel who only looks out for $xthemselves?” you say skeptically. “Even though I’ve seen how much you care for the Blades?” $cxthey smirks, shrugging. “Maybe I only look out for me and mine. That’s another type of selfishness.” $xname certainly seems to be having fun keeping you guessing, but you find it leaves you mostly confused and somewhat annoyed at having to constantly question $xtheir intentions. You don’t truly think $xname is as selfish as $xthey likes to paint $xthemselves, but you can’t say it with certainty, either. “$name,” $xname says, having noticed the thoughtful expression on your face. $cxtheir smirk fades a little, expression turning more serious. “Do us both a favor and don’t try to turn me into something I’m not.” <<if $charm gt $blunt>>You shrug, taking on a similar air of indifference as $xname did before.<<else>>You give $xname a measuring look.<</if>> “I know you’re good at pretending, is all.” Yet, $xname seems adamant. “I lie about a lot of things, $name, but never about who I am.” You’re silent for a while, considering. “I don’t know whether to believe you.” $xname gives you a smile in return, one you’re not sure is entirely genuine, which is only irritating you even further. “You and most people.” Your lips part to reply when the moment is interrupted in perhaps the most obnoxious way possible. There’s a sharp ripple in the air followed by a flash of vivid blue, the air around you suddenly feeling colder. $xname raises $xtheir brows, then starts to laugh. “Sorry,” $xthey says, not at all apologetic as $xthey snickers about it. “Seems like I annoyed your spirit friends a little too much.” You breathe out a sigh, opting instead to pretend you don’t know what $xthey’s talking about. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.” “Oh, come now.” $xname raises a hand over your head<<if $height is 'short' or $height is 'average' or $height is 'very short'>>, which may as well be eye-level for $xthem<</if>>, reaching out to the spirits above you like $aname did before. “Where exactly did you find these little strays? Don’t tell me it was that water temple you visited with $xdnickname.” The cold around you gains a bite, like an icy winter wind, and it’s making you shiver beneath your clothes. You push $xname’s hand away. “Stop that. I’m actually starting to get cold.” “I’m not fond of priests, but maybe you should consider calling one over,” $xname considers, literally poking at the air and getting another agitated flash from the spirits for $xtheir troubles. Shaking your head, you turn and keep walking, just about done with the day. [[Continue|6.44]] As you speak, you both come to a stop at the end of the hallway, your quarters just around the corner. $xname turns to face you, $xtheir gaze amused. “What’s better in this life than coin?” $xthey replies, grinning widely. You frown, thinking of the question from a philosophical angle. “I can think of a few things.” “Oooh, naughty things?” $xname says, and you roll your eyes. “No, $xname.” You give $xthem a pointed look. “You’re dodging the question.” “Come now, $name,” $xname coaxes, trying to persuade you to let the issue drop. “The answer is an obvious one, isn’t it? The wealthy may take it for granted, but for others… coin means everything. Why linger on the subject? Let’s talk of more pleasant things.” “Are pleasant things all you talk about?” you say, raising your brows at the attempt. “I’d rather you answer my question.” $xname certainly seems to be having fun keeping you guessing, but you find it leaves you mostly confused and somewhat annoyed at having to constantly question $xtheir intentions. You don’t truly think $xname is as selfish as $xthey likes to paint $xthemselves, but you can’t say it with certainty, either. “I hate to disappoint,” $xname says, looking not at all apologetic, “but that’s probably not going to happen. I like to have a little bit of mystery about me. Keep you on your toes.” You sigh, parting your lips to reply when the moment is interrupted in perhaps the most obnoxious way possible. There’s a sharp ripple in the air followed by a flash of vivid blue, the air around you suddenly feeling colder. $xname raises $xtheir brows, then starts to laugh. “Sorry,” $xthey says, not at all apologetic as $xthey snickers about it. “Seems like I annoyed your spirit friends a little too much.” You breathe out a sigh, opting instead to pretend you don’t know what $xthey’s talking about. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.” “Oh, come now.” $xname raises a hand over your head<<if $height is 'short' or $height is 'average' or $height is 'very short'>>, which may as well be eye-level for $xthem<</if>>, reaching out to the spirits above you like $aname did before. “Where exactly did you find these little strays? Don’t tell me it was that water temple you visited with $xdnickname.” The cold around you gains a bite, like an icy winter wind, and it’s making you shiver beneath your clothes. You push $xname’s hand away. “Stop that. I’m actually starting to get cold.” “I’m not fond of priests, but maybe you should consider calling one over,” $xname considers, literally poking at the air and getting another agitated flash from the spirits for $xtheir troubles. Shaking your head, you turn and keep walking, just about done with the day. [[Continue|6.44]] As you walk away from $xthem, you suddenly remember that you still have $xtheir dagger in your possession, even though you likely won't ever use it. It was meant mainly to safeguard you in the forest as you went looking for $rname to begin with, but you'd mostly forgotten about it with how hectic the past few days have been. You glance over your shoulder at $xthem, saying, "I should return your dagger to you. It's not as if I'll have a shortage of weapons of my own, now." <<if $xfriend is true>>"Kind of you to remember," $xname says, though $xthey doesn't seem too concerned. "I'm sure you've been keeping it safe." Last you remember you'd given it to Ishrah for safekeeping. "I'll get Ishrah to return it to you." With that matter resolved, you head on toward your bedroom.<<else>>$xname doesn't reply immediately, gaze seeming to consider you for a while, before $xthey finally says, "Keep it. At least for now." That's not what you expected $xthem to say. "Are you sure? It seemed important to you." "I insist." $xname appears certain of $xtheir decision. "It'll help me sleep better at night." Your uncertainty turns into amusement at that, and you can't help but smile. "What was that you said about not being altruistic?" $xname puts a finger to $xtheir lips. "Don't go telling anyone about it. This'll be our little secret to share." $cxthey pauses, glancing around. "Well... you, me, and the four Imperial Guards currently in this hallway." You shake your head, turning away from $xthem to continue on to your bedroom.<</if>> Turning the corner, you find the double doors of your quarters at the end of the short corridor, waiting for you. Despite $xname’s advice, your head is still filled with doubt. It’ll take some time to get used to the idea of your choices carrying such gravity, but it’ll be a necessity. Yet, on the other hand, would it truly be a good thing to become accustomed to power? How do you become used to it without taking it for granted? You need power—to stay alive, to rule the empire—but merely by possessing it, you know you will change. You’ll have no choice <em>but</em> to change. Staring at the golden bird carved into the doors of your bedroom, you remember when you first saw yourself in the mirror with the Crown’s golden face paint, dressed in luxurious fabrics, and for a moment your reflection looked like a stranger. Perhaps that’s what frightens you most of all; to be distorted into something else, until you’re unrecognizable to yourself. “$name.” You turn your head one last time, gazing back at $xname. $cxthey gives you a knowing look, but then smiles, nothing but confidence in $xtheir gaze. “You’ll do fine.” <<if $charm gt $blunt>>You manage a smile back, though it feels weak on your face,<<else>>You can’t bring yourself to smile back so you nod in acknowledgment,<</if>> before turning back to face the doors, approaching them. The metal feels icy against your palm when you rest your hand on it for a moment, staring at its gold as you wonder if your eyes look just as cold. Taking a breath, you try to steel yourself against all that you know is about to come, and then push the door open. The coronation is in three days. [[End Chapter|7.1]]<<if $calendar is true>>@@.sidebardate;<div align='center'><b>CURRENT DATE</b> <b>$year</b>, $day $month</div><<if $holiday is true>><div align='center'><span style="color:#ffd821"><em>$holidate</em></span></div><</if>>@@<</if>><<nobr>><<set $progress to "7">><<set $day to "19">><<if $coronation is 'closed'>><<set $coronationroute to 'tunnels'>><</if>> <<if $coronation is 'semiclosed' and $festivities is 'refused'>><<set $coronationroute to 'tunnels'>><</if>> <<if $coronation is 'open' and $festivities is 'refused'>><<set $coronationroute to 'tunnels'>><</if>> <<if $coronation is 'semiclosed' and $festivities is 'nobles'>><<set $coronationroute to 'tunnels'>><</if>> <<if $coronation is 'open' and $festivities is 'nobles'>><<set $coronationroute to 'tunnels'>><</if>> <<if $coronation is 'open' and $festivities is 'both'>><<set $coronationroute to 'parade'>><</if>> <<if $coronation is 'open' and $festivities is 'public'>><<set $coronationroute to 'parade'>><</if>><<set $day to "19">><</nobr>><div id="7.1">@@.chaptertitleact1;CHAPTER SEVEN@@</div>@@.titleblack;<<if $loveinterest is 'A'>>In His Shadow<</if>><<if $loveinterest is 'R'>>In Her Footsteps<</if>><<if $loveinterest is 'D'>>A Broken Vow<</if>><<if $loveinterest is 'X'>>A Long Way from Home<</if>>@@ The palace descends into chaos. Where before you would only see a few servants here and there rushing around in the halls, in the days leading up to the coronation it seems as if an entire crowd has materialized out of thin air solely to fill up the corridors. Any hopes you had of exploring the complex are quickly dashed; it becomes nearly impossible to maneuver around without running into someone, your guards following you everywhere like your own shadow. You suppose you can understand the rush; preparing for the coronation must be a massive undertaking. All you really have to do is show up, complete the ritual, discover your affinity, officially appoint $rname, $dname and $aname to their positions, and have the Mîrs swear fealty to you. Out of that list, you're not sure which one worries you more. It might be the affinity. $rname explained that it won't only be revealed to you, but to everyone present as well, including the crowds that will be there to witness it, in accordance to tradition. Until then, the only place you have to yourself while preparations are in full swing are your private chambers. That doesn’t mean that you’re content to sit on your hands until the day of the coronation, however. “Are you sure about this, $rnickname?” $rname asks you when you relay your request to $rthem, $rtheir brows furrowing in concern. “Perhaps you should take the opportunity to rest instead. From what you’ve told us, it wasn’t an easy journey to get here, and… many things have happened in such a short time.” Two assassination attempts, to be precise. You’d be lying if you said it hasn’t been taxing, but the true toll of it is as of yet unknown to you; both your body and your mind are still tensed in wait, unable to relax and recover with the coronation so near. The water spirits attached to you have been equally restless in response, causing occasional flare-ups of magic; thankfully nothing as extreme as the flooding, but brief annoyances like sparks flaring from your fingertips at random moments. In this state, it’s impossible for you to do anything but toss and turn in bed. Besides which, you’re not used to sitting around and doing nothing. Even when you were still on the run, you always had a goal you were working towards, or a place you were trying to get to. “It’s fine,” you reassure $rthem. “<<if $intel gt $intu>>I want to spend my time wisely<<else>>It’ll give me something to focus on in the meantime<</if>>.” Though $rname seems unsure, $rthey eventually agrees. “Very well, I’ll ask Perjin if she can start her lessons early. Hopefully she’ll have some time to spare.” As luck would have it, she does. Two days before the coronation, with the preparations in full swing, Perjin arrives at the Royal Palace. [[Continue|7.2]]<<set $light to 0>><<set $shadow to 0>>“Your Imperial Majesty!” Accompanied by Siham, she presents herself to you inside your chambers, carrying a large satchel with her as she bows with a smile. You squint as the movement makes the ripples of her silver gown flash bright little lights, like scales from a fish. “<<if $charm gt $blunt>>Perjin, it’s nice to… see you again, in as much that’s possible right now. Why don’t you come sit down before you blind me?<<else>>Perjin, welcome. Take a seat—also, what’s with the dress?<</if>>” “Seeing as how I’ll be spending more time in the Royal Palace as the Crown’s tutor, I ought to look the part, don’t you agree?” Perjin looks rather pleased with herself as she sits down across the table from you on top of a pillow, opening up her satchel. “I was surprised when $rname requested my presence so soon, but I am pleased that our Crown appears to be so studious!” Siham stands in wait near the wall, in case you’ll have need of them, though you notice their gaze is very focused on whatever Perjin is doing. <<if $intel gt $intu>>”I’ve always wanted to learn more about magic,”<<else>>”I need <em>some</em> way to stave off the boredom,”<</if>> you reply, watching with curiosity as Perjin places several transparent white gems on the table, followed by a small stack of books. “What are those crystals for?” <<if $intel gt $intu>>”We will get along very well indeed,”<<else>>”You have the right idea; magic is quite exciting,”<</if>> Perjin replies, not immediately responding to your question. From the corner of your eyes you can see Siham start to lean forward, eyes wide with wonder as they stare at the gems. As Perjin neatly arranges the four gems in a row on the table, she asks, “$rname has told me that you have some education in magic?” You nod. “I’m aware of how it works, with affinities as well as inner and outer types.” Perjin gives you an assessing look, then smiles. “You are an <<if $magicpref is 'inner'>>inner<<else>>outer<</if>> magic type, correct?” “Did you sense that?” “Yes, your affinity is very unique,” Perjin says, and as she stares at you, the dark of her eyes seem to brighten with a soft, white glow until you can see the blacks of her pupils. “It’s still undetermined, as you know, but it has the beginnings of—” “It feels like the sun, doesn’t it?” you preempt her, and she blinks, giving you a surprised look. “<<if $comfortbyr is true>>$rname<</if>><<if $comfortbyx is true>>$xname<</if>><<if $comfortbya is true>>$aname<</if>><<if $comfortbyd is true>>$dname<</if>> described it to me before.” “Well, it certainly is an accurate description,” Perjin agrees, smiling at you. [[Continue|7.3]]<<set $magicodex to true>>[ <b>Royal Codex updated | [[Lessons in Magic]] unlocked</b> ] Your gaze drifts back down to the crystals on the table, and Perjin notices your wandering attention. “Do you know what they are?” she asks, and you shake your head. “It is actually rather fortunate that you requested we start your lessons before your coronation; it’ll never be more relevant than right now.” “I suppose you’re talking about the Blessing of the Spirits?” you say, recalling the ritual necessary for the coronation. Your father told you about similar rituals performed for stewards and Mîrs, though you have no doubt the ritual for the Crown is much more involved. “It involves the four major elements, right?” “That’s right!” Perjin appears happy to hear you already know of it, at least somewhat. “Elemental magic is the foundation upon which everything else is built, and is usually one of the first things taught to magi-in-training, especially for outer types. You’re familiar with the Four Elemental Principles, correct?” “Yes,” you reply, then hesitate. “Though sometimes I mix up the order.” “It always begins with air and ends with fire,” Perjin says, and as she recounts the rest, you get the impression the lesson has officially started. “As it is taught, the sky was the first thing that was created, and its essence is that which the other three elements derive from. Water, as the Rains fall from the Sky and become the Oceans; Earth, as it is cradled by the Sky and protected from the Void; and Fire, as it is born from the Storm, the divine form of the Sky on Earth.” As Perjin explains it, you remember your own lessons with your father, though you were taught this a long time ago. His explanations were much simpler as you were still a child, but now that you’re older you’re starting to understand the foundations that once eluded you; it used to be a thing you simply memorized without questioning. “I understand now,” you say. “That should definitely help me remember it in the future. For the coronation, I would go through that order to get the Blessing, right? Air spirits first, then water, earth and fire.” “That’s right.” Perjin nods approvingly. “It’s why the Crown’s coronation must always be held inside a Sky Temple, and why Sky Temples tend to be the center for worship in any city big enough to have one. However… there’s a little more to it than simply asking the spirits for their blessings.” Your gaze falls upon the gems placed in a row on the table in front of you, and Perjin notices your gaze. She smiles encouragingly. “Pick one. You’ll understand what I mean.” <ul class="a"> <li>[[Pick the one on the far left.|7.4air][$light to $light + 1]]</li> <li>[[Pick the one on the middle left.|7.4water][$shadow to $shadow + 1]]</li> <li>[[Pick the one on the middle right.|7.4earth][$shadow to $shadow + 1]]</li> <li>[[Pick the one on the far right.|7.4fire][$light to $light + 1]]</li> </ul><<if $caut gt $adven>>Frowning slightly, you eye each gem, but aside from slight differences in size, they all appear to be of a similar, oval shape, equally transparent with the same plain white tint. You hesitate, but then decide to pick the gem on the far left, taking it in your hand.<<else>>You look at each gem, but they all appear the same sort of oval shape in a transparent white color, so you figure you may as well pick at random and find out. Your hand finds the gem on the far left, taking it between your fingers.<</if>> Something about this one speaks to you, though you can’t put your finger on what it is. The gem itself feels smooth and cool to the touch, but just as you start to think it a regular gemstone, it <em>pulls</em> on something within your hand, dragging it out: your magic. It awakens the stone, and for a moment your body is overcome with the sensation of weightlessness, of being nothing yet being everything, carrying the whole world with a single breath. You feel your water spirits ripple as you realize what you hold within your palm. “Is this the sky?” you say, staring at the stone in your hand with wonder. “In a manner of speaking,” Perjin says, watching you with a smile. “It is the pure distillation of the element of air, concentrated within this stone. A small fragment of the sky, one our human minds can grasp. I imagine this is what being a spirit of air would feel like.” You’ve never experienced—or understood—magic like this. Turning the gem over in your hand, within it, you can make out a swirling of clouds, the winds blowing through them ever changing. “During the ceremony, the high priest will give you similar stones,” Perjin continues to explain as you study the gem. “These will pale in comparison. The stones during the ceremony won’t merely hold the essence of an element, they will also allow you to connect to its spirits.” You blink, looking up from the gem at Perjin as you wonder if you heard that right. “The spirits of an element? You mean like in a temple?” Perjin looks amused. “No, my dear. <em>All</em> its spirits.” You stare at her. “I’m not sure I understand.” “All the spirits of the air, the water, the earth, and the fire,” Perjin clarifies patiently. “Well, all of them that are part of Arsur, anyway.” “All of them,” you repeat slowly. “<<if $charm gt $blunt>>And… you’re certain that I won’t drop dead of a heart attack at the end of it?<<else>>Am I expected to survive this ritual, or…?<</if>>” She laughs, shaking her head. “Don’t you worry! Twenty Crowns before you have gone through the same thing and they all made it out alive. You’ll be fine.” <<if $charm gt $blunt>>“You realize how that’s not reassuring, right?” you point out. “I’m already an unusual case, as far as Crowns go.” “Don’t overthink it.” Perjin waves your concern away. “The spirits won’t do anything but judge you.” “Oh, they’re only going to judge me, are they?” you say wryly. “What a relief. I’ll just die of embarrassment instead.”<<else>>“That depends on your definition of ‘fine’,” you reply dryly, giving Perjin a questioning look. “What, exactly, am I expected to do when I connect to the spirits?” “Oh, it’s nothing, really,” Perjin says nonchalantly. “They’ll simply be judging you.” “Perjin, that doesn’t sound like it’s nothing,” you say, frowning deeply.<</if>> “Once they approve of you, as we both know they will,” Perjin continues, as if you hadn’t said anything, “you’ll receive their blessing, and you’ll be officially recognized as the Crown.” That <em>sounds</em> straightforward, but you have so many questions. “If they’re the ones that chose me to be the Crown, why do they even need to judge me?” “No one knows with any certainty,” Perjin says thoughtfully, “but if I were a spirit in charge of choosing the Crown, I would want to be as certain as possible of my decision before writing it in stone. It’s probably a last insurance, if you will.” That makes some amount of sense, but you suppose it’s difficult to know. “So, when I’m being judged, is there anything I need to do? Or do I simply wait for their verdict?” “All you can do is go through the steps of the ritual and wait,” Perjin confirms. “Trying to talk to them or appeal to them as you would another person is useless—they’re able to see your own spirit at its purest form.” In other words, all your memories, thoughts, and secrets will all be laid bare in front of the entirety of Arsur’s spirits. “Well, that’s somewhat horrifying.” Perjin’s lips quirk. “Only somewhat?” [[Continue|7.5]]<<if $caut gt $adven>>Frowning slightly, you eye each gem, but aside from slight differences in size, they all appear to be of a similar, oval shape, equally transparent with the same plain white tint. You hesitate, but then decide to pick the gem on the far right, taking it in your hand.<<else>>You look at each gem, but they all appear the same sort of oval shape in a transparent white color, so you figure you may as well pick at random and find out. Your hand finds the gem on the far right, taking it between your fingers.<</if>> Something about this one speaks to you, though you can’t put your finger on what it is. The gem itself feels smooth and cool to the touch, but just as you start to think it a regular gemstone, it <em>pulls</em> on something within your hand, dragging it out: your magic. It awakens the stone, and the warmth that radiates into your palm nearly makes you drop it, but it doesn’t hurt. It is light and heat and pure energy untamed, the heart of a star erupting within your hand like a small sun sparking to life. You feel your water spirits quiver as you realize what you hold within your palm. “Is this fire?” you say, staring at the stone in your hand with curiosity. “In a manner of speaking,” Perjin says, watching you with a smile. “It is the pure distillation of the element of fire, concentrated within this stone. A small fragment of it, one our human minds can grasp. I imagine this is what being a spirit of fire would feel like.” You’ve never experienced—or understood—magic like this. Turning the gem over in your hand, within it, you can make out a molten ball of liquid flame and heat, flames flickering from it. “During the ceremony, the high priest will give you similar stones,” Perjin continues to explain as you study the gem. “These will pale in comparison. The stones during the ceremony won’t merely hold the essence of an element, but they will allow you to connect to its spirits.” You blink, looking up from the gem at Perjin as you wonder if you heard that right. “The spirits of an element? You mean like in a temple?” Perjin looks amused. “No, my dear. <em>All</em> its spirits.” You stare at her. “I’m… not sure I understand.” “All the spirits of the air, the water, the earth, and the fire,” Perjin clarifies patiently. “Well, all of them that are part of Arsur, anyway.” “All of them,” you repeat slowly. “<<if $charm gt $blunt>>And… you’re certain that I won’t drop dead of a heart attack at the end of it?<<else>>Am I expected to survive this ritual, or…?<</if>>” She laughs, shaking her head. “Don’t you worry! Twenty Crowns before you have gone through the same thing and they all made it out alive. You’ll be fine.” <<if $charm gt $blunt>>“You realize how that’s not reassuring, right?” you point out. “I’m already an unusual case, as far as Crowns go.” “Don’t overthink it.” Perjin waves your concern away. “The spirits won’t do anything but judge you.” “Oh, they’re only going to judge me, are they?” you say wryly. “What a relief. I’ll just die of embarrassment instead.”<<else>>“That depends on your definition of ‘fine’,” you reply dryly, giving Perjin a questioning look. “What, exactly, am I expected to do when I connect to the spirits?” “Oh, it’s nothing, really,” Perjin says nonchalantly. “They’ll simply be judging you.” “Perjin, that… doesn’t sound like it’s nothing,” you say, frowning deeply.<</if>> “Once they approve of you, as we both know they will,” Perjin continues, as if you hadn’t said anything, “you’ll receive their blessing, and you’ll be officially recognized as the Crown.” That <em>sounds</em> straightforward, but you have so many questions. “If they’re the ones that chose me to be the Crown, why do they even need to judge me?” “No one knows with any certainty,” Perjin says thoughtfully, “but if I were a spirit in charge of choosing the Crown, I would want to be as certain as possible of my decision before writing it in stone. It’s probably a last… check, if you will.” That makes some amount of sense, but you suppose it’s difficult to know. “So, when I’m being judged, is there anything I need to do? Or do I simply wait for their verdict?” “All you can do is go through the steps of the ritual and wait,” Perjin confirms. “Trying to talk to them or appeal to them as you would another person is useless—they’re able to see your own spirit at its purest form.” In other words, all your memories, thoughts, and secrets will all be laid bare in front of the entirety of Arsur’s spirits. “Well, that’s… slightly horrifying.” Perjin’s lips quirk. “Only slightly?” [[Continue|7.5]]<<if $caut gt $adven>>Frowning slightly, you eye each gem, but aside from slight differences in size, they all appear to be of a similar, oval shape, equally transparent with the same plain white tint. You hesitate, but then decide to pick the gem on the middle left, taking it in your hand.<<else>>You look at each gem, but they all appear the same sort of oval shape in a transparent white color, so you figure you may as well pick at random and find out. Your hand finds the gem on the middle left, taking it between your fingers.<</if>> Something about this one speaks to you, though you can’t put your finger on what it is. The gem itself feels smooth and cool to the touch, but just as you start to think it a regular gemstone, it <em>pulls</em> on something within your hand, dragging it out: your magic. It awakens the stone, and the cold that touches your palm nearly makes you drop it in surprise. It pulls you into its depths, dark and endless, with a gentleness you recognize. Your water spirits swirl excitedly around your hand and the gem, causing sparks to fly off the crystal. “Is this water?” you say, staring at the stone in your hand with curiosity. “In a manner of speaking,” Perjin says, watching you with a smile. “It is the pure distillation of the element of water, concentrated within this stone. A small fragment of it, one our human minds can grasp. I imagine this is what being a spirit of water would feel like. The spirits that are attached to you certainly seem to appreciate it.” You’ve never experienced—or understood—magic like this. Turning the gem over in your hand, within it, you can make out the surface of a roiling sea, beneath it the depths of calm, dark waters. “During the ceremony, the high priest will give you similar stones,” Perjin continues to explain as you study the gem. “These will pale in comparison. The stones during the ceremony won’t merely hold the essence of an element, but they will allow you to connect to its spirits.” You blink, looking up from the gem at Perjin as you wonder if you heard that right. “The spirits of an element? You mean like in a temple?” Perjin looks amused. “No, my dear. <em>All</em> its spirits.” You stare at her. “I’m… not sure I understand.” “All the spirits of the air, the water, the earth, and the fire,” Perjin clarifies patiently. “Well, all of them that are part of Arsur, anyway.” “All of them,” you repeat slowly. “<<if $charm gt $blunt>>And… you’re certain that I won’t drop dead of a heart attack at the end of it?<<else>>Am I expected to survive this ritual, or…?<</if>>” She laughs, shaking her head. “Don’t you worry! Twenty Crowns before you have gone through the same thing and they all made it out alive. You’ll be fine.” <<if $charm gt $blunt>>“You realize how that’s not reassuring, right?” you point out. “I’m already an unusual case, as far as Crowns go.” “Don’t overthink it.” Perjin waves your concern away. “The spirits won’t do anything but judge you.” “Oh, they’re only going to judge me, are they?” you say wryly. “What a relief. I’ll just die of embarrassment instead.”<<else>>“That depends on your definition of ‘fine’,” you reply dryly, giving Perjin a questioning look. “What, exactly, am I expected to do when I connect to the spirits?” “Oh, it’s nothing, really,” Perjin says nonchalantly. “They’ll simply be judging you.” “Perjin, that… doesn’t sound like it’s nothing,” you say, frowning deeply.<</if>> “Once they approve of you, as we both know they will,” Perjin continues, as if you hadn’t said anything, “you’ll receive their blessing, and you’ll be officially recognized as the Crown.” That <em>sounds</em> straightforward, but you have so many questions. “If they’re the ones that chose me to be the Crown, why do they even need to judge me?” “No one knows with any certainty,” Perjin says thoughtfully, “but if I were a spirit in charge of choosing the Crown, I would want to be as certain as possible of my decision before writing it in stone. It’s probably a last… check, if you will.” That makes some amount of sense, but you suppose it’s difficult to know. “So, when I’m being judged, is there anything I need to do? Or do I simply wait for their verdict?” “All you can do is go through the steps of the ritual and wait,” Perjin confirms. “Trying to talk to them or appeal to them as you would another person is useless—they’re able to see your own spirit at its purest form.” In other words, all your memories, thoughts, and secrets will all be laid bare in front of the entirety of Arsur’s spirits. “Well, that’s… slightly horrifying.” Perjin’s lips quirk. “Only slightly?” [[Continue|7.5]] <<if $caut gt $adven>>Frowning slightly, you eye each gem, but aside from slight differences in size, they all appear to be of a similar, oval shape, equally transparent with the same plain white tint. You hesitate, but then decide to pick the gem on the middle right, taking it in your hand.<<else>>You look at each gem, but they all appear the same sort of oval shape in a transparent white color, so you figure you may as well pick at random and find out. Your hand finds the gem on the middle right, taking it between your fingers.<</if>> Something about this one speaks to you, though you can’t put your finger on what it is. The gem itself feels smooth and cool to the touch, but just as you start to think it a regular gemstone, it <em>pulls</em> on something within your hand, dragging it out: your magic. It awakens the stone, and despite its small size you somehow feel it bearing down onto you. Looming over you like mountains, ancient and unyielding, yet also sustaining so much life on its soil. You feel your water spirits glow pleasantly against the skin of your hand, surrounding the stone as you realize what you hold within your palm. “Is this the earth?” you say, staring at the stone in your hand with wonder. “In a manner of speaking,” Perjin says, watching you with a smile. “It is the pure distillation of the element of earth, concentrated within this stone. A small fragment of it, one our human minds can grasp. I imagine this is what being a spirit of earth would feel like.” You’ve never experienced—or understood—magic like this. Turning the gem over in your hand, you can make out the shapes of a familiar mountain range within it, valleys of forests teeming with life like a perfect miniature. “During the ceremony, the high priest will give you similar stones,” Perjin continues to explain as you study the gem. “These will pale in comparison. The stones during the ceremony won’t merely hold the essence of an element, but they will allow you to connect to its spirits.” You blink, looking up from the gem at Perjin as you wonder if you heard that right. “The spirits of an element? You mean like in a temple?” Perjin looks amused. “No, my dear. <em>All</em> its spirits.” You stare at her. “I’m… not sure I understand.” “All the spirits of the air, the water, the earth, and the fire,” Perjin clarifies patiently. “Well, all of them that are part of Arsur, anyway.” “All of them,” you repeat slowly. “<<if $charm gt $blunt>>And… you’re certain that I won’t drop dead of a heart attack at the end of it?<<else>>Am I expected to survive this ritual, or…?<</if>>” She laughs, shaking her head. “Don’t you worry! Twenty Crowns before you have gone through the same thing and they all made it out alive. You’ll be fine.” <<if $charm gt $blunt>>“You realize how that’s not reassuring, right?” you point out. “I’m already an unusual case, as far as Crowns go.” “Don’t overthink it.” Perjin waves your concern away. “The spirits won’t do anything but judge you.” “Oh, they’re only going to judge me, are they?” you say wryly. “What a relief. I’ll just die of embarrassment instead.”<<else>>“That depends on your definition of ‘fine’,” you reply dryly, giving Perjin a questioning look. “What, exactly, am I expected to do when I connect to the spirits?” “Oh, it’s nothing, really,” Perjin says nonchalantly. “They’ll simply be judging you.” “Perjin, that… doesn’t sound like it’s nothing,” you say, frowning deeply.<</if>> “Once they approve of you, as we both know they will,” Perjin continues, as if you hadn’t said anything, “you’ll receive their blessing, and you’ll be officially recognized as the Crown.” That <em>sounds</em> straightforward, but you have so many questions. “If they’re the ones that chose me to be the Crown, why do they even need to judge me?” “No one knows with any certainty,” Perjin says thoughtfully, “but if I were a spirit in charge of choosing the Crown, I would want to be as certain as possible of my decision before writing it in stone. It’s probably a last… check, if you will.” That makes some amount of sense, but you suppose it’s difficult to know. “So, when I’m being judged, is there anything I need to do? Or do I simply wait for their verdict?” “All you can do is go through the steps of the ritual and wait,” Perjin confirms. “Trying to talk to them or appeal to them as you would another person is useless—they’re able to see your own spirit at its purest form.” In other words, all your memories, thoughts, and secrets will all be laid bare in front of the entirety of Arsur’s spirits. “Well, that’s… slightly horrifying.” Perjin’s lips quirk. “Only slightly?” [[Continue|7.5]] While you try to mentally prepare for the momentous ritual that awaits you at your coronation, Perjin appears to notice your growing tension and quickly changes the subject. “That’s enough talk of theory and coronations for now,” she decides, collecting the stones from the table and returning them to her satchel. You hand her the one you picked as well as she continues to speak, “How about we go through some basic <<if $magicpref is 'outer'>>elemental exercises<<else>>aura exercises<</if>>?” “Alright.” You weren’t taught anything beyond <<if $magicpref is 'outer'>>elemental magic<<else>>aura magic<</if>> to begin with, seeing as that’s considered the foundation for $magicpref magic types, but even that is a great deal more than most people know. “What’s the most advanced skill you have?” Perjin asks, and you consider the question for a moment, trying to decide on something you can show her. <<if $magicpref is 'outer'>>”I can create and sustain a large flame,” you finally say. “But only for a short period of time. It takes a lot of energy to control, so I haven’t used it very often.” One of the few magic skills your mother taught you instead of your father, her own affinity having been fire. Usually you’ve used it to light campfires, or to light your way in the dark, or—on a few necessary occasions—chase away predators like bears and wolves.<<else>>”I can disguise my aura,” you say. “But only when I fully focus. I can’t sustain it for a long period of time; something always ends up distracting or interrupting me.” Your mother taught you how, one of the few areas where she was more skilled with magic than your father, whose lessons tended to be more theoretical in nature. Disguising one’s aura is probably a vital skill while on the run.<</if>> Though now you find yourself wondering how she knew magic like this, doubts creeping into your mind. Did your father teach her how? Or was there more to it? The endless suspicion that comes from a lack of answers is beginning to exhaust you. “It is a good place to start,” Perjin says, smiling kindly at the frustration written in the furrow between your brows. “As you know, magic at its core functions the same way as any muscle in your body does. In order to build it, you must use it; it’s entirely normal for fledgling magi to run out of breath quickly, so to speak.” She mistakes the cause of your frustration, but you’re not about to correct her. Even if her reassurance is misplaced, you appreciate it all the same. “Why don’t you demonstrate?” Perjin suggests. “It’ll let me get a gauge on what your level of skill is.” <<if $magicpref is 'outer'>>You nod, raising your hand and holding it out in front of you, your palm facing up towards the ceiling. Taking a breath, you turn your awareness outwards, focusing on the space above your hand and claiming it as your own, claiming the air around it. The spark to ignite the flame is not the hard part. All it takes is a connection to the magic suffused around you—it’s an imposition of will where there originally is none. Environmental magic simply exists within its elements, and must be guided to take on a new form, by your hand. You catch the thread of it, feeling it connect as it tingles in your palm, and at the opportune moment, you snap your hand closed into a fist. A flame erupts in the air above your middle and top knuckles, and from across the table, Perjin looks on with interest. The water spirits that are bound to you shiver; you can feel them retreating from the heat of the flame, the press of their magic brushing lightly against your awareness but thankfully not interfering with the flame. <em>This</em> is the hard part. Environmental magic that has been guided into a new form, one that is not natural to it, carries with it the danger of running wild if not kept within one’s control. It takes you a moment to exert the grip of your magic over the newly born flame, at first as big as your fist and growing larger, then quickly shrinking when you clench your jaw and force the air away from it. It creates a strange void around the flame as you have to become used to controlling it; this is a different environment from the forest, an entirely new one, shaped by the city and its inhabitants. It feels much heavier, denser compared to the magic in the wild. The more people there are around, the more magic and spirits tends to congregate. Even a simple spell like this, conjuring a flame, is more difficult as a result. You remain patient, gradually becoming used to the pressure of magic around you until finally, you gain control over your flame. You can’t tell how long it took you, but your palm feels clammy, your skin is heated and your heart pounds as if you had been running. Evening out your shallow breaths, you carefully allow the flame to grow larger again, until it’s slightly bigger than your fist, and let it rest there. It’s easier to maintain once you have it under control, but keeping it that way is already draining your energy. Like keeping a muscle flexed—after a minute of holding it, the flame is already beginning to sputter dangerously, pushing against your boundaries. “That’s enough,” Perjin says, having noticed your trembling. You had almost forgotten she was there; her expression is thoughtful, but you can’t tell what she thought of your display otherwise. “You can release it now.” With no small amount of relief, you exert pure force of magic on the flame, making it shrink and hiss out of existence. Once the natural balance has returned to the magic in the air, you cut your connection to it, releasing your fist and lowering your hand again.<<else>>You nod. “Will you let me know when you stop sensing me?” “Of course.” It’s not a technique you can do while performing other tasks; it requires your full attention, something you haven’t had the luxury of very often when constantly looking over your shoulder. Now, however, you have all the time in the world. You close your eyes and turn your awareness inwards, and it feels almost strange for a moment. As if a stranger in your own body. What your breaths sound like as the air travels through your lips, the feeling of your heart beating steadily through your chest to the tips of your fingers and toes; you almost forgot what it feels like to simply <em>be</em>. Through the awareness of your body, you find that ever-present energy lying dormant within, cradled by flesh and bone. When you try to wake it, like trying to take a breath with a second set of lungs, you see a flash of light behind your eyes. It’s a golden ray flickering from behind a curtain, there and gone again, hinting at potential and nothing more. Your inner core of magic has gone untapped for long stretches of time and feels smaller for it; disguising it may be more difficult than you remember it to be. The trick is to mirror the magic surrounding you. It doesn’t need to be perfect, just similar enough to fool a casual observer, though that requires some understanding of what the magic around you feels like. Which, you’re beginning to realize, is much different from what you’re used to in the wilderness. The energy and magic of a city inhabited by hundreds of thousands of people is much different than that of a forest, a meadow or a mountain. It is much heavier, denser; you’re not as practiced in sensory magic, but even you can feel the difference, can almost taste it. The pressure in the air, as if heralding a storm. Mirroring it is a much more difficult task as a result, but you’re determined if nothing else. Continuing to breathe in and out in an even, calm rhythm, you maintain your composure while rousing your inner core of magic, trying to balloon it outward. It tingles as it spreads and pulses through your limbs like its own living thing, a surge of energy that has your heart beating faster. Just keep breathing, quietly, steadily. You press it further outward, until it simmers right beneath the first layer of your skin. You feel sparks dance across your hands as the magic in the air reacts to its presence, almost disrupting your focus, but you manage to endure it as your own magic molds to suit it. Like the surface of a calm lake reflecting the skies above, the magic within you settles and begins to mirror the magic outside of you. “I can’t sense you anymore,” Perjin says, speaking softly, but even then your magic ripples for a moment, nearly slipping from your control. You have to remain calm, focused, but now that you have reached your state of disguise, maintaining it is just as troublesome. You don’t know how long it has been when you feel your composure slipping; the sensation is like trying to hold your breath. The longer you hold onto it, the tighter and tigher your chest gets, until finally— Your calm breaks and your magic flares for a moment as you open your eyes with a gasp, light glittering off the tips of your fingers before it retreats inwards again. Perjin meets your gaze from across the table, appearing thoughtful, but you can’t tell what she thought of your display otherwise. She gives you a few moments to return to your environment. Your senses are heightened unpleasantly in the aftermath, the smallest sounds much louder to your ears, vision sharpened into dizzying detail; you close your eyes again for a few brief moments to let your body recover.<</if>> [[Continue|7.6]]“So, how did I do?” you ask, <<if $caut gt $adven>>unable to help the small thread of tension that runs through you at being judged<<else>>though you are confident you did as well as you could under the circumstances<</if>>. “Very well!” Perjin’s thoughtful expression transforms into an encouraging smile. <<if $caut gt $adven>>You allow yourself to relax<<else>>You smile back at her, not having expected anything different<</if>>. “I understood from $rname that while you were educated, you haven’t had any formal training?” “Not anything beyond what my parents taught me,” you confirm. “It has been a while since I had to <<if $magicpref is 'outer'>>conjure a flame<<else>>disguise my aura<</if>>.” “This was a very competent display of magic, in that case,” Perjin compliments<<if $loveinterest is 'R'>>, but as she falls silent for a moment and her eyes linger, you see a playful gleam reflected in her gaze. “$rname will certainly love hearing all about it. You should tell $rthem when you see $rthem.” <<if $ass gt $pass>><<if $res gt $flirt>>Your frown is tinged with a little bit of confusion. “You mean because $rthey likes talking about magic?” For some inexplicable reason, Perjin laughs, shaking her head. “Dear me! Why yes, of course. Because $rthey likes <em>magic</em>.” You’re getting the sense that you’re missing out on a joke, here, but decide to let it go in case you embarrass yourself. Perjin moves on.<<else>>Your brows arch, an amused smile touching on your lips. “$crthey would, wouldn’t $rthey? I’ll keep that in mind.” Perjin gives you a knowing look. “Just be gentle with $rthem, dear. $crthey’s not very receptive to playing games.” You couldn’t imagine being anything <em>but</em> gentle with $rname; even if being a flirt is in your nature, the last thing you want is to hurt $rthem. “Of course.” After that, Perjin moves on.<</if>><<else>><<if $res gt $flirt>>Is she insinuating what you <em>think</em> she’s insinuating? “Oh, well…” You look away from the amusement reflected on her face, feeling uncomfortably seen for a moment. “That’s good to know. Generally speaking.” “Generally speaking,” Perjin repeats innocently. “Of course.” Mercifully, she moves on.<<else>>“Ah.” You’re a little surprised that Perjin has already noticed your interest in $rname, but it’s not as if you’ve gone to great lengths to hide it. “Yes, $rname does like talking about magic.” That doesn’t mean you want to talk about it, though. You’re still in the stages of getting to know $rname, after all. You feign obliviousness, and though Perjin gives you a knowing look, she gracefully plays along. “Very much so. You could easily fill a whole day talking to $rthem about it.” After that, she moves on. “I think we’ll have a solid foundation to work with, but we’ll need to strengthen it before you can move on to more advanced forms of magic. Consider it your first assignment, before our next study session!” <</if>><</if>><<else>>. “I think we’ll have a solid foundation to work with, but we’ll need to strengthen it before you can move on to more advanced forms of magic. Consider it your first assignment, before our next study session!”<</if>> You listen attentively as she instructs you to practice your skill once a day, every morning. This makes sense; sleeping is when one’s body as well as one’s magic recovers and restores its balance. Waking up after a restful sleep is usually considered the optimal time to perform magic. As Perjin assesses it, once a day is probably your limit. From how tired you already feel, you are inclined to agree with her. The idea is that you’ll eventually build up more stamina for magic, similar to how you would when training your body, but it requires time and dedication. “Beyond that, I’ll also assign you a few texts to read about <<if $magicpref is 'outer'>>elemental magic<<else>>aura magic<</if>>,” Perjin adds. “It is considered a fundamental discipline of $magicpref magic, so it is the easiest and most natural place to start. Once you’ve become more advanced, we can see about which disciplines interest you most and change it up to whatever you would like.” “I’ll get to choose?” you ask with some surprise, and Perjin gives you an amused look. “Of course, Your Imperial Majesty,” she replies, giving you a wink. “<em>You’re</em> the one paying me for my services, so you decide what I teach you.” [[Continue|7.7]] Your lesson continues for a short while longer as Perjin gives you advice on how to improve your technique, <<if $magicpref is 'outer'>>advising you not to <em>force</em> the flame so much but to guide it more gently.<<else>>advising you to seek out a place where you can focus—the Crown’s personal temple, perhaps.<</if>> “Have the water spirits attached to you been a problem?” she asks, and you shake your head. Beyond that one night, you haven't had any dreams or nightmares to cause any more accidents; you have a working theory that you're too tense even in sleep to dream properly. Not that Perjin needs to know all this. “They haven’t interfered with my magic.” Perjin appears hesitant. “I would still consider either returning them to the temple or forming a concord with them. You never know what might happen in the future; spirits can be affected by even the slightest changes around them.” She leaves shortly after, concluding the lesson for now; you’ll see her again next week. You decide to take her advice to heart, knowing you’ll have to do something about the water spirits eventually. So far they haven’t disrupted your daily activities aside from flooding your quarters, but that doesn’t mean there won’t be a repeat at some point. As if the water spirits can sense your thoughts—and they probably can—you feel them shift restlessly in the air around you, glimmers of bright blue shining sharply into your eyes. <<if $blunt gt $charm>>”If you think throwing a temper tantrum is going to convince me to keep you, you’ve got another thing coming,” you say evenly, squinting at the bright lights and waving them away.<<else>>”I know you’re trying to help,” you say, squinting at the bright lights, “but this isn’t a good arrangement for anyone involved. Either we have to lay down some rules between us, or you’re going back to the temple. I haven’t decided yet.”<</if>> The spirits shimmer more insistently in the air around you, leaving behind an impression of <em>need</em> inside your mind. “Need?” You frown. “I don’t need you—I <em>shouldn’t</em> need you. It’s not healthy for either of us.” Not in the state you’re in now, anyway. A knocking sound on the golden doors of your room reaches your ears, tearing your attention away from your spirits. Already knowing who it is, you call out. “Come in Ishrah, Siham!” [[Continue|7.8]] Both doors slowly swing open, yet the first thing you see is a gigantic pile of glittering and gleaming white fabrics, wobbling somewhat precariously. “Your Imperial Majesty!” you hear Ishrah call from behind the pile, her and Siham carrying it into the room. “We’ve brought you coronation garments to choose from!” You heave a sigh as you get up to your feet, Siham and Ishrah dropping the fabrics onto your bed. “Surely there are more important things I should be doing than picking out clothing?” “It is most important!” Ishrah insists, eyeing the pure white fabrics with excitement. “This will be your first meeting with the Mîrs, Your Imperial Majesty,” Siham adds reasonably. “It is traditional for the Crown’s clothing on the day of their coronation to be symbolic of their reign.” You pick a long robe off the top of the pile, admiring how soft it feels in your hands as you give Siham a curious look. “In what way?” “The fabric of these garments is special!” Ishrah blurts out before Siham can reply, looking like she wants to start jumping up and down in excitement. “$rtitle $rname was telling me all about it earlier! If you look closely, you can see sigils stitched into it. Once you receive the Blessing of the Spirits, your magical affinity will flourish and reflect itself within your garments! Here, let me show you!” “Uh, Ishrah—” Siham starts, but it’s too late; Ishrah has already grabbed one of the garments off the pile, holding it out on front of you. The robe explodes. You duck as a piece of sleeve comes flying toward you, hearing Ishrah shriek as the robe is ripped to shreds—from air currents, you realize as a gust of harsh wind streaks against your skin. Siham, who shielded himself with his arms and now has pieces of torn fabric draped over it, looks over at Ishrah, standing there with the remains of the robe hanging pitifully from her fingers. “As I was saying,” Siham says slowly, “the fabric’s ability is a passive one, it picks up on someone’s signature on its own. You shouldn’t force your magic into it.” Ishrah’s cheeks burn red as she averts her eyes to the floor and mutters, very quietly, “Sorry. Those robes were really expensive…” <ul class="a"> <li>[[Reassure her that she won’t be punished: no one got hurt, after all.|7.9a][$sihamishrah += 1]]</li> <li>[[Scold her for being reckless: she could’ve gotten seriously injured.|7.9b][$sihamishrah += 2]]</li> </ul>“It’s okay, Ishrah,” you say, and she looks up at you in surprise. “You’re not in trouble.” “She’s not?” Siham says, looking equally surprised. “It’s only a robe.” You give her a reassuring look. “You were just excited to show me, right?” “I was!” she agrees quickly, though she looks guilty all the same. “But… I should’ve listened to Siham first. I’m very sorry, Your Imperial Majesty. You could’ve gotten hurt because of me.” “It’s fine, really.” You turn toward the rest of the garments. “I’m just glad <em>you</em> didn’t get hurt.” “Me?” she repeats, blinking, as if the thought hadn’t even occurred to her while she was worrying about you instead. Thankfully, though, neither of you got hurt. You’re not about to punish her for making a mistake, not with how hard both she and Siham have been working to help you prepare for the coronation. “How about we move on?” you say instead of commenting on it. Both Ishrah and Siham look befuddled by how easily you brush it off, but neither protest. “Would you like to see the rest of the garments, Your Imperial Majesty?” Siham suggests, giving you the opportunity to move on from the incident. They and Ishrah show you the rest of the options one by one, though you notice how delicately Ishrah handles the fabric now, with only the very tips of her fingers. She’s rather quiet throughout the whole thing as well, leaving Siham to do most of the talking. “As you can see, they’re each made from the same fabric,” they say, holding up a dress that trails over the floor. “The tailors made several different styles just in case, though we know you like to wear <<if $clothing is 'robes'>>robes<</if>><<if $clothing is 'dress'>>dresses<</if>><<if $clothing is 'shalwar'>>shalwar<</if>>. Would you like to keep that style, or choose something else for your coronation?” <ul class="a"> <<if $clothing is 'robes'>><li>[[Stick with robes.|7.10][$tempclothing to 'robes']]</li><li>[[Wear a dress instead.|7.10][$tempclothing to 'dress']]</li><li>[[Wear a tunic and shalwar instead.|7.10][$tempclothing to 'shalwar']]</li><</if>><<if $clothing is 'dress'>><li>[[Stick with a dress.|7.10][$tempclothing to 'dress']]</li><li>[[Wear robes instead.|7.10][$tempclothing to 'robes']]</li><li>[[Wear a tunic and shalwar instead.|7.10][$tempclothing to 'shalwar']]</li><</if>><<if $clothing is 'shalwar'>><li>[[Stick with a tunic and shalwar.|7.10][$tempclothing to 'shalwar']]</li><li>[[Wear a dress instead.|7.10][$tempclothing to 'dress']]</li><li>[[Wear robes instead.|7.10][$tempclothing to 'robes']]</li><</if>> </ul>“You should be more careful, Ishrah,” you say with a frown, and she shrinks a little into herself. “You could’ve gotten yourself hurt.” She blinks and looks up at you in surprise, her expression mirrored by Siham’s. “W-well… yes, but more importantly, I could’ve gotten <em>you</em> hurt, Your Imperial Majesty!” You wave away her concern. “I was standing far enough away, but you were the one holding the robe. It could’ve seriously injured your hands had the magic recoiled into you from the force.” “Oh, I… hadn’t even thought of that,” Ishrah says sheepishly, and your frown deepens; you don’t like the way her own safety hadn’t even occurred to her while prioritizing yours. It just doesn’t sit right. Not much you can do about it now, though. “Just be more mindful in the future, okay?” She nods, uncharacteristically shy as she avoids your gaze. “Okay.” “Would you like to see the rest of the garments, Your Imperial Majesty?” Siham suggests, giving you the opportunity to move on from the incident. They and Ishrah show you the rest of the options one by one, though you notice how delicately Ishrah handles the fabric now, with only the very tips of her fingers. She’s rather quiet throughout the whole thing as well, leaving Siham to do most of the talking. “As you can see, they’re each made from the same fabric,” they say, holding up a dress that trails over the floor. “The tailors made several different styles just in case, though we know you like to wear <<if $clothing is 'robes'>>robes<</if>><<if $clothing is 'dress'>>dresses<</if>><<if $clothing is 'shalwar'>>shalwar<</if>>. Would you like to keep that style, or choose something else for your coronation?” <ul class="a"> <<if $clothing is 'robes'>><li>[[Stick with robes.|7.10][$tempclothing to 'robes']]</li><li>[[Wear a dress instead.|7.10][$tempclothing to 'dress']]</li><li>[[Wear a tunic and shalwar instead.|7.10][$tempclothing to 'shalwar']]</li><</if>><<if $clothing is 'dress'>><li>[[Stick with a dress.|7.10][$tempclothing to 'dress']]</li><li>[[Wear robes instead.|7.10][$tempclothing to 'robes']]</li><li>[[Wear a tunic and shalwar instead.|7.10][$tempclothing to 'shalwar']]</li><</if>><<if $clothing is 'shalwar'>><li>[[Stick with a tunic and shalwar.|7.10][$tempclothing to 'shalwar']]</li><li>[[Wear a dress instead.|7.10][$tempclothing to 'dress']]</li><li>[[Wear robes instead.|7.10][$tempclothing to 'robes']]</li><</if>> </ul><<if $clothing is 'robes'>><<if $tempclothing is 'robes'>>You don’t feel the need to change the style now; you are most accustomed to wearing robes, so why should you change it solely for the coronation? No doubt there are plenty of elaborate robes to choose from regardless.<</if>><<if $tempclothing is 'shalwar'>>Perhaps a change of style is in order, at least temporarily; wearing a pair of shalwar and a tunic sounds a lot more comfortable than your usual layers of robes.<</if>><<if $tempclothing is 'dress'>>Perhaps a change of style is in order, at least temporarily; a dress is more elegant, which sounds perfect for the occasion. <</if>><</if>><<if $clothing is 'dress'>><<if $tempclothing is 'dress'>>You don’t feel the need to change the style now; you are most accustomed to wearing a dress, so why should you change it solely for the coronation? No doubt there are plenty of elaborate robes to choose from regardless.<</if>><<if $tempclothing is 'shalwar'>>Perhaps a change of style is in order, at least temporarily; wearing a pair of shalwar and a tunic sounds a lot more comfortable than your usual layers of robes.<</if>><<if $tempclothing is 'robes'>>Perhaps a change of style is in order, at least temporarily; robes are more regal, which sounds perfect for the occasion.<</if>><</if>><<if $clothing is 'shalwar'>><<if $tempclothing is 'shalwar'>>You don’t feel the need to change the style now; you are most accustomed to wearing a shalwar and tunic, so why should you change it solely for the coronation? No doubt there are plenty of elaborate robes to choose from regardless.<</if>><<if $tempclothing is 'robes'>>Perhaps a change of style is in order, at least temporarily; robes are more regal, which sounds perfect for the occasion.<</if>><<if $tempclothing is 'dress'>>Perhaps a change of style is in order, at least temporarily; a dress is more elegant, which sounds perfect for the occasion.<</if>><</if>> You ask Ishrah and Siham to show you <<if $tempclothing is 'shalwar'>>the various outfits of tunics and matching shalwar, with outer coats to go with them.<</if>><<if $tempclothing is 'robes'>>the various different styles of robes, with matching capes to go with them.<</if>><<if $tempclothing is 'dress'>>the various different styles of dresses, with matching outer coats to go with them.<</if>> While all of the garments are the same color of pure white, the differences in the cuts of fabric and its details are apparent. Long sleeves or none at all, deep necklines or bunched up high around the neck, long hems or shorter ones that end right below the knees, form-fitting fabric or something looser; <<if $caut gt $adven>>you take your time to make a decision. After Siham stressed the importance of wearing the right garments, you don’t want to risk making a fool of yourself.<<else>>you make your decision instinctually, going off what appeals to you most. You may as well begin your reign wearing something you like, instead of fussing about what other people might think.<</if>> “Are you certain?” Siham asks when you point out the $tempclothing you want for your coronation. <<if $charm gt $blunt>>“As certain as I’ll ever be,” you say with a little half-smile. “I’m not an expert on fashion, but I like these the most.”<<else>>“I am,” you confirm, satisfied with your choice. “I don’t think I’ll find anything I like more.”<</if>> “As you wish, Your Imperial Majesty.” “We’ll get this one to the tailors so they can adjust it,” Ishrah says, her demeanor not as cheery as it usually is, but at least she’s talking again. “Hopefully it’ll be ready for a fitting by tomorrow.” You find your curiosity piqued at that. “How many tailors have been working on these clothes, anyway?” Ishrah gives you a somewhat puzzled look, as if the answer were obvious. “All of them, Crown $name.” “All the most reputable ones in Marabad, that is,” Siham adds, but the answer still catches you by surprise. To think you were once dressed in little more than rags, now to have all the best tailors in Marabad making clothes for you overnight. It’s still hard to wrap your head around. As Siham and Ishrah collect all the garments again and hurry off to their next task, you find yourself alone again, as well as restless once more. [[Continue|7.11]]“Ziryan,” you call, looking around the room and waiting for them to become visible. After a moment, you spot movement in the corner of your eye, a figure slipping into the room through the open windows, before bowing to you. “Yes, Your Imperial Majesty?” You gesture for them lift their head, asking, “Can we go over the security for the coronation?” Ziryan raises their brows as they straighten up. “Again?” This might be the second time you’ve asked when you were there for the original meeting as well, so you can’t blame them for being bemused. You already know everything you need to. From somewhere on your left, you think you hear Kaja mutter, “Isn’t this the fourth time already?” Okay, fine, maybe you’ve asked more than twice. A moment later you hear a yelp, and you pretend not to see one of the bookcases shaking, a tome falling off a shelf and quickly getting caught by invisible hands, seeming to levitate back to its place. After a brief pause, there comes an embarrassed mutter: “Sorry, I promise that was mostly Ezo’s fault.” Ziryan clears their throat, raising their tone louder than is necessary. “I’ll be happy to go over the schedule with you again, Your Imperial Majesty.” <<if $charm gt $blunt>>“Thanks, Ziryan.” You smile apologetically. “I just want to make sure that I’m ready for anything.”<<else>>“I appreciate that,” you say, your tone somewhat apologetic. “I want to make sure I’m prepared.”<</if>> You can’t afford mistakes this time. [[Continue|7.12]]<<set $day to 20>>The day before the coronation arrives in a blur, and passes by far too quickly. Your morning is occupied by your fitting, your quarters visited by several tailors who look so harried that they scarcely speak two words to you while measuring and helping you fit into your $tempclothing. Right afterwards, several servants bombard you with requests to make the final checks on preparations for the coronation, many of which you either don’t care about, don’t understand, or both. <<if $blunt gt $charm>>“If one more person asks me about flower arrangements for the dining hall I will throw myself into a lake,”<<else>>“The next person to ask me about flower arrangements for the dining hall is getting thrown into a lake,”<</if>> you announce to $aname as you walk through the Royal Gardens with $athem, following the path along a large flowerbed of crystal tulips, the translucent petals reflecting the sunlight like shards of glittering glass. <<if $blunt gt $charm>>“Please don’t, that would be a health hazard.” $aname doesn’t look at you as you walk, but you see $atheir mouth twitch with amusement. $cathey’s dressed in yellow and dark brown robes today, though you notice two daggers hanging off $atheir waistcloth. “We haven’t had the chance to clean up the garden’s lakes yet.”<<else>>“Shall I make an official announcement?” $aname doesn’t look at you as you walk, but you see $atheir mouth twitch with amusement. $cathey’s dressed in yellow and brown robes today, though you notice two daggers hanging off $atheir waistcloth. “Perhaps you can make it your first declaration as the Crown.”<</if>> “Funny.” You sigh as you crouch down in front of the tulips, watching the glittering petals sway gently in a passing breeze. “<<if $loveinterest is 'R'>>What has $rname been up to? I haven’t seen $rthem since yesterday morning.” “Helping with security for the coronation, believe it or not.” $aname stands beside you, hands folded behind $atheir back. “Aside from the various guards and mercenaries offering physical protection, magical defenses are probably your best bet for safety. $crthey has been coordinating several magi from the school to lay down protective wards around the Sky Temple as well as repairing the ones that were breached inside the palace.” You turn your head to look up at $athem, brows arching. “Will $rthey be alright? I know $rthey’s not very fond of anything to do with the school.” $aname grins with something almost approaching delight. “Your concern is better spent on the magi, Your Majesty.” You give $athem a suspicious look. “$aname, don’t tell me you encouraged $rthem.” “Of course not,” $aname replies, not even bothering to hide the mischievous twist to $atheir lips. “$rname is fully capable of terrorizing the magi on $rtheir own.” “<em>$aname</em>.” $aname schools $atheir features again to a more serious expression. “$crthey learned $rtheir lesson during the first meeting with the nobles; trust me, $rthey wouldn’t cause a scene now.” $cathey pauses, then adds, “And if $rthey makes them grovel a little, well… the magi can only benefit from learning humility.”<</if>><<if $loveinterest is 'X'>>What has $xname been up to? I haven’t seen $xthem since discussing plans for the coronation.” “$cxthey and the Crescent Blades have been busy working on security with the guards.” $aname stands beside you, hands folded behind $atheir back. “With guards, I mean the city guards, the palace guards, as well as $dname’s soldiers.” You turn your head to look up at them, brows arching. “That is a <em>lot</em> of people to coordinate with.” “$xname can handle it,” $aname says without hesitation. “$cxthey has more experience in such matters than any city or palace guard. Besides, $dname is there as well.” “Has $xname done security for an event like this before?” “Not on this scale, but yes.” $aname is silent for a moment, seeming thoughtful, before recalling, “When the Crescent Blades aren’t being hired to fight someone, they’re hired to protect someone or something. Those jobs probably fetch them the most coin, since their employers tend to be nobles or wealthy merchants.” You give $athem a curious look. “You seem to know a lot about $xname’s exploits.” $aname smiles wryly. “$cxthey makes certain I’m well-informed about all $xtheir latest adventures, whether I want to hear about them or not.” You snort; that definitely sounds like $xname.<</if>><<if $loveinterest is 'D'>>What has $dname been up to? I haven’t seen $dthem since discussing plans for the coronation.” “$cdthey has been coordinating security for the event.” $aname stands beside you, hands folded behind $atheir back. “There are a lot of groups to oversee—palace guards, city guards, the Sky Temple’s guards, $dtheir own soldiers—so you probably won’t see $dthem until tomorrow.” “That makes sense.” You doubt you would’ve had much time to spend with $dthem, anyway, considering how busy you’ve been as well. “$cdthey doesn’t seem the sort to take a break even if $dthey could, anyway.” “Unfortunately, you’re right about that.” $aname sighs. “$dname hates not having anything to do. Maybe if you ordered $dthem, $dthey might listen.” “I take it you’ve tried and failed?” $cathey gives you a wry smile. “Miserably.”<</if>><<if $loveinterest is 'A'>>What have you been up to? I didn’t see you all day yesterday.” Part of you can’t help but wonder if $athey’s been taking an intentional distance from you, considering how your last conversation went, though you thought that one had ended well enough. <<if $apoints gte 10>>$cathey even seems a little less guarded around you, but maybe that’s your own wishful thinking.<</if>> “I’ve been helping $dname coordinate security for the coronation.” $aname stands beside you, hands folded behind $atheir back. $cathey doesn’t look at you, $atheir eyes aimed at the flowerbed. “We’ve finalized most of the details, so I had some room to breathe this afternoon.” <<if $flirt gt $res>>“And you decided to spend it with me?” you say, trying to keep your question innocent.<<else>>“Ah.” You fall silent for a moment, before saying, “Wouldn’t you rather spend it alone than with me?”<</if>> <<if $apoints gte 10>>$aname’s eyes flick towards you, an almost hesitant look flitting past on $atheir features, before $athey averts $atheir gaze again and says, “You’re a great deal less stressful to deal with than the city guards.” You stare at $athem. “Is that a compliment?” $cathey tilts $atheir head at you. “Your standard for compliments is very low. A real compliment would be to say that being around you lets me feel at ease.” Your brows arch slowly up your forehead, and $aname blinks, as if having just realized what $athey has said. “I wouldn’t have thought so, considering the argument we had,” you mention carefully, and $aname lifts and drops $atheir shoulders in a not-quite shrug, as if trying to force the tension out of them. “That was not personal, as I said before,” $athey says, still studiously avoiding your eyes. “I only meant that you’re not a difficult person to be around.” You can’t help but smile<<if $res gt $flirt>>, unable to hide it<<else>> as you look up at $athem<</if>>. “Glowing praise, coming from you.” $aname sighs.<<else>>$aname’s eyes flick toward you, but after holding your gaze for a moment, $athey says, “I do take some time for myself as well, when possible. You seemed like you desperately needed some fresh air, though.” <<if $res gt $flirt>>“Thank you,” you say as $aname avoids meeting your eyes. “That was considerate of you.”<<else>>You smile as you look up at $athem, though $athey avoids meeting your eyes. “That was considerate of you.”<</if>> $aname clears $atheir throat. “Don’t mention it.<</if>><</if>> [[Continue|7.13]] You continue to walk through the gardens, the topic of conversation inevitably returning to the coronation. “You realize you didn’t <em>have</em> to memorize everything?” $aname says with amusement when you relay to $athem everything you remember about how tomorrow is going to go. “That’s what $rname and I are for.” “Yes, but…” You frown. <<if $coronationroute is 'tunnels'>>“I have to make sure I’m prepared to use the tunnels again. I know it’s the best way to get to the Sky Temple without being seen, but…” Seeing as there won’t be any festivities for the public, the only way to head to the Sky Temple without making a scene is in disguise, as well as making use of the underground tunnels again. $dname assured you that there will be enough security present to keep you safe this time, but considering your first experience in the tunnels was to run for your life, you can’t help but feel reluctant about it. There are no other ways to reach the Sky Temple without drawing attention, however; anyone who saw you leaving the palace on the day of the coronation, even in disguise, would no doubt get suspicious.<<else>>“With a public parade, <<if $adven gt $caut>>as fun as it is, <</if>>there are a lot of things that can go wrong. I don’t want a repeat of what happened in the tunnels.” You imagine it’ll be a similar experience to when you arrived in Marabad <<if $ridebehindr is true>>riding behind $rname<</if>><<if $ridebehinda is true>>riding behind $aname<</if>><<if $ridealone is true>>on horseback<</if>>, except this time <em>all</em> attention will be focused on you. $dname assured you that there will be enough security present to keep you safe from the crowds, but if your past experiences have taught you anything, it’s to expect the worst.<</if>> “I understand.” As $aname walks, $atheir watchful eyes surveying the gardens, you notice that $atheir hands are still folded on $atheir back. $catheir posture is so graceful compared to yours, exuding confidence. Even with the lack of bulk from wearing robes instead of armor, it makes $athem look taller somehow. “I suppose it is better to be prepared than not.” Squaring your shoulders a little and lifting your chin, you subtly try to imitate it. Oh, you <em>hate</em> having your back straightened like this. It feels downright unnatural. $aname glances over at you. “What are you doing?” You grimace, relaxing your shoulders again. <<if $charm gt $blunt>>“I was… trying to look more regal?”<<else>>“I was trying to correct my posture. It didn’t work.”<</if>> $aname stares at you, then starts to twist $atheir lips, attempting to suppress a smile—it’s not working. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but correcting your posture is probably going to be impossible for you without a tutor.” You wince. “Is it that bad?” “It’s not so bad when you’re at ease,” $aname comments, gaze trailing over you with assessment<<if $loveinterest is 'A'>>, <<if $flirt gt $res>>and you valiantly suppress the urge to tease $athem about it<<else>>and you try not to let it affect you<</if>><</if>>. “But whenever you get tense, like you are now, you always look a little like you’re ready to bolt. It’s nothing etiquette and physical training can’t correct, however, so I wouldn’t worry too much about it.” “Yes, well… I’m definitely starting to feel it in my back,” you mutter, rubbing the back of your neck; it has been nothing but knotted tension these past few days. “I could lie and say it’ll get better after the coronation?” $aname offers, and you give $athem a wry look. As you circle around a tree blooming with red flowers, you spot a servant in their telltale white garments heading down the garden path towards you and $aname. They bow a short distance away. Suspecting you have yet another task waiting for you, you hold back a sigh and ask, “What is it?” “Head servant Keko wishes to know if you have any time to spare, Your Imperial Majesty,” the servant says, straightening up from their bow. “It’s about the seating arrangements for the grand banquet.” The sigh you were trying to hold back slips from your mouth. “Seating arrangements,” $aname repeats blandly, looking far too amused at your exasperation. “Oh joy of joys.” The servant gives $aname a mortified look at $atheir sarcastic tone, but you merely frown at $athem. “Maybe I should make you go in my stead?” $aname gives you an unexpectedly cheeky grin. “My apologies, Your Majesty, but I’m otherwise engaged at the moment.” You scowl at $athem. “Engaged with what?” $cathey steps back into the shadow of the tree, and you witness $athem fade away into nothing before your very eyes, until not a trace of $athem is left. “Guard duties, of course,” you hear $athem say, $atheir voice coming from the general vicinity of the tree. You roll your eyes heavenward, before turning to the flabbergasted servant and telling them to lead the way. [[Continue|7.14]]<<set $day to 21>><<set $holiday to true>><<set $holidate to 'Coronation Day'>>When the day of the coronation finally arrives, you find yourself awake before dawn can arrive on the horizon. You sit up in your bed, wide awake, feeling the unpleasant pressure of nerves inside of your chest. Your quarters are shaded in half-darkness, a soft, dark blue place between light and shadow as you peer out the window and wait for the first signs of sunlight. Today is the day: there is no going back after this. All these preparations have left you oblivious to the world outside the palace walls. You try not to think of the weight of expectation placed onto you with the Empire being in shambles, but theres’s no doubt that people will look to you for solutions, for answers. You’ve never been responsible for anyone else before, and now you’re supposed to lead a whole nation of people. In all your life you’ve never even stepped foot outside the borders of Rojan. What would you know about what people in other provinces need, when you don’t even know what the people in Marabad need? By the time the golden glow heralding the sun’s arrival appears in the sky, you’ve already started preparing yourself for the day, freshening up in the washroom and taking your <<if $tempclothing is 'shalwar'>>tunic, shalwar and coat<</if>><<if $tempclothing is 'dress'>>dress and coat<</if>><<if $tempclothing is 'robes'>>robes<</if>> out of your dresser where Ishrah had put it the day before, once the tailors finished it. Preparing yourself for the day feels almost calming. You strip out of your night robe, dressing yourself without waiting for Ishrah or Siham. It helps you feel in control, even if over such a small aspect; it’s comforting to know that you can, and you are, the one making the decisions. No matter what title you have or fabrics you wear or riches you possess, you are still <em>you</em>. By the time you hear a knock on your door, signaling Siham and Ishrah’s arrival, you’ve already dressed, standing near the windows and staring out at the sky, catching the first rays of light from behind the walls of your palace. [[Continue|7.15]]“You’re already dressed!” It’s the first thing Ishrah says when she steps foot into your room, looking both amazed—as if the thought of you dressing yourself hadn’t even occurred to her as a possibility—as well as somewhat disappointed. “Remember your manners, Ishrah.” Keko appears from behind her, smiling and bowing to you together with Siham, Ishrah hurriedly following suit with an embarrassed blush. “Good morning, Your Imperial Majesty.” Keko looks positively serene; you could almost mistake this for being any other day, though you’re sure his calm composure is at least partly for your benefit. “Your new garments suit you well.” <<if $charm gt $blunt>>You take the compliment with a smile<<else>>You nod, relieved to know you at least look the part<</if>>. “Thank you.” Keko’s eyes crinkle kindly with a smile<<if $charm gt $blunt>> of his own<</if>> that seems a touch amused as well. Thanking one’s servants is probably not expected of a ruler, but it would feel impolite to you <em>not</em> to thank him. “What would you like for breakfast?” You shake your head, doubting you’d be able to eat anything right now; the nerves are bunched inside your stomach, ridding you of any appetite you might’ve had. “I’ll eat later.” Siham glances at Ishrah, who now appears more dejected than anything. “You can still help $ctheir Imperial Majesty with $their face paint, Ishrah.” Ishrah perks up as Keko fetches the small bowl of golden face paint from the shelves, handing it over to her. “Oh, that’s right! Please allow me to assist.” “Of course.” <<if $height is 'tall' or $height is 'very tall'>>You sit down on the bed while Ishrah stands in front of you; if you both sit, Ishrah will still have a hard time painting your face considering you’re <<if $height is 'very tall'>>over <</if>>a head taller than she is<<else>>You both sit down on the edge of your bed, being that you are <<if $height is 'short' or $height is 'very short'>>around the same height<<else>>only slightly taller than she is<</if>>, which would make it comfortable for her<</if>>. As she dips the brush into the bowl and lifts her hand to place the tip right below your eye, you notice her hand shaking a little. “Are you alright, Ishrah?” you ask, and she gives you a wobbly smile. <<if $sihamishrah gt 1>>“Just a little nervous,” she admits, pulling the brush away from your face. “I’m very sorry, I’ll get it under control.” “Take your time,” you tell her. “We’re in no rush.” That appears to help calm her a little as she nods and takes a deep breath, before resuming the painting, more steadily this time.<<else>>“I’m fine,” she squeaks, but her hand is starting to shake worse now. Siham taps her shoulder. “It’s okay, Ishrah. Let me do it.” “But…” Ishrah bites her lip, then reluctantly hands the brush over. “No, you’re right. I’m too nervous, and everything has to be perfect… it’s better if you do it.” Siham takes her place, which surprises you a little; of the two, you would’ve thought Siham would’ve been a lot more nervous than Ishrah.<</if>> You wait patiently, closing your eyes as the soft brush touches along your eyelids and brow, up to your forehead and back down to your cheeks. When <<if $sihamishrah gt 1>>Ishrah<<else>>Siham<</if>> finishes, you get up from your bed to take a look at yourself in the mirror. Compared to the robes of the servants, the white of your clothes seems purer somehow, seeming to give off a soft glow, like a promise of what is to come. With the golden shine of your eyes and face paint added to it, you look much more like a Crown than you feel. It’s astonishing what new garments and some face paint can do. You wonder what kind of color and light your white <<if $tempclothing is 'shalwar'>>outfit<<else>>$tempclothing<</if>> will reflect once you complete the coronation. What kind of ruler will you be? “Your Imperial Majesty, if I may,” Keko says, and you turn around to look at him questioningly. “Becoming the Crown does not mean that one has to be alone. We, as well as $rtitle $rname and many others, will support you in whatever way we can.” <<if $kind gt $calc>>The words of assurance are unexpected, but also exactly what you needed to hear. You’re not alone anymore; you don’t have to do it all by yourself. “Thank you, Keko,” you say with sincerity, touched by his consideration. “It is my honor and privilege, Your Imperial Majesty,” Keko replies, inclining his head. “We must all do our part to restore peace within the Empire.” And helping you is the best way to accomplish that. You nod in understanding; you all share the same goals.<<else>>In his reassurance of you, your gaze lingers on the old servant, part of you unable to help but wonder what his motives are. He seems genuine, but no doubt allying himself with the ruler to be will also benefit him in the long run. You doubt Keko has managed to serve two Crowns before you merely by being a kindly old man. “Thank you, Keko.” As if able to read your curiosity from your eyes or perhaps your tone, Keko’s smile tinges with mischief. “And perhaps this old fox still has a thing or two left to teach, if I may be so bold.” You smile at that. “Of that, I have no doubt.”<</if>> Siham and Ishrah continue to help you get ready, letting you pick from a variety of accessories<<if $caut gt $adven>>, though thankfully subtle and small ones, as they seem to have remembered you have a more subdued taste<<else>>, each more luxurious and opulent than the next. You take a shine to a few bracelets and necklaces, picking the ones that suit your clothes the most<</if>>. <<if $hairstyle isnot 'shaved'>>Your hair is also styled more neatly, Ishrah adding the golden dust to the tips of it and somehow managing to make it blend in. Your $haircolor tresses lighten naturally into the gold at the very edges, the contrast only adding to the effect<</if>>. As you finish getting ready, a knock sounds on your door, and $dname’s voice comes through from the other side. “Your Imperial Majesty, may I intrude?” [[Continue|7.16]]“Come in,” you call out, and one of the golden doors pushes open, revealing $dname—dressed still in armor, but in a different style, with different colorings and accessories, somehow looking even heavier than $dtheir usual outfit. The golden scales of $dtheir chest plate have been traded in for a smooth, silver piece of plate that has been carved with elaborate patterns, including matching silver greaves and gauntlets. Black fabric peeks out from underneath, as well as sleeves and skirts of chainmail. $cdtheir red cloak has been replaced by a green one, with thick, black fur lined over the top of it; more luxurious than you would've expected from $dname. The colors are closer to $aname's armor, and it surprises you how much the darker tones manage to add to $dname's already considerable intensity. <<if $loveinterest is 'D'>>$cdthey stands at the doorway now, lips parting to speak when $dtheir gaze moves from the door to land on you, and $dthey stills. <<if $flirt gt $res>>You fold your arms and tilt your head very deliberately as $dthey stares at you, slowly looking from your white garments up at your face. “Yes?” you say, trying not to look <em>too</em> pleased at rendering $dthem speechless, and at your prompting $dname snaps out of $dtheir stupor, needing to blink several times before $dthey regains $dtheir composure. “I wished to inform you that everything has been prepared for your departure,” $dname informs, $dtheir tone almost painfully formal now, any surprise you spotted wiped clean from $dtheir face. You try not to feel too disappointed about that.<<else>>You avert your gaze as $dthey stares at you, resisting the urge to start fidgeting. “Yes?” you say, trying to keep your composure and not let it affect you, very aware of the others in the room who are witnessing the exchange. At your prompting $dname snaps out of $dtheir stupor, glancing away for a moment as $dthey regains $dtheir composure. “I wished to inform you that everything has been prepared for your departure,” $dname informs, $dtheir tone almost painfully formal now, any surprise you spotted wiped clean from $dtheir face. You’re almost relieved at the return to normalcy, though part of you is also a little disappointed.<</if>><<else>>$dname stands at the doorway, looking at you with some surprise as $dthey regards your new garments, though the expression is smoothed out again soon after. “I wished to inform you that everything has been prepared for your departure.”<</if>> “Alright.” You give $dtheir new outfit another once-over. <<if $charm gt $blunt>>“I should mention, your new armor looks good on you. It suits you.”<<else>>“Is that armor new? You wear it well.”<</if>> <<if $loveinterest is 'D'>>$dname shifts and rolls $dtheir shoulders, looking even broader with the heap of fur draped on top. “That wasn’t my main concern when choosing it, but thank you.” “Really?” you say, somewhat disbelieving. “What defensive purposes does the fur coat have, then?” $dname stares at you for a moment, looking somewhat confused, as if the cape hadn’t even occurred to $dthem. “I’m not sure. It seemed appropriate.” “You wanted to look impressive for the Mîrs, I take it.” You smile teasingly, and $dname appears at a loss. “The Mîrs,” $dthey repeats uncertainly. “Yes. Of course.” <<if $flirt gt $res>>You arch your brows. Did $dname dress up for <em>you</em>, and not even realize it?<<else>>$dname appears almost bemused, though you don’t understand what for. Why else would $dthey pick a coat like that?<</if>> Looking away from you, $dname’s gaze falls on the table in your room, and $dthey frowns.<<else>>“Thank you,” $dname replies politely, then glances at the table in your room, and frowns.<</if>> “Have you had anything to eat yet?” “I don’t have an appetite right now,” you say, and $dname looks like $dthey wants to argue, but then nods. “It <em>is</em> an important occasion,” $dthey considers, “but I insist you at least eat something at the Sky Temple later. It’s going to be a long day, and it would be better not to face it on an empty stomach.” You suppose that’s true—though this also reminds you of what Heval told you, back at the Crescent Blades’ camp. <<if $blunt gt $charm>>“I’ll consider it.”<<else>>“I will.”<</if>> “Good.” $dname glances over at Keko, then back at you. “If you are ready to leave, then I suggest we do so before the streets fill up. There are crowds gathering in front of the temple already.” <<if $caut gt $adven>>You take a last, deep breath, steeling yourself for what comes next: the rest of your life is waiting for you past the palace walls.<<else>>Your nerves are buzzing with anticipation, a mixture of anxiety and excitement, where the latter is managing to outweigh the former: the rest of your life is waiting for you past the palace walls.<</if>> “Let's go.” <<if $coronationroute is 'tunnels'>>[[Continue|7.17a]]<<else>>[[Continue|7.17b]]<</if>> Keko, Siham and Ishrah stay behind together with the rest of the servants, as they still have further preparations to make for the grand banquet that will be held at the palace. At the very least, as you follow $dname out of your room, you see several familiar faces among the guards lined out in the halls. Kaja, Ezo and Ziryan are the ones you know by name and face from among the Imperial Guard, though it takes you a moment to recognize them as they’re all wearing their helmets. Kaja mostly gives herself away by giving you a small but enthusiastic wave as you pass, Ziryan turning their head away as if pretending they don’t know her while Ezo lets out a bone-deep sigh. Feeling a little more at ease with their presence as at least they are people you know, you walk beside $dname in the corridors, the guards following along. The Imperial Guards are distinguished from $dname’s own soldiers by their silver and black armor while the soldiers wear bronze armor, though the size of the group as it is now is noticeable. “Some of the guards will split off from us, right?” you ask $dname, who nods in confirmation. “Several guards will be using decoy tunnels to throw off anyone who may be watching,” $dname relays. “We’ve made certain that the tunnel you are using is safe, but even then, it can’t hurt to be prepared. $rtitle $rname even went so far as to lay down wards for the decoy tunnels, in order to further confuse any potential spies.” You wonder at how much work it must’ve been these past few days, peering at $dname’s face more attentively, but you can’t spot any signs of weariness like you did with $rname. “Was it a lot of work?” you opt to ask instead as $dname leads you down an inner corridor of the palace, one without windows. The guards continue to trail behind you, their footsteps echoing slightly against the walls. $dname glances at you before looking back ahead, then says, “No more than any battle would be.” The fact that you can’t tell whether $dthey’s being serious or not concerns you somewhat. “Still, it must’ve been a lot of pressure,” you remark. “Preparing a coronation in a matter of days? I can’t even imagine it.” “It helped that I wasn’t lacking for any resources,” $dname replies, and you’re starting to think $dtheir comment about it not being unlike a battle may have been entirely genuine. “I’ve had to contend with worse.” Of course—what’s a coronation compared to fighting for your life? Guarding a little party attended by a bunch of nobles must seem frivolous in comparison. “And after the coronation is over?” you ask<<if $loveinterest is 'D'>>, though you wonder what kind of answer it is you’re hoping to hear<</if>>. “What will you do then? Go back to guarding the borders?” $dname looks at you, seeming bemused by the question. “I’ll do whatever you ask me to, Your Imperial Majesty.” <<if $loveinterest is 'D'>>That was the expected answer but, admittedly, you were hoping for a little more reassurance. At your lingering silence, $dname appears to realize you were expecting something more, and adds, “If you are looking for my opinion on the matter, Arsur would be best served if I remained by your side, at least for a while. The borders have been stable for some time; I don’t see that situation changing soon.” Right, for <em>Arsur’s</em> sake. Still, it is reassuring to know that $dname will be staying with you even after you officially become the Crown. You’ve no doubt $dtheir experience as a general will be invaluable to you, though the chance to get to know $dthem better also gives you something to look forward to.<<else>>You could’ve expected that answer, though you’re not sure what your decision would be in that case. <<if $intel gt $intu>>“I’m not sure that I know what the best course of action would be.”<<else>>“I’m not sure that I know what to do with you quite yet, if I’m honest.”<</if>> “Well, if you’re looking for my opinion,” $dname says slowly, seeming to think about it for a moment before $dthey says, “I think it would be best if I remained with you a while longer, at least until you’ve become accustomed to your new position.” “That’s… reassuring to hear, actually,” you admit. You’ve no doubt $dtheir experience as a general will be invaluable to you, besides which, it never hurts to have a friendly face around—or as friendly as $dname’s face can get, anyway.<</if>> [[Continue|7.18a]] Keko, Siham and Ishrah stay behind together with the rest of the servants, as they still have further preparations to make for the grand banquet that will be held at the palace. At the very least, as you follow $dname out of your room, you see several familiar faces among the guards lined out in the halls. Kaja, Ezo and Ziryan are the ones you know by name and face from among the Imperial Guard, though it takes you a moment to recognize them as they’re all wearing their helmets. Kaja mostly gives herself away by giving you a small but enthusiastic wave as you pass, Ziryan turning their head away as if pretending they don’t know her while Ezo lets out a bone-deep sigh. Feeling a little more at ease with their presence as at least they are people you know, you walk beside $dname in the corridors, the guards following along. The Imperial Guards are distinguished from $dname’s own soldiers by their silver and black armor while the soldiers wear bronze armor, though the size of the group as it is now is noticeable. “Some of the guards will split off from us, right?” you ask $dname, who nods in confirmation. <<if $security isnot 'both'>>“Several guards will be using decoy routes to throw off anyone who may be watching,”<<else>>“A few guards will be using a decoy route to throw off anyone who may be watching,”<</if>> $dname relays. “We’ve made certain that the route you are using is safe, but even then, it can’t hurt to be prepared. $rtitle $rname even went so far as to prepare wards for the decoy routes, in order to further confuse any potential spies.” You wonder at how much work it must’ve been these past few days, peering at $dname’s face more attentively, but you can’t spot any signs of weariness like you did with $rname. “Was it a lot of work?” you opt to ask instead as $dname leads you further down the windowed corridor, until you’ve arrived at the reception hall. The guards continue to trail behind you, their footsteps echoing slightly against the walls. $dname glances at you before looking back ahead, then says, “No more than any battle would be.” The fact that you can’t tell whether $dthey’s being serious or not concerns you somewhat. “Still, it must’ve been a lot of pressure,” you remark. “Preparing a coronation in a matter of days? I can’t even imagine it.” “It helped that I wasn’t lacking for any resources,” $dname replies, and you’re starting to think $dtheir comment about it not being unlike a battle may have been entirely genuine. “I’ve had to contend with worse.” Of course—what’s a coronation compared to fighting for your life? Guarding a little party attended by a bunch of nobles must seem frivolous in comparison. “And after the coronation is over?” you ask<<if $loveinterest is 'D'>>, though you wonder what kind of answer it is you’re hoping to hear<</if>>. “What will you do then? Go back to guarding the borders?” $dname looks at you, seeming bemused by the question. “I’ll do whatever you ask me to, Your Imperial Majesty.” <<if $loveinterest is 'D'>>That was the expected answer but, admittedly, you were hoping for a little more reassurance. At your lingering silence, $dname appears to realize you’re looking for something a little more, and adds, “If you are looking for my opinion on the matter, however, Arsur would be best served if I remained by your side, at least for a while. The borders have been stable for some time; I don’t envision that situation changing soon.” Right, for <em>Arsur’s</em> sake. Still, it is reassuring to know that $dname will be staying with you even after you officially become the Crown. You’ve no doubt $dtheir experience as a general will be invaluable to you, though the chance to get to know $dthem better also gives you something to look forward to.<<else>>You could’ve expected that answer, though you’re not sure what your decision would be in that case. <<if $intel gt $intu>>“I’m not sure that I know what the best course of action would be.”<<else>>“I’m not sure that I know what to do with you quite yet, if I’m honest.”<</if>> “Well, if you’re looking for my opinion,” $dname says slowly, seeming to think about it for a moment before $dthey says, “I think it would be best if I remained with you a while longer, at least until you’ve become accustomed to your new position.” “That’s… reassuring to hear, actually,” you admit. You’ve no doubt $dtheir experience as a general will be invaluable to you. Besides which, it never hurts to have a friendly face around—or as friendly as $dname’s face can get, anyway.<</if>> [[Continue|7.18b]] Much like the tunnel you used before, you arrive at a pair of dark stone doors seemingly identical to the other ones, though your gaze is focused foremost on the person waiting in front of them. <<if $loveinterest is 'R'>>$rname turns to look at you, already a small smile of greeting on $rtheir lips when $rtheir gaze falls on your new appearance and $rtheir smile brightens into admiration.<<else>>$rname turns to look at you with a smile of greeting, though $rtheir gaze turns impressed as $rthey looks at your new garments.<</if>> “Your Imperial Majesty,” $rthey says, taking a moment to bow formally, and your own gaze is drawn to the deep, dark blue dress $rthey wears in turn. Shimmering dots like stars are visible in the delicate fabric, lines drawn between them like constellations, as if $rthey were wearing the night sky on $rtheir skin. The front locks of $rtheir long black hair are tied back, the chains usually draped around the crown of $rtheir head traded in for small, glittering silver gems tracing the locks elegantly to the back of $rtheir head. <<if $loveinterest is 'R'>>“$rname,” you greet in return, mesmerized by the way the stars glimmer along $rtheir figure as $rthey straightens up again. <<if $res gt $flirt>>The words leave you before you’ve even realized you’re thinking them.<<else>>$crthey must realize how lovely $rthey looks, but you decide you want to tell $rthem anyway. <</if>>“You look beautiful.” $rname’s smile turns a touch shy as $rthey glances away. “Is that not what I should be telling you?”<<if $res gt $flirt>> You quickly avert your gaze, embarrassed by your own bluntness. “Well, uh... you could.”<<else>> “I certainly wouldn't mind,” you reply, smiling with amusement as $rthey fiddles with the chain of $rtheir silver necklace, avoiding your gaze.<</if>> After a moment's pause, $rname decides to go through with it, eyes drinking you in as $rthey says, “You are a vision, $rnickname.” Does $rthey do that on purpose, or is $rthey truly oblivious to what an effect $rtheir words have on you? At that point $dname clears $dtheir throat, and both of you almost startle, having forgotten there were other people around. “Shall we get going?”<<else>>“$rname,” you greet in turn as $rname straightens up again. “Your choice in garments is impeccable,” $rthey compliments, and the approval is quite welcome considering $rname is easily the best dressed person you know. “You look more than ready for the coronation.” <<if $charm gt $blunt>>“That’s good, because I’m not sure I <em>feel</em> ready,” you quip,<<else>>“Well, at least the clothes are doing their job,” you say,<</if>> and $rname gives you a sympathetic look. “You look great as well, by the way.” At that point, $dname cuts in. “Shall we get going?”<</if>> $rname smooths over the skirt of $rtheir dress in a somewhat restless gesture, and you realize you may not have been the only one suffering from nerves these past few days. “Yes, of course.” Your shoulders tense up involuntarily when two guards pull the stone doors open, revealing the staircase leading down into the tunnel, shadows dancing between the flickering torchlights. $dname and the others wait for you to start walking, but when you don’t, $dthey exchanges a glance with $rname. “Is something the matter, Your Imperial Majesty?” $dname asks, brows furrowing slightly. <<if $blunt gt $charm>>“No,” you say reflexively, yet your feet won’t move.<<else>>“I’m fine,” you say, trying to give $rname a reassuring smile that feels faint on your face.<</if>> There’s a growing sense of dread at the base of your spine, one you’ve felt before. But there are no assassins this time, you remind yourself sternly. You’re accompanied by over a dozen guards as well as $rname and $dname; there should be no reason to worry. No reason for freezing up like this. Though—you know from experience—fear is not something that can be reasoned with. “$crnickname?” you hear softly, and tear your gaze away from the dark staircase to look at $rname standing beside you, giving you an encouraging look. “Would it help if $dname and I went first?” <ul class="a"> <li>[[Accept the help.|7.19a.1]]</li> <li>[[Try to go down on your own, first.|7.19a.2]]</li> </ul><<if $blunt gt $charm>>“That would help, yes,” you admit with reluctance,<<else>>“If you don’t mind,” you say reluctantly,<</if>> feeling embarrassed about it. “It’s an understandable reaction, Your Imperial Majesty,” $dname says, and strangely, the fact that $dtheir expression hasn’t changed at all reassures you; $dthey doesn’t seem to be judging you for it, merely accepting it for what it is. “Allow us to lead.” $dname goes first, descending down the steps, and $rname follows, lifting up the hem of $rtheir dress slightly while doing so. You watch them reach the base of the staircase as they then turn around to look up at you. “Whenever you’re ready,” $rname says, and it surprises you how much it does help that they’re already down there. The glimmering fabric of $rname’s dress and the silver of $dname’s armor makes the darkness seem a little brighter somehow, their presence making it less vast and more… contained. “We’re right behind you, Your Imperial Majesty,” you hear Ziryan say from over your shoulder, and you nod, taking a breath before taking the first step down into the staircase. <<if $loveinterest is 'D'>>Your eyes catch $dname’s gaze on you, and you instantly feel steadied; the shadows are not nearly so threatening anymore,<</if>><<if $loveinterest is 'R'>>Your eyes catch $rname’s gaze on you, and you instantly feel the weight on your shoulders lighten; the shadows almost seem brighter somehow,<</if>><<if $loveinterest is 'X' or $loveinterest is 'A'>>You remind yourself that you have guards at your back and two very capable people waiting in front of you, all of whom can protect you if necessary, the reminder<</if>> allowing you to make it down the staircase without tripping up or freezing again. Your heart is still beating a little faster than normal, but your fear is manageable now at least. Being down in the tunnels now that it’s filled with people ironically makes you feel less tense, less trapped. “I’m alright,” you reassure <<if $loveinterest is 'R' or $loveinterest is 'A'>>$rname when you notice $rthem<<else>>$dname when you notice $dthem<</if>> watching you for any signs of discomfort. “Let’s get going; I don’t want to be late.” <<if $loveinterest is 'R' or $loveinterest is 'A'>>$rname nods. “Yes, of course.”<<else>>$dname inclines $dtheir head. “As you say, Your Imperial Majesty.”<</if>> [[Continue|7.20a]]“No, that’s alright.” This is something you want to try on your own—something you <em>have</em> to try on your own. There’s no shame in being afraid and needing help, but you want to know what your limits are. You look down the tunnel, trying to have your eyes adjust to the darkness, but with your golden face paint it reacts to your eye color, shining a soft golden light down the steps. That’s… unexpectedly useful. The last time you were in these tunnels you didn’t have your face paint on, only having the fire from the torches to light your way, flickering threateningly at the edges of your vision. This feels much more manageable in comparison, though it also leads you to wonder why this face paint reacts to your eyes at all. Siham said the golden ore it was made of is special, but didn’t elaborate much beyond that. Either way, if it makes it easier to go down the stairs, you’ll take it. Inhaling a deep breath, you take your first step down. It’s reassuring, at least, that <<if $loveinterest is 'R' or $loveinterest is 'A'>>$rname and $dname<<else>>$dname and $rname<</if>> are behind you together with the rest of the guards. Usually having someone at your back makes you nervous, but now it means you can fully focus on the tunnel below you. If you'd been by yourself, you imagine this would've been <em>much</em> harder to do. You count each of your steps as you descend slowly but steadily into the depths below, until you reach number 17 and you suddenly find the floor beneath your feet. Looking up, you peer into the length of the tunnel ahead of you—the sound of footsteps following you down the stairs echoes through it and feels almost reassuring. You’re not alone in here. You turn your head to look over at the others, a faint smile touching your lips; it’s not such a grand accomplishment as to make you feel proud, but it does make you feel better. “Let’s get going,” you say to $rname and $dname. “I don’t want to be late.” <<if $loveinterest is 'R' or $loveinterest is 'A'>>$rname smiles back at you, and even if you’re not quite proud of yourself, $rthey looks proud enough for the both of you. “Yes, of course.”<<else>>$dname inclines $dtheir head, though you think you catch a glimpse of admiration in $dtheir eyes before $dthey does so. “As you say, Your Imperial Majesty.” <</if>> [[Continue|7.20a]] You travel through the tunnels in relative silence. Neither you, $dname, $rname or the guards bother making conversation; they must all be focused on the coronation, though for different reasons. As for you, you’ve had more than enough time the past few days thinking about the coronation. At this point the silence makes you more uneasy than anything else. “<<if $loveinterest is 'A' or 'R'>>$aname and $xname<<else>>$xname and $aname<</if>> will meet us at the end of the tunnel, right?” you ask. “$xname will,” $rname confirms. “$aname will meet us at the Sky Temple. $cathey had a few things to discuss with the head priest before the coronation, if I remember right.” “Again?” You remember $athem needing to talk to the head priest a few days ago as well, right before your second assassination attempt. “It must be something serious, then.” <<if $loveinterest isnot 'D'>>$dname doesn’t meet your eyes<<else>>$dname glances over at you<</if>> as $dthey answers next. “You will no doubt hear about it after the coronation, Your Imperial Majesty; there’s no point in worrying about it now.” That’s true, but it doesn’t exactly sound reassuring. You decide to change the topic. “Speaking of which, do either of you know anything about the ritual? Perjin informed me about most of it, but I’m still a little vague on what this ‘blessing’ exactly entails.” $dname looks pointedly at $rname, who arches a brow at $dthem. “Don’t give me that look,” $dname says, sighing. “I don’t know anything about spiritual matters.” “That’s because you don’t <em>want</em> to know anything about spiritual matters,” $rname remarks sardonically, before turning to you. “I only know what Lady Zerya has told me, which is that involves a meeting with the spirits.” “Yes, she told me as much,” you say, “but how can I possibly be meeting with <em>all</em> the spirits in Arsur? How does that work?” $rname’s expression turns pensive as $rthey looks down the tunnel, humming to $rthemselves. “I’m… not sure, actually. Lady Zerya never went into specifics; it didn’t seem as important at the time, since our focus was to find a Crown first.” No clarity on that topic, then. You suppose you’ll just have to wait and see. Not long now. [[Continue|7.21a]] You walk for a while longer, though you notice there are very few turns to take in the tunnel. For the most part, it’s a straight road that branches off into different, smaller tunnels every now and then, but you don’t take any of those. It makes it difficult to keep track of time or distance as the walls and torches all look identical. Just when you’re starting to wonder whether you’ve made any progress at all, you peer into the distance and spot the shaded appearance of stairs. “We’re here,” you hear $rname mutter with relief beside you. Not much of a fan of the tunnels either, then. When you’re nearly at the stairs, the doors at the top open up to let in a burst of sunlight, a shadow falling down the column of light. “There you are!” you hear $xname’s voice before you see $xthem, squinting against the light and raising your gaze to $xthem standing at the top of the stairs. “Did you enjoy your leisurely stroll underground? I’ve been bored out of my <em>mind</em> just sitting here and waiting around.” At first glance $xthey appears nicely dressed for the occasion; the style of $xtheir clothes is much the same, though $xtheir tunic has been traded in for an outer robe with long sleeves, the hem of it reaching down to $xtheir knees, partly covering $xtheir trousers. Surprisingly modest, except for the fact that nearly the entirety of $xtheir chest is on display, even more than usual. $cxthey appears to be wearing nothing underneath $xtheir robe, which means there is a wide cut of skin visible from $xtheir neck--wrapped in layered golden necklaces--to $xtheir belly button, where $xtheir waistcloth hangs lower than usual, tying the robe down. You get the impression that it would only take a slight gust of wind to shift the robe aside and reveal the full expanse of $xtheir<<if $xgender is 'male'>> hairy<</if>> chest,<<if $xgender is 'female'>> the curves of her breasts<</if>> teasing from the edges of the robe but not revealing any nipple, at the very least. Not that it matters; <<if $loveinterest isnot 'X'>>$dname is already clenching $dtheir teeth regardless as $dthey glares up at $xname, who smiles smugly in return<<else>>your eyes are briefly distracted regardless, which you assume was $xname's intent from the way $xthey smirks at you. Yet it's somehow an even greater struggle to tear your gaze away from $xtheir eyes, glinting with mischief<</if>>. “Forgive us for the inconvenience, Pale Sword,” $dname sneers. “You’re forgiven,” $xname replies cheerily, and $dname lets out a deep breath as you all approach the stairs—with you at the front. Just because you’re less stressed about the tunnels now doesn’t mean you’d like to linger. <<if $loveinterest isnot 'X'>>$xname lets out an impressed whistle when $xthey notices your clothes. “Those garments probably cost more coin than what I’m getting paid for this job.” You give $xthem an amused look as you head up the stairs, and $xname steps aside to let you through into the seemingly empty building—the windows show a largely empty street, though they seem protected by some kind of white barrier. “You're one to talk. What, do you want to have them after the coronation?” $xname snorts. “No, <<if $loveinterest is 'R'>>but $rname might.” <<if $flirt gt $res>>You raise your brows, though your eyes quickly flit over to $rname, interested to see what $rtheir reaction will be.<<else>>You feel your neck flush with heat, trying to ignore the remark, though $rname doesn’t.<</if>> $crthey frowns as $rthey walks up the stairs after you, hands delicately lifting the hem of $rtheir dress as $rthey's followed by the others. “What is that supposed to mean? I already have plenty of clothes to choose from.” “You think I meant for you to <em>wear</em>?” $xname repeats, then laughs, shaking $xtheir head. “Oh, that’s precious!” “What else would you have—” $rname pauses, realization dawning on $rthem. “Oh… very funny, $xname.” $crthey appears to brush it off easily, though you notice $rthey’s not meeting your gaze. “If we’re all done fooling around?” $dname cuts in. $rname takes advantage of $dname’s interruption, seeming all too eager to move on.<</if>><<if $loveinterest is 'D'>>$dname would probably stick my head on a pike if I tried.” “You’re right about that,” $dname grumbles as $dthey follows you up the stairs, following by the rest, and you shoot $dthem a surprised look. $dname blinks, as if $dthey hadn’t even realized $dthey said it out loud, and quickly attempts to change the subject. “In any case, shall we—” “Are we really going to ignore that $dname agreed $dthey would murder me to defend the Crown’s modesty?” $xname complains, and $dname raises $dtheir voice to drown $xthem out. “<em>Shall</em> we move on?” $dthey emphasizes, looking red in the face, though whether from embarrassment or anger you can’t quite tell. Thankfully, $rname cuts in to save $dthem from further embarrassment, pretending not to have heard the conversation.<</if>><<if $loveinterest is 'A'>>$aname probably wouldn’t be very happy with that.” “I don’t think $aname would care about who $ctheir Imperial Majesty gives $their clothes to,” $rname says with a slightly puzzled look as $rthey follows you up the stairs, followed by the rest, and $xname snorts, shaking $xtheir head. “You’d be surprised,” $xthey says, shooting you a conspiratorial wink. You give $xthem a good-natured eye-roll in return; $xthey’s just messing around as usual. You highly doubt $aname is <em>that</em> protective of you… is $athey? At that point $rname, still looking somewhat confused, decides to bring the conversation back on track.<</if>><<else>>$xname’s eyes alight on you as you head up the stairs, a slow smirk unraveling on $xtheir face. <<if $flirt gt $res>>You can’t help but smile playfully in return at the obvious approval in $xtheir lingering gaze, though you say, “Do you <em>have</em> to make the staring so obvious?” <<if $ass gt $pass>>$xname grins at you as $xthey steps aside to let you pass, $xtheir stare burning on your skin through your clothes. “Look who's talking. Would you prefer secret glances instead?” “I’m not sure you’re capable of that kind of restraint,” you reply nonchalantly, though you’re very aware of the gaze on your back as you step into what appears to be an empty building—the windows show a largely empty street, though they seem protected by some kind of white barrier. “Trust me, Majesty, I’ve been the epitome of restraint so far,” $xname murmurs from behind you, and you pretend not to have heard $xthem even as a flush of heat rushes up the back of your neck.<<else>>“I could tone it down if you’d like,” $xname offers as $xthey steps aside to let you pass, reining in $xtheir wandering gaze. You brush past them, very aware of the edge of your <<if $tempclothing is 'shalwar' or $tempclothing is 'dress'>>sleeve<<else>>robe<</if>> brushing against $xtheir chest and avoiding $xtheir gaze, a flush of heat rushing up your neck. “I don’t mind,” you reply, trying to sound casual as you step into what appears to be an empty building—the windows show a largely empty street, though they seem protected by some kind of white barrier.<</if>><<else>>You try to pretend you don’t see it, though that’s a little difficult to do with how $xname’s gaze lingers, admiring your form. <<if $ass gt $pass>>“Did you wait very long?” you ask instead as $xname steps aside for you, allowing you to step into what appears to be an empty building—the windows show a largely empty street, though they seem protected by some kind of white barrier “A little while,” $xname says, “but you’re more than worth waiting for.” Spirits, $xthey never passes up any opportunity to flirt, does $xthey? “Well… thanks for waiting,” you say, trying to ignore the flush of heat rushing up your neck, and $xname chuckles.<<else>>“You truly do look magnificent, Your Imperial Majesty,” $xname says as $xthey steps aside for you, $xtheir compliment seeming more genuine than flirtatious this time, which eases you a little. “Thank you,” you reply, giving $xthem a small smile, which $xthey returns with a pleased one of $xtheir own as $xthey steps aside to let you pass. “Even better when you smile,” $xthey says with admiration, and you have to avert your gaze as a flush of heat rushes up your neck, heading further into what appears to be an empty building—the windows show a largely empty street, though they seem protected by some kind of white barrier.<</if>><</if>> “If you’re done flirting,” $dname says, following you up the stairs together with $rname and the guards, all pouring into the building. “We need to get the Crown to the temple.” <<if $flirt gt $res>>“A little flirting never hurt anyone,” you say, then almost feeling bad about it when $dname gives you a long-suffering look. “Please, don’t encourage $xthem.” “Please <em>do</em> encourage me,” $xname says with a delighted grin, and any feelings of guilt about causing $dname a headache quickly disappear. At that point, $rname cuts in with a delicate cough.<<else>>“Right, the temple,” you say, trying not to show your embarrassment. “Your Imperial Majesty, please be reassured that $xname is the only one who ought to feel embarrassed in this situation,” $dname says, indicating you’ve likely failed, and drawing an outraged look from $xname in the process. “I have nothing to feel embarrassed about!” $dname gives $xname a look. “You have an uncountable number of things to be embarrassed about. We’d be here all day if I had to list all of them, so I suggest we move on.” Before $xname can retort, $rname mercifully cuts in.<</if>><</if>> “This building connects to the servant passages of the Sky Temple,” $rthey informs you, pointing to a corridor without windows at the opposite end of the room. “It’s the best way to enter it undetected.” “So the Sky Temple is right on the other end of this?” you ask, and $rname nods, seeming to anticipate what you’re thinking. “Take your time, $name.” You look at the corridor, lit only with small candles attached to the walls, not dissimilar to the tunnel you’ve just walked through though it is much narrower. This is it, then. “I’m ready.” [[Continue|7.22]] You expect $dname to take you to the front of the palace, but instead, $dthey heads down another corridor in the reception hall, past the statues of the shirdal that you noticed during your first day in the palace. “Aren’t we using the front gates?” you ask curiously. “Those would be the most watched,” $dname replies. “The eastern gates are the furthest away from the Sky Temple, which makes it a poor choice, while the western gates are the closest, which makes it easy to anticipate as the preferred choice.” “So we’re using the southern gates?” “No, we’re using the western gates,” $dname corrects. “Several of the guards have already left through <<if $security isnot 'both'>>the front gates and the southern gates<<else>>the southern gates<</if>> in advance as a distraction, since <<if $security isnot 'both'>>those two choices<<else>>that choice<</if>> will most likely be anticipated by our enemies.” “Ah.” You get it now. “They wouldn’t think we would choose the easiest route.” “That is what I suspect.” $dname pauses. “Of course, I could be wrong—but that’s what the additional guards are here for.” You’re certainly glad that $dname is the one in charge of this whole operation. The corridors eventually lead you outside, to what you assume are the western gates, though they look much different today than the gates you’ve become used to seeing. There is a solid, white barrier in front of its iron bars, blocking off the view of the street from the inside, though you suppose its main purpose is to block off the view of the palace from the outside. You can hear the faint sounds of the crowd outside already, though once your gaze shifts away from the gates to what’s sitting in front of it, you’re entirely distracted. It appears to be some sort of large tent sat on top of an even larger, single layer platform of solid, dark brown wood. The edges are carved into patterns of sigils that you don’t recognize, the four corners of it headed by wooden figures of snakes. The tent itself—if it can even be called that, with how stately it looks—is supported by similar wooden beams, deep red curtains draped around it in an ostensible offer of privacy. It’s large enough to comfortably fit a handful of people in, and the platform it’s built on is even wider, allowing more space for people at the front and the back. Beside the platform are several people in uniforms you don’t recognize, blue robes and dresses identical in color though different in style—they all bow in unison at the sight of you. Upon the chest of their uniforms is a symbol stitched into the fabric; an eye with a snake curled around it. They must be magi from the School of Marabad. Once you finally manage to tear your gaze away from the the tent and its platform, as well as the magi, you find a familiar face waiting for you. <<if $loveinterest is 'R'>>$rname, standing separate from the magi, looks back at you. Already there is a small smile of greeting on $rtheir lips when $rtheir gaze falls on your new appearance, and $rtheir smile brightens into admiration.<<else>>$rname turns to look at you with a smile of greeting, though $rtheir gaze turns impressed as $rthey looks at your new garments.<</if>> “Your Imperial Majesty,” $rthey says, taking a moment to bow formally, and your own gaze is drawn to the deep, dark blue dress $rthey wears in turn. Shimmering dots like stars are visible in the delicate fabric as they shine in the sunlight, lines drawn between them like constellations, as if $rthey were wearing the night sky on $rtheir skin. The front locks of $rtheir long black hair are tied back, the chains usually draped around the crown of $rtheir head traded in for small, glittering silver gems tracing the locks elegantly to the back of $rtheir head. <<if $loveinterest is 'R'>>“$rname,” you greet in return, mesmerized by the way the stars glimmer along $rtheir figure as $rthey straightens up again. <<if $res gt $flirt>>The words leave you before you’ve even realized you’re thinking them.<<else>>$crthey must realize how lovely $rthey looks, but you decide you want to tell $rthem anyway.<</if>> “You look beautiful.” $rname’s smile turns a touch shy as $rthey glances away. “Is that not what I should be telling you?”<<if $res gt $flirt>> You quickly avert your gaze, embarrassed by your own bluntness. “Well, uh... you could.”<<else>> “I certainly wouldn't mind,” you reply, smiling with amusement as $rthey fiddles with the chain of $rtheir silver necklace, avoiding your gaze.<</if>> After a moment's pause, $rname decides to go through with it, eyes drinking you in as $rthey says, “You are a vision, $rnickname.” Does $rthey do that on purpose, or is $rthey truly oblivious to what an effect $rtheir words have on you? At that point $dname clears $dtheir throat, and both of you almost startle, having forgotten there were other people around. “Are we ready for departure?”<<else>>“$rname,” you greet in turn as $rname straightens up again. “Your choice in garments is impeccable,” $rthey compliments, and the approval is quite welcome considering $rname is easily the best dressed person you know. “You look more than ready for the coronation.” <<if $charm gt $blunt>>“That’s good, because I’m not sure I <em>feel</em> ready,” you quip,<<else>>“Well, at least the clothes are doing their job,” you say<</if>> and $rname gives you a sympathetic look. At that point, $dname cuts in. “Are we ready for departure?”<</if>> $rname smooths over the skirt of $rtheir dress in a somewhat restless gesture, and you realize you may not have been the only one suffering from nerves these past few days. “Yes, of course.” [[Continue|7.19b]] You approach the platform and the tent, giving $rname a quizzical look. “How is this going to take me to the Sky Temple?” Even if it weren’t flat on the ground, there aren’t any horses you see that could pull it, or any servants to carry it by hand. $rname smiles, gesturing at the ground. You look down at the road leading toward the gates, where the platform has been stationed, and notice something odd: there are faint but visible purple sigils drawn on the stone tiles in small marks. Magic—of course. <<if $intel gt $intu>>You’ve never seen the use of sigils done so extensively before, however. The amount of sigils present should help with the spread of magic so that less of it needs to be expended, but it will still take a significant amount. You assume the magi that helped $rname set this up have been instrumental to get it to work, and it must’ve been <em>very</em> precise work at that; if even one sigil is out of place, it won’t work.<<else>>Though it still looks like it must’ve taken a lot of work regardless, especially if the sigils stretch <em>all</em> the way to the Sky Temple. You wonder how many magi must’ve worked on making this happen. No doubt they as well as $rname worked on it both day and night, if they managed to get this done in just a matter of days.<</if>> “It will help levitate the platform and carry us to the Sky Temple,” $rname explains, a hint of pride in $rtheir voice, which is certainly well-earned. “It’s much safer than using horses and a carriage; the sigils have wards built into them as well, which means that it doubles as a safety measure. No one will be able to reach you from the outside.” “That’s amazing, $rname,” you say, genuinely impressed, and $rname preens from your compliment. While you study the road $dname, their soldiers and the Imperial Guards move toward the platform, splitting off into two groups. $dname, Kaja and Ezo along with a few others step onto the platform, $dname stationing $dthemselves in front of the tent with a few others while the rest takes position behind the tent. Ziryan and the other guards remain on the road, surrounding the platform from every side. You glance over at $rname who gives you an encouraging nod, before you approach the platform as well. You almost feel bad about stepping onto such ornately carved wood, getting onto the platform and approaching the tent. Ezo draws the curtain of it back for you, revealing wooden benches with large, comfortable pillows on either end facing each other, similarly carved to the platform. At least you’ll be traveling to the Sky Temple in style. You take a seat on the bench facing the gates, and $rname follows you, sitting down across from you. “So, how does it work?” $rname grins at you, seeming excited to be able to show this off to you. “We merely need to sit back and enjoy ourselves. The magi on the ground will power the—” Before $rthey can even finish $rtheir sentence, you feel a sudden lurch, a pull of force before a feeling of weightlessness overtakes you and the scenery around you shifts as the platform starts to lift steadily into the air. You push the curtain back and peer outside, eyes widening at how high off the ground you are as the platform stabilizes in mid air, hovering with minimal movement before it stills completely. It soon feels as if you may as well still be on the ground, albeit at a much higher vantage point. The right and left sides of the platform are slimmer—likely to fit comfortably in the street as well—so anyone on the ground will still be able to see the tent. $dname walks over to your side of the tent, informing you, “Everything is set for departure, Your Imperial Majesty.” You’d almost forgotten about the crowds outside, but now that $dname mentions leaving, you focus on the faint sounds of gathered crowds, still audible through the barriers of the gates. “Would you like to keep the curtains drawn or have them closed, $rnickname?” $rname asks, as if $rthey can read your thoughts. That’s the question, isn’t it. According to $rname you don’t have anything to worry about in terms of security, since the wards written by the sigils are protecting the parade, so this all hinges on how much your personal comfort and possible danger stacks up against the need to make a statement. <ul class="a"> <li>[[Have the curtains drawn.|7.20b.1]]</li> <li>[[Keep the curtains closed.|7.20b.2][$curtains to true]]</li> </ul><<if $caut gt $adven>>Your first impulse is to have the curtains closed, but you don’t want to hide this time. This is the day of your coronation, where you will become the Crown—the <em>people’s</em> Crown, who are all gathered outside to catch even a glimpse of you. You don’t want to be the kind of Crown that’s distant from $their subjects; you want them to see you, and know that you’ll do your best, even if that means sacrificing your personal comfort.<<else>>You don’t have to think long about the decision, as your first impulse leads you to wanting to keep the curtains drawn. After having hidden away for so long, it thrills you to be able to show yourself without needing to fear for your life. It’s still dangerous, of course—as the Crown, you will always have a target on your back—but is it so reckless to want to bask in the freedom of no longer having to make yourself small, for the first time in your life?<</if>> “Let’s have them drawn,” you decide, and at your word guards on either side of the tent pull the curtains back and tie them against the wooden beams. They still drape along the sides, so you’re not completely visible, but there are sizable gaps now through which people will be able to see you. “Are you sure?” $dname asks, a somewhat worried frown bending $dtheir brows. “It can be an overwhelming experience.” You suppose $dname must know what it’s like; you remember the reception $dthey as well as $rname received when they helped you get back to Marabad. Dealing with crowds must be a regular occurrence for the both of them. “I’m certain, $dname,” you assure $dthem. “If I’m to be the Crown, I may as well get used to the attention sooner rather than later.” $dname inclines $dtheir head. “As you wish, Your Imperial Majesty.” $cdthey turns toward the gates, calling out in a booming voice: “Open the gates!” The sound of moving metal sets tension in your shoulders. Across from you $rname gives you an encouraging smile, right as the noise of the crowds erupts, the barriers lifted. [[Continue|7.21b]]<<if $caut gt $adven>>While $rname promised the parade would be safe with the added wards, as well as the protection of your guards, that doesn’t mean you’re entirely comfortable facing the crowds so soon.<<else>>Your comfort in facing the crowds isn’t the issue; the thought is exciting, even. But you still can’t bring yourself to take advantage of the opportunity.<</if>> You haven’t accomplished anything yet. What right do you have to parade around and bask in the attention, when it’s undeserved? As much as the people of Marabad may be happy to see you, you don’t feel like you’ve earned it yet. “Let’s keep them closed,” you decide, and at your word guards on either side of the tent fully untie the curtains, letting them fall shut. You pull the ones right beside you on the left back a little in a very slight slit of an opening, so you can still take a small look aside if necessary. It feels a little juvenile, however, sneaking glances outside like you’re a child hiding behind your parent’s skirt. “There’s no need for you to feel embarrassed,” $rname reassures you when $rthey notices the frown on your face. “I’m not very fond of big crowds myself. They’ll have plenty of opportunities to see you later, when you’re more prepared to face them.” You suppose $rname must know what it’s like; you remember the reception $rthey as well as $dname received when they helped you get back to Marabad. Dealing with crowds must be a regular occurrence for the both of them. “Thank you, $rname,” you say, grateful that your Sorcerer is so understanding. “I’m ready to leave.” $rname nods, pulling open the curtain on your same side to look at $dname, who has taken position right beside the tent. “Give the order, general.” $dname inclines $dtheir head and then turns toward the gates, calling out in a booming voice: “Open the gates!” The sound of moving metal sets tension in your shoulders; the noise of the crowds erupts, the barriers lifted. [[Continue|7.21b]]<<if $curtains isnot true>>You can’t help but look out the tent, waiting in anticipation<<else>>Your eyes are glued to the curtains in anticipation<</if>> as the platform gently moves forward—the sensation is so smooth you liken it to what it must feel like to be carried by a cloud. <<if $curtains isnot true>>The guards on the road below walk along with the platform, feet treading at the edges of the sigils but staying within its range like a moving wall.<<else>>Through the narrow slit of the curtains you catch glimpses of the guards on the road below, walking along with the platform.<</if>> Your heartbeats fall in line with their footsteps as the roaring of the crowds grows louder and louder, until even your pulse is drowned out. <<if $curtains isnot true>>The gates come into view first as you pass through them, then finally followed by a <em>sea</em> of faces. You’ve never seen so many people before, especially from a view this high. They’re gathered up against the edges of the road, but are unable to tread on it—where their hands and bodies are pressed against the wards, you see glimmers of white betraying the presence of an otherwise invisible barrier, the wards keeping them back. A few of them pound against the barriers of the wards, especially as the guards pass by, though most seem to be able to ignore the crowds. The sound of their cheering and shouting is deafening, moving like the waves among a storm, and you’re unable to make out any words from among the cacophony of noise. You feel oddly calm, or maybe that’s just the shock, your mind unable to grasp the situation properly. <<if $caut gt $adven>>Whichever the case, it’s much preferable to having a meltdown.<</if>> You look over at $rname. “Should I wave, or…?” $rname laughs behind the tips of $rtheir fingers. “I’m sure they would love that.” You peer back outside and, after taking a deep breath, you lean out over the curtains to face the seemingly endless stream of people below you, and you stick your hand out and wave. To your amazement, nearly the whole crowd starts to wave back as one. For some reason, you find yourself reminded of your lesson with Perjin, the way she spoke about how you would meet with all the spirits of Arsur. At the time you wondered how that could be possible, but as you look out over the crowd below you, hundreds of people moving as one, you’re starting to understand. If this crowd was inhabited by a spirit, it would be one of hope and joy.<<else>>As the platform moves you only catch a brief glimpse of the gates passing by, before any view you had is filled by the crowds outside. You move back from the curtains, stunned by the sheer <em>noise</em> surrounding you from all sides. The sound of their cheering and shouting is deafening, and you’re unable to make out any words from among the cacophony. “Is it always going to be like this?” you can’t help but ask, having to raise your voice to make sure you’re audible above the din, and $rname meets your eyes with a sympathetic gaze. “Not always,” $rthey promises. “Both you and Arsur have to get used to you being the Crown. It’s as new for them as it is for you, and after going so long without a Crown, well… most people are more excited than they would usually be.” Because they see you as the solution to all their problems—but that part goes unspoken. You fall quiet, eyes wandering back to the slight opening between the curtains, where hundreds of people are gathered in the streets, hoping to catch a glimpse of you. “$rname, what if…” The question dies on your tongue before you can give voice to it, and $rname looks at you knowingly. <em>What if I fail?</em> “In my experience, $rnickname,” $rthey says, “Operating on <em>what ifs</em> is seldom useful. Do the best that you can—that’s all that anyone can ask of you.” You take a breath and nod, thankful for the reminder.<</if>> [[Continue|7.22b]]<<if $curtains isnot true>>Waving at the crowds seemed like a good idea at first, but as the platform slowly moves through the streets, your arm is starting to protest. Not to mention that you’re constantly torn between which side to wave at, trying to give them all equal attention until your neck starts growing sore from having it constantly turned to either the left or right. “Take a break, $name,” $rname says with amusement, not having bothered to face the crowds or wave at them $rthemselves. You wonder whether it’s because $rthey's uncomfortable with crowds, or because $rthey doesn’t want to take away from your moment. Maybe both? You lean back into your seat, letting the cheering of the crowd wash over you as you’re carried to the Sky Temple, trying to empty your mind of any worries about the ceremony ritual. You’re not sure how much time has passed when $dname appears beside the curtains again.<<else>>The wait is killing you. You’d rather not face the crowds, but the noise is also making it difficult to hold a conversation with $rname, making it so that all you can really do is sit there and think about the ritual that awaits you at the Sky Temple. “Don’t worry so much, $name,” $rname says in an attempt to put you at ease, and $rthey <em>does</em> look quite calm, which reassures you. The ceremony is done through ritual magic, after all, which $rname is most comfortable with. “Everything will go fine, you’ll see.” Before you can reply to that, a shadow falls over the tent, and you spot the silver scales of $dname’s armor through the gap.<</if>> “We’ve reached the temple, Your Imperial Majesty,” $dthey informs you <<if $curtains is true>>through the curtains<<else>>to your surprise, and you glance back outside. You haven’t looked or waved at the crowds in a while, so you hadn’t even noticed when the parade arrived at the district square<</if>>. $rname rises from the bench, prompting you to do the same even as your legs feel a little unsteady, <<if $curtains isnot true>>$dname stepping aside to let you pass.<<else>>$dname and a guard pulling the curtains back and stepping aside to let you pass.<</if>> The Sky Temple is right in front of you. The wooden platform is connected to one of the landings of its long staircase, leading further up to the temple itself towering over the rest of the square. It’s shaped like a massive dome supported by white walls, the very top of it colored in a vivid blue the shade of the sky; you’ve seen it before, when you visited the square with $aname, but from close up you get a much bigger sense at how <em>massive</em> its structure really is, easily the biggest temple you’ve ever seen. On the landing, you spot $xname waiting for you, waving at you casually. At first glance $xthey appears nicely dressed for the occasion; the style of $xtheir clothes is much the same, though $xtheir tunic has been traded in for a black outer robe with long sleeves, the hem of it reaching down to $xtheir knees, partly covering $xtheir trousers. Surprisingly modest, except for the fact that nearly the entirety of $xtheir chest is on display, even more than usual. $cxthey appears to be wearing nothing underneath $xtheir robe, which means there is a wide cut of skin visible from $xtheir neck--wrapped in layered golden necklaces--to $xtheir belly button, where $xtheir waistcloth hangs lower than usual, tying the robe down. You get the impression that it would only take a slight gust of wind to shift the robe aside and reveal the full expanse of $xtheir<<if $xgender is 'male'>> hairy<</if>> chest,<<if $xgender is 'female'>> the curves of her breasts<</if>> teasing from the edges of the robe but not revealing any nipple, at the very least. Not that it matters; <<if $loveinterest isnot 'X'>>$dname is already clenching $dtheir teeth regardless as $dthey glares at $xname, who smiles smugly in return<<else>>your eyes are briefly distracted regardless, which you assume was $xname's intent from the way $xthey smirks at you. Yet it's somehow an even greater struggle to tear your gaze away from $xtheir eyes, glinting with mischief<</if>>. Beside $xname, there are temple guards dressed in silver robes stoically watching over the staircase. Yet to your surprise, you don’t see any of the crowds surrounding the parade anywhere below you. You look behind the platform, and spot walls built around the vicinity of the Sky Temple, blocking them off. The crowds are still visible, but less overwhelming now, remaining at a short distance. “There you are!” $xname greets you merrily as you and $rname walk across the platform to the staircase landing. “Took you long enough, I was getting bored of waiting around.” Even $dname’s scowl looks tired as $dthey follows along behind you. “Forgive us for the inconvenience, Pale Sword.” “You’re forgiven,” $xname replies cheerily, and $dname sighs. <<if $loveinterest isnot 'X'>>As you approach, $xname lets out an impressed whistle when $xthey notices your clothes. “Those garments probably cost more coin than what I’m getting paid for this job.” You give $xthem an amused look as you join $xthem on the landing. “You're one to talk. What, do you want to have them after the coronation?” $xname snorts. “No, <<if $loveinterest is 'R'>>but $rtitle $rname might.” <<if $flirt gt $res>>You raise your brows, though your eyes quickly flit over to $rname, interested to see what $rtheir reaction will be.<<else>>You feel your neck flush with heat, trying to ignore the remark, though $rname doesn’t.<</if>> $crthey frowns as $rthey walks onto the landing after you, hands delicately lifting the hem of $rtheir dress as $rthey's followed by your guards. “What is that supposed to mean? I already have plenty of clothes to choose from.” “You think I meant for you to <em>wear</em>?” $xname repeats, then laughs, shaking $xtheir head. “Oh, that’s precious!” “What else would you have—” $rname pauses, realization dawning on $rthem. “Oh… very funny, $xname.” $crthey appears to brush it off easily, though you notice $rthey’s not meeting your gaze. “If we’re all done fooling around?” $dname cuts in. $rname takes advantage of $dname’s interruption, seeming all too eager to move on.<</if>><<if $loveinterest is 'D'>>$dname would probably stick my head on a pike if I tried.” “You’re right about that,” $dname grumbles as $dthey follows you onto the landing, the guards walking after $dthem, and you shoot $dthem a surprised look. $dname blinks, as if $dthey hadn’t even realized $dthey said it out loud, and awkwardly coughs into a fist. “In any case, shall we—” “Are we really going to ignore that $dname agreed $dthey would <em>murder me</em> to defend the Crown’s modesty?” $xname complains, and $dname raises $dtheir voice to drown $xthem out. “SHALL we move on?” $dthey emphasizes, looking red in the face, though whether from embarrassment or anger you can’t quite tell. Thankfully, $rname cuts in to save $dthem from further embarrassment, pretending not to have heard the conversation.<</if>><<if $loveinterest is 'A'>>$aname probably wouldn’t be very happy with that.” “I don’t think $aname would care about who $ctheir Imperial Majesty donates $their clothes to,” $rname says with a slightly puzzled look as $rthey follows you onto the landing, trailed by everyone else, and $xname snorts, shaking $xtheir head. “You’d be surprised,” $xthey says, shooting you a conspiratorial wink. You give $xthem a good-natured shake of your head in return; $xthey’s just messing around as usual. You highly doubt $aname is <em>that</em> protective of you. At that point $rname, still looking somewhat puzzled, decides to bring the conversation back on track.<</if>><<else>>$xname’s eyes alight on you as you join $xthem onto the landing, a slow smirk unraveling on $xtheir face. <<if $flirt gt $res>>You can’t help but smile playfully in return at the obvious approval in $xtheir lingering gaze, though you say, “Do you <em>have</em> to make the staring so obvious?” <<if $ass gt $pass>>$xname grins at you as you pass $xthem by, $xtheir stare burning on your skin through your clothes. “Look who's talking. Would you prefer secret glances instead?” “I’m not sure you’re capable of that kind of restraint,” you reply nonchalantly, though you’re very aware of the gaze on your back as you stand in front of the stairs leading up to the temple. “Trust me, Majesty, I’ve been the epitome of restraint so far,” $xname murmurs from behind you, and you pretend not to have heard $xthem even as a flush of heat rushes up the back of your neck.<<else>>“I could tone it down if you’d like,” $xname offers, reining in $xtheir wandering gaze. You brush past $xthem, very aware of the edge of your <<if $tempclothing is 'shalwar' or $tempclothing is 'dress'>>sleeve<<else>>robe<</if>> brushing against $xtheir chest and avoiding $xtheir gaze, a flush of heat rushing up your neck. “I don’t mind,” you reply, trying to sound casual as you stand in front of the stairs that lead to the temple.<</if>><<else>>You try to pretend you don’t see it, though that’s a little difficult to do with how $xname’s gaze lingers, admiring your form. <<if $ass gt $pass>>“Did you wait very long?” you ask instead as you step onto the landing, walking past $xthem to stand in front of the stairs leading to the temple. “A little while,” $xname says, “but you’re more than worth waiting for.” Spirits, $xthey never passes up any opportunity to flirt, does $xthey? “Well… thanks for waiting,” you say, trying to ignore the flush of heat rushing up your neck, and $xname chuckles.<<else>>“You truly do look magnificent, Your Imperial Majesty,” $xname says as you walk past $xthem onto the landing, $xtheir compliment seeming more genuine than flirtatious this time, which eases you a little. “Thank you,” you reply, giving $xthem a small smile, which $xthey returns with a pleased one of $xtheir own. “Even better when you smile,” $xthey says with admiration, and you have to avert your gaze as a flush of heat rushes up your neck, averting your gaze and standing in front of the stairs leading to the temple.<</if>><</if>> “If you’re done flirting,” $dname says, following you onto the landing together with $rname and the rest of the guards. “We need to get the Crown to the temple.” <<if $flirt gt $res>>“A little flirting never hurt anyone,” you say, then almost feeling bad about it when $dname gives you a long-suffering look. “Please, don’t encourage $xthem.” “Please <em>do</em> encourage me,” $xname says with a delighted grin, and any feelings of guilt about causing $dname a headache quickly disappear. At that point, $rname cuts in with a delicate cough.<<else>>“Right, the temple,” you say, trying not to show your embarrassment as you glance up at the intimidating structure. “Your Imperial Majesty, please be reassured that $xname is the only one who ought to feel embarrassed in this situation,” $dname says, indicating you’ve likely failed, and drawing an outraged look from $xname in the process. “I have nothing to feel embarrassed about!” $dname gives $xname a look. “You have an uncountable number of things to feel embarrassed about. We’d be here all day if I had to list all of them, so I suggest we move on.” Before $xname can retort, $rname mercifully cuts in.<</if>><</if>> “In any case, the head priest will be waiting for us upstairs,” $rthey says, looking up at the temple as well before glancing back at you. “Whenever you’re ready, $rnickname.” This is it, then. You take one last breath. “I’m ready.” [[Continue|7.22]]<<unset $curtains>><<unset $temclothing>><<if $coronationroute is 'parade'>>You take your first step onto the temple’s top set of stairs, leading up to another landing that functions as its entrance. The noise of the crowds behind you is still at a roar, though it is a distant one this time, almost background noise as all your attention is taken up by the sight of the temple ahead of you. Part of you can’t help but wonder what your parents would’ve thought had they been here to see it. Would they have been afraid for you? Worried? <em>Disappointed</em>? You try to shake the thought off as you slowly climb up the steps, flanked on either side by $dname and $rname, while $xname trails behind you with a small group of guards that include Kaja and Ezo. Ziryan and the rest remain at the platform, likely to guard it until you’re done and can return to the palace again.<<else>>You take your first step into the corridor leading toward the temple, $rname walking beside you while $dname and $xname are a step behind, followed by a small group of guards that include Kaja and Ezo. Ziryan and the rest remain by the tunnel, likely to guard it until you’re done and can return to the palace again. Part of you can’t help but wonder what your parents would’ve thought had they been here to see it. Would they have been afraid for you? Worried? <em>Disappointed</em>? You try to shake the thought off as the dark stone walls of the corridor transition into white, and you reach a set of stairs at the end of it, taking you up to the temple.<</if>> It’s hard not to think about. You managed to survive on your own for a year, making it to $rname, living through two assassination attempts in the span of three days, and are now about to have your coronation as the Twenty-First Crown of the Arsurian Empire. You’re not ready, not really, but can <em>anyone</em> be truly ready for something like this? All the preparation and tutoring in the world couldn’t ever compare to truly being the Crown, to having that much power and influence at your fingertips. You’ve already had a taste of it in the Royal Palace, of the wealth you now possess, the servants that wait on you for your slightest need, the nobles that watch you like vultures waiting for you to make a mistake—but soon, all of that will be magnified tenfold. Your word will become law, your every decision ironclad—and yet, you have no idea what you want to do with that kind of power, beyond trying to bring an end to the chaos within the Empire. Your predecessors at least all had the benefit of being taught by the Crowns that came before them, or having grown up a princess in Crown Ashadūna’s case. In comparison, you’ll have to figure it out as you go along, try to learn from history and trust in your own judgment. But what kind of ruler do you even want to be? Where should your priorities lie? <<if $coronationroute is 'parade'>>Before you can find an answer to that question, you reach the top of the staircase, arriving in front of the entrance of the temple. The stone doors have been pulled wide open, offering a view of the large hall inside, nearly completely empty save for a small group that seems to be waiting for you.<<else>>Before you can find an answer to that question, you reach the top of the staircase, arriving into a large hall; it must be right in front of the entrance, judging by the wide open doors on your left that appear to lead outside. The hall itself is nearly completely empty, save for a small group that seems to be waiting for you at the center.<</if>> Most of them are silver robed figures wearing identical shapeless garments, plain save for the glimmer to its fabric, as well as a white veil that covers their faces from the nose down. Only one among them doesn’t have their face covered, as well as being the only one to wear an ornate silver necklace, its pendant a deep purple hue of an oval carved gemstone that immediately stands out. The rest of their appearance seems normal; they have a remarkably bald head that appears to shine, and you notice there is a sigil for air painted right below their right eye. That must be the head priest. As you approach the group, another person appears from behind them: $aname, dressed in $atheir black and silver armor. It looks much more ceremonial now, though, the leather replaced by smooth black cloth embroidered with silver threads, as well as a matching black cloak rimmed with thick white fur around the shoulders in contrast to $dname's black fur. <<if $loveinterest is 'A'>>$cathey takes in your appearance with an inscrutable expression, which is not the reaction you expected—or hoped—you would get. While you already know $athey isn’t the type to be taken in by displays of wealth, there’s something about $atheir gaze that seems oddly distant as $athey looks at you.<<else>>$cathey glances over your new clothes, more of an inspection than anything else, and nothing more.<</if>> When you reach the group $athey bows, speaking formally, “Your Imperial Majesty, allow me to introduce to you the head priest of the Sky Temple, High Master Afrîn, who goes by he.” Afrîn bows to you as $aname introduces him, followed by the other priests at his side. <<if $charm gt $blunt>>“Pleased to meet you,”<<else>>“Hello,”<</if>> you say out of reflex, before realizing that a Crown probably wouldn’t speak like that to their subjects. The head priest doesn’t seem to mind, however, raising his head again with a tranquil smile. “It is our great honor to serve you, Your Imperial Majesty. Welcome to the Sky Temple.” “The priests have finished their preparations,” $aname informs you. “<<if $coronation isnot 'closed'>>The nobility have already arrived as well. <</if>>We can start the ritual whenever you’re ready, except…” “Except?” you prompt; you don’t like the hesitance in $atheir tone, nor what it promises. Your hunch turns out to be right. “The Mîrs are waiting to meet you.” [[Continue|7.23]] While your tension at the news is a given, this time, there is also a brighter thought that accompanies it, one that builds the tension into anticipation instead of anxiety. This is a chance for a do-over. You weren’t prepared for Steward Welat and the nobility, but this time, you knew days in advance that you would be meeting the Mîrs of the provinces during your coronation. You can make up for having been overwhelmed by the steward the first time by handling the Mîrs with confidence. It also helps that there are only five Mîrs to speak of—technically four, excluding the one from Şevan who hasn’t been appointed yet. The head of the Council of Stewards of Şevan will be attending instead, who, according to $dname at least, has been the one foremost in charge of the province as an interim governor of sorts, barring power struggles with nobility and local leaders. You don’t know much else about them except for their title and name, Keeper Bazo—<em>Keeper</em> being the title appointed to the head of a provincial council. <<if $coronation is 'closed'>>It is, at the very least, a little bit less pressure compared to a room full of dozens of nobility as an audience, though the Mîrs' titles rank higher in comparison. They are also experienced at leading their own respective provinces, so they might look at you even more critically than the nobles did.<<else>>There are also still the nobles that will be present for the proceedings as well, though you're less concerned about them than you are meeting the Mirs.<</if>> Still, you can’t let that throw you off; you’re determined to make a good first impression. Besides which, it will be interesting to meet Mîr Behram—the one in charge of the province of Rojan, yet nowhere to be found in his own capital. <<if $loveinterest is 'X'>>You're especially curious to see how $xname will react to Behram's presence, considering all the stories.<</if>> You look back at $aname, and while you don’t feel quite calm, your resolve helps steady you. “Take me to them.” $aname inclines $atheir head, then turns and starts to walk, leading you toward a large corridor that seemingly curls around the temple’s structure. $rname walks beside you, while $dname and $xname follow together with the priests and your retinue of guards, filling the hallways with echoing footsteps. [[Continue|7.24]] You notice there is an odd amount of sunlight present, but it somehow doesn’t feel warm. As your eyes trace up the walls, they widen in amazement at what you find: the walls are short and there are no ceilings to speak of, cutting them off into open air, but where you expect to see the inside of the domed roof, you instead find the open sky. The sun is shining, a few wisps of clouds floating by in the bright blue sky high above you, as if you were outside. “It’s a highly complex illusion,” $rname clarifies with glittering eyes when $rthey notices you looking. “It reflects parts of the sky. The priests use it for divination at night—they’ll be divining signs for your rule as well, after your coronation.” “Let’s hope they’re good ones,” you say. The last thing you need is a bad omen. “I’m sure they will be.” A sudden breeze passes through the hallway and you shiver at the tinge of magic it carries, causing the water spirits attached to you to shimmer outward in blue hues. <em>Friends.</em> The word is pushed into your mind by the water spirits, and you blink as the gust of wind starts to circle around you<<if $hairstyle isnot 'shaved' or $hairstyle isnot 'braided' or $hairstyle isnot 'done up'>>, blowing wildly through your hair<</if>>. The magic charged within it makes your face tingle, bordering on being uncomfortable. “Air spirits?” you ask, glancing over your shoulder at the head priest. “Indeed, Your Imperial Majesty,” Afrîn confirms. “Air spirits cannot be bound; they dwell freely within the temple, as is in their nature. Sometimes they leave for a while to take to the skies, then return again, but they never like to linger long in one place. They usually get along well with water spirits, though all spirits that share a home, such as the city, tend to get along well with one another. They congregate at times, much like old friends who would visit one another.” While you’re thankful for the information, you’re starting to understand what $aname meant when $athey said the head priest likes to talk. Thankfully the air spirits move on from you, drawn toward $rname instead—they circle around $rthem much gentler than they did with you, blowing softly through $rtheir long locks like a caress that makes $rname chuckle, before passing $rthem by as well. “As always, they seem pleased to see you, $rtitle $rname,” Afrîn comments with amusement as the air spirits sweep past a mostly indifferent $xname, barely seeming to react to $xthem, before reaching $dname, who grimaces. Purple sparks crackle in the air around $dname, thin strings of lightning dancing across $dtheir armor. $xname snorts with amusement as $dname starts waving at the air. “Be gone!” “Not very fond of you, are they?” $xname teases, drawing a scowl from $dname as the air spirits move on, and $aname leads your group through an open doorway into a large room. This hall must be the innermost sanctum of the temple. You see a wide, circular set of stairs leading up to a tall platform right below the artificial sky, where you assume the coronation ritual will be taking place. There is no sign of the Mîrs<<if $coronation isnot closed>> and the nobles<</if>> yet, however. “They’re waiting in another room,” $aname says, preempting your question. “We can call them in whenever you’re ready.”<<if $loveinterest is 'A'>> Maybe it’s merely due to the occasion, but you’re noticing that $aname is acting a lot stiffer and more formal than $athey usually does. You wouldn’t think much of it ordinarily since it is an important day, but even now $athey’s not looking directly at you. Seeing as you have an audience, however, you can’t exactly ask $athem about it in front of everyone.<</if>> Turning your gaze towards the stairs, you consider your next course of action. <ul class ="a"> <li>[[Stand on top of the staircase while you receive the Mîrs.|7.25a][$mirapp to $mirapp + 1]]</li> <li>[[Remain on equal footing while you receive the Mîrs.|7.25b][$behram to $behram + 1]]</li> </ul><<if $calc gt $kind>>It occurs to you that the Royal Palace’s throne room was designed like it was for a reason. With the architecture of the Sky Temple, you can similarly take advantage of it. Seeing as you’re lacking preparation in how to be the Crown, and the nobles and Steward Welat already tested you once before, it would be wise to emphasize your authority as much as possible.<<else>>You’re not used to concerning yourself with appearances beyond not being noticed, but leveling your environment to your advantage is one thing you’re familiar with. This time, while the setting is different, the principle is the same; you have to emphasize that you are the Crown, in whatever way you can, in case the Mîrs try to test you like Steward Welat and the nobility did. <</if>> You take toward the stairs, starting to climb up to the top. <<if $pass gt $ass>>While you feel strange about giving orders to people, you know you have to get used to doing sooner rather than later, and there is no better time to start than now.<<else>>While you’re not used to giving orders to people, it doesn’t feel as unnatural as you thought it might, the words sounding more confident than even you expected.<</if>> “$rname, $aname, follow me.” “Of course,” $rname says, seeming pleased by your direction, and $rthey and $aname fall into step behind you, $aname following without a word. “Your Imperial Majesty?” Afrîn asks, seeming confused. “Do you not wish to meet the Mîrs?” “I do,” you reply, reaching the top of the platform and turning around to peer down at the others. $dname looks at you knowingly and with approval, while $xname merely arches $xtheir brows in amusement, no doubt anticipating a show. “Allow me to introduce them to you, Your Imperial Majesty,” $rname says, and you nod. You wouldn’t know which face to place with which name on your own. “You can send them in now,” you tell the priest. Despite your outward calm, your heart beats fast, the straightness of your back locked into rigidity due to the tension in your spine and shoulders. You only get one shot at a first impression, after all. Afrîn nods at one of the priests accompanying him, who bows to him as well as you before they hurry off toward a single door on the right side of the chamber. You watch them leave while reminding yourself that you are the one in charge. Etiquette is one thing, you are still the Crown: at the end of the day, they have no choice but to listen to you. <<if $loveinterest is 'R'>>“You’ll do fine,” you hear $rname whisper from over your shoulder, bringing a small smile to your face as you remember that you’re not standing alone on the platform.<</if>><<if $loveinterest is 'A'>>“If they try to give you lip, I can always escort them out for you,” you hear $aname murmur from over your shoulder, bringing a small smile to your face as you remember that you’re not standing alone on the platform.<</if>><<if $loveinterest is 'X'>>As you wait, you meet $xname’s gaze, standing far below you. $cxthey gives you an irreverent wink when $xthey notices you looking, bringing a small smile to your face as you remember that you’re not alone.<</if>><<if $loveinterest is 'D'>>As you wait, you meet $dname’s gaze, standing far below you. $cdthey gives you a barely perceptible nod when $dthey notices you looking, bringing a small smile to your face as you remember that you’re not alone.<</if>> Not soon after, the priest returns, followed by the people you presume to be the Mîrs of the provinces. [[Continue|7.26]] Standing atop the platform might give you a superior position, it might not be wise to lord your authority over the Mîrs during your very first meeting. They’re not merely nobles, after all, but people who have each been ruling entire provinces while the Crown has been absent—they have much more experience than you. <<if $calc gt $kind>>Besides which, having them underestimate you might work in your favor later on.<</if>> You move to stand in front of the stairs instead. <<if $pass gt $ass>>While you feel strange about giving orders to people, you know you have to get used to doing sooner rather than later, and there is no better time to start than now.<<else>>While you’re not used to giving orders to people, it doesn’t feel as unnatural as you thought it might, the words sounding more confident than even you expected.<</if>> “$rname, $aname, stand on either side of me.” “Of course,” $rname says, seeming pleased by your direction, and $rthey and $aname fall into step behind you, $aname following without a word. “Allow me to introduce the Mîrs to you, Your Imperial Majesty.” You nod; you wouldn’t know which face to place with which name on your own. “You can send them in now,” you tell the priest. Despite your outward calm, your heart beats fast, the straightness of your back locked into rigidity due to the tension in your spine and shoulders. You only get one shot at a first impression, after all. Afrîn nods at one of the priests accompanying him, who bows to him as well as you before they hurry off toward a single door on the right side of the chamber. You watch them leave while reminding yourself that you are the one in charge. Etiquette is one thing, you are still the Crown: at the end of the day, they have no choice but to listen to you. <<if $loveinterest is 'R'>>“You’ll do fine,” you hear $rname whisper from over your shoulder, bringing a small smile to your face as you remember that you’re not standing alone on the platform.<</if>><<if $loveinterest is 'A'>>“If they try to give you lip, I can always escort them out for you,” you hear $aname murmur from over your shoulder, bringing a small smile to your face as you remember that you’re not standing alone on the platform.<</if>><<if $loveinterest is 'X'>>As you wait, you meet $xname’s gaze, standing across from you. $cxthey gives you an irreverent wink when $xthey notices you looking, bringing a small smile to your face as you remember that you’re not alone.<</if>><<if $loveinterest is 'D'>>As you wait, you meet $dname’s gaze, standing across from you. $cdthey gives you a barely perceptible nod when $dthey notices you looking, bringing a small smile to your face as you remember that you’re not alone.<</if>> Not soon after, the priest returns, followed by the people you presume to be the Mîrs of the provinces. [[Continue|7.26]] The first one to enter the chamber after the priest is a person of short stature, though that does not make their appearance any less striking. Their dark brown hair—streaked with the gray of respectable age—is braided in an intricate, low ponytail draped over their shoulder, reaching down to their waist. Their dress seems to contain nearly every shade of blue, starting with a light hue that glitters with gold at the shoulders, before gradually darkening down the fabric, its lengthy hem flowing across the ground like ripples of black water. “Mîr Lîlan who goes by she, presiding over the province of Avdin, Your Imperial Majesty,” $rname announces<<if $astory is true>>, and this is a name you remember hearing before from $aname in particular—she was the one who nominated $athem for the position of Royal Protector, if you remember right<</if>>. She appears to be the embodiment of grace as she moves across the chamber with a serene smile <<if $mirapp is 1>>toward the platform where you stand, not raising her eyes to you once<<else>> to approach you, standing still in front of you and glancing at you in curiosity<</if>>. Her gaze briefly lifts to $aname as well, though it doesn’t linger long. You don’t have the time to take in her appearance any further, however, as the next Mîr has already entered the chamber. $rname announces them as well. “Mîr Sarya who goes by they or she, presiding over the province of Penawar, Your Imperial Majesty.” The first thing you notice about them is their long, green tunic with an ankle-length golden skirt worn beneath. The colors of their garments are not as striking as those of Mîr Lîlan, but they are more intricately detailed with handwoven golden patterns along the lining of their tunic. A soft golden shawl is draped along their arms, which they appear to be barely keeping from dragging over the floor, even though they stand at a fairly tall height. Their auburn hair is cut short, curly locks creating something of a mess atop their head. Unlike Mîr Lîlan, Mîr Sarya hurries toward the platform, ducking their head in what appears to be embarrassment. As you look at them more closely, they appear to be rather young—much younger than Mîr Lîlan, in any case, who has notable laugh lines around her mouth and and deep crow’s feet at the corners of her eyes. In comparison, Mîr Sarya looks rather wide-eyed and bemused as they glance up at you, then quickly looking down at the floor again. “Mîr Mêrxas who goes by he, presiding over the province of Zerat.” The viper’s nest, as $xname called it. Mîr Mêrxas enters the room, dressed mainly in layers of white and gold robes. He’s the same height as Mîr Lîlan and built sturdy, hips as broad as his chest, giving him a rather rectangular shape—his square jaw doesn’t help much. The only thing soft about the man appears to be his hair, thin wisps of black along the sides of his head; the rest of it seems to be balding rather heavily, but it suits him in a strange way. He joins the other two without a word, hands folded behind his back, an expression of patience on his face. Two more to go. You’re wondering if they intentionally timed this so that each of them can have a suitably dignified entrance, and the hilarity of that thought nearly makes you break your composure with a grin. When the fourth person enters, dressed almost entirely in red, your near-grin dies before it reaches your lips. “Mîr Behram who goes by he, presiding over the province of Rojan, Your Imperial Majesty,” $rname says, $rtheir inflection not any different than from when $rthey announced the previous three Mîrs, but you notice $rthem glance at $xname as $rthey speaks. Your eyes flit over to $xname as well, catching the way $xthey crosses $xtheir arms over $xtheir chest, $xtheir previously bored expression tensing into one that radiates displeasure while Mîr Behram enters. He’s not exactly what you expected. Mîr Behram appears to be rather average looking in all respects. His hair is cut short, beard neatly clipped, both a neutral, light brown color. There’s nothing remarkable about his features, or his posture, or even his clothes; they look expensively bland, a long-sleeved dark red tunic with brighter red shalwar beneath, only small threads of gold barely visible stitched into the neckline of his tunic and nothing more. You’re not sure <em>what</em> you imagined in your head, but perhaps it was someone who looked a little more… memorable? Mîr Behram has been immortalized into song for his cowardice, so if nothing else, you thought he would look more noteworthy. Instead, he just kind of looks like some random person, albeit a wealthy one, plucked off the streets of Marabad. He, like Mîr Lîlan, does not lift his gaze toward you as he walks across the room to join the others, all standing in a row in front of the stairs, dressed in the colors representing their respective provinces. Now there is only Keeper Bazo left. Except, no one else walks through the door. You look over at $rname in question, but $rthey appears just as confused as you are. Nonetheless, $rname introduces you to them in turn. “You stand before the soon-to-be Twenty-First Crown of Arsur, $ctheir Imperial Majesty $name $surname,” $rname speaks, $rtheir demeanor cool but civil—more than it was with the nobility last time. The Mîrs that are present all bow in unison now that Mîr Behram has joined them, greeting you with a perfectly polite, “Your Imperial Majesty.” Mîr Lîlan adds, seeming to be speaking for the whole group, “It is our great honor and joy to serve you.” [[Continue|7.27]]<<set $map to true>>[ <b>Royal Codex updated | [[Geography]] updated</b> ] <<if $blunt gt $charm>>You ignore their pleasantries. “Where is Keeper Bazo?” If they are taken aback by your blunt tone, they don’t show it—except for Mîr Sarya, who winces slightly. But it is Mîr Behram who answers you, his tone surprisingly apologetic. “The Keeper could not make it, Your Imperial Majesty.” You resist the urge to frown, not wanting to show any kind of emotion that could indicate that you are rattled by this development. “Why?” “Lord Behram is too kind,” Mîr Mêrxas says, thick brows turning down into a disapproving frown at his peer. “The Keeper declined the invitation, Your Imperial Majesty.”<<else>>“I’m pleased to see you all could make it on such short notice,” you say, keeping your tone pleasant before asking the foremost question on your and everyone else’s mind. “But it seems Keeper Bazo could not.” The Mîrs are silent for a moment, as if trying to decide between the four of them who will speak first, until Mîr Behram eventually responds, sounding surprisingly apologetic. “The Keeper was otherwise occupied, Your Imperial Majesty,” he says, earning him a disapproving look from Mîr Mêrxas as his thick brows furrow into a scowl. “Mîr Behram is too kind.” Mêrxas looks up at you. “The Keeper declined the invitation, Your Imperial Majesty.”<</if>> “Declined?” you repeat, trying to keep the surprise from your face, but it is felt through your spine as it stiffens. You meet $rname’s gaze, whose eyes have widened slightly in similar shock. “Declining an invitation from the Crown is unprecedented,” $dname says from beside the Mîrs, frowning deeply as $dthey looks at Mîr Mêrxas. “Did he give a reason?” “The messenger only arrived an hour ago and claimed the situation in Şevan was too dire for the keeper to leave,” Mîr Mêrxas says, but before he can continue voicing his opinion, Mîr Behram cuts him off. “Which is true, Your Imperial Majesty,” he says, the inclining his head to $dname. “Respectfully, this is an unprecedented situation, General. We must be understanding of the circumstances; Şevan is on the brink of civil war, after all.” $dname appears thoughtful at this, eyeing Mîr Behram with an assessing gaze, while $xname continues to look like $xthey’d rather be anywhere but here, $xtheir stare wandering the chamber while $xthey ignores the proceedings. “This was nothing more than a political statement, and a personal insult to the Crown!” Mîr Mêrxas snaps at Mîr Behram, tone bordering on being irate before he takes a breath and turns back to you. “Your Imperial Majesty, Keeper Bazo could have easily sent another councilor as a representative. We cannot be expected to believe that <em>everyone</em> in the region was occupied! The truth of the matter is that Keeper Bazo and the rest of his council have always harbored ambitions of separatism from the rest of Arsur—” “Keeper Bazo’s politics are neither here nor there,” Mîr Behram interrupts calmly, which only seems to further infuriate Mîr Mêrxas. This is not what you expected. Your gaze flits between the two Mîrs who seem to be on opposite sides of this issue, though considering Mîr Mêrxas presides over a province that is overrun with the Followers of Vidarna, you wouldn’t have expected him to feel so offended on your behalf. Perhaps he differs from the rest of the nobility, or perhaps this is all an act to win your trust. At the moment, you can’t tell what’s more likely without knowing more about the man himself. Mîr Behram also continues to surprise you. He appears civil but self-assured, not remotely like the coward the stories describe him as. Then again, Steward Welat also appeared to be perfectly polite right up until the point he attempted to undermine you. <<if $loveinterest is 'X'>> You look over at $xname, who is clearly not amused by the proceedings, specifically Mîr Behram’s part in it. What is the story between those two?<</if>> Meanwhile Mîr Mêrxas looks like he’s building himself up to start ranting in outrage after Behram’s rebuttal, but then one of the other Mîrs finally speaks up, having watched the argument this entire time. Mîr Lîlan’s voice cuts through the tension with clarity. “Your Imperial Majesty,” she says, inclining her head toward you. “Yours is the only opinion that matters in this situation. What do you wish to do regarding Keeper Bazo? You may publicly condemn him for his refusal to attend or forgive him for the trespass—either would weaken or strengthen his position in Şevan. Of course, you can also leave the decision to a later date.” You appreciate the brief explanation; without it, you would’ve had to ask someone, and that would’ve made you look clueless in front of the Mîrs. “I would advise against leaving the decision for later, Your Imperial Majesty,” Mîr Mêrxas says, seeming to have calmed down a little as he addresses you respectfully. Mîr Behram nods. “On this point I would agree. It may come across as weak to hesitate.” You look at the other two Mîrs. “Mîr Mêrxas and Mîr Behram have certainly made their opinions known. Do you two have anything to say on the matter?” Mîr Sarya hesitates, speaking uncertainly, “Whatever you decide, Your Imperial Majesty, I’m sure it will be the right choice.” They’re trying to be encouraging, but it’s not very useful. You finally look at Mîr Lîlan, who gives you a regretful smile. “I’m afraid I won’t be much use in this regard, Your Imperial Majesty. Unlike Mîr Behram and Mîr Mêrxas, I have not personally met Keeper Bazo; I could not say whether his reason given for declining is sincere or politically motivated. Personally, I would wait to make a decision, but Mîr Mêrxas and Mîr Behram are correct to say some might see that as a weakness.” Mîr Behram has met Keeper Bazo personally? That’s curious, considering their two provinces couldn’t be farther apart. You look over at $rname and $aname standing beside you and behind you. “I don’t see any right answers,” $rname muses, a pensive look on $rtheir face. “Each choice has its downsides and benefits.” $aname’s eyes linger on Mîr Behram for a moment, before $athey adds to $rname, “Agreed.” You look back down at $dname and $xname, but they both remain silent; neither are technically in the position to judge political matters like these. Besides which, it’s better that you make a decision soon. Going around to ask every person in the room for what they think would no doubt cast you in an unfavorable light. The Mîrs await your judgment. <ul class="a"> <li>[[Condemn Keeper Bazo for declining the invitation.|7.28][$bazo to $bazo - 2]]</li> <li>[[Forgive Keeper Bazo for declining the invitation.|7.28][$bazo to $bazo + 2]]</li> <li>[[Wait until some time after the coronation to make a decision.|7.28]]</li> </ul><<if $bazo lt 0>>The fact that Mîr Behram is vouching for him is enough to make you at least a little bit suspicious, but even if Mîr Behram wasn’t involved, you can’t allow anyone to offend you and undermine your authority in this way on the day of your coronation, no less. The nobles of Rojan already tried and nearly succeeded in making a fool out of you, and you’re not going to let that happen here. “The situation in Şevan is unfortunate,” you say, “but that is no excuse to neglect his duty to the Crown. Keeper Bazo will be publicly condemned for his absence.” The Mîrs all bow, though Mîr Mêrxas bows more deeply than the rest, stating, “A very strong decision, Your Imperial Majesty.”<</if>><<if $bazo is 2>>The situation in Şevan has been described as quite dire by all accounts; frankly, you wouldn’t be surprised if everyone on the council <em>are</em> in fact too busy to attend. Though it makes you a little uneasy to be agreeing with Mîr Behram on this issue. “The situation in Şevan calls for understanding,” you say, “and I won’t condemn someone who is not present to defend himself. Keeper Bazo will be forgiven for his absence.” The Mîrs all bow, though Mîr Behram bows more deeply than the rest, stating, “Your mercy speaks well of you, Your Imperial Majesty.”<</if>><<if $bazo is 0>>Making a decision either in favor or against Keeper Bazo when you don’t know the first thing about what’s going on in Şevan and haven’t even met Bazo himself seems like it would be rash at best. Even if others might think you weak for it, you won’t be swayed by their opinions. “The situation in Şevan is no doubt a complicated one,” you say, “and I will not make a decision until I understand the full scope of what’s happening, in order to judge Keeper Bazo fairly.” The Mîrs all bow, though Mîr Lîlan bows more deeply than the rest, stating, “You are most wise, Your Imperial Majesty.”<</if>> <<if $ass gt $pass>>“Now, if that has been sufficiently resolved, we should move on to the ceremony,” you state.<<else>>You glance over at $rname, who takes your cue. “Now that the Crown has decided, we will move on to the ceremony,” $rthey announces.<</if>><<if $coronation isnot 'closed'>> “Invite the nobles in.” You’re grateful they weren’t present while you made your decision about Keeper Bazo, though you’ve no doubt they’ll hear about it immediately after the ceremony. Two temple servants move toward a separate doorway than from which the Mîrs came though, one located on the other side of the room. They enter through it, and moments later, the first of the nobles trickle inside. You’re less than delighted to see that Steward Welat is among them, and the presence of Lady Naza and Kham certainly doesn’t help with your tension—if something goes wrong, they’ll be at the front of the crowd to witness it. As the nobles take their positions behind the Mîrs, they all bow to you in unison. “Your Imperial Majesty.” “Be welcome,” is about the most civil thing you can manage, having neither patience nor composure to waste on them right now.<</if>> <<if $mirapp is 1>>You look over at High Master Afrîn, who bows before ascending the steps to the platform, flanked by one other priest who holds a folded white cloth in their hands, carrying it with them. Once Afrîn reaches the top of the platform, he getures towards a large circle outline in gold at the center of the platform.<<else>>You turn your back on the Mîrs and lead the way up the long stairs to the platform. $rname and $aname follow, as well as High Master Afrîn and one other priest who holds a folded white cloth in their hands, carrying it with them. Once you reach the top of the platform, right below the artificial sky where the illusory sun shines brightly down upon you, High Master Afrîn gestures towards a large circle outlined in gold on at the center of the platform.<</if>> “The ceremony will start once you step into the circle, Your Imperial Majesty,” Afrîn says, and your heartbeat starts to pound in your chest. This might be more nerve-wracking than dealing with the Mîrs. As if Afrîn can read your nerves from your posture, he adds, “You may have one or two people join you, if you wish. The experience is known to be overwhelming; past Crowns have often had two of their companions beside them for the ritual. Crown Zana even had five of their close friends join them, if I remember correctly, but that was considered to be quite unusual at the time.” No one told you about <em>that</em>, though it is pleasant news. “Won’t that affect the ritual?” Afrîn shakes his head. “The spirits may take notice of your companions, but ultimately their attention will be on you, Your Imperial Majesty.” Well, in that case… You turn your head and your gaze immediately finds the one person you would like most by your side. <<if $loveinterest is 'R'>>$rname meets your eyes and smiles reassuringly, eyes crinkling with warmth. “I’d be honored, $rnickname.” Already you feel a little more at ease, knowing that $rname will be there to support you.<</if>><<if $loveinterest is 'X'>>$xname meets your gaze from the bottom of the stairs, and when $xthey realizes you mean for $xthem to join you, for a rare moment you don’t find any of $xtheir usual cocksure confidence or teasing smiles. $cxthey looks unusually serious as $xthey walks up the steps, joining you on top of the platform and glancing at the circle before looking back at you. “If you’re sure, then... of course, I want to be there.” The Mîrs are certainly raising their eyebrows at your choice, but you don’t care. You want $xthem here with you. “I’m sure.”<</if>><<if $loveinterest is 'A'>>$aname meets your eyes, seeming almost surprised that you chose $athem. $catheir gaze shifts to the circle on the platform, and once again you see that distant expression on $atheir face, as if $atheir mind is somewhere far away. But then $athey seems to snap out of it, looking back at you. “I’m sure you would do well without me, but if you need me there, then… it would be my honor.” You wonder what’s been on $atheir mind this whole time to distract $athem to this extent, resolving to ask about it later.<</if>><<if $loveinterest is 'D'>>$dname meets your gaze from the bottom of the stairs, and bows. “You honor me, Your Imperial Majesty.” As $dname heads up the stairs to join you, you can’t help but smile a little at the expectedly formal answer; the distance usually frustrates you, but in a moment like this it’s almost reassuring. $dname never changes, and there’s something comforting about that.<</if>> The priest also said you could have a second person join you, should you feel the need. A little more friendly support would certainly be appreciated. <ul class ="a"> <<if $loveinterest is 'R'>><li><<if $agender is 'female'>>[[Have Ashti join you as well.|7.29][$ajoins to true]]<<else>>[[Have Azad join you as well.|7.29][$ajoins to true]]<</if>></li><li><<if $xgender is 'female'>>[[Have Xelara join you as well.|7.29][$xjoins to true]]<<else>>[[Have Xelef join you as well.|7.29][$xjoins to true]]<</if>></li><li><<if $dgender is 'female'>>[[Have Delal join you as well.|7.29][$djoins to true]]<<else>>[[Have Dara join you as well.|7.29][$djoins to true]]<</if>></li><</if>><<if $loveinterest is 'X'>><li><<if $agender is 'female'>>[[Have Ashti join you as well.|7.29][$ajoins to true]]<<else>>[[Have Azad join you as well.|7.29][$ajoins to true]]<</if>></li><li><<if $rgender is 'female'>>[[Have Rozerîn join you as well.|7.29][$rjoins to true]]<<else>>[[Have Rêzan join you as well.|7.29][$rjoins to true]]<</if>></li><li><<if $dgender is 'female'>>[[Have Delal join you as well.|7.29][$djoins to true]]<<else>>[[Have Dara join you as well.|7.29][$djoins to true]]<</if>></li><</if>><<if $loveinterest is 'A'>><li><<if $rgender is 'female'>>[[Have Rozerîn join you as well.|7.29][$rjoins to true]]<<else>>[[Have Rêzan join you as well.|7.29][$rjoins to true]]<</if>></li><li><<if $xgender is 'female'>>[[Have Xelara join you as well.|7.29][$xjoins to true]]<<else>>[[Have Xelef join you as well.|7.29][$xjoins to true]]<</if>></li><li><<if $dgender is 'female'>>[[Have Delal join you as well.|7.29][$djoins to true]]<<else>>[[Have Dara join you as well.|7.29][$djoins to true]]<</if>></li><</if>><<if $loveinterest is 'D'>><li><<if $agender is 'female'>>[[Have Ashti join you as well.|7.29][$ajoins to true]]<<else>>[[Have Azad join you as well.|7.29][$ajoins to true]]<</if>></li><li><<if $xgender is 'female'>>[[Have Xelara join you as well.|7.29][$xjoins to true]]<<else>>[[Have Xelef join you as well.|7.29][$xjoins to true]]<</if>></li><li><<if $rgender is 'female'>>[[Have Rozerîn join you as well.|7.29][$rjoins to true]]<<else>>[[Have Rêzan join you as well.|7.29][$rjoins to true]]<</if>></li><</if>> </ul><<if visited("7.29") is 1>><<if $ajoins is true>><<set $afriendship += 2>><</if>><<if $djoins is true>><<set $dfriendship += 2>><</if>><<if $xjoins is true>><<set $xfriendship += 2>><</if>><<if $rjoins is true>><<set $rfriendship += 2>><</if>><</if>><<if $loveinterest is 'R'>><<if $ajoins is true>>$aname inclines $atheir head formally, maybe almost stiffly, stating, “It would be my honor, Your Imperial Majesty.” $rname shoots a beaming smile at $aname as well, seeming unable to contain $rtheir delight at being able to join you for the ritual. “Isn’t it exciting, $aname?” $aname appears to relax and looks faintly amused at $rname’s glee, lips twitching for a moment. “No doubt you’ve been looking forward to this.” “Oh, well, I didn’t know the Crown could take companions with them,” $rname says, briefly looking at you before averting $rtheir gaze again. “That detail escaped my notice. But even if I had known, I wouldn’t have presumed—” $aname shakes $atheir head with a smile. “Easy, $rname. I’m sure <em>everyone else</em> presumed you’d be chosen first,” $athey says, shooting you a knowing look that makes you feel entirely bare.<</if>><<if $xjoins is true>>$xname is staring off into the distance with an unusually serious expression. $cxthey blinks when you call for $xthem, startling from $xtheir thoughts, then grins at your decision. “Of course, Your Imperial Majesty! An excellent decision.” $rname gives $xname an exasperated look as $xthey bounds up the stairs to join you. “No mischief, $xname.” “Mischief, from <em>me</em>?” $xname repeats, scandalized. “$rtitle $rname, I would never dare defile such a sacred ritual!” $rname sighs deeply, seeming resigned to it. “If you’re going to lie, at least do it convincingly.” “$rname, I swear upon my honor—” “Which honor would that be?” $xname pauses considerately. “…You have a point.” You try and fail to hold back a smile; with how often $xname likes to tease $rname, like an annoying older <<if $xgender is 'male'>>brother<<else>>sister<</if>>, they really seem like two bickering siblings half the time.<</if>><<if $djoins is true>>$dname bows when you call for $dthem to join you. “You honor me, Your Imperial Majesty.” $rname shoots a small smile at $dname as well as $dthey heads up the stairs to join you. “Are you sure you’re comfortable being exposed to spirits, general?” $dname nods, standing beside you. “It won’t be an issue, $rtitle $rname, I assure you.” $rname exchanges an amused look with you; neither of you are entirely sure you believe $dthem. “If you get nervous at any point, I’ll be right here to—” “Why would I get nervous?” $dname says a tad too quickly, crossing $dtheir arms over $dtheir chest, clearing $dtheir throat. “I’ll be fine! You should focus on the Crown.” $rname smiles innocently. “If you say so, general.” $crthey appears to respect $dname enough not to tease $dthem about it, unlike how $aname and $xname no doubt would have.<</if>><</if>><<if $loveinterest is 'X'>><<if $rjoins is true>>$rname smiles brightly when you ask $rthem to join as well. “I’d be honored, $rnickname.” “Excited, are we?” $xname says teasingly, seeming a little more like $xthemselves now. “You like spirits, don’t you, $rtitle $rname?” $rname eyes $xthem warily. “Are you setting me up for some sort of joke, or a pun, or…?” “Well, I wasn’t at first, but now that you mention it—” “$xname,” $aname says warningly. $xname sighs, throwing $xtheir hands up in exasperation. “Fine!” You try and fail to hold back a smile; with how often $xname likes to tease $rname, like an annoying older <<if $xgender is 'male'>>brother<<else>>sister<</if>>, they really seem like two bickering siblings half the time.<</if>><<if $djoins is true>>$dname bows when you call for $dthem to join you. “You honor me, Your Imperial Majesty.” $xname grins teasingly at $dname as $dthey heads up the stairs to join you. “What about the big, scary spirits, $dname? Sure you can handle it?” $dname scoffs, standing beside you as $dthey narrows $dtheir eyes at $xname. “Spirits don’t worry me. <em>You</em>, on the other hand…” $xname looks offended. “What did I ever do to earn such mistrust? I swear, I could stand here doing nothing and you’d take offense to me breathing!” “Correct.” Your lips wobble as you try to contain your laugh at $xname’s scandalized expression, though amusement twinkles in $xtheir eyes as well. Beside you $rname snorts, hiding $rtheir laughter behind a hand while $aname turns $atheir head away to obscure the grin on $atheir face.<</if>><<if $ajoins is true>>$aname inclines $atheir head formally, maybe almost stiffly, stating, “It would be my honor, Your Imperial Majesty.” $xname grins at $aname, clapping $athem on the shoulder. “Ease up, $aname! The spirits will mistake you for a block of stone if you’re this tense during the ritual.” “I could say the same to you,” $aname remarks, appearing to have noticed $xtheir somewhat uncharacteristic behavior as well. $xname’s grin almost falters a little, before $xthey smooths out $xtheir expression into nonchalance, giving a shrug. “I’m not immune to nerves. This is an important moment for the Crown, after all.” $cxthey avoids your gaze as $xthey says it; you get the sense there’s something else at play. You meet $aname’s eyes, but $athey doesn’t seem to know what’s bothering $xname any more than you do.<</if>><</if>><<if $loveinterest is 'A'>><<if $rjoins is true>>$rname smiles brightly when you ask $rthem to join as well. “I’d be honored, $rnickname.” $crthey turns to $aname with a beaming smile, seeming unable to contain $rtheir delight. “Isn’t this exciting, $aname?” $aname looks faintly amused at $rname’s glee, lips twitching for a moment before $atheir expression smooths out again. “More exciting for the Crown than for us, no doubt.” $rname glances over at you, $rtheir grin turning playful as $rthey gives you a wink before turning back to $aname. “I’m sure you’re pleased to be able to support $them.” $aname blinks, and you smile as $athey appears flustered for a rare moment. “I… yes, I suppose so.”<</if>><<if $djoins is true>>$dname bows when you call for $dthem to join you. “You honor me, Your Imperial Majesty.” $aname arches $atheir brows slightly as $dthey heads up the stairs to join you. “You’re not worried about the spirits?” $dname comes to stand beside you as $dthey says to $aname, “It won’t be an issue.” “I’m certain it won’t be,” $aname says slowly, seeming skeptical, earning $athem a frown from $dname. “Spirits don’t frighten me,” $dname emphasizes. “…Sure.” The sarcasm is purposefully thick, emphasized by the small but amused little smile forming in the corner of $aname’s mouth. “I mean it!”<</if>><<if $xjoins is true>>$xname is staring off into the distance with an unusually serious expression. $cxthey blinks when you call for $xthem, startling from $xtheir thoughts, then grins at your decision. “Of course, Your Imperial Majesty! An excellent decision.” $aname gives $xname a long look as $xthey bounds up the stairs to join you on the platform, but doesn’t say anything. When $xname joins you, $xthey notices $aname’s stare and grins at $athem, clapping $athem on the back. “Ease up, $aname! The spirits will mistake you for a block of stone if you’re this tense during the ritual.” $aname rolls $atheir eyes, though $athey does seem to relax a little more. “You realize how important this ceremony is? You could do with a little more deference, $xname.” $xname laughs. “Look who’s talking! I wasn’t the one who ripped the nobles to shreds last time.” $aname shrugs, a small smile playing at $atheir lips as $athey glances at you. “That was for the Crown’s sake.” $xname notices the look shared between you but says nothing of it, merely looking on with amusement.<</if>><</if>><<if $loveinterest is 'D'>><<if $rjoins is true>>$rname smiles brightly when you ask $rthem to join as well. “I’d be honored, $rnickname.” $crthey turns to $dname with a smile, seeming unable to contain $rtheir delight, though it fades as $rthey gives $dname a curious look. “Will you be able to handle being exposed to spirits?” “Of course,” $dname says without hesitation. “The Crown has need of me, after all.” $cdthey meets your eyes in a brief glance, but then quickly looks away again, stern expression returning to $dtheir face. You’ll take it. “If you say so, general,” $rname says, drawing a frown from $dname, to which $rthey smiles back innocently.<</if>><<if $xjoins is true>>$xname is staring off into the distance with an unusually serious expression. $cxthey blinks when you call for $xthem, startling from $xtheir thoughts, then grins at your decision. “Of course, Your Imperial Majesty! An excellent decision.” $dname already looks exasperated as $xname bounds up the stairs to join you, though when $dthey catches you looking, $dthey is quick to reassure you: “I’m not questioning your decision, Your Imperial Majesty. I’m sure even $xname knows to behave $xthemselves at such an occasion.” “Even $xname?” $xname repeats, appearing affronted as $xthey stands beside you. “Excuse me, I’ll have you know that I was raised with perfect manners!” “And how I wish you would make use of them,” $dname says with a sigh, looking more tired than annoyed at this point. You hear $aname huff a laugh behind you while $rname snorts, and you almost feel as if you should apologize for your choice.<</if>><<if $ajoins is true>>$aname inclines $atheir head formally, maybe almost stiffly, stating, “It would be my honor, Your Imperial Majesty.” $dname nods in approval at your choice. “We will be sure to keep you safe should anything go wrong.” That has $aname arching $atheir brows at $dthem. “What exactly are you planning to do? Fistfight the spirits?” You try not to laugh while $rname snorts beside you, trying to smother $rtheirs behind $rtheir hand while $dname glares at $aname. “I meant <em>other</em> possible dangers!”<</if>><</if>> High Master Afrîn interrupts the conversation by clearing his throat, then gestures toward the circle. “If you are ready, Your Imperial Majesty?” “Yes, of course,” you lie, looking over at the unassuming golden circle and steeling yourself before you approach it. Your curiosity to experience the ritual wars with your fear of what will happen if it goes wrong, but you <<if $pass gt $ass>>manage to keep your composure<<else>>squash that hesitance<</if>> as you step into the circle, flanked by your two companions on either side. The priests join you, Afrîn standing opposite to you with the other priest by his side. “Then let’s begin,” Afrîn says, raising his hand over a smaller circle filled in with solid gold at the center of the larger golden circle you are standing in. Looking closely, you can see sigils carved into the gold with faint white lines that light up when Afrîn’s palm hovers over it. The ground below you quivers for a moment, before the circle you’re standing on detaches itself from the floor, lifting all of you up into the air. You wobble slightly on your feet but manage to maintain your balance<<if $coronationroute is 'parade'>> levitating as you had been on the parade platform<<else>>, resisting the urge to grab a hold of <<if $loveinterest is 'R'>>$rname<</if>><<if $loveinterest is 'A'>>$aname<</if>><<if $loveinterest is 'X'>>$xname<</if>><<if $loveinterest is 'D'>>$dname<</if>> beside you as you approach the domed ceiling<</if>>. <<if $coronationroute is 'parade'>>Even though the circle beneath your feet feels as solid as the ground, this feels much less secure than the platform you rode in on during the parade. Mainly because you can lean over the edge and stare directly at the floor.<<else>>The circle beneath your feet feels as solid as the ground, but that doesn’t reassure you much in terms of feeling secure. Mainly because you can lean over the edge and stare directly at the floor.<</if>> The Mîr and the others who are watching you from below now look uncomfortably small from your vantage point. You nearly sigh in relief when the circle stops rising, leaving you suspended in the air halfway to the domed ceiling above you. “Lift the dome,” Afrîn calls down to the priests below you, which has you looking up at the artificial sky in anticipation. The fake sun hovering above you slowly fades away, its light dimming until the entire chamber falls to darkness. Only the gold of your eyes illuminates the shadows, and with the departure of light it’s as if the sound of the world left as well, leaving an oppressive silence in its wake. You can almost hear your own heart beating between your ears, your hand moving without permission, reaching out blindly in the dark for something to steady yourself with. <<if $loveinterest is 'R'>>Someone else’s fingers catch yours, soft to the touch, almost tentative as they wrap hesitantly around your hand and make the pulse in your wrist flutter. $rname says nothing beside you, but $rthey doesn’t need to; you gently squeeze $rtheir hand, grateful for its presence before the light begins to return to the room and it lets go again.<</if>><<if $loveinterest is 'X'>>Someone else’s callused fingers catch yours, warm and comforting as they wrap around your hand and make the pulse in your wrist flutter. $xname says nothing beside you, but $xthey doesn’t need to; you gently squeeze $xtheir hand, grateful for its presence before the light begins to return to the room and it lets go again.<</if>><<if $loveinterest is 'A'>>Someone else’s callused fingers catch your wrist, their touch gentle and almost hesitant, your pulse fluttering unsteadily when they brush over it. $aname says nothing beside you, but $athey doesn’t need to; you let $athem hold your wrist, grateful for its presence before the light begins to return to the room and it lets go again.<</if>><<if $loveinterest is 'D'>>Someone else’s callused fingers catch your wrist, steady and firm yet still gentle, your pulse fluttering unsteadily when they brush over it. $dname says nothing beside you, but $dthey doesn’t need to; you let $dthem hold your wrist, grateful for its presence before the light begins to return to the room and it lets go again.<</if>> At first you think someone must have lit some lights on the ceiling, but as the dome above you fades away and the sky slowly comes into view, the sun much farther away but ever-present above you, you almost think it’s another illusion. It’s not. You turn around, and from the platform, you can see through the dome—the crowds of Marabad, gathered in the square in front of the temple. They can all see you. [[Continue|7.30]]“I didn’t know the dome could become invisible,” you say as you turn back to Afrîn, not feeling as nervous as you thought you would. It helps that the crowds are indistinguishable from this distance, and they are much too far away to hear anything that you’re saying. Their shouting and cheering are distant echoes, nothing more than a background noise. “Only for coronations, Your Imperial Majesty,” Afrîn answers, glancing over at the priest by his side who unfolds the silk cloth they had been carrying, revealing familiar white gemstones beneath. They are slightly larger and rounder than the ones Perjin showed you, almost shaped into perfect circles like crystal balls. The tension you anticipated before hits you now at the sight of them. “These are Crystals of Concord, they will aid with the ritual,” Afrîn explains, giving a name to them, though you suspect the name only applies to <em>these</em> specific crystals, and not the smaller gems Perjin showed you before. “As a priest to a temple is required to form concords with its spirit before they can serve, so shall the Crown,” he continues, his eyes unblinking as they stare back at you—the coronation ritual has begun. “Arsur will be your temple, and you will be its priest. To do this, you must swear your sacred vows before the spirits, who will choose whether to give you their blessings. Do you agree to submit yourself to their judgment, Successor of Crown Ferzan?” Maybe it's your imagination, but as you gaze at the crystals that the other priest carries, you feel a tingling in your eyes. Not unpleasant or painful, but charged, the golden light of your gaze shining brightly on the white stones. <<if $ajoins is true>>$aname's presence is steady on your left,<</if>><<if $djoins is true>>$dname's presence is steady on your left,<</if>><<if $rjoins is true>>$rname's presence is steady on your left,<</if>><<if $xjoins is true>>$xname's presence is steady on your left,<</if>> <<if $loveinterest is 'A'>>while having $aname standing on your right<</if>><<if $loveinterest is 'R'>>while having $rname standing on your right<</if>><<if $loveinterest is 'X'>>while having $xname standing on your right<</if>><<if $loveinterest is 'D'>>while having $dname standing on your right<</if>> helps remind you that even in this moment, you are not alone. “I agree,” you answer, and as if reacting to your response, the crystals on the cloth start to shine brighter. You can almost hear a hum emanating from them, low and smooth, teasing at the edges of your senses as if it were coming from far, far away. From a depth beyond your reach. Afrîn smiles encouragingly at you, before he turns to the priest standing beside him and takes the first crystal from the cloth, holding it reverently between his fingertips. “Then it is time for your First Promise. Hold out both of your hands, palms facing up.” You do as he tells you, holding out your palms, expecting him to drop the crystal into them for you to catch. When he does drop it, however, the crystal never meets your palms; it falls, then stops, as if caught by an invisible force, hovering right above your hands. Your fingers begin to tingle like your eyes, spreading gradually through your hands as the crystal floats harmlessly in the air. You can't even feel it—or maybe, it's because you can't feel your hands anymore, either. The sensation should panic you, but instead you find yourself mesmerized by the weightlessness of it, as if your hands had become one with the air itself. “For your First Promise: Be as the endless Sky,” Afrîn says as the tingling gradually spreads through the rest of your body, and as he speaks, his voice seems to echo through the temple—it is more than just his voice. “Unbound to the World, yet keeping it within your Embrace as a Parent would keep a Child.” Your breath catches in your throat, your vision fading, your eyes unseeing. Afrîn, the temple, and your companions all fade away. For one silent moment, all you see is a blinding white <em>nothing</em> stretched out around you in every direction, infinite. You can't see your own hands anymore either, can't see your own body, as if you have become part of it. “I will be,” you speak into the white void with a mouth you no longer have, your voice barely a whisper, your mind struggling to comprehend what it is you're seeing, feeling, experiencing—it is too vast to grasp. The white in front of you suddenly parts, like the clouds parting for the sun, and the view you see is incomprehensible. It's the whole of Arsur at your feet. You have seen this view in maps before, feeling mildly hysterical but too numbed by shock to truly react. The Armas Mountains at the northern borders of Rojan now look no bigger than pebbles, the Ancient Marshes in Penawar a small spiderweb of canals, the grasslands of Zerat and Avdin transitioning into the deep orange of the Silent Desert that stretches through Şevan, no bigger than your palm. <em>Small</em>, the Sky says to you. <em>So, so, so small</em>. It sees everything, you realize, and it watches silently. Something compels you to look behind you, and while you can't feel or see your body, your vision somehow twists itself around. You see a perfect black void, littered with stars. The Moon hovers not too far away, always the Earth's companion, with the Sun further in the distance, shining most brightly within the void. Should Arsur cease to exist, the Sky will remain, as will the Earth, the Sun and the Oceans. Even if the Earth should die, if the Sky should break apart, if the Sun should fall to darkness, if the Stars should bleed out into the night—even then, the Void will still be here. As it has always been, holding everything within it, whether it be life or death. <em>Always, always, always.</em> In the grand scheme of things you are profoundly small, and your homeland so very fragile. It makes you—or the Sky, or its spirits, or whatever you are in this moment—unexpectedly protective of it, knowing how little its existence truly matters. This tiny land and the millions of lives inhabiting it, insignificant to the universe, relies on you to keep it. <em>Small little thing</em>. To protect it from the Void where Stars die without a sound. <em>Protect it</em>. It feels… [[…too heavy to carry.|7.31][$shadow to $shadow + 1]] [[…humbling.|7.31][$light to $light + 1]] As soon as the thought crosses your mind, your vision blinks back into the present. You reel from the sudden change, feeling a hand on the center of your back, steadying you as you sway on your feet. You have returned to yourself and are back in the temple, Afrîn standing before you, watching you cautiously. Parting your lips—and the movement feels strange, as you become accustomed to having a body again—you try to formulate anything resembling coherence, but no sound comes out. Nothing Perjin could've said would've prepared you for <em>that</em>. You realize belatedly you're still holding the crystal, and as soon as your gaze alights on it, the crystal suddenly breaks apart. It shatters into a thousand little pieces, swept upwards by a wind that rushes across your cheeks, carrying with it the faintest whisper: “<em>Crown $name</em>.” As you lower your hands back down to your sides, dazed, Afrîn smiles widely at you. “The air spirits have judged you worthy.” <<if $loveinterest is 'R'>>You meet $rname's gaze whose own smile glows with pride, $rtheir hand lingering on your back. "I knew they would."<</if>><<if $loveinterest is 'X'>>You meet $xname's gaze who grins back at you, $xtheir hand lingering on your back. "Didn't expect anything different."<</if>><<if $loveinterest is 'D'>>You meet $dname's gaze whose eyes have softened with the slightest of smiles, just then pulling $dtheir hand off your back. "As will the others."<</if>><<if $loveinterest is 'A'>>You meet $aname's gaze whose own smile is gentle but also, you notice, almost sad as $athey pulls $atheir hand off your back.<</if>> Only three more promises left. There is no time to consider what just happened, what you just saw and what you just became. Arsur has waited long enough. You take a deep breath, hoping to steady your pounding heart, and say to Afrîn, “Let’s move on.” “Indeed.” Afrîn takes another crystal from the cloth held by his fellow priest, but this one, he raises to eye-level. “Please hold still.” You don't move a muscle as he carries the crystal between the tips of his fingers to your head, slowly crossing the distance as he speaks. "For your Second Promise: Be as the sacred Waters, a bringer of Life to your Domain, ruling with infinite Wisdom." Then, the stone touches the center of your forehead—a splash of cold in your face, water rushing around your ears. The temple melts away into an endless, shadowed blue. This is not weightlessness. You float, a sensation you instantly recognize; the memory of a dream, a sunken home, a temple whispering kindly, sadly, into the depth of your sea. This time, your body has come with you, your clothes billowing from your frame as you sink, so gently, toward the bottom. The Sea embraces you, cradles you as you settle into its arms, and you speak your words once more: “I will be.” As soon as the promise is spoken, the Sea comes to life. From above, light breaks through the dimness of the blue surrounding you, allowing you to see much further than before. You start to see colorful shapes flit through the water in the distance, moving like a flock of birds in the air as they approach. Schools of fish in the brightest shades, a rainbow twisting and turning like a single creature in the water, swirling and spinning around you, brushing against you in quick, fleeting touches. <em>My children</em>. The Waters bring life, as the priest said, but it also holds it. Cherishes it, nurtures it, sighing it into Arsur as the tides kiss its shores like an adoring lover. It winds through its hills and marshes in rivers, fingers tracing a path across its body, gathering in lakes that are settled in its dips and divots to make a home. When it falls from the Sky, it only does so to soothe the burns, the heat, sinking into the soil to nourish it. It feels much different from the Sky, much closer to you, almost like a second home you never knew. Perhaps it is because of the water spirits attached to you, or perhaps it is simply innate. Some believe life began in the Oceans as they once covered all of the Earth, and only when its Waters receded did humans rise from its mud, given breath by the Sky, becoming the only creatures in existence able to carry Fire. The Waters do not watch you—do not watch people—like the Sky does, but that's because it doesn't need to. <<if $spirits is 'somber'>><em>My poor child,</em> Arsur's Waters sigh. Though you feel as if you have been drowning for a very long time, even still, it loves you.<</if>><<if $spirits is 'sympathetic'>><em>My dear child,</em> Arsur's Waters sigh. While you feel as if you have nothing left but ruins forgotten in the sea, even so, it loves you.<</if>><<if $spirits is 'admiring'>><em>My brave child,</em> Arsur's Waters sigh. Though you feel as if your determination to survive is as futile as swimming against the tide, even still, it loves you.<</if>> It always will. You are… [[…grateful.|7.32][$shadow to $shadow + 1]] [[…overwhelmed.|7.32][$light to $light + 1]] As soon as the feeling swells up within you, the blue recedes like a sudden tide, snapping your spirit back into your body. The experience is not as jarring as it was before. You blink several times, then squeeze your eyes shut when the crystal still pressed to your forehead shatters. You feel its dust fall down your cheeks, trailing, before the sensation vanishes and you open your eyes again. Afrîn meets your gaze with a smile. “The water spirits have judged you worthy.” “$name?” <<if $loveinterest is 'A'>>$aname<</if>><<if $loveinterest is 'R'>>$rname<</if>><<if $loveinterest is 'D'>>$dname<</if>><<if $loveinterest is 'X'>>$xname<</if>> whispers quietly from beside you, while <<if $ajoins is true>>$aname<</if>><<if $rjoins is true>>$rname<</if>><<if $djoins is true>>$dname<</if>><<if $xjoins is true>>$xname<</if>> looks on with concern. When you notice the tears rolling down your face, you understand why. Maybe that's what you felt, and not the dust from the crystal—the experience so far has been intense. Mustering up a smile as you wipe your tears away, you reassure <<if $loveinterest is 'A'>>$athem<</if>><<if $loveinterest is 'R'>>$rthem<</if>><<if $loveinterest is 'D'>>$dthem<</if>><<if $loveinterest is 'X'>>$xthem<</if>>. "I'm fine." You exhale a deep breath, and nod for Afrîn to continue. You feel a little more prepared each time, slowly getting accustomed to simply giving yourself over to it, instead of trying to control it or make sense of it. Two more promises. Afrîn reaches for the third crystal, plucking it from the cloth as delicately as the others. “Please hold still.” This one, he carries to your chest, toward the center of it, right below your collarbones. “For your Third Promise: Be as the unyielding Earth,” he recites, and you can almost feel the weight of the crystal even though it hasn’t touched you yet—much, much heavier than it looks. Somehow, you manage to breathe through it. “Let never your Children starve or suffer in poverty, Be their Shelter and their Home.” The crystal presses against your body, through your clothes, and once more the temple fades from vision. You are— <em>Home</em>. No. Your childhood home stands in front of you, just as you remember it on the sunniest day of the rare, idyllic memories you have left from before. When you still had a happy family. No, no, no. Not this. Not now. Your mind races to make sense of what you're seeing. Is this part of the judgment, or has something gone wrong? Did your nightmares—your pain—somehow taint the connection, or did the spirits do this on purpose? Show you this to test you? Would they be cruel enough to do that? If the Earth knows, it doesn't answer your questions. Instead it merely repeats, more softly this time, <em>home</em>. Body affixed to the ground like a statue, you can do nothing more but stare in silence as the door to your home slowly swings open, and then your heart breaks. Your mother. She stands smiling in the doorway, just as you remember her, but… younger. Fuller in her face, her cheeks not as gaunt. No shadows beneath her deep brown eyes, <<if $hairtexture is 'curly'>>her $haircolor curls short around her ears<</if>><<if $hairtexture is 'coily'>>her thick, coiled locks of $haircolor hair tied up high on her head<</if>><<if $hairtexture is 'wavy'>>her waves of $haircolor hair falling down her back<</if>><<if $hairtexture is 'straight'>>her long, straight $haircolor hair tied in a tail, falling down her back<</if>> still well-maintained. Young and happy, not yet exhausted to the bone, not yet trembling in her hands. She reaches one out to you, and it is her, as much as you don't want it to be. It is her voice coming from her mouth, beckoning you. “Come home, my love,” she says… [[…but this isn't your home, not anymore.|7.33][$light to $light + 1]] [[…and you want to, so badly.|7.33][$shadow to $shadow + 1]] Through the vision, you feel a tug on your fingers. “$name?” <<if $loveinterest is 'A'>>$aname<</if>><<if $loveinterest is 'R'>>$rname<</if>><<if $loveinterest is 'D'>>$dname<</if>><<if $loveinterest is 'X'>>$xname<</if>>’s voice— You turn around, tearing your gaze away from your childhood home to look behind you and find <<if $loveinterest is 'A'>>$athem<</if>><<if $loveinterest is 'R'>>$rthem<</if>><<if $loveinterest is 'D'>>$dthem<</if>><<if $loveinterest is 'X'>>$xthem<</if>> standing there, holding your hand, looking at you with concern before <<if $loveinterest is 'A'>>$athey<</if>><<if $loveinterest is 'R'>>$rthey<</if>><<if $loveinterest is 'D'>>$dthey<</if>><<if $loveinterest is 'X'>>$xthey<</if>> notices <<if $loveinterest is 'A'>>$atheir<</if>><<if $loveinterest is 'R'>>$rtheir<</if>><<if $loveinterest is 'D'>>$dtheir<</if>><<if $loveinterest is 'X'>>$xtheir<</if>> surroundings, eyes going wide at the sight of your home and your mother behind you. <<if $loveinterest is 'A'>>$cathey doesn't make a sound, but understanding dawns in $atheir eyes as $athey looks back at you, $atheir gaze kind. “It’s okay.”<</if>><<if $loveinterest is 'R'>>“What is…” $crtheir eyes return to you, and understanding dawns in them, pain reflected within as if $rthey can feel your own. “Oh, $name…”<</if>><<if $loveinterest is 'D'>>Wariness is visible in $dtheir face before $dtheir gaze returns to you, and $dtheir grip on your hand tightens, as if afraid you might slip out of $dtheir grasp.<</if>><<if $loveinterest is 'X'>>$cxtheir gaze returns to you, and you've never seen that look of sadness in it before, yet recognition at the same time. “It still hurts, doesn’t it?”<</if>> <<if $loveinterest is 'A'>><em>Protector</em>, the Earth speaks, rumbling in the ground beneath your feet with no voice, spanning an eternity. <em>Blood of gold, still looking for her. Where is she? Where is she? Where is—</em> “You’ve made your point!” $aname snaps, the angriest you’ve ever seen $athem, grip tightening on your hand as $athey glares at the ground. “Let us go.”<</if>><<if $loveinterest is 'R'>><em>Sorcerer</em>, the Earth speaks, rumbling in the ground beneath your feet with no voice, spanning an eternity. <em>A home lost to the storms. She left you behind. What if you fail her? What if—</em> If the Earth upsets $rthem, it doesn't show. $crthey looks composed and patient as $rthey replies, “She didn’t think I would fail her; she had faith in me.” $crthey looks at you, smiling. “I hope I make her proud.”<</if>><<if $loveinterest is 'D'>><em>General</em>, the Earth speaks, rumbling in the ground beneath your feet with no voice, spanning an eternity. <em>Honor sacrificed. For you, because of you. Disgraced. Disgraced. Disgra—</em> $dname's voice is quiet, yet it cuts through with the steel of a blade as $dtheir hand clings to yours, not meeting your eyes. "I know."<</if>><<if $loveinterest is 'X'>><em>Hero</em>, the Earth speaks, rumbling in the ground beneath your feet with no voice, spanning an eternity. <em><<if $xgender is 'male'>>Son<<else>>Daughter<</if>>. Liar. Murderer. You killed him. You killed him. You killed him. You killed him. You killed him. You killed him. You—</em> $xname says nothing, $xtheir eyes glazed over and empty, letting the words wash over $xthem like a rain $xthey must have stood in many times before, but you can't take it anymore. “Enough!” you cry out, gripping $xtheir hand more tightly in yours. $cxthey meets your eyes, a spark of life returning to $xtheirs. Your voice lowers to a whisper. “That’s enough.”<</if>> When the vision fades and the temple returns to you, <<if $loveinterest is 'A'>>$aname<</if>><<if $loveinterest is 'R'>>$rname<</if>><<if $loveinterest is 'D'>>$dname<</if>><<if $loveinterest is 'X'>>$xname<</if>> is no longer standing in front of you, but standing beside you as before like nothing happened, not holding your hand anymore either. Afrîn glances between the two of you, stating after a moment's hesitance, "The earth spirits have judged you worthy." You and <<if $loveinterest is 'A'>>$aname<</if>><<if $loveinterest is 'R'>>$rname<</if>><<if $loveinterest is 'D'>>$dname<</if>><<if $loveinterest is 'X'>>$xname<</if>> look at each other, and you know that whatever you saw and heard <em>did</em> truly happen, if only in your minds, or wherever that vision took you. <<if $loveinterest is 'A'>>Who was the <em>she</em> that the earth spirits mentioned?<</if>><<if $loveinterest is 'R'>>The earth spirits must've been talking about Lady Zerya; $rname handled that much better than how you handled seeing your mother again.<</if>><<if $loveinterest is 'D'>>Who were the earth spirits talking about, and why would $dname be to blame for them being disgraced?<</if>><<if $loveinterest is 'X'>>Who was the <em>him</em> that the earth spirits were talking about?<</if>> <<if $ajoins is true>>“Everything alright?” $aname asks<</if>><<if $djoins is true>>“Did something happen?” $dname asks<</if>><<if $rjoins is true>>“Are you two alright?” $rname asks<</if>><<if $xjoins is true>>“Doing okay there?” $xname asks<</if>>, looking between the two of you as well. “We're fine,” you say, though your voice is not as steady as you would’ve liked it to be. You didn’t even notice the crystal on your chest shattering, and absently brush the dust off the fabric of your clothes. You can sort through what just happened later, when there isn’t a coronation ritual to finish. For the last time, you turn back to Afrîn, clearing your throat before speaking again. “I’m ready to move on.” “Very well.” The fourth crystal is raised to your mouth, lightly touching your lips as the priest recites the final rite. It feels warm, radiating a gentle heat against your face, like the nostalgic glow of a bonfire at night, keeping the cold at bay. “For your Fourth Promise,” Afrîn says, “Be as the eternal Flame. Burn away Impurity and bring Light to Truth; let never a Falsehood stain upon history.” Once more—for the last time—the temple disappears, and everyone is gone. You stand at the top of a mountain. [[Continue|7.34]] It takes you a moment to become accustomed to your new bearings. Looking out over the edge, you can see nearly all of Rojan stretched out far below you, rolling green hills covered in trees that form the Forest of Anshan, gradually smoothing out into more even terrain the further out you look. You think you can even see Marabad in the distance, its walls little more than a dot. As you stare out in wonder at the sight, reminding yourself this is little more than a vision—you would've felt the thinness of the air in your lungs, otherwise—a most unexpected sound draws your attention back to your immediate surroundings. You almost mistake it for the yelp of a small animal at first, unable to imagine finding anything else at this height, until your eyes trace the ground and find a bundle of white cloth lying on cold stone. The tiniest hand appears from inside it, reaching out aimlessly to the sky. Is that a <em>baby</em>? Here? Bewildered, you approach the small bundle, stunned to see that it is in fact a baby. A very young one, it looks like. You don't have much experience with babies and children, but even you can tell that the infant looks barely a few months off from being a newborn, soft black tufts of hair not yet fully covering their head. They keep making little noises, making little grabbing motions with their hands, as if trying to catch the clouds above. <<if $charm gt $blunt>>“You poor thing,” you murmur,<<else>>You frown deeply,<</if>> reaching down and gently scooping the small bundle up into your arms. You know this isn't real, but the thought that someone would abandon their baby on a mountain is too terrible to imagine. The baby peers up at you with big brown eyes, looking just as startled to see you as you are to see them. They quiet immediately in your arms, peering up at your face as if they'd never seen another person before. “Where are your parents, little one?” you say softly, not wanting to startle them. You're quite high up in the mountains, and the shirdals that live here don't exactly go around stealing babies—whoever brought this child here, they did so purposefully. The baby has no answers for you, however, tiny fingers landing on your cheek, grabbing at your nose with fascination. Above you, the sky rumbles. You look up with concern, thinking a storm might be forming, but instead you see the very opposite: the clouds above part, revealing the Sun shining down from high above. It looks much bigger than it should, you realize with a start, even from this high up, as if it's slowly descending upon the Earth. The hairs on the back of your neck stand up, your grip on the baby tightening as the clouds start to swirl around the Sun, but there is no malice or danger. Not at all. <em>Beloved</em>, the Sun and the Sky and the Mountains all croon in unison. They’re not speaking to you, you realize. You look down at the baby who is staring up into the Sun with wide eyes, seeming unbothered by the light. A gentle wind descends, twirling around you, and as you watch the baby's deep brown eyes burn away into gold. Ashadūna laughs, reaching out her tiny hands towards the Sky once more. The vision breaks, fragmenting into smaller images that flash before your eyes in small moments. Where you first saw her as a baby, abandoned on a mountaintop, you then see a very tall woman in a deep red dress in front of you, with black hair long enough to reach her ankles and the same striking golden eyes, smiling gently at you. Ashadūna holds a pomegranate in her blood-soaked hands. Before you can make sense of it, let alone say anything to her, the image blinks out into the next— Strangers with golden eyes, passing by you one after another. They each hold a single pomegranate seed in their hands. Past Crowns. Ashadūna, and the ones who came after her. You know all of their names—not from memory, but from the whispers, because the Spirits know them. Chose them, like they chose you, binding you together by threads of gold spun through history. Some of them seem to linger longer in your view than others. Crown Zana, small and unassuming of stature but with a piercing gaze, dressed in pure white robes. Tears trail down their cheeks, their pomegranate seed split in two. One half remains on their palm, while the other lies on the ground. Crown Ardashir, clad in shining golden armor, yet the youth fled from his features. Old and worn like a forgotten tome, left to collect dust. His eyes look haunted, the gold in them dimmer somehow. Half a pomegranate seed bleeds out on his palm. Crown Keybanû, staring back at you calmly, a striking white scar crossing over her face from the left side of her forehead to the lower part of her right cheek. Her tightly coiled black curls fan out like a halo around her head. One hand holds the seed while the other holds a sword. Crown Piruz, still young but with gaunt features and trembling hands. He cradles the seed with both as if afraid to drop it, or perhaps possessively, tugging it closer to his chest when he sees you staring at it. And then, the last face you see— An older man with graying hair, creeping into his long beard and washing out the red. He stands at attention, dressed in simple gray robes with his hands folded in front of him, lingering the longest of all the Crowns you’ve seen so far. He seems to study you as much as you study him, keen eyes in a stern expression. “Crown Ferzan?” you say, almost expecting the vision to start fading away, but it doesn’t. Instead, Ferzan continues to watch you quietly, until finally, he unfolds his hands. He reaches one out to you, as if to give you something, so you mirror his gesture. He drops a single pomegranate seed on your palm. “What will you do to keep it?” he asks. Before you can respond to him, or even think of a response, he disappears. That can't be it. "Wait," you say, looking around you for any sign that the spirits are still listening. "Wait! Why me? Just tell me why you chose me!" No one answers. The Crowns are gone, and you remain on the mountaintop… [[…utterly alone.|7.35][$shadow to $shadow + 1]] [[…knowing you walk in their footsteps.|7.35][$light to $light + 1]]<<set $crowns to true>>[ <b>Character Codex updated | [[Crowns of Old]] unlocked</b> ] <<if $light gt $shadow>><<set $magicaffinity to 'sun'>>When the view of the mountaintop fades away, you expect the temple to return to you. Instead, all you see is light. Gold, surrounding you and spilling out of you, through your bones and your skin into the white of your clothes. You feel a glow inside of you that you hadn’t noticed before due to the vision. It originates from the depths of your chest, steadily spreading outward with every beat of your heart, down your legs and through your arms to the tips of your toes and fingers, up your neck to your eyes, with that same warm tingling from before. Through the light that halos you, you see the figure of Afrîn and the other priest on their knees before you, Afrîn smiling up at you through squinting eyes, looking like he’s about to burst into tears. The other priest keeps their head bowed low, not even daring to look at you directly. “Sun’s Blessing, Your Imperial Majesty,” Afrîn chokes out, before lowering his head as well. Your magical affinity. Beside you, <<if $ajoins is true>>$aname<</if>><<if $xjoins is true>>$xname<</if>><<if $djoins is true>>$dname<</if>><<if $rjoins is true>>$rname<</if>> is facing you now and also kneeling,<<if $xjoins is true>> for once<</if>> respectfully keeping <<if $ajoins is true>>$atheir<</if>><<if $xjoins is true>>$xtheir<</if>><<if $djoins is true>>$dtheir<</if>><<if $rjoins is true>>$rtheir<</if>> gaze aimed to the floor of the platform. You would think it all rather dramatic, were it not for the light bleeding out of you to color the air like a sunrise. The artificial ceiling itself seems to react to your presence, and for a moment you almost think you are back at the mountaintop. The Sun, enormous and beautiful, hovers above you like a doting parent as if to welcome you home, and you <em>do</em> feel at home, like something you didn’t even realize was missing has slotted into place within your chest. Repressed for years, finally breathing through your lungs, beating through your heart, seeing with your eyes. You turn towards the only person you could imagine sharing this moment with ever since you made your presence known in Marabad. <<if $loveinterest is 'R'>>$rname is not kneeling yet, meeting your gaze with a smile that is as tender as it is proud, elation and triumph encompassed in one, glittering in the watery shine of $rtheir silver eyes reflecting gold back at you like a mirror. Only after your stares cross does $rthey kneel down to the floor, $rtheir midnight dress pooling around $rthem like a lake filled with stars. Just like when you first met, $rthey takes your hand gently in $rtheir own. $crtheir touch is more tentative this time, <<if $rpoints gt 10>>but after a moment, $rthey gently presses $rtheir forehead against your knuckles once more<<else>>$rtheir fingers squeezing yours lightly after a moment<</if>>. “Your Imperial Majesty,” $rthey greets you.<</if>><<if $loveinterest is 'A'>>$aname is not kneeling yet, but where you expected $athem to be pleased for you, what you find within $atheir gaze instead is somberness. The gentlest mourning, for <em>you</em>. You suddenly remember how none of the Crowns within your vision looked happy, or even content. Not a single one. $aname takes your hand, as if to steady you through the realization, and kneels in front of you with $atheir head bowed. $cathey will be here for you, no matter how hard it gets. “Your Imperial Majesty,” $athey greets you.<</if>><<if $loveinterest is 'X'>>$xname is not kneeling yet, meeting your gaze with a half-smile that appears unusually subdued. You thought $xthey would be happier for you, but there’s something conflicted about the way $xthey stares at you, torn between holding your stare and averting $xtheir eyes, as if you’re too bright to look at. $cxthey doesn’t give you an opportunity to make sense of it, instead quietly taking your hand and sinking to one knee. Whatever questions you had about $xname’s behavior momentarily evaporate when $xthey pulls your hand towards $xtheir lips, slowly, peering up at you to watch for your reaction as $xthey gives you an opportunity to pull away. You don’t, because you don’t want to. $cxthey brushes the softest kiss against your knuckles, against your skin and your bones and the light itself that you radiate, caressing $xtheir face. “Your Imperial Majesty,” $xthey greets you.<</if>><<if $loveinterest is 'D'>>$dname is not kneeling yet, meeting your eyes with a rare smile that has the breath ceasing in your lungs for an instant. $cdthey looks <em>proud</em> of you, for having made it this far despite everything. You had no idea how much you ached for that kind of approval until you witness it in $dname’s gaze that very moment. $cdthey takes your hand, $dtheir fingers grasping yours so lightly you barely feel the tug on them as $dname sinks down to one knee, holding it like a precious treasure as $dthey bows $dtheir head. “Your Imperial Majesty,” $dthey greets you.<</if>><</if>><<if $shadow gt $light>><<set $magicaffinity to 'eclipse'>>When the view of the mountaintop fades away, you expect the temple to return to you. Instead, all you see is darkness, and a single line of gold surrounding your body. It’s the only thing illuminating the shadows. Your robes are covered by the black that spills out of you, swallowing as much light as it can, but it escapes to the edges, lining your silhouette and radiating outwards like a stark halo. You feel a vastness within of you that you hadn’t noticed before due to the vision. It originates from the depths of your chest, steadily spreading outward with every beat of your heart, down your legs and through your arms to the tips of your toes and fingers, up your neck to your eyes, with that same warm tingling from before. Through the shadows, you see the figure of Afrîn and the other priest on their knees before you, Afrîn peering up at you in awe, looking like he’s about to burst into tears. The other priest keeps their head bowed low, not even daring to look at you directly. “Death of the Sun, Your Imperial Majesty,” Afrîn whispers, before lowering his head as well. Your magical affinity. Beside you, <<if $ajoins is true>>$aname<</if>><<if $xjoins is true>>$xname<</if>><<if $djoins is true>>$dname<</if>><<if $rjoins is true>>$rname<</if>> is facing you now and also kneeling,<<if $xjoins is true>> for once<</if>> respectfully keeping <<if $ajoins is true>>$atheir<</if>><<if $xjoins is true>>$xtheir<</if>><<if $djoins is true>>$dtheir<</if>><<if $rjoins is true>>$rtheir<</if>> gaze aimed to the floor of the platform. You would think it all rather dramatic, were it not for the darkness that has overtaken the entire temple, originating from you. The artificial ceiling itself seems to react to your presence, and for a moment you almost think you are in the skies again, staring out into the black Void. You see it there, where the Sun should be. The purest black, ringed by a burst of light. Eclipse, Sun-swallower. There where the Sun goes to die so that it can be reborn again. The way you should’ve died a thousand times over, <em>were</em> dead to Arsur, until you found your way to be reborn today as yourself, yet also as someone new. It was repressed for years, now breathing through your lungs, beating through your heart, seeing with your eyes, finally alive. You turn towards the only person you could imagine sharing this moment with ever since you made your presence known in Marabad. <<if $loveinterest is 'R'>>$rname is not kneeling yet, meeting your gaze with a smile that is as tender as it is proud, elation and triumph encompassed in one, glittering in the watery shine of $rtheir silver eyes reflecting gold back at you like a mirror. Only after your stares cross does $rthey kneel down to the floor, $rtheir midnight dress pooling around $rthem like a lake filled with stars. Just like when you first met, $rthey takes your hand gently in $rtheir own. $crtheir touch is more tentative this time, <<if $rpoints gt 10>>but after a moment, $rthey gently presses $rtheir forehead against your knuckles once more<<else>>$rtheir fingers squeezing yours lightly after a moment<</if>>. “Your Imperial Majesty,” $rthey greets you.<</if>><<if $loveinterest is 'A'>>$aname is not kneeling yet, but where you expected $athem to be pleased for you, what you find within $atheir gaze instead is somberness. The gentlest mourning, for <em>you</em>. You suddenly remember how none of the Crowns within your vision looked happy, or even content. Not a single one. $aname takes your hand, as if to steady you through the realization, and kneels in front of you with $atheir head bowed. $cathey will be here for you, no matter how hard it gets. “Your Imperial Majesty,” $athey greets you.<</if>><<if $loveinterest is 'X'>>$xname is not kneeling yet, meeting your gaze with a half-smile that appears unusually subdued. You thought $xthey would be happier for you, but there’s something conflicted about the way $xthey stares at you, torn between holding your stare and averting $xtheir eyes, as if you’re too bright to look at. $cxthey doesn’t give you an opportunity to make sense of it, instead quietly taking your hand and sinking to one knee. Whatever questions you had about $xname’s behavior momentarily evaporate when $xthey pulls your hand towards $xtheir lips, slowly, peering up at you to watch for your reaction as $xthey gives you an opportunity to pull away. You don’t, because you don’t want to. $cxthey brushes the softest kiss against your knuckles, against your skin and your bones and the light itself that you radiate, the shadow beneath it caressing $xtheir face. “Your Imperial Majesty,” $xthey greets you.<</if>><<if $loveinterest is 'D'>>$dname is not kneeling yet, meeting your eyes with a rare smile that has the breath ceasing in your lungs for an instant. $cdthey looks <em>proud</em> of you, for having made it this far despite everything. You had no idea how much you ached for that kind of approval until you witness it in $dname’s gaze that very moment. $cdthey takes your hand, $dtheir fingers grasping yours so lightly you barely feel the tug on them as $dname sinks down to one knee, holding it like a precious treasure as $dthey bows $dtheir head. “Your Imperial Majesty,” $dthey greets you.<</if>><</if>> This is where you belong. [[Continue|7.36]]<<unset $shadow>><<unset $light>>[ <b>[[Character Traits]] updated</b> ] The intensity of your magic gradually lessens as you become accustomed to the feeling of it. It’s as if you have been reborn, though the person you were before can’t be—shouldn’t be—erased. <<if $loveinterest is 'D'>>$dname<</if>><<if $loveinterest is 'R'>>$rname<</if>><<if $loveinterest is 'A'>>$aname<</if>><<if $loveinterest is 'X'>>$xname<</if>> releases your hand, though <<if $loveinterest is 'D'>>$dthey<</if>><<if $loveinterest is 'R'>>$rthey<</if>><<if $loveinterest is 'A'>>$athey<</if>><<if $loveinterest is 'X'>>$xthey<</if>> as well as the priests remain kneeling even as the platform you’re on begins to lower back down. The effect of the artificial sky fades as well<<if $coronationroute is 'parade'>>, though you have no doubt that the crowds outside were able to witness it, even from a distance<<else>>, returning to reflecting the blue sky outside<</if>>. Your garments retain their new color, however, <<if $magicaffinity is 'eclipse'>>its fabric inked in pure black with a golden light radiating from the edges<<else>>its fabric inked in pure gold, radiating a gentle light<</if>>. As the circular platform slots back into place on top of the staircase, you peer down to see the Mîrs<<if $coronation isnot 'closed'>>, the nobles, Steward Welat and Lady Naza kneeling for you as well, though Kham only gives you a polite bow<<else>> and their retinues kneeling for you as well<</if>>. <<if $loveinterest is 'A'>><<if $rjoins is true>>$dname and $xname<</if>><<if $xjoins is true>>$rname and $dname<</if>><<if $djoins is true>>$xname and $rname<</if>><</if>><<if $loveinterest is 'X'>><<if $rjoins is true>>$dname and $aname<</if>><<if $ajoins is true>>$rname and $dname<</if>><<if $djoins is true>>$rname and $dname<</if>><</if>><<if $loveinterest is 'R'>><<if $ajoins is true>>$dname and $xname<</if>><<if $xjoins is true>>$aname and $dname<</if>><<if $djoins is true>>$xname and $aname<</if>><</if>><<if $loveinterest is 'D'>><<if $rjoins is true>>$aname and $xname<</if>><<if $xjoins is true>>$rname and $aname<</if>><<if $ajoins is true>>$xname and $rname<</if>><</if>> might be the only friendly faces among them. When you turn to face them, they all greet you in unison. “We are honored to serve, Your Imperial Majesty.” Momentarily you forget all about custom and etiquette, merely taking in the fact that the most important and influential people within Arsur are all kneeling and bowing to you. To have this kind of power at your fingertips is almost too much to comprehend all at once. The image of your mother standing in the doorway of your childhood home rises into your eyes, gently beckoning you. Past and present. Now for the future. [[Continue|7.37]]<<unset $djoins>><<unset $rjoins>><<unset $xjoins>><<unset $ajoins>>Your road back to the Royal Palace is largely unremarkable. <<if $coronationroute is 'parade'>>Rather than take the parade platform back, you use the tunnels instead; by now, the streets are too crowded to ensure safe passage. The Mîrs<<if $coronation isnot 'closed'>> and nobility<</if>> will use the tunnels as well, though different ones from you. <<if $coronatiousroute is 'parade'>> You feel uneasy about having to use the tunnels, considering what happened there last time, but with the amount of guards and people present ready to protect you, it’s thankfully a manageable anxiety.<</if>><<else>>You use the tunnels again to travel back to the Royal Palace. The Mîrs<<if $coronation isnot 'closed'>> and nobility<</if>> will use the tunnels as well, though different ones from you.<</if>> $dname looks chagrined by your refusal to eat anything and insisting to leave for the palace, though you really can’t help it; with the amount of magic still buzzing through your body, you feel too loaded with energy to have an appetite. $cdthey as well as several Imperial Guards lead the way through the Sky Temple’s servant’s passage, connecting to the tunnels, while you and the others follow. $rname is the only one walking beside you, while $aname and $xname are behind you, bringing up the rear together with the rest of the guards. “How are you feeling, $name?” $rname asks you, $rtheir voice lowered to be audible only to you, though it’s still loud enough to hear over the sound of footsteps echoing through the tunnel. “How much did you see of it?” you ask in turn; though <<if $loveinterest is 'R'>>$rname<</if>><<if $loveinterest is 'A'>>$aname<</if>><<if $loveinterest is 'X'>>$xname<</if>><<if $loveinterest is 'D'>>$dname<</if>> was briefly part of your vision from the earth spirits, everything else seemed like it was happening inside your mind. “Every time you connected with the spirits, the whole temple filled up with light,” $rname recounts, remembering it with delight. “The magic in the air, it was amazing. I’ve never felt so close to the spirits before, and I wasn’t even the one they touched. What was it like for you?” “I’m not sure how to describe it,” you reply, feeling as if there are both too many words as well as not enough words to express yourself with. $rname’s brows furrow delicately. “You don’t feel unwell, do you?” “No, but…” You search for an answer. <ul class ="a"> <li><<if $charm gt $blunt>>[[“It hasn’t hit me yet. Give me an hour and I’m sure I’ll start feeling insane after what I just saw.”|7.38a]]<<else>>/* [[7.38a]] */<<link "“It hasn’t fully sunk in yet. I actually //became// the Sky for a moment there.”" "7.38a">><</link>><</if>></li> <li><<if $caut gt $adven>>[[“I am certainly relieved I don’t have to do that again. With all due respect to the spirits, they’re terrifying.”|7.38b]]<<else>>[[“Honestly, I think I almost want to do it again. It was a little exhilarating.”|7.38b]]<</if>></li> </ul>$rname gives you a curious look. “Past Crowns have tried to give descriptions of what they saw, but I’m sure it pales in comparison to the experience.” “Words could never do it justice,” you agree. “It was— I want to say otherworldly, but that wouldn’t be right. It was very much of this world, the essence of it, but it’s an understanding most people will never reach. We’re severed from it. Maybe we’re too small to see it, or…” It just seems strange to you, to have this much magic in the world and its spirits that are inherently tied to humanity, yet for there to be such a distance between the two. “Or?” $rname prompts you when you remain silent. You put the thought aside from now, shaking your head. “Never mind. I’m still trying to wrap my head around it.” “Someone should write all that down,” $xname chimes in from behind. “That was a pretty good quote.” “What, are you a playwright now?” $dname mocks from in front of you, glancing back at $xname. “I could be!” <<if $charm gt $blunt>>“So long as I’m the protagonist,” you reply, casting a grin at $xthem from over your shoulder. “Hmm…” $xname pretends to think about it. “I was going to give you a supporting role, but very well. If you insist!” “The supporting role to <em>you</em>, I suppose?” $aname says from beside $xname, shaking $atheir head. “Spirits, you’re insufferable.” $catheir last comment earns $athem a playful shove.<<else>>“So long as you don’t make me the protagonist,” you reply, casting a look at $xthem from over your shoulder. “Don’t worry,” $xname replies, grinning back at you. “You’ll be in a supporting role—to <em>me</em>, the actual protagonist.” “Spirits, you’re insufferable,” $aname mutters from beside $xthem, earning a playful shove.<</if>> [[Continue|7.39]]<<if $caut gt $adven>>$rname smiles sympathetically. “A little fear is always healthy when dealing such powerful spirits. At least the ordeal is over with now.” “I wouldn’t celebrate yet,”<<else>>$rname smiles with excitement. “It must have been truly awe-inspiring! Past Crowns have described what they’ve seen, but to actually experience it…” “Now the real trial begins,”<</if>> $aname chimes in from behind you. “There is still the banquet to get through, including its guests.” $rname rolls $rtheir eyes, though the smile on $rtheir face makes it an amused gesture rather than an irritated one. “Oh yes, the terrifying hordes of upper class sycophants, with pearls on their sandals and pretty, polished nails! How could we forget?” “You say that in jest,” you respond seriously, “but I would banish them all from the palace without a second thought if I could.” “What’s stopping you?” $aname says humorously. “Reputation? Decency? Who needs that?” “Please don’t encourage the Crown to turn into a tyrant,” $dname says tiredly from in the front. “We could fake an emergency and evacuate them all?” $xname suggests next, and you get the sense that $xthey’s at least <em>partly</em> serious. “I could tell Şanazî to set some curtains on fire—” “Don’t you dare touch the drapery,” $rname warns. “Do you have any idea how expensive it was? It’s imported silk!” “It’s also a safety hazard,” $dname adds disapprovingly. <<if $adven gt $caut>>“I don’t know,” you say thoughtfully. “The idea has some merit…” “$crnickname, please don’t,” $rname says with a long-suffering look, and you decide to give up on the idea for now, at least for $rtheir health. Maybe in the future, though…<<else>>“Let’s not pull any reckless stunts on the <em>day of my coronation</em>, shall we?” you say, casting $xname a warning look. “I’m not allowed any fun around here,” $xname laments, conceding reluctantly.<</if>> [[Continue|7.39]] <<if $intu gt $intel>>“I wonder how much of what I saw was real,” you muse as you continue your journey through the tunnels, the torches lighting your way. “I know spirits never lie, but…” “That depends on what you mean by it being real,” $rname considers thoughtfully. “If you mean truthful to reality… that begs the question of what reality <em>is</em>—”<<else>>“Are visions like that only possible during a coronation?” you muse as you continue your journey through the tunnels, the torches lighting your way. “How accurate are they?” “I’m sure they were accurate to what the spirits wanted to convey,” $rname considers thoughtfully. “But whether they were accurate to reality is a different question, especially depending on what you <em>define</em> as reality—”<</if>> “No,” $xname moans. “No, no, no, we’re not doing that. I’m too sober to have an existential crisis.” In the interest of everyone involved, you decide to simplify the question. “Take one of my visions, for example. The fire spirits showed me Ashadūna as a baby on top of a mountain, where they turned her eyes gold. Was that how it actually happened?” There is also the vision the earth spirits gave you, the one <<if $loveinterest is 'A'>>$aname<</if>><<if $loveinterest is 'R'>>$rname<</if>><<if $loveinterest is 'X'>>$xname<</if>><<if $loveinterest is 'D'>>$dname<</if>> was drawn into, but you'd rather not think about that right now, let alone talk about it. “Every Crown has had that vision during their coronation,” $rname confirms. “But no, that’s probably not how it happened. Most everyone agrees it’s meant to be symbolism, some sort of metaphor. Ashadūna was a princess, after all; she wouldn’t have been abandoned on a mountaintop.” So it was symbolic of the spirits choosing her. Though that still leaves you with the question… “They never told me why they chose me,” you say, and $rname looks at you in understanding. “They never do.” “Past Crowns weren’t told either?” $rname shakes $rtheir head. “The spirits must not deem it important enough for you to know, or maybe they’re cautious for some other reason. Telling you might have unintended consequences.” “The spirits don’t want you to get a big head about it, is what $rtitle $rname is saying,” $xname explains, causing $aname to snort. “As the one with the biggest head among us, you have little room to talk.” You suppose it doesn’t matter in the end. What <em>does</em> matter is that you’re the Crown now, in full capacity, wielding the full authority of your title. [[Continue|7.40]] <<nobr>><<if $security is 'nobles'>><<if visited("7.40") is 1>><<set $cs += 1>><</if>><</if>> <<if $security is 'both'>><<if visited("7.40") is 1>><<set $cs += 2>><</if>><</if>> <<if $security is 'nobles' or $security is 'both'>><<if $hidenobles is true>><<if visited("7.40") is 1>><<set $elitefavored-= 1>><</if>><<else>><<if visited("7.40") is 1>><<set $elitefavored += 2>><</if>><</if>><</if>> <<if $security is 'public'>><<if visited("7.40") is 1>><<set $cs += 1>><</if>><</if>> <<if $security is 'public'>><<if $hidepublic is true>><<if visited("7.40") is 1>><<set $publicfavored -= 1>><</if>><<else>><<if visited("7.40") is 1>><<set $publicfavored += 1>><</if>><</if>><</if>> <<if $security is 'refused' or $security is 'undefined'>><<if visited("7.40") is 1>><<set $cs -= 2>><</if>><</if>> <<if visited("7.40") is 1>><<if $festivities is 'both'>><<set $publicfavored += 1>><<set $elitefavored += 1>><</if>><<if $festivities is 'nobles'>><<set $elitefavored += 2>><</if>><<if $festivities is 'public'>><<set $publicfavored += 2>><</if>><</if>> <</nobr>>“By the way, general,” $rname asks $dname from beside you. “Has security been manageable?” <<if $security is 'nobles' or $security is 'both'>><<if $hidenobles is true>>“From what the guards have told me, the nobles have been behaving so far,” $dname answers. “I can’t say they’re very happy, however. We had to make sure none of them were carrying any weapons into the Sky Temple, which necessitated searches in some cases.” “You’d think they’d be expecting it.” The frown on $aname’s face relays visible annoyance; no doubt $athey was the main one who had to deal with it. “It’s no different from entering the Royal Palace.” “Some of those nobles are the Sky Temple’s most generous benefactors,” $rname points out, glancing over at $aname with a slightly cynical smile. “They probably feel as if they own the place.” “As long as there weren’t any problems,” you say with a sigh; you can worry about what the nobles think later.<<else>>“From what the guards have told me, the nobles have been behaving so far,” $dname answers. “We were expecting complaints since we had to search them for possible weapons before they could enter the temple, but they’ve been remarkably patient.” “A few even complimented security,” $aname comments, a somewhat befuddled frown crossing $atheir face. $rname hums thoughtfully. “I suppose informing them of the assassination attempt fostered some understanding?” “That’s a relief to hear,” you say, pleasantly surprised considering you didn’t exactly start off on a great foot with the nobility—at least that of Rojan.<</if>> <<if $hidepublic is true>>“The public also seems to be having a good time celebrating,<<if $coronation is 'open'>> especially during the parade,<</if>> though there have been reports of some…” $dname pauses, “rowdiness, in certain districts.” “What kind of rowdiness?” you ask warily. “Drunken revelry, mostly—very minor property damage to a teahouse, and at the lower marketplaces.” $dname doesn’t sound too concerned about it, though what $dthey says next seems more serious. “There have also been some protests.” That doesn’t sound good. “Protests?” “A very small but insistent group of citizens demanding to know why it took so long to find the Crown.” $dname glances over $dtheir shoulder at you. “They tried to get to <<if $coronation is 'open'>>the parade route<<else>>the Royal Palace<</if>>, but were blocked off by the city guard, though that seemed to exacerbate the problem somewhat. For now, they’re nothing to worry about.” <em>But it may become a problem in the future</em>, goes unsaid. You’ll have to address such questions eventually, though you’re not sure of what to say yet. “They didn’t appreciate the city guard’s interference?” “Very few people in Marabad ever do,” $xname replies wryly. “They’ve always preferred to be self-reliant, especially in matters of protection.” It sounds like a familiar system; the districts seem to be modeling the towns and villages you’ve lived in and visited, in that respect. Much like with every community matter, the average village you’ve seen votes on which of its members will be granted the responsibility of guarding the community. These members are also put in charge of teaching and training everyone else in self-defense, so that everyone in the village who is of age and able to can serve in the role at some point. You imagine it functions the same way in Marabad’s districts. The city guard in Marabad, however, are a very different matter; they’re not accountable to the citizens, but to their captain, the steward, the Mîr and ultimately to you. The citizens themselves don’t have any say in the matter. You certainly hope this won’t become a bigger problem in the future.<<else>>“The public also seems to be having a good time celebrating,<<if $coronation is 'open'>> especially during the parade,<</if>>” $dname replies. “Though there have been reports of some unrest.” “What kind of unrest?” you ask warily. “Minor clashes with the city guard.” When $dname glances over $dtheir shoulder and sees the alarm on your face, $dthey clarifies, “<em>Very</em> minor clashes. Only a few people were detained.” “There are disagreements about the authority of the city guard,” $xname adds on. “Most districts have always been self-reliant in terms of security, and don’t want the city guard patrolling their neighborhoods. <<if $hidepublic is false>>With the announcement of there being sightings of assassins, the<<else>>The<</if>> city guard has been making a push to establish themselves in those districts.” It sounds like a familiar system; the districts seem to be modeling the towns and villages you’ve lived in and visited, in that respect. Much like with every community matter, the average village you’ve seen votes on which of its members will be granted the responsibility of guarding the community. These members are also put in charge of teaching and training everyone else in self-defense, so that everyone in the village who is of age and able to can serve in the role at some point. You imagine it functions the same way in Marabad’s districts. The city guard in Marabad, however, are a very different matter; they’re not accountable to the citizens, but to their captain, the steward, the Mîr and ultimately to you. The citizens themselves don’t have any say in the matter. “It clearly wasn’t taken well.” You arch your brows. “Who exactly ordered the city guard to do that?” “The captain of the city guard,” $aname answers at first, but then continues in a dry tone, “Who was under the orders of Steward Welat, of course.” <em>Of course</em>. You’d hope that it won’t become a problem in the future, but at this point, you know better than to believe that.<</if>><</if>><<if $security is 'public'>><<if visited("7.40") is 1>><<set $cs += 1>><</if>><<if $hidepublic is true>><<if visited("7.40") is 1>><<set $publicpoints -= 2>><</if>>“Nothing major to report; the public seems to be having a good time celebrating, especially during the parade,” $dname replies. “Though there have been incidents of unrest.” “What kind of unrest?” you ask warily. “Clashes with the city guard.” When $dname glances over $dtheir shoulder and sees the alarm on your face, $dthey clarifies, “No one has been injured so far. Several people were detained, however; the guard is still trying to get a handle on the situation.” “There are disagreements about the authority of the city guard,” $xname adds on. “Most districts have always been self-reliant in terms of security, and don’t want the city guard patrolling their neighborhoods. <<if $hidepublic is false>>With the announcement of there being sightings of assassins, the<<else>>The<</if>> city guard has been making a push to establish themselves in those districts.” It sounds like a familiar system; the districts seem to be modeling the towns and villages you’ve lived in and visited, in that respect. Much like with every community matter, the average village you’ve seen votes on which of its members will be granted the responsibility of guarding the community. These members are also put in charge of teaching and training everyone else in self-defense, so that everyone in the village who is of age and able to can serve in the role at some point. You imagine it functions the same way in Marabad’s districts. The city guard in Marabad, however, are a very different matter; they’re not accountable to the citizens, but to their captain, the steward, the Mîr and ultimately to you. The citizens themselves don’t have any say in the matter. “It clearly wasn’t taken well.” You arch your brows. “Who exactly ordered the city guard to do that?” “The captain of the city guard,” $aname answers at first, but then continues in a dry tone, “Who was under the orders of Steward Welat, of course.” <em>Of course</em>. You’d hope that it won’t become a problem in the future, but at this point, you know better than to believe that.<<else>>“Nothing major to report; the public seems to be having a good time celebrating, especially during the parade, though it hasn’t gotten as rowdy as we planned for,” $dname answers. “I would almost describe the celebrations as tame.” “Oh?” you say, curious. “Were you expecting trouble?” “At the very least some drunken revelry getting out of hand, but most people have been cautious.” “It must be due to the announcement about there being sightings of assassins,” $aname comments thoughtfully. “No one wants to be caught unaware, especially on a day like this.” “They were even rather tolerant of the city guard, though there were still a few minor clashes.” That doesn’t sound good. “Nothing serious, I hope?” “No, just the usual arguments,” $xname replies dismissively. “The citizens of Marabad have always preferred to be self-reliant, especially in matters of protection.” It sounds like a familiar system; the districts seem to be modeling the towns and villages you’ve lived in and visited, in that respect. Much like with every community matter, the average village you’ve seen votes on which of its members will be granted the responsibility of guarding the community. These members are also put in charge of teaching and training everyone else in self-defense, so that everyone in the village who is of age and able to can serve in the role at some point. You imagine it functions the same way in Marabad’s districts. The city guard in Marabad, however, are a very different matter; they’re not accountable to the citizens, but to their captain, the steward, the Mîr and ultimately to you. The citizens themselves don’t have any say in the matter. You’d hope this won’t become a bigger problem in the future, though you know better by now.<</if>><</if>><<if $security isnot 'public' and $security isnot 'both' and $security isnot 'nobles'>><<if $hidepublic is true>>“Nothing major to report; the public seems to be having a good time celebrating, though there have been reports of some…” $dname pauses, “rowdiness, in certain districts.” “What kind of rowdiness?” you ask warily. “Drunken revelry, mostly—very minor property damage to a teahouse, and at the lower marketplaces.” $dname doesn’t sound too concerned about it, though what $dthey says next seems more serious. “There have also been some protests.” That doesn’t sound good. “Protests?” “A very small but insistent group of citizens demanding to know why it took so long to find the Crown.” $dname glances over $dtheir shoulder at you. “They tried to get to the Royal Palace, but were blocked off by the city guard, though that seemed to exacerbate the problem somewhat. For now, they’re nothing to worry about.” <em>But it may become a problem in the future</em>, goes unsaid. You’ll have to address such questions eventually, though you’re not sure of what to say yet. “They didn’t appreciate the city guard’s interference?” “Very few people in Marabad ever do,” $xname replies wryly. “They’ve always preferred to be self-reliant, especially in matters of protection.” It sounds like a familiar system; the districts seem to be modeling the towns and villages you’ve lived in and visited, in that respect. Much like with every community matter, the average village you’ve seen votes on which of its members will be granted the responsibility of guarding the community. These members are also put in charge of teaching and training everyone else in self-defense, so that everyone in the village who is of age and able to can serve in the role at some point. You imagine it functions the same way in Marabad’s districts. The city guard in Marabad, however, are a very different matter; they’re not accountable to the citizens, but to their captain, the steward, the Mîr and ultimately to you. The citizens themselves don’t have any say in the matter. You’d hope this won’t become a bigger problem in the future, though you know better by now.<<else>>“Nothing major to report; the public seems to be having a good time celebrating,” $dname replies. “Though there have been reports of some unrest.” “What kind of unrest?” you ask warily. “Minor clashes with the city guard.” When $dname glances over $dtheir shoulder and sees the alarm on your face, $dthey clarifies, “<em>Very</em> minor clashes. Only a few people were detained.” “There are disagreements about the authority of the city guard,” $xname adds on. “Most districts have always been self-reliant in terms of security, and don’t want the city guard patrolling their neighborhoods. With the announcement of there being sightings of assassins, the city guard has been making a push to establish themselves in those districts.” It sounds like a familiar system; the districts seem to be modeling the towns and villages you’ve lived in and visited, in that respect. Much like with every community matter, the average village you’ve seen votes on which of its members will be granted the responsibility of guarding the community. These members are also put in charge of teaching and training everyone else in self-defense, so that everyone in the village who is of age and able to can serve in the role at some point. You imagine it functions the same way in Marabad’s districts. The city guard in Marabad, however, are a very different matter; they’re not accountable to the citizens, but to their captain, the steward, the Mîr and ultimately to you. The citizens themselves don’t have any say in the matter. “It clearly wasn’t taken well.” You arch your brows. “Who exactly ordered the city guard to do that?” “The captain of the city guard,” $aname answers at first, but then continues in a dry tone, “Who was under the orders of Steward Welat, of course.” <em>Of course</em>. You’d hope that it won’t become a problem in the future, but at this point, you know better than to believe that.<</if>><</if>> “Ah, we’ve arrived!” $rname says then, and you look past the guards walking in front of you to a familiar column of light falling down a staircase, just visible at the end of the tunnel. You’re finally back at the palace. [[Continue|7.41]] Once you and your party head up the stairs, most of the guards disperse—or outright disappear—to take up less obvious positions around you. The banquet itself will be held in a separate hall, one you haven’t had a chance to look at yet as you left for the Sky Temple first thing in the morning. The last time you looked over the room, the servants were still busy decorating it; you hope they managed to finish it in time. “The Mîrs and the nobles should have already arrived by now,” $rname says to you, and when you give $rthem a questioning look, $rthey clarifies, “We took the longest tunnel to the palace. It wouldn’t do for the Crown to be waiting on them.” “$crthey wants you to make an entrance, in other words,” $aname translates helpfully, though you suppose you could’ve expected that. As you continue through the corridors of the palace, you enter the reception hall to see that there are several nobles milling about—Lady Naza among them being a familiar face. <<if $hidenone is true>>They all bow, but Lady Naza in particular gives you an unexpected smile, something of curiosity in her gaze as she says, “Your Imperial Majesty,” when you pass her by.<<else>>They all bow to you out of respect, most of them greeting you with a customary, “Your Imperial Majesty,” except for Lady Naza, who remains silent and doesn’t look at you as she bows. She appears a little bored, if anything. You’ll take bored over upset or angry, easily.<</if>> As you approach the banquet hall, the presence of nobles increases, leading to $dname having to bark at some of them to move aside so that your party can pass—most of them don’t need to be prompted, however. You spot a few nobles having to press up against the walls of the corridor as you pass them due to how busy it is. Already you can hear the sounds of music and chatter, even though you can’t see the entrance to the banquet due to the throng of people ahead of you. When you near it, you hear a loud cry: “The Twenty-First Crown, $ctheir Imperial Majesty $name $surname has arrived!” The music and the chatter die down at once as $dname clears the way to the entrance for you, before stepping aside to let you pass. Taking a deep breath, you step inside. [[Continue|7.42]] You are first greeted by a sea of faces spread throughout the massive hall. It doesn’t quite rival the throne room in size, but it’s certainly getting there, the ceiling nearly as high with large, fluted columns at the edges of the room. There must be nearly a hundred people present<<if $festivities is 'nobles' or $festivities is 'both'>>—even more of them outside at the apadana, where additional festivities were arranged for minor nobility not important enough to attend the banquet with the Crown<</if>>. The banquet hall itself is drowning in luxury, opulent and imperial. The spaces between the columns of the room are covered by deep red and gold tapestries, embroidered with figures of Crowns you recognize by the names stitched into the fabric, glowing gently. There is an anchor-point on the center of the high ceiling, pinning a large web of white cloth into place that drape down toward the outer edges of the room. In between the drapery hangs ropes covered in flowering vines, spreading fragrant, floral scents throughout the room, the most distinct one you recognize as jasmine. There are also floating lanterns right below the drapery, their decorated glass windows casting golden light in sun-shaped patterns throughout the room. There is one massive table at one end of the room overlooking the rest of the hall on a slightly raised platform, lined with chairs. Your chair is the most obvious one at the center of the head table, tallest in size and decorated most ornately, similar to your throne. There are also smaller tables spread out throughout the rest of the room, presumably for the guests not important enough to warrant a seat at the bigger table. At the center of the room is space left free for performers; you spot a few musicians on chairs who had been previously playing songs to entertain the guests. As you try not to let the size of the crowd intimidate you, you are at least reassured in knowing where to go. Taking confident steps as the nobles immediately step aside for you and bow as you pass, you head straight for the largest table at the front of the room, several people already seated. You recognize the Mîrs. Mîr Lîlan and Mîr Behram are to the left of your chair, while Mîr Mêrxas and Mîr Sarya are to the right, one seat over as the chair directly to your right is reserved for $rname. Aside from them, there are various nobles present at the table as well, some of which you vaguely recognize but some of which you don’t. Kham, comically enough, <em>still</em> hasn’t abandoned her peri form, towering over the rest of the table when they all rise to greet you. $rname follows behind you while $dname, $aname and $xname linger behind—their primary task at the banquet is guard duty, after all, not to mingle and socialize. You pass by various nobles at the table, as well as Mîr Behram and Mîr Lîlan to finally reach your chair as a servant pulls it back for you. The eyes of the entire room are on you as you stand in front of it, $rname taking $rtheir place on the chair to your right, at which point they all bow to you, similar to what happened in the Sky Temple. You’re starting to get a little annoyed by the excessive bowing every time you walk into a room, but you suppose you’ll just have to get used to it. “We are your humble servants, Your Imperial Majesty,” the crowd greets you, which you know in some cases—such as Steward Welat, who is also in attendance though you haven’t spotted him yet—to be a lie. Silence falls after the greeting; guests wait for your permission to commence the festivities in earnest. <<if $adven gt $caut>><<if $blunt gt $charm>>“I’m sure you are,” you can’t help but say to the room. It’s part mockery, part warning as you find yourself rather unimpressed with it all. A few nobles glance up at you from their bow, looking taken aback or unsure, but you ignore it. They’ll know not to test your patience soon enough. You fall back on what $rname and $aname taught you to say, though you deliver it with your own adjustments. “I’m glad to see you’ve all been enjoying the festivities so far. Today will be a day for celebration, but tomorrow, the real work begins.” You give a sharp smile. “Revel in it while you can.” The discomfort in the room is palpable, one only partially broken as the musicians tentatively resume their songs. You meet $rname’s eyes as you sit down, the rest of your guests at the table following suit. “How was that?” $rname has $rtheir fingers pressed over $rtheir lips, struggling to contain $rtheir smile<<if $loveinterest is 'R'>> as $rthey looks at you with admiration and, you notice for the first time, fondness<</if>>. “You were magnificent, my Crown.”<<else>>“I would never accuse any of you of being <em>humble</em>,” you say to the room, your tone one of playful commiseration, and it gets you several chuckles and laughs. You couldn’t be any more different from them if you tried. They were raised in the lap of luxury, ruling the country while you were barely scraping by, taking it day by day—you don’t relate to them, you don’t consider them your peers. But they don’t need to know that. You’ve always been good at wearing disguises. “I’m glad to see you’ve all been entertained by the festivities so far,” you continue when the laughter dies down soon after, looking around the many faces present with a charming smile as you recall the words $rname and $aname taught you. “Today is a day of celebration; revel in it! Tomorrow, we will all begin the work of restoring peace to the Empire. Until then, enjoy drinking my wine!” At your gesture, the music and merriment resumes once more, the guests looking very pleased by your reception. You meet $rname’s eyes as you sit down, the rest of your guests at the table following suit. “How was that?” $rname smiles widely at you, eyes warm with approval <<if $loveinterest is 'R'>>as $rthey leans in to say,<<else>>as $rthey says,<</if>> “You were a joy to watch, my Crown.”<</if>><<else>>You don’t say anything in response, deciding to play it safe and stick closely to the words $rname and $aname taught you in order to receive your guests properly. <<if $charm gt $blunt>>You’ll do it with charm, of course, but you’re not adventurous enough to improvise at such a pivotal moment and risk misspeaking.<<else>>Public speaking was never much for you to begin with, and you’d rather not risk misspeaking by improvising and saying something too blunt.<</if>> “I’m glad to see everyone has been entertained by the festivities so far,” you say, <<if $charm gt $blunt>>smiling pleasantly<<else>>voice steady and calm<</if>> as you look around the room to all the nobles present. “Today is a celebration for all of us, and for all of Arsur. Tomorrow, the real work of restoring peace to the Empire begins. Until then, enjoy the banquet.” At your gesture, the music and merriment resumes once more, the guests looking very pleased by your reception. You meet $rname’s eyes as you sit down, the rest of your guests at the table following suit. “How was that?” $rname smiles at you with approval <<if $loveinterest is 'R'>>as $rthey leans in to say,<<else>>as $rthey says,<</if>> “You were perfect, my Crown.”<</if>> [[Continue|7.43]] As you turn to your left, your gaze catches Mîr Lîlan’s, fortunate enough to have secured a seat right next to the Crown. You’ll have to thank Keko for that later; having Mîr Behram or Mîr Mêrxas sitting right next to you would’ve made the evening exhausting, no doubt. “Mîr Lîlan,” you greet her. “We didn’t have much of a chance to talk, back at the Sky Temple.” Not with Mîr Behram and Mîr Mêrxas dominating the conversation. Even less so with Mîr Sarya, but they seem to be having a polite conversation with $rname beside you, at least. “Indeed, Your Imperial Majesty.” Even while sitting down Lîlan’s poise and posture are flawless, much better practiced than yours, though that isn’t saying much. “It is my honor to finally meet you—I am certain your arrival is a good sign.” You hope you don’t look too out of place sitting next to her, though you figure the richness of your garments may disguise any lack of etiquette you might have. “I hope so.” You study Mîr Lîlan for a moment; something about her presence puts you at ease. “How are things in the province of Avdin?” As you speak, dozens of servants seem to appear out of nowhere—likely from a passage somewhere less visible—to bring in foods and drink for the guests to enjoy. Your part of the table is served first, especially you, as the servants set down large plates. The main dishes are loaded with grilled or roasted chicken, fish and lamb, the scents of spices and aromatic herbs making your mouth water as your stomach remembers you haven’t eaten anything all day. There are many sides to choose from, dishes of stewed vegetables, stuffed vine leaves, pilav, flatbreads, but also sweet pastries and fruits—you barely even know where to start. “Things in Avdin are better than in most other provinces, I am fortunate to say.” Lîlan somehow manages to pull your attention away from the food spread out before you as she smiles sadly, lowering her voice slightly as she continues. “Avdin is the most stable region in the Empire at the moment, though you shouldn’t tell Mîr Mêrxas that, Your Imperial Majesty. He prides himself in having his business in order.” “But it’s not?” you infer, glancing over at Mîr Behram sitting beside her, though he thankfully seems occupied with talking to another noble. The last thing you want is to give him cause for another argument with Mîr Mêrxas during the banquet. “In order, that is?” The look in Mîr Lîlan’s eyes sharpens, and she parts her lips to speak, but then halts as she notices you pause for a moment when a servant appears with a pitcher of wine. “I’ll drink water for right now, thank you,” you say to the servant, offering it to Lîlan instead. You’re still on an empty stomach; drinking alcohol isn’t a good idea. “Wine?” Mîr Lîlan’s brows arch slightly, though from the curve of her lips you can tell it is an amused gesture. “Yes. Thank you, Your Imperial Majesty.” “Did I say something funny?” Lîlan remains silent for a short while as the servant pours her wine for her, which you take as an opportunity to start eating. You don’t even bother to begin small as you go straight for the largest piece of lamb chop you can find, holding it by the bone and biting into it while trying to be subtle about pulling a whole bowl of pilav toward you with your other hand. Another servant pours water into your cup, while Mîr Lîlan politely pretends not to notice you claiming a whole section of the table for yourself. At the very least, you manage to pace yourself and eat slowly rather than devour everything like your stomach wants to do. Once the servant has left, Mîr Lîlan says, “Nothing funny, Your Imperial Majesty. It only occurred to me that it has been… quite some time since we’ve had a Crown that didn’t come from a noble background.” She chooses fish to start with for herself, delicately lifting it with one hand and a fork and placing it on her own plate. When she sees the frown forming on your face, she adds gently, “I meant it to be a good thing, Your Imperial Majesty. There is an honesty about you that is most refreshing.” She gestures subtly with a nod of her head towards the servants pouring wine for the other nobles. None of them even bother to look at the servants, let alone thank them or acknowledge that they exist. “I don’t know about everyone else here,” you say, frowning with distaste at the display, “but I, at least, was taught manners as a child.” Lîlan stares at you in surprise for a moment, then breaks out into laughter, trying and failing to hide it behind the long sleeve of her dress. It’s loud enough to draw several stares, including Mîr Mêrxas who leans nearly his whole upper body over the table to look over at you two, Mîr Sarya beside him pressing themselves so far back into their seat you’d think they were trying to fuse with it. “Pardon my outburst, Your Imperial Majesty,” Lîlan says as she smooths out her expression again, gently dabbing at the corners of her eyes with the edge of her sleeve. “That caught me quite off guard.” “Well, I’m glad to entertain you.” It’s somewhat of a relief to know that even Mîr Lîlan can’t keep a perfect composure all the time. <<if $loveinterest is 'A'>> At that moment, Mîr Lîlan’s gaze briefly flits away into the crowd, as if she saw something of note, but when you follow her eyes you don’t see anything. “Will you please excuse me, Your Imperial Majesty?” she asks you then. “I saw an old friend I haven’t spoken to in quite a while, and would like to catch up.” You don’t see a reason to refuse. “Go ahead.” She inclines her head, before rising from her chair and heading off into the room. Unfortunately, this means Mîr Behram has an uninterrupted line of sight on you.<</if>><<if $loveinterest is 'R'>> At that moment, you feel a light tap on your shoulder, and you turn to look at $rname. $crthey gives you an apologetic smile. “I may need to step away for a moment, if you don’t mind? I just saw an old acquaintance in the crowd that I’d like to catch up with.” You arch your brows slightly, as you can’t imagine what kind of acquaintance that would be in a crowd like this—you assumed $rname disliked all nobles on principle. There is no reason for you to refuse, though. “Go ahead.” $rname gives you a grateful look before rising fom $rtheir chair and heading off into the room. Unfortunately, this means Mîr Mêrxas has a much clearer line of sight on you.<</if>> <<if $loveinterest is 'X'>>[[Continue|7.44a]]<</if>><<if $loveinterest is 'A'>>[[Continue|7.44b]]<</if>><<if $loveinterest is 'R'>>[[Continue|7.44c]]<</if>><<if $loveinterest is 'D'>>[[Continue|7.44d]]<</if>> So far, the banquet has been passing by more pleasantly than you expected, though you suspect that’s in large part due to the fact that you haven’t gotten up to socialize yet. For right now, occupying yourself with eating dinner is a sufficient enough excuse, but the banquet will be drawing on for many hours more; you’ll have to start talking to the nobles <em>eventually</em>. For the moment, though, you’re content with amusing yourself in talking to Mîr Lîlan and $rname for the most part. “Your Imperial Majesty,” you hear a voice from somewhere over your shoulder just as you finish your first plate of food, but when you turn around to look, you don’t see anyone. It must be one of the Imperial Guards. “You may wish to check on $xname,” they mutter, and you look straight ahead again, as if you hadn’t heard a thing. “There appears to be an altercation brewing between $xthem and Mîr Behram.” You blink, looking past Mîr Lîlan but realizing that Mîr Behram isn’t sitting at the table anymore. When did he sneak off without you even noticing? “Where?” you whisper back, hiding your lips behind your cup. “In the hallway, on the left side of the room.” You put your cup back down, <<if $charm gt $blunt>>smiling at the other Mîrs and $rname seated at your table as you rise, as if nothing were amiss. “Do continue to enjoy the food—I’ll be back momentarily.”<<else>>rising from your seat with composure as the other Mîrs and $rname look at you curiously. You don’t bother giving them a reason. “I’ll be back in a moment.”<</if>> As you move through the crowd of nobles, parting for you with respectful bows, you realize that it’ll be impossible not to attract attention this way. “Guards?” you ask quietly. “Yes, Your Imperial Majesty?” “Can you help me disappear?” You don’t want to draw any more eyes to whatever is happening between $xname and Behram than you have to. There’s a brief pause. Then, “Of course, Your Imperial Majesty. If you would allow me to hold onto your shoulder?” You give a small nod, heading for the edges of the room and using one of the columns to obscure you from view. As you turn around it, you feel a hand press lightly onto your shoulder, foreign magic connecting with yours—wisps of smoke, a morning fog misting through the air—before your body turns invisible before your very eyes. That really is something. The guard walks with you as you head for the hallway, no longer drawing the stares of those around you, and before you reach the doorway you can already hear loud voices echoing through the corridor. A handful of nobles loiter near, but two visible Imperial Guards stand watch with spears in hand, their glares keeping the vultures at bay. “…lie to me, coward,” you hear. “You knew damned well what would happen!” That’s $xname’s voice, sounding angrier than you’ve ever heard $xthem. As you step into the hallway, you see $xthem standing inches away from Behram, towering over him while Behram himself looks calm but tense, hands squeezed into a fold behind his back. Two soldiers—city guards, you recognize from their bronze armor—stand on either side of Behram, each with a hand on the hilt of their swords, while Heval and Tûjo stand on either side of $xname, watching the city guards cautiously. Tûjo’s hand twitches near the handle of his own sword, while Heval has a hand wrapped around $xname’s elbow, probably the only thing holding $xthem back from throttling Behram then and there. The look you see in $xname’s eyes, cold fury sharpened into a knife-point, reminds you of the first time you met. “You asked for a name,” Behram says slowly, a sneer on his face. “I gave you one. Whatever you did with that information afterwards is none of my concern.” <em>You killed him.</em> Is this about what the earth spirits said? $xname lets out a humorless laugh. “It’s that easy to brush off responsibility, is it? But then, if you had any shame to begin with, you wouldn’t have dared show your face here ever again.” “The only one I see brushing off their responsibility is you,” Behram snaps, his temper starting to reach a boiling point. “Accuse me all you like, all I’m guilty of is doing exactly as you asked.” When you see a muscle jump in $xname’s clenched jaw, $xtheir whole posture going rigid, you decide to intervene before $xthey does something $xthey’ll regret. You tap on the hand on your shoulder, and the guard releases you, making you visible once more. Tûjo and Heval notice you first, followed by Mîr Behram and the guards. Behram takes a step away from $xname, then immediately bows to you, followed by the city guards as well as Tûjo and Heval. “Your Imperial Majesty. I deeply regret you had to witness such unbecoming behavior from the both of us, and I ask for your forgiveness.” $xname’s dark look lingers on Behram a moment longer, before $xthey very stiffly turns toward you, but does not make an attempt to bow or offer $xtheir apologies. $cxthey doesn’t meet your eyes, either, glaring down at the floor and remaining silent. <ul class="a"> <li><<if $xgender is 'male'>>[[“What about you, Xelef?” You expect an apology from him as well.|7.45a.1][$xpoints += 2]]<<else>>[[“What about you, Xelara?” You expect an apology from her as well.|7.45a.1][$xpoints += 2]]<</if>></li> <li>[[Accept Behram’s apology on behalf of them both.|7.45a.2][$xpoints -= 2]]</li> </ul> Of course, Mîr Behram immediately takes advantage. “Your Imperial Majesty, please permit me to say that your banquet has been most impressive so far. Especially considering how little time you had to organize it.” <<if $charm gt $blunt>>Your smile feels somewhat painful on your face.<</if>> The last thing you need is to be talking to him when he and Mîr Mêrxas gave you such a headache right before the coronation ritual. <<if $blunt gt $charm>>Unfortunately, telling him to piss off is not an option.<</if>> “$rname and the servants are to thank for that,” you reply as politely as you can manage, trying not to lean back when Mîr Behram leans closer, a hand on the arm of Lîlan’s chair as he takes it as an invitation to press the conversation forward. “I have no doubt,” Behram replies, though his tone is dismissive. “Still, the credit is ultimately yours. I have some experience with organizing feasts such as these, though my banquet hall is rather modest in comparison to this one, and the decoration is meticulous.” “Yes.” He wants to talk about the <em>decoration</em>, Spirits help you. “Meticulous.” “The drapery on the ceiling was truly an inspired choice,” Mîr Behram continues on, seeming rather fond of the sound of his own voice. Is this what he’s like in a normal conversation? No wonder $xname hates him. “I would have gone for a different color—burgundy, perhaps—but I certainly cannot fault your tastes, Your Imperial Majesty.” Sky above, is this man going to spend the entirety of the banquet kissing your feet and talking about decor? You rise almost abruptly from your chair, drawing the eyes of everyone else at the table. <<if $charm gt $blunt>>You manage a smile at the other Mîrs and $rname. “Do continue to enjoy the food—I’ll be back momentarily.”<<else>>You don’t bother giving them a reason, only meeting $rname’s eyes as you say, “I’ll be back in a moment.”<</if>> If you have to endure another second of this, you can’t be liable to what you’ll do to Mîr Behram as a result. Besides, you’d like to get some fresh air. As you leave the table and move through the crowd of nobles, parting for you with respectful bows, you realize that it’ll be impossible not to attract attention this way. “Guards?” you ask quietly. You hear a low voice from over your shoulder. “Yes, Your Imperial Majesty?” “Can you help me disappear?” There’s a brief pause. Then, “Of course, Your Imperial Majesty. If you would allow me to hold onto your shoulder?” You give a small nod, heading for the edges of the room and using one of the columns to obscure you from view. As you turn around it, you feel a hand press lightly onto your shoulder, foreign magic connecting with yours—wisps of smoke, a morning fog misting through the air—before your body turns invisible before your very eyes. That really is something. It allows you to move through the room largely unnoticed, though you now have to dodge people to make sure you don’t run into them. You spot an open doorway that leads into a corridor with large windows, offering a view of the gardens. Exactly what you need right now. Heading into the corridor, you’re relieved to find it empty. The nobles are all still inside, enjoying the food and drink. Moving away from the doorway further into the corridor, you tap on the hand your guard has on your shoulder as a sign to lift the magic keeping you invisible. The hand releases you, bringing your body back into view as you leisurely walk along the windows. Finally, a moment of silence. Only a moment. As you near the end of the corridor, your ears pick up on soft voices echoing against the wall. Intrigued, you move closer, the voices becoming more audible—you recognize them. $aname and Mîr Lîlan? Quietly moving closer to the edge of the wall, you’re curious to see what they’re talking about in such a secluded spot, separated from the rest of the banquet festivities. You’re just in time to catch the end of Mîr Lîlan’s sentence. “…certain your mother would be proud of you, if she could see you now,” Mîr Lîlan says, placing a comforting hand on $aname’s shoulder. $aname’s head inclines slightly in acknowledgment of her words. You halt a short distance away, caught by surprise at the topic being discussed. <<if $astory is true>>From what $aname has told you, as well as what you heard Lord Farrukh say, $atheir mother was a fisher when she met $aname’s father. $aname was remarkably tight-lipped on that subject, so it surprises you to see someone else address it.<<else>>From what you heard Lord Farrukh say, one of $aname’s parents was a fisher, but you don’t know anything else about the subject, or about $aname, for that matter. Perhaps that’s why it surprises you so much to see someone else address it.<</if>> “I wouldn’t be so certain of that,” $aname murmurs in reply, $atheir words barely audible; $athey seems distracted by the conversation. Could it be $athey hasn’t sensed your approach yet? Mîr Lîlan certainly hasn’t either it seems, as her gaze is firmly focused on $aname. While you don’t mean to eavesdrop, you find yourself transfixed on the conversation as she takes hold of $aname’s upper arms in a reassuring, but also quite familiar, gesture. “Do not blame yourself, you were only a child back then. What matters is that you’re doing everything in your power <em>now</em>.” “What if it’s too late?” $aname replies, and this is the first time you’ve heard $athem sound so uncertain, almost at a loss. “What if I’m wasting my time chasing after a ghost?” A ghost? Who? $catheir mother, or someone else? Mîr Lîlan shifts her grip to $atheir shoulders, squeezing gently. “Then at least you will have closure.” $aname doesn’t appear satisfied with that answer, shaking $atheir head. “If father had…” “Dwelling on the past won’t do you any good, $aname.” “I know.” You hear $aname take a steadying breath, releasing it as a sigh, but $athey says nothing more. As the silence lingers, you decide you’ve stood there long enough and should step out from behind the wall, at which point Mîr Lîlan says, “You really should consider telling our new Crown about all this. I don’t think $they would appreciate you keeping this a secret.” <ul class="a"> <li>[[Keep listening in.|7.45b.1][$apoints -= 2]]</li> <li>[[Reveal your presence.|7.45b.2][$apoints += 2]]</li> </ul> Of course, Mîr Mêrxas immediately takes advantage, seeming to be ignoring Mîr Sarya sitting between you two altogether as he addresses you. “Your Imperial Majesty, this feast has been excellent. Far be it from me to complain, although I must raise one objection!” <<if $charm gt $blunt>>Your smile feels somewhat painful on your face.<</if>> The last thing you need is to be talking to him when he and Mîr Behram gave you such a headache right before the coronation ritual. <<if $blunt gt $charm>>Unfortunately, telling him to piss off is not an option.<</if>> “What kind of objection would that be?” you reply as politely as you can manage, trying not to lean back when Mîr Mêrxas leans closer, a hand on the arm of Mîr Sarya’s chair as he takes it as an invitation to press the conversation forward. His bald head seems to refract all the light in the room; it is remarkably well polished. Sarya, meanwhile, looks at you with apologetic eyes as they subtly try to scoot their chair out of Mêrxas’ way and quite literally <em>out</em> of the conversation—he barely even seems to notice. You envy them, greatly. “The tunnels, Your Imperial Majesty!” Mêrxas replies, voice nearly raised to a shout to be audible from two chairs over, above the din of music and chatter. “I must object to the tunnels! I understand they have been in use since Crown Ashadūna’s time, but there are too many of them, far too many!” He wants to talk about <em>architecture</em>, Spirits help you. “Mîr Mêrxas, did you… get lost on your way to the palace?” “Lost?” Mîr Mêrxas sputters with indignance, as if becoming lost were a problem reserved for lesser, mortal creatures. “Lost? Me? <em>Lost</em>?” “That is what I said, yes.” “Your Imperial Majesty, I could not have possibly risen to the title of Mîr, of my illustrious province, were I so easily thwarted!” Mêrxas insists. “Mîrs do not become lost! I may have… on occasion… experienced difficulty in reading maps, <em>however</em>—” Sky above. You rise almost abruptly from your chair, drawing the eyes of everyone else at the table. <<if $charm gt $blunt>>You manage a smile at the other Mîrs. “Do continue to enjoy the food, I’ll be back momentarily.”<<else>>You don’t bother giving them a reason, only stating, “I’ll be back in a moment.”<</if>> If you have to endure another second of this, you can’t be liable to what you’ll do to Mîr Mêrxas as a result. Besides, you’d like to get some fresh air. As you leave the table and move through the crowd of nobles, parting for you with respectful bows, you realize that it’ll be impossible not to attract attention this way. “Guards?” you ask quietly. You hear a low voice from over your shoulder. “Yes, Your Imperial Majesty?” “Can you help me disappear?” There’s a brief pause. Then, “Of course, Your Imperial Majesty. If you would allow me to hold onto your shoulder?” You give a small nod, heading for the edges of the room and using one of the columns to obscure you from view. As you turn around it, you feel a hand press lightly onto your shoulder, foreign magic connecting with yours—wisps of smoke, a morning fog misting through the air—before your body turns invisible before your very eyes. That really is something. It allows you to move through the room largely unnoticed, though you now have to dodge people to make sure you don’t run into them. You spot an open doorway that leads into a corridor with large windows, offering a view of the gardens. Exactly what you need right now. Heading into the corridor, you’re surprised to find it not as empty as you expected it. $rname stands in front of one of the windows, arms folded across $rtheir chest. The white gems decorating $rtheir hair glitter in the soft sunlight, $rtheir expression unexpectedly peaceful. This must be the first quiet moment $rthey’s had since you arrived at the palace. You tap on the hand on your shoulder for the guard to release their magic. The hand pulls away, and with it, your body appears into view again, though you are also a little hesitant to approach $rname; you don’t want to intrude. Before you can decide whether to say something, $rname turns $rtheir head and looks at you, appearing pleasantly surprised to see you. “Did you get tired of the banquet already?” You smile wryly. “You left me at the mercy of Mîr Mêrxas. I couldn’t get away fast enough.” “Ah, that explains it.” $crthey looks back at you with humor in $rtheir gaze. “Would you like to join me? Looking out over the gardens is a great deal more calming than talking to Mêrxas.” “I think that’s true of most things.” “Fair point.” [[Continue|7.45c]]“Your Imperial Majesty,” you hear a voice from somewhere over your shoulder, but when you turn around to look, you don’t see anyone. It must be one of the Imperial Guards. “You may wish to check on the general,” they mutter, and you look straight ahead again, as if you hadn’t heard a thing. “There appears to be an altercation brewing between $dthem and Princess Kham.” That doesn’t sound good. You look over to where Kham was seated at the table, and find her chair empty. When did she leave without you noticing? “Where?” you whisper back, hiding your lips behind your cup. “In the hallway, on the left side of the room.” You put your cup back down, <<if $charm gt $blunt>>smiling at the Mîrs and $rname seated at your table as you rise, as if nothing were amiss. “Do continue to enjoy the food—I’ll be back momentarily.”<<else>>rising from your seat with composure as the Mîrs and $rname look at you curiously. You don’t bother giving them a reason. “I’ll be back in a moment.”<</if>> As you move through the crowd of nobles, parting for you with respectful bows, you realize that it’ll be impossible not to attract attention this way. “Guards?” you ask quietly. “Yes, Your Imperial Majesty?” “Can you help me disappear?” You don’t want to draw any more eyes to whatever is happening between $dname and Kham than you have to. There’s a brief pause. Then, “Of course, Your Imperial Majesty. If you would allow me to hold onto your shoulder?” You give a small nod, heading for the edges of the room and using one of the columns to obscure you from view. As you turn around it, you feel a hand press lightly onto your shoulder, foreign magic connecting with yours—wisps of smoke, a morning fog misting through the air—before your body turns invisible before your very eyes. That really is something. The guard walks with you as you head for the hallway, no longer drawing the stares of those around you, and before you reach the doorway you can already hear loud voices echoing through the corridor. A handful of nobles loiter near, but two visible Imperial Guards stand watch with spears in hand, their glares keeping the vultures at bay. “…can’t expect $ctheir Imperial Majesty won’t find out eventually?” That’s Kham, alright. You don’t hesitate, maneuvering around the nobles and past the guards, slipping into the corridor unseen and unnoticed. As expected, you find Kham and $dname there, facing each other with $dname glaring up at Kham, jaw clenched and hands balled into fists. Kham’s posture is much more at ease, tall wooden arms loosely folded across her chest, orange eyes glowing with amusement at $dname’s display of anger. “That is not <em>your</em> concern,” $dname snaps, and Kham flashes $dthem a smile, toothless mouth gaping into a dark hole. “$dname, you realize the nobles at the banquet are already whispering about it, don’t you?” she drawls, as if $dname hadn’t said anything. “It’s only a matter of time before it—” You tap on the hand on your shoulder, and the guard releases you, making you visible once more. “Before it reaches me?” you interrupt, and both Kham as well as $dname appear startled. $dname immediately bends $dtheir waist into a bow, and you wish $dthey wouldn’t. “Your Imperial Majesty.” “What wonderful timing!” Kham recovers from her surprise, smile reappearing on her face. “Since you are here now, Crown $name, I’m sure you would like to hear about our discussion?” $dname is still frozen in $dtheir bow, not meeting your eyes. “Yes, but not from you,” you state coolly. <<if $charm gt $blunt>>“You should rejoin the festivities, princess.”<<else>>“Leave. Now.”<</if>> Kham looks openly disappointed, as much as is visible on her wooden face, anyway. She lets out a deep sigh, but knows better than to test you—she’s lucky you’re leaving it at a warning for nearly causing a scene at your banquet like this. “Very well.” She casts $dname one last look. “I’m sure we’ll speak later, general.” With that, she saunters out of the room, causing several of the nobles who were listening in to flee from the doorway. You hear her chuckle as she enters the banquet hall again. “Ah, humans.” It leaves you alone with $dname, who still hasn’t moved an inch from $dtheir bow. <ul class="a"> <li><<if $dgender is 'male'>>[[Tell him to stop bowing.|7.45d.1][$dpoints -= 2]]<<else>>[[Tell her to stop bowing.|7.45d.1][$dpoints -= 2]]<</if>></li> <li>[[Allow the bowing, and ask about the conversation.|7.45d.2][$dpoints += 2]]</li> </ul><<set $xbegging to true>>$xname lifts $xtheir eyes to you, features devoid of any outward frustration, but the intensity of $xtheir gaze warns you to be cautious. “What about me?” $xthey replies, voice neutral. Behram casts $xthem a sharp look, but says nothing. Heval and Tûjo both stare at $xname as well, and even with Heval’s helmet on you can almost sense them scowling at $xname. This isn’t something you can overlook, not in front of Mîr Behram, when so many nobles have already witnessed the altercation. $xname is clearly deeply affected by whatever has happened between $xthem and Mîr Behram in the past, but you can’t be understanding of that when you don’t know anything about the situation. <<if $ass gt $pass>>You give $xthem an even look. “Beg for my forgiveness.” $cxthey freezes, $xtheir eyes widening slightly, as if $xthey had not expected you to go this far. Tûjo and Heval exchange a look from over $xname’s shoulder, and though Heval’s face is hidden behind their mask, they shake their head minutely, wordlessly telling Tûjo not to interfere. You tilt your head slightly as you stare expectantly at $xname. “Well? Don’t keep me waiting.” It’s an act on your part—you’ve never commanded anyone like this before—but it doesn’t feel entirely forced, either. The authority of being a Crown comes more naturally to you than you expected, and part of you is endlessly fascinated by its power as it bends $xname’s head down in acknowledgment as $xthey lowers into a bow with a hand on $xtheir chest.<<else>>You arch your brows at $xthem. “Are you really going to pretend you don’t know what I’m asking?” Maintaining your composure, you don’t feel the need to command $xthem and display your authority. Merely staring at $xthem expectantly has the required effect; $xname is unable to hold your gaze, looking away as $xtheir head lowers slightly, looking as if $xthey’d just been scolded despite the gentleness of your reproach. Perhaps that’s what makes the embarrassment all the sharper. You don’t have to wait long at all before $xname bends $xtheir back into a bow with a hand on $xtheir chest, to the relief of both Tûjo and Heval standing behind $xthem, the latter shaking their helmeted head.<</if>> “I beg for your forgiveness, Your Imperial Majesty.” You let $xthem linger in the bow for a long moment, making certain $xthey understands that causing a scene at your coronation is just about the most reckless, thoughtless thing $xthey could’ve done. Whatever has happened between $xthem and Mîr Behram must be very severe, considering it caused $xname to take leave of $xtheir senses. “You have it,” you speak at length, and $xthey relaxes again as $xthey straightens up from $xtheir bow. “But tread carefully, $xname; if you try my patience again, it won’t be so easy to earn a second time.” $xname stares at you with the distinct look of someone who underestimated $xtheir opponent, and is only realizing it when the final blow has already been dealt. You suppose you can’t blame $xthem for that, seeing as the first time you met you were little more than a skittish runaway. Even when you displayed your authority over $xthem in front of the nobles, it was all part of $dname’s plan in the end, but this is different. This is all you. “I’ll… be sure not to make that mistake again,” $xname says, seeming to be considering you in a new light. While the matter has now been dealt with, that doesn’t mean you’re done talking to $xthem. That little display was only necessary because of Mîr Behram’s presence and the nobles listening in. “Mîr Behram, you should rejoin the festivities,” you say, turning to the Mîr who has been watching $xname this entire time, his gaze now returning to you. <<if $charm gt $blunt>>“You don’t want to end up missing the artist performances, do you?”<<else>>You don’t offer any other explanation; it may as well be an order, not that he can defy you either way.<</if>> $xname crosses $xtheir arms over $xtheir chest when you start talking to Behram, looking the other way as if pretending Behram doesn’t exist. Behram on the other hand glances one last time at $xname, before bowing toward you once more in a short, stiff motion. “Of course, Your Imperial Majesty.” You watch as he retreats back into the banquet hall with the city guards in tow, before you address Tûjo and Heval next, albeit your tone is a lot more friendly. “You as well, if you don’t mind. $xname and I need to talk.” “Very well,” Heval says, and as they and Tûjo pass by $xname, standing there as tense as a statue, Tûjo claps $xthem twice on the shoulder. You can’t decide whether the gesture is meant to be sympathetic or mocking. Probably both, knowing Tûjo. Moments later, you are left alone with $xname in the hallway. [[Continue|7.46a]]“I assume you agree with the sentiment, $xname?” you say, arching your brows pointedly, though you keep a casual demeanor. You can’t show that $xname’s erratic behavior has thrown you off in front of Mîr Behram. $xname lifts $xtheir eyes to you, features devoid of any outward frustration, but the intensity of $xtheir gaze warns you to be cautious. “Of course,” $xthey says, though $xtheir tone is an indifferent one; $xthey ignores the sharp look Behram gives $xthem, as well as the stares $xthey gets from Tûjo and Heval. As you keep staring at $xname, $xthey seems to realize what you’re after, and after a few silent seconds pass $xthey finally bends down into a stiff bow, low enough that it hides $xtheir face. You let $xthem linger in it for a long moment, making certain $xthey understands that causing a scene at your coronation is just about the most reckless, thoughtless thing $xthey could’ve done. Frankly, $xthey’s fortunate that you don’t make $xthem ask for your forgiveness, which you don’t doubt would’ve been humiliating to have to do in front of Mîr Behram. Whatever has happened between $xthem and Mîr Behram really must be very severe, considering it caused $xname to take leave of $xtheir senses. “Mîr Behram, you should rejoin the festivities,” you say, turning to the Mîr who has been watching $xname this entire time, his gaze now returning to you. <<if $charm gt $blunt>>“You don’t want to end up missing the artist performances, do you?”<<else>>You don’t offer any other explanation; it may as well be an order, not that he can defy you either way.<</if>> $xname crosses $xtheir arms over $xtheir chest when you start talking to Behram, looking the other way as if pretending Behram doesn’t exist. Behram on the other hand glances one last time at $xname, before bowing toward you once more in a short, stiff motion. “Of course, Your Imperial Majesty.” You watch as he retreats back into the banquet hall with the city guards in tow, before you address Tûjo and Heval next, albeit your tone is a lot more friendly. “You as well, if you don’t mind. $xname and I need to talk.” “Very well,” Heval says, and as they and Tûjo pass by $xname, standing there as tense as a statue, Tûjo claps $xthem twice on the shoulder. You can’t decide whether the gesture is meant to be sympathetic or mocking. Probably both, knowing Tûjo. Moments later, you are left alone with $xname in the hallway. [[Continue|7.46a]]“$xname,” you start when $xname remains silent, not looking at you. “What in the Void was that?” $xname remains quiet for a while longer, before the silence becomes too heavy for $xthem and $xthey breathes out a heavy sigh, uncrossing $xtheir arms and letting them drop by $xtheir sides. “Just some unfinished business,” $xthey replies, giving you an apologetic look. “I really <em>am</em> sorry for causing a scene, I swear that it won’t happen again. Since you’ve so graciously forgiven me, how about we forget this happened and go back to—” Does $xthey really think $xthey can smooth things over that easily? <<if $blunt>>“No,” you interrupt, frowning at $xthem. $cxthey pauses, taken aback by your blunt refusal. “No?” “You need to give me an explanation.”<<else>>“I don’t think so,” you interrupt coolly, giving $xthem an unamused look. “You’re not talking your way out of this one, $xname. Not until you tell me what that was about.”<</if>><<if $pass gt $ass>> It’s not usually in you to be so demanding of people, and you don’t like having to be like this either, but with $xname, you’re learning that you need to draw a line in the sand or suffer $xtheir evasiveness forever.<</if>> $xname isn’t caught off guard for long, however, before $xthey changes tactics. “Okay, you’re right. You deserve to know what happened, and I promise I’ll tell you—just not tonight.” <em>Liar</em>, the Earth spirits said. You narrow your eyes. “I’m not convinced.” If this rattles $xname, $xthey doesn’t show it. Instead, $xthey tilts $xtheir head slightly, giving you a long look, before $xtheir lips slowly unfurl into a smile. You stand perfectly still as $xname takes a step closer to you. “Then tell me, how can I convince you?” $cxthey leans in, and despite your resolve not to fall for $xtheir tricks, your traitorous heart starts beating faster as you pick up the rich, earthy scent of whatever perfume clings to $xname’s skin and clothes. <<if $height is 'small' or $height is 'very small' or $height is 'average'>>As $xthey bends down, hand on your shoulder and lips against your ear, you’re close enough for your mouth to almost brush $xtheir neck, which you imagine was entirely intentional.<</if>><<if $height is 'very tall' or $height is 'tall'>>As $xthey nearly closes the distance, hand against your shoulder and lips to your ear, you can almost feel the press of $xtheir chest on yours, which you imagine was entirely intentional.<</if>> $cxtheir body radiates heat against your own, leaving you feeling almost feverish. “Shall I beg you<<if $xbegging is true>> again<</if>>, on my knees<<if $xbegging is true>> this time<</if>>?” $cxtheir whisper is red-hot against your ear, testing your <<if $res gt $flirt>>composure<<else>>self-control<</if>> to its outer limits. It would be so easy <<if $pass gt $ass>>to give $xthem what $xthey wants<<else>>to make $xthem kneel for you, the way $xthey clearly wants to<</if>>— But you won’t be deterred so easily. [[Continue|7.47a]]<<unset $xbegging>>You take a pointed step back, and the look of genuine surprise on $xname’s face almost makes it worth the loss of heat. Who would ever think to reject the Pale Sword’s advances, after all? “Don’t test me, $xname,” you warn, managing to keep your voice steady and serious, though there is a slightly breathy tone to it that you can’t help. <<if $charm gt $blunt>>“You’re not seducing your way out of this one.”<</if>> There is only a glimpse of it, but you catch it in $xtheir eyes then; a look of calculation, before $xtheir approach changes again. “I’m sorry,” $xthey says, and $xthey does seem and sound sincere this time. “I truly am, but you have to understand, I really don’t want to talk about this. It’s not a happy story, for anyone involved.” At the very least, the reluctance in $xtheir words seems truthful. $cxthey notices it when your brows furrow slightly with doubt as you wonder whether it’s worth it to push $xthem on this, and $xthey capitalizes on it. “Please, $name, we are here to celebrate your coronation,” $xname says, smiling at you so prettily with $xtheir green eyes, thick black lashes lowered to soften $xtheir gaze into something beseeching. “Must we really discuss this now, of all times? Let’s speak of something more pleasant.” “You nearly caused an incident in front of all the nobility and the Mîrs,” you point out, not amused by $xname’s attempt at deflecting something so serious. “So yes, we do have to discuss this now. At the very least, you should tell me why you hate Behram so much; I need to know if this is going to become an even bigger problem in the future.” $xname’s smile falters momentarily, before returning to $xtheir face again—strained, now. Tensed into the corners of $xtheir mouth. “Honestly, there isn’t much to tell. I don’t like him, that’s all.” “That’s all?” you repeat, disbelieving. “$xname, you looked like you were moments away from running him through with your sword. I know you’re a little reckless, but usually you wouldn’t lose your temper like that.” The facade cracks, long enough to let a scoff slip from $xname’s lips, followed by sharp, derisive words. “Usually? What would you know about how I am usually? You’ve known me for mere days, and you expect me to bare all my secrets to you because I helped you once?” $xname’s patience has run out, and now $xthey’s lashing out at you, you realize with sudden clarity. Like you’re prodding at a wounded animal that feels threatened and bears its fangs in warning. Which means there must be much more to this than you realized—but that doesn’t mean that it doesn’t still hurt. <ul class="a"> <li>[[Let it go.|7.48a.1][$xpoints += 4]]</li> <li>[[Insist on an answer.|7.48a.2][$xpoints -= 2]]</li> </ul> You close your eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath through your nose, then out again as you keep control over your temper. “Okay.” When you open your eyes again, you find $xname staring at you in surprise and disbelief. “Okay?” “If you don’t want to tell me, I won’t insist.” Your jaw clenches, the tension not having fully left you yet, but if $xname keeps on pushing you away like this, you’re not going to keep following after $xthem like a lost little duckling. “You’re right, after all. We’ve only known each other for a short time, and we’re not friends. I’m only your employer, aren't I?” “$name,” $xname starts, appearing regretful now. “I didn’t mean…” “I know.” You avert your eyes, letting out a sigh. “I shouldn’t have pushed. You said you would tell me about it at some point, only not tonight—did you mean that?” $xname hesitates. “I was… going to cross that bridge when I got there.” That’s probably a no, then. You can’t even be angry about it anymore, really. It’s not as if you’ve never lied to anyone before, and $xname was right to draw a line in the sand on something that is clearly sensitive to $xthem. “If it’s that painful to talk about, then don’t. I’ll understand.” $xname doesn’t say anything to that, seeming lost in thought, brows furrowed. Just as you’re about to suggest leaving this whole thing behind you, as $xname wanted to do in the first place, $xthey says: “The Mîrs of Rojan and I have a long, bloody history together. I don’t want to speak of Behram, but…” Mîrs, as in plural? $xname meets your eyes, a conflicted look visible within $xtheirs before something eventually gives way, and $xthey continues to speak. “The Mîr before Behram, the one appointed by Crown Piruz… she razed my village to the ground when I was a child.” $cxthey averts $xtheir gaze, turning it toward the windows of the hallway where the sunlight shines through as you listen, frozen in shock. “Burned it down with everyone still in it, including my mother.” $cxtheir whole village? [[Continue|7.49a]]“Stop evading the question,” you start, scowling at $xthem, but $xthey cuts you off before you can say anything more. “Do you really want to know why I hate him?” $xname glares back at you, the anger building in $xtheir voice as $xthey speaks. “He uses people, that’s why! He manipulates them into doing his bidding, then pretends he had nothing to do with it, consequences be damned. Does that satisfy you? Or do I need to describe to you in detail how he—” $xname’s mouth clamps shut and $xthey turns $xtheir back on you, taking in a deep breath as $xthey <<if $xgender is 'male'>>brushes both hands through his hair<<else>>puts her hands on her hips<</if>>. Maybe you pushed too hard, but this is also the most honest thing you’ve seen from $xname so far. Still, you can at least admit that your pushing was because of a loss of temper on your part, for $xname continuously trying to lie to you and then snapping at you. Clearly, neither of you is prepared to have a conversation this sensitive. You hesitate for a while as $xname’s back faces you, then say, “$xname… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…” “It’s fine.” $xname sounds calmer now, looks calmer as $xthey turns around to face you again, though there is also weariness in $xtheir features. “I haven’t exactly been forthcoming with you either.” That’s also true, but you say nothing in response, not wanting to make this a game of passing blame around. Neither of you handled it well. Just as you’re about to suggest leaving this whole thing behind you, as $xname wanted to do in the first place, $xthey says: “The Mîrs of Rojan and I have a long, bloody history together. I don’t want to speak of Behram, but…” Mîrs, as in plural? $xname meets your eyes, a conflicted look visible within $xtheirs before something eventually gives way, and $xthey continues to speak. “The Mîr before Behram, the one appointed by Crown Piruz… she razed my village to the ground when I was a child.” $cxthey averts $xtheir gaze, turning it toward the windows of the hallway where the sunlight shines through as you listen, frozen in shock. “Burned it down with everyone still in it, including my mother.” $cxtheir whole village? [[Continue|7.49a]]$xname speaks of it almost indifferently, as if it happened to someone else. Considering $xthey was a child when it happened, it must have been a long time ago—maybe to $xthem, it does feel like it happened to someone else. Or maybe pretending it did makes it easier to speak of it. “The only reason I wasn’t killed as well was because I had run off to the forest to play,” $xname continues. “I wasn’t supposed to. My mother had forbidden me many times, but I was a stubborn child and was looking for adventure. When I saw the smoke through the trees, I ran back, but—” $cxthey halts, and while $xtheir expression doesn’t change, $xtheir hands clench into fists for one moment, before releasing again. “By then it was too late.” There’s only one thing you can think to say as your mind tries to work through everything $xname is telling you, through the gruesomeness of it. “Why? Why would they destroy your village?” $xname’s mouth cracks into a sneer. “Politics, why else? My mother was the Keeper of Rojan’s Council at the time. They were the first ones to protest Crown Piruz’ handling of Ivia, and other provinces started to follow soon after. So the Crown and the Mîr made an example of her. Of us.” You can’t imagine how cruel and heartless someone would have to be to resort to such monstrous tactics. To imagine $xname as a child, running back to $xtheir home only to find it burned down to the ground, $xtheir mother and everyone else $xthey cared about dead… “It happened a long time ago, $name,” $xname says when $xthey sees the look on your face. “I’ve had time to deal with it.” Still, something like that doesn’t just heal with time. You decide not to push $xthem on it, however. “Did Piruz really think that would stop the protests?” you say instead, frowning deeply. “I don’t think he <em>was</em> thinking,” $xname considers, a dark look crossing $xtheir face. “Crown Piruz’ health was starting to deteriorate back then. It would be only two years before his death. More likely, he was scared. Afraid of what might happen should a rebellion break out in Arsur as well.” “That’s no excuse.” You shake your head. “To kill so many innocent people...” $xname looks at you, a humorless smile on $xtheir face. “It’s what rulers do.” You could do the same if you wanted to, is what $xthey’s really saying. Order anyone you want to be killed, burn down any village, any town, any city. The horrible truth of it is that the whole nation would be at your mercy. “Then why did you help me?” you ask, staring $xname back into $xtheir eyes. “If that’s what you really think.” $xname averts $xtheir gaze. “I had my own reasons.” While some things with $xname are clearly a locked door, $xthey still went as far as to tell you about what is an incredibly painful memory for $xthem. You don’t know whether $xthey meant it as a warning, a test, or a show of trust—maybe all three—but it’s more than you expected to get. But that also means that whatever happened between $xthem and Behram is even more painful than $xtheir home being destroyed. “In any case, does this sate your curiosity a little bit?” $xname says, taking on a lighter, more teasing tone, though it falls somewhat flat with the shadow of the story $xthey just told you still looming over you both. “I shouldn’t have pried,” you say, but $xname waves your impending apology off before you can speak it. “I told you that because I wanted to.” $cxthey gives you a half-smile that eyes a little sad. “Besides, fair is fair: I intruded on your vision back at the coronation, after all.” That’s right. $cxthey saw your childhood home, and your mother. In that, the two of you share the same sort of pain, you realize. [[Continue|7.50a]] Someone clears their throat behind you, interrupting you before you can say anything more to $xname, and you both look toward the noise. Ziryan stands there with an apologetic look on their face, and it occurs to you that your Imperial Guards have also been listening in on this conversation. $xname doesn’t appear to be bothered by it, though, seeming unsurprised by Ziryan’s presence. “Yes?” you say, giving them permission to speak. “Forgive the intrusion, Your Imperial Majesty,” Ziryan says regretfully. “The guests are starting to ask questions about your absence.” You sigh, resigned. You would’ve liked to talk some more with $xname, especially considering you’ve only just started to open up to each other, but there is still a banquet for you to host. “You go on ahead,” $xname says to you. “I think I need some time to myself.” “Will I see you later?” “You can't get rid of me that easily,” $xname replies with a more genuine smile this time. “You haven't paid me yet, after all.” You shake your head, and after casting $xthem a last look, you head back toward the banquet hall, Ziryan fading away from sight as they follow. [[Continue|7.51]] As you enter the banquet hall again and make to return to the festivities, however, someone suddenly steps in front of you, bowing deeply. “Your Imperial Majesty!” From the eye and snake symbol stitched into the chest of their blue robe, you take it they’re a magus from the School of Marabad, one of high rank if they managed to secure an invitation to the celebratory banquet. While you are only mildly surprised by their appearance, your guards are less than pleased. Instantly a hand appears from the air, holding a knife to the right side of the magus’ throat while the tip of a spear is leveraged against the left side, but they don’t even flinch, likely having expected it. You can’t see any of your guards aside from that, but the air around you starts feeling heavy, crowded. No doubt they’ve surrounded the magus from nearly every side. <<if $caut gt $blunt>>You take a cautious step back from the magus to give your guards more room to move should it be necessary, eyeing the magus warily. “What’s the meaning of this?”<<else>>You arch your brows at the bold gesture, eyeing them curiously but not feeling especially threatened with your guards present. “Well, if your plan was to get my attention, you certainly succeeded.”<</if>> “Forgive my audacity, Your Imperial Majesty, but all I ask is a moment of your time,” the magus replies calmly, not raising their head even when addressed. <<if $caut gt $adven>>Admittedly, you<<else>>You<</if>> don’t see how they could be a danger from that position. “You have a lot of nerve to dare block the Crown’s path,” you hear Ezo say coldly, the hand with the knife likely belonging to her. Her next words are addressed to you: “Permission to expel them from the palace, Your Imperial Majesty?” Before you can consider Ezo’s request, the magus interrupts with words you never expected to hear: “I knew Harun and Nazire!” All you can do is stare, numbed by shock as their names echo through your head. The magus raises their head to look at you. Ezo’s knife cuts a thin line into their skin, a drop of blood welling up to slide down their throat and stain the collar of their robe, but the pain reflected in their dark eyes is of a different kind. “I used to know your parents, Your Imperial Majesty.” The words your mother spoke in the vision. <em>Come home, my love</em>. [[End Chapter|8.1]]<<set $aeavesdropping to true>><<if $calc gt $kind>>You freeze in place; you can’t let this opportunity pass you by. While you know it might not be the entirely proper thing to do, with how tight-lipped $aname has been about $athemselves, this is your best chance to learn something—especially as, according to Mîr Lîlan, you’d be better off knowing than not. It’s only reasonable that you’d want to know.<<else>>You freeze in place. While you feel guilty about it, considering this appears to be a very personal matter to $aname, you’re too curious to stop listening. Spirits only know when $aname will decide to open up to you, and if it’s a matter that concerns you as Mîr Lîlan seemed to imply, isn’t it better that you know?<</if>> Back pressed against the wall, you continue to listen in. “It’s not that simple.” “What about it isn’t simple?” Mîr Lîlan asks. When $aname doesn’t respond, she adds, “Are you so afraid of being judged?” “That’s not it.” “Then what?” Another silence sets in, this one the longest one yet. You’re beginning to think the conversation is over when Mîr Lîlan speaks again, her voice gentler this time. “You are not your father, $aname,” she says. “If the Crown has any sense at all, $they won’t hold it against you.” What is it about $aname’s father that seems to trouble $athem so much? <<if $astory is true>>You remember the first time you asked $aname about how $athey became the Royal Protector, and the way $athey spoke so fondly of $atheir mother yet clammed up about $atheir father. It doesn’t surprise you to hear that $atheir relationship with $atheir father is a strained one, though you didn’t know it would be <em>this</em> big of an issue for $athem.<</if>> You’re starting to realize that you don’t know much about $aname at all. “I told you, that’s not it,” $aname insist, a tinge of frustration leaking through in $atheir voice. “It’s not just what my father did, it’s—” “Axîn?” Mîr Lîlan guesses, her voice sympathetic, and $aname quiets. That’s a feminine name, you realize. Could this be the <em>she</em> that the earth spirits were referring to? “I don’t want to talk about her,” $aname says tersely. “Not—” $cathey pauses almost suddenly, and from your narrow view of the two of them from behind the corner, you can make out the way $atheir shoulders tense up even from beneath $atheir armor. “$aname?” $cathey lets out a deep breath. “Can we have this conversation another time? I’m not in the mood for it.” Oh no. Did $athey finally notice your presence? Mîr Lîlan looks as if she wants to argue, frowning deeply at $athem, but eventually relents. “Very well, I’ll hold you to that. I suppose I’ve already taken enough of your time; you should be watching the Crown.” “Yes,” $aname agrees, but $atheir voice sounds a little strained. As Mîr Lîlan turns in your direction, you duck back behind the wall, thinking that you should escape before she can spot you when $aname speaks up. “If you follow this hallway, it’ll lead you right to the Royal Gardens. I know how much you’ve wanted to visit them.” “A fine idea,” Mîr Lîlan agrees. “It has been a very long time since I was last here, but I remember the lakes looking beautiful at night.” “Enjoy the festivities, Your Excellency.” To your bemusement, $aname directs Mîr Lîlan the opposite direction, away from you. Once she has gone, the echoes of her footsteps fading from the hallways, you hear $aname again. “How long are you intending on staying hidden, Your Imperial Majesty?” [[Continue|7.46b]]<<set $aeavesdropping to false>><<if $calc gt $kind>>Though you know that you’d be able to gain more information this way, you don’t want to risk doing anything that would upset $aname. Besides which, you’re fairly sure you’ll get caught soon, but even if $aname doesn’t catch you, the Imperial Guards certainly know about your eavesdropping now. One of them could tell $aname, which would reflect badly on you either way. It’s better to be honest, even though you’re really curious.<<else>>You don’t have to think about the decision for very long; despite how curious you are and how eager you are to get to know $aname better, it’s not worth it. $aname would be rightfully upset if $athey caught you doing this, especially since the conversation seems to be a very sensitive one. It’s better to be honest.<</if>> You take a breath, and step out from behind the wall. Mîr Lîlan is the first one to spot you, brows arching at the sight of you, which finally draws $aname’s attention to you as well. $cathey turns around, meeting your eyes with a rare, flustered look of $atheir own. It seems $athey really was so absorbed in the conversation that $athey didn’t even sense your presence, or that of the Imperial Guards accompanying you. With the both of them staring at you now, you clear your throat. No matter your honesty, it’s still an awkward situation to be in. “I just wanted to get some fresh air,” you say by way of explanation, not wanting $aname to think you went this way purposefully to listen in on $atheir conversation. $cathey smooths out the surprise in $atheir expression, but saying nothing, glancing over at Mîr Lîlan who gives you a diplomatic smile. “Of course, Your Imperial Majesty.” She glances between the two of you as well, a thoughtful look in her eyes, before she says to you, “In fact, I was just going to take a walk through the Royal Gardens myself. I’ll leave you to it.” Before you can protest, she bows to you, and gently pats $aname on the shoulder before taking her leave, walking further down the corridor and leaving you and $aname behind. The awkward silence resumes. [[Continue|7.46b]]<<if $aeavesdropping is true>><<if $pass gt $ass>>Feeling your face burn with embarrassment at being caught, you quietly<<else>>Trying to save at least some of your dignity at being caught, you confidently<</if>> step out from behind the wall<<if $ass gt $pass>> as if it were your intention all along<</if>>, finding $aname facing you with an unimpressed look, arms folded across $atheir chest. <</if>><<if $charm gt $blunt>>“Fancy meeting you here,” you say, trying for a joke. It falls flat.<<else>>“I know, I shouldn’t have eavesdropped,” you say, knowing that anything else will simply sound like an excuse.<</if>> $aname’s gaze shifts to a point over your shoulder. “Leave us, and make sure we’re not interrupted.” Ordering the invisible guards to give you privacy? You’re definitely in for a scolding. “I’m sorry, $aname.” Taking a serious, remorseful tone is probably advisable at this point. <<if $kind gt $calc>>Besides which, you truly <em>are</em> sorry.<</if>> <<if $aeavesdropping is false>>“At least you didn't wait until you were caught,” $aname considers, frown softening a little. “I can appreciate that, but why do it in the first place?”<<else>>“Then why do it?”<</if>> You let out a sigh. “My curiosity got the better of me.” $aname gives you a long look, brows wrinkling slightly, $atheir tone sounding slightly incredulous. “Your curiosity… about me?” <<if $ass gt $pass>>“Of course.” You return a quizzical look of your own. “I know it’s only been a few days since we met, but you haven’t exactly opened up much about yourself—not that that’s an excuse, but yes, I was curious.”<<else>>“Yes,” you answer truthfully, though doing so makes you feel embarrassed for different reasons now. “I wanted to know more about you, but that’s no excuse. I should’ve gone about it in a more honest way, or just been patient.”<</if>> “I see.” $aname averts $atheir gaze, brows wrinkling. $cathey looks conflicted, no doubt thinking back on Mîr Lîlan’s advice as well. “I suppose you heard everything?” “When I got here, I heard Mîr Lîlan say that your mother would be proud of you,” you say after hesitating for a moment, knowing it is likely a sensitive topic for $aname. $cathey doesn’t meet your eyes. “And everything after that.” $aname lets out a deep breath, lifting a hand to $atheir face and rubbing $atheir forehead as resignation settles in $atheir face. “You don’t have to tell me—” $cathey cuts off your reassurance, lowering $atheir hand again, $atheir expression smoothed out into cool indifference though $atheir stare is aimed at the floor. “I do.” Because you’re $atheir Crown. Searching $atheir eyes as a conflicted feeling arises within you, you can’t find anything within them aside from the soft reflection of torchlight within brown irises, but nothing more. $aname lifts $atheir gaze, meeting yours from across a distance that suddenly feels vast, and says, “My father was Crown Piruz.” [[Continue|7.47b]] You stand there and stare at $athem for several long moments; one of shock, one of confusion, and finally, one of understanding. $cathey’s Crownsblood. Princes and princesses have no place within Arsur’s hierarchy as the title of Crown isn’t hereditary, yet the Crown’s children and closest relatives are still recognized to be important because of their relation. Those who are Crownsblood are not afforded any authority merely by virtue of being related to the Crown, but it’s undeniable that the title still carries influence and wealth. $aname must have been raised in a Royal Palace. $cathey knows how to handle the nobility—knows to distrust them most of all—and dislikes any kind of authority. $cathey was obviously familiar with the Mîrs for a reason, and you assumed it was because of $atheir position, but it’s not. <em>They</em> all still remember $athem as the Nineteenth Crown’s child. The earth spirits said <em>blood of gold</em>. Even $atheir last name, Mirza! It means— <em>Child of the ruler</em>. <<if $charm gt $blunt>>“Am I an idiot?” you say, and $aname grins at you. “Do you want me to answer that?”<<else>>“Shit,” you say, and $aname actually laughs. “Shit is right.”<</if>> “I can’t believe I didn’t notice.” You shake your head, staring at $aname in a mixture of disbelief and wonder. “You’re really Crown Piruz’s <<if $agender is 'male'>>son<<else>>daughter<</if>>?” “His youngest,” $aname confirms, and before you can ask a follow-up question to that, $athey adds, “Mirza, I’m sure you’ve noticed, isn’t my family name.” “I was going to ask about that.” You give $aname a questioning look. “Is it your title?” “No,” $aname says, and then gestures toward a window further along the corridor. You follow $athem, the both of you walking slowly as $aname speaks. “There aren’t any distinctions made among Crownsblood, regardless of whether you’re a Crown’s child, promise, parent or sibling. Mirza is…” $aname pauses, brows furrowing slightly as $atheir voice lowers. “It’s what my mother used to call me sometimes, to tease me. I never wanted… I never liked to be singled out, but whenever she called me that… she always said it with such pride.” $cathey studiously avoids meeting your eyes, but even in the soft glow of sunlight you can see the composure in $atheir eyes shattering slowly with every word, unspoken emotion welling up through the cracks. <<if $ass gt $pass>>Your hand reaches for $athem without another thought, settling gently on $atheir shoulder.<<else>>You hesitate, hand reaching for them, hovering for a moment in uncertainty before finally settling on $aname’s shoulder.<</if>> The tips of your fingers tingle with a torrent of magic that rushes up through $aname’s subdued demeanor, meeting yours like great waves breaking upon the shore. This has affected $athem far more than $athey’s letting show on the surface. “I didn’t mind it,” $aname continues quietly, $atheir voice barely above a whisper. You would recognize this pain anywhere. [[Continue|7.48b]]“What was her name?” $aname doesn’t correct you, and your chest tightens at the confirmation. “Zhaleh.” $cathey speaks the name between tensed lips, as if even saying it still brings $athem pain. “That’s a beautiful name,” you say softly, wishing there was something you could do, something you could say to make it better. “She sounds like a wonderful person. I’m sure she must have adored you.” “She was, and she did.” $aname still doesn’t look at you, but $athey doesn’t need to. $cathey lets your hand linger on $atheir shoulder in an unspoken permission to feel what $athey feels, truly and deeply. Maybe it’s because your pain runs the same. “She deserved better than my father,” $aname says then, the look in $atheir eyes darkening, the torrid waves beneath $atheir calm turning, almost suddenly, still. Frozen and cold at the thought of $atheir father. Crown Piruz. Maybe, you think, your resentment runs the same as well. Sensing that $aname is not yet ready to venture into that particular topic, you settle on a different question. “How did they meet, if you don’t mind me asking?” “By pure chance.” $aname’s brows furrow slightly as $athey recalls the memory. “My father was born to a noble family. He always used to be sickly, even as a child, which meant he was cooped up inside more often than not, and it also meant that he would sneak out when no one was looking.” Whatever Crown Piruz eventually became, hearing about him in his youth you think you can recognize where $aname got $atheir defiance from. Not that it would be wise to mention that, considering how much scorn $aname appears to hold for $atheir father. “Once, he managed to sneak out to a nearby village, and there he met my mother,” $aname continues, $atheir frown twisting into something that appears almost wistful, and all the more painful for it. “By the time Crown Keybanû found him, they were inseparable. He refused to become the Crown’s successor if he could not take my mother with him to the palace. To Keybanû, it was an easy concession. She was educated at court, right by his side.” $aname shakes $atheir head, the softness in $atheir face disappearing. “The stories she used to tell about him—the father that I knew—and Crown Piruz were two different people.” “What do you mean?” $aname gives you a hollow smile. “He was a great father. He loved us, and despite his duties always made sure to spend time with us. To him, we always came first. As a ruler, though…” $cathey sighs, low and deep, eyes fluttering shut for one moment. “He was selfish and cowardly, and for too long I could not see it. It might have been because of us, because he wanted to protect us at the detriment of everything else.” Does $athey mean the Ivian Revolt? You don’t know enough about it besides the broad lines of what happened, but clearly $aname is fiercely opposed to $atheir father’s decisions in this matter. $cathey’s hardly in the minority, though from what you’ve picked up from your travels, there are plenty who would agree with Crown Piruz as well. None of that matters in the moment, however; $aname is still struggling with the aftermath, years later. “$aname, you would’ve been a child back then,” you say gently. “You can’t possibly think your father’s rule was your responsibility, no matter his motives.” “Maybe not, but…” $cathey hesitates, only for an instant, before $atheir composure returns to $atheir features. $cathey moves away from you, the hand you had on $atheir shoulder left hanging in the air before you return it to your side, trying not to take it as a rejection; $aname looks like $athey needs space. To think $atheir father did what he did out of love must be the hardest part of it to understand. You also sense there is a lot more to the story that $athey hasn’t told you yet, but now isn’t the right time to press $athem on it. $cathey’ll tell you when $athey’s ready. Instead… <ul class="a"> <li>[[Point out the good that can come of this.|7.49b.1][$apoints -= 2]]</li> <li>[[Reassure that none of this changes anything between you.|7.49b.2][$apoints += 4]]</li> </ul>“If nothing else,” you say, watching $aname carefully for $atheir reaction, “your father’s mistakes helped you become the person you are today. You’ve learned from them, and now you’re in a position to change things for the better, if you wanted to.” $aname’s expression changes very little, aside from the long look $athey gives you. “I suppose… that is one way of looking at it.” Then, a bit of wryness appears in the smile that tugs at $atheir mouth. “Though I don’t think I’ll be able to solve Ivia on my own, Your Imperial Majesty.” “Of course not,” you say, smiling back. “Neither can I. But you must know more about it than me, at least.” “Considering my father, you mean?” $aname says, appearing amused when you wince. “I really am sorry about listening in—” “It’s alright,” $aname cuts you off before you can fully form your apology; $athey seems eager to move on and forget about the matter. “So long as you don’t do it again. I would have told you about it eventually, regardless; it would’ve been foolish not to. You’ll need all the help you can get.” “I appreciate it, $aname,” you say sincerely, and $aname gives you a smile that doesn’t quite reach $atheir eyes. No wonder, considering it’s hardly a pleasant topic. “I do have a question, though.” “Yes?” “How many other people know?” $aname doesn’t respond immediately, seeming to be thinking. You wait patiently, until $athey finally answers, “The Mîrs, some of the nobles, some of the older servants, and $dname. They all knew from before, I didn’t tell them. A few in the Imperial Guard as well, and some old friends from the army; I try not to keep unnecessary secrets from my fellow soldiers. That’s it, I think.” As you wonder which nobles and servants that includes, you realize $aname left two names out that you expected to hear, and you arch your brows. “$rname and $xname don’t know?” “Yes, and I would beg you to keep it that way,” $aname says stiffly, $atheir tone brooking no argument. “It’s not something they need to concern themselves with.” “You can’t think that they would treat you differently because of it?” you venture, frowning slightly. “Or judge you for what your father did? They both seem more sensible than that.” “Even so, there’s no need for them to know.” $cathey’s ashamed of it, and $xname and $rname’s judgment clearly means something to $athem—yet despite your eavesdropping, $athey still told you. Would have told you eventually, even though it’s clearly something $athey would rather forget. $aname is trusting you with this. “$aname,” you say, and $athey meets your eyes. “Thank you for telling me.” $cathey frowns. “You don’t need to thank me for that. It made sense to tell you, that’s all.” “Still,” you insist, “I know it wasn’t easy to talk about.” $aname’s eyes linger on yours and you watch the look in them soften, a moment of openness as $athey says, “I suppose you would know all about that, wouldn’t you?” $cathey was there in the earth spirits’ vision, and maybe that’s what prompted $athem to trust you with this in the first place. $cathey saw your childhood home and your mother; $athey knows part of you still grieves, just like $athey does. What is there left to say that $athey doesn’t already understand? You hold $aname’s gaze with yours as silence settles between you, one that feels natural, like a moment of rest rather than a struggle for words. It’s strangely freeing to simply be in someone else’s company like this; silence used to be an unwanted companion to you for most of your life, but with $aname, it doesn’t feel lonely anymore. $cathey’s a place where you can catch your breath. You hope you can be the same for $athem, someday. [[Continue|7.50b]]“$aname, if I’m entirely honest,” you start, watching $aname carefully for $atheir reaction, “I don’t care who your father is.” This appears to catch $athem off guard as $athey stares at you silently for a short while. $catheir reply is disbelieving at best, “You don’t care?” “It doesn’t change anything, is what I mean.” You should know a thing or two about being defined by one’s parents, albeit in a different way from $aname. “Your father isn’t the Crown anymore. I am, and you’re my Royal Protector. It’s as simple as that.” “Really?” $aname frowns at you, giving you a puzzled look, as if you’ve presented $athem with a riddle. “You don’t care that at least half the mess you have to clean up was caused by my father?” “Not when it comes to you.” $aname falls silent again, seeming unsure. You understand why it would be difficult to believe, but you hope $athey will be able to take you at your word, because it’s true. This shouldn’t, and doesn’t, change anything between the two of you. “Alright.” $aname still appears a little hesitant, but not enough to keep doubting you. “That’s… good, then.” Small steps of progress. “I do have a question, though.” “Yes?” “How many other people know?” $aname doesn’t respond immediately, seeming to be thinking. You wait patiently, until $athey finally answers, “The Mîrs, some of the nobles, some of the older servants, and $dname. They all knew from before, I didn’t tell them. A few in the Imperial Guards as well, and some old friends from the army; I try not to keep unnecessary secrets from my fellow soldiers. That’s it, I think.” As you wonder which nobles and servants that includes, you realize $aname left two names out that you expected to hear, and you arch your brows. “$rname and $xname don’t know?” “Yes, and I would beg you to keep it that way,” $aname says stiffly, $atheir tone brooking no argument. “It’s not something they need to concern themselves with.” “You can’t think that they would treat you differently because of it?” you venture, frowning slightly. “Or judge you for what your father did? They both seem more sensible than that.” “Even so, there’s no need for them to know.” $cathey’s ashamed of it, and $xname and $rname’s judgment clearly means something to $athem—yet despite your eavesdropping, $athey still told you. Would have told you eventually, even though it’s clearly something $athey would rather forget. $aname is trusting you with this. “$aname,” you say, and $athey meets your eyes. “Thank you for telling me.” $cathey frowns. “You don’t need to thank me for that. It made sense to tell you, that’s all.” “Still,” you insist, “I know it wasn’t easy to talk about.” $aname’s eyes linger on yours and you watch the look in them soften, a moment of openness as $athey says, “I suppose you would know all about that, wouldn’t you?” $cathey was there in the earth spirits’ vision, and maybe that’s what prompted $athem to trust you with this in the first place. $cathey saw your childhood home and your mother; $athey knows part of you still grieves, just like $athey does. What is there left to say that $athey doesn’t already understand? You hold $aname’s gaze with yours as silence settles between you, one that feels natural, like a moment of rest rather than a struggle for words. It’s strangely freeing to simply be in someone else’s company like this; silence used to be an unwanted companion to you for most of your life, but with $aname, it doesn’t feel lonely anymore. $cathey’s a place where you can catch your breath. You hope you can be the same for $athem, someday. [[Continue|7.50b]] Someone clears their throat behind you, breaking up the peaceful moment as you both look toward the noise. Ziryan stands there with an apologetic look on their face, and it occurs to you that seeing the two of you staring into each other’s eyes like that may have given them the wrong impression. <<if $flirt gt $res>>Though you do <em>wish</em> it had been right.<</if>> “Yes?” you say, keeping your gaze trained on them, even though you see $aname shift around restlessly from the corner of your eyes. Is $athey embarrassed? “Forgive the intrusion, Your Imperial Majesty,” Ziryan says sheepishly. “The guests are starting to ask questions about your absence.” You sigh, resigned. You would’ve liked to spend some more time with $aname, especially considering how much progress you just made in your—hopefully—budding friendship, but there is still a banquet for you to host. “Do you mind if I stay behind for a moment?” $aname says to you. “I need to clear my head.” $cathey looks pensive rather than troubled, which makes it easier to agree. No doubt telling you all about it must have unearthed some memories for $athem. “Of course.” You smile at $athem. “Will I see you later?” $aname nods, and after casting $athem a last look, you head back toward the banquet hall, Ziryan fading away from sight as they follow. [[Continue|7.51]] You walk over to the window, standing beside $rname. It is a rather beautiful view; from this angle, the sunlight glitters across the surface of the lake, coloring it in liquid gold. The view of the flowerbeds surrounding it brings color to the gardens, the sound of birdsong from the trees louder now that twilight approaches. It’s a completely different world compared to the one that encompasses the banquet hall, filled with people and noise, one more familiar to you. Your life has changed so much in the span of only a few days; it’s nearly unrecognizable to you now. “Who was the acquaintance you needed to talk to?” you ask $rname instead, feeling uncomfortable with the silence all of a sudden. When you pull your gaze away to look at $rname, you find $rtheir eyes already on you, studying your face with a contemplative expression. “A friend of Lady Zerya’s,” $rname answers, refocusing $rtheir gaze to the view of the gardens, leaving you wondering what $rthey was thinking of while $rthey looked at you. “She’s still in the banquet hall, but she’ll join us shortly; she said she had something important to tell me in private.” “You don’t mind me being here for that?” “Of course not.” $rname smiles at you. “I don’t want to hide anything from you, $name.” You don’t know what you’ve done to deserve such openness, but it leaves you wondering. “You seem to be very trusting of me, even though you don’t know me that well.” $rname considers this, brows furrowing slightly. “Well… I’m working towards it, in any case. You can’t expect someone to trust you if you’re not willing to give a little trust first. Besides, do I have a reason not to trust you?” “I… don’t suppose you do,” you say hesitantly. It’s just a little difficult for you to grasp, to be able to trust someone so readily. The silence that settles between you is a brief one, before $rname carefully breaks it with a question. “Stop me if you’d rather not talk about this,” $rthey says first, “but when you told us about your parents… I’ve just been wondering, did they ever tell you why you had to stay hidden?” “No.” You try not to let the bitterness show through, but it bleeds into your words regardless. “They always kept me in the dark. It’s too late to wonder about it now, anyway.” $rname’s reply is quiet. “I’m sorry. I’m sure they must have had their reasons, but they shouldn’t have kept those from you.” “You’re right, they shouldn’t have.” You take a deep breath, trying to regain your composure. You could try to continue this conversation, though it would be a painful one; part of you would rather move on to something else. <ul class ="a"> <li>[[“Do you ever think about what your life would be like, if you weren’t the Sorcerer?”|7.46c.1][$rpoints -= 2]]</li> <li>[[Continue talking about it.|7.46c.2][$rpoints += 2]]</li> </ul> If $rname notices the blatant attempt to change the subject, $rthey doesn’t remark on it. Instead, $rthey thinks about your question. “I can’t say that I do,” $rthey answers at length, frowning. You find that a little hard to believe. “You never imagined what might have happened, had you been accepted to the School of Marabad?” $rname huffs a laugh, shaking $rtheir head. “Ironically, I’d probably be worse off in that situation. But no, I don’t find it useful to linger on the past. Even if I could go back in time, I wouldn’t change anything.” “Really?” “If I had gone to the school as a child, I’d probably be a different person now,” $rname points out, but $rtheir gaze softens as $rthey adds, “I also might not have become the Sorcerer, which means I wouldn’t have met you. It doesn’t seem worth it.” Your heart sighs, and it escapes from your mouth. “You are unbearably sweet sometimes, $rname.” $rname averts $rtheir gaze, though $rthey can’t suppress $rtheir smile. “I’m not doing it on purpose. I just say what I mean.” “You are absolutely doing it on purpose,” you accuse, spotting the mischievous tilt of $rtheir lips. “I still mean it.” $crtheir tone and the look in $rtheir eyes shifts to something more serious now. “Attending the coronation today, I wouldn’t trade that for anything.” “What did you think of it?” “It was…” For a rare moment, $rname appears speechless—the smile $rthey gives you says more than $rtheir words could, shining in $rtheir eyes. “I can’t even begin to explain it. You have no idea how much it meant to me, to be by your side.” While you know you can’t fully grasp the depth of emotion $rname must be feeling in this moment, you can try to understand it. This has been $rtheir life’s purpose ever since Lady Zerya chose $rthem when $rthey was but a child, and now $rthey’s is finally seeing that purpose fulfilled. $crthey’s the opposite of you, who was made to hide from the purpose given to you by the spirits. Would you have felt as joyous as $rthey, had you been given a chance to meet Ferzan, to be taught by him as a proper successor would have been? Maybe, at the very least, the occasion wouldn’t have been marred by so many conflicting emotions. As if $rthey senses your uncertainty—or perhaps $rthey can read it from the frown on your face—$rname’s blinding smile dims into one of sympathy. “Are you worried about what comes after?” You hesitate to answer, but there is no one else around aside from your invisible guards to witness the momentary lapse in composure, so you let your weakness slip and entrust it to $rtheir gentle gaze. “Constantly. It’s like a physical weight that keeps slowing me to a crawl.” “Then let me help you carry it,” $rthey says, $rtheir eyes kind. “Maybe I can make it a little lighter.” This is all so new to you, having someone by your side who’s honest and trusting and wants you to rely on $rthem just as $rthey relies on you in return. You don’t think you’ve ever had that before, not even with friends you’ve made in your previous life, because your inevitable departure always loomed in the back of your mind. <<if $pass gt $ass>>You hesitate at first, reaching out your hand to lightly brush against $rname’s fingers, not confident enough to do anything more. “Thank you, $rname.” $crtheir surprise is brief; $rthey smiles warmly as $rthey reaches back and takes your hand. “You don’t need to thank me for that.”<<else>>You reach out your hand, watching for $rname’s reaction as you wrap your fingers around $rtheirs. $crthey looks surprised at first, but doesn’t pull $rtheir hand away. “Thank you, $rname.” $crtheir surprise melts away into a warm smile, giving your hand a gentle squeeze. “You don’t need to thank me for that.”<</if>> Someone clears their throat. Your hands release, both of you startled as you turn towards whoever has just arrived in the corridor. To your surprise, it is a face you’ve seen before. “Master Zîn?” The teahouse owner bows with a red-lipped smile, most of her gray hair pulled up into an elegant knot on top of her head, the rest of it falling down her back. Her orange dress has many layers and a long hem that trails behind her on the ground, elaborately decorated with golden embroidery, matching her jewelry. “Your Imperial Majesty.” $rname gives you a curious look. “You two know each other?” “We’ve met once before,” you say, the incident at the Red Lantern and the tax officials that stormed it still vivid in your mind. “She’s Lady Zerya’s friend that you were waiting on?” “Yes.” $rname gives Master Zîn a fond smile as she straightens up from her bow again. “They went to the School of Zeratun together; at times, Master Zîn would give me lessons in magic whenever Lady Zerya was occupied.” You blink, looking back at Master Zîn. “You’re a magus?” Master Zîn chuckles at the bemused look on your face. “They don’t call me <em>Master</em> for nothing, Your Imperial Majesty.” “It’s the rank of a magus who has mastered at least one discipline, or contributed significantly with research,” $rname explains helpfully—and here you thought it was just a term used out of deference for elders. “Master Zîn has made great strides in spiritual theory, especially.” “But… you own a teahouse?” you say, still puzzled about that part, and Master Zîn huffs, making an impatient motion with her hand. “No one seemed to appreciate what I had to say at the School, so I decided to find work elsewhere,” Master Zîn replies, disdain dripping from every word. “At least my customers listen to me—but that’s not what I’m here to discuss.” Clearly not a topic she wants to get into at the moment. [[Continue|7.47c]]“Looking back on it now, I wish I would’ve been more insistent,” you admit to $rthem, remembering all the times your parents made decisions between the two of them that they kept from you, saying that it was for your own good. “I wish I would’ve defied them more, but I didn’t know any better. Maybe I was scared to find out what would happen—in that, at least, they were right. The danger involved was real.” You’ve been chased by the Followers of Vidarna more than enough times to have that fear instilled in you. Even now, you still remember the day Crown Ferzan died, and you returned from the forest to find your home burning down. The sound of screaming, and then your mother, hurrying towards you on a horse with a bloodied sword in hand— $rname is right, your parents did have their reasons. You only wish you knew what those were. “It sounds like you were on the run for a long time,” $rname remarks quietly, and you nod. “I ran away once or twice, after an argument.” When you’d finally had enough of being coddled, being watched. “I never stayed away very long, though, and despite how risky it was, my parents were never upset with me. I think that’s what makes it more difficult to understand. They knew how hard it was for me, but even so… they didn’t tell me anything.” To know that they did it out of love is the hardest thing to reconcile. “Yet in spite of that, you made it here,” $rname says, smiling at you with a gentleness that soothes. “You survived, you found me, and now, you’ve had your coronation.” Look toward the future. $rname is right, of course—there’s no use in lingering on questions that you’ll never get the answers for, but your new life still hasn’t fully sunk in yet, which makes leaving the old one behind more difficult. “What did you think of it?” you say, deciding to change the subject. “The coronation, I mean?” “It was…” For a rare moment, $rname appears speechless—the smile $rthey gives you says more than $rtheir words could, shining in $rtheir eyes. “I can’t even begin to explain it. You have no idea how much it meant to me, to be by your side.” While you know you can’t fully grasp the depth of emotion $rname must be feeling in this moment, you can try to understand it. This has been $rtheir life’s purpose ever since Lady Zerya chose $rthem when $rthey was but a child, and now $rthey’s is finally seeing that purpose fulfilled. $crthey’s the opposite of you, who was made to hide from the purpose given to you by the spirits. Would you have felt as joyous as $rthey, had you been given a chance to meet Ferzan, to be taught by him as a proper successor would have been? Maybe, at the very least, the occasion wouldn’t have been marred by so many conflicting emotions. As if $rthey senses your uncertainty—or perhaps $rthey can read it from the frown on your face—$rname’s blinding smile dims into one of sympathy. “Are you worried about what comes after?” You hesitate to answer, but there is no one else around aside from your invisible guards to witness the momentary lapse in composure, so you let your weakness slip and entrust it to $rtheir gentle gaze. “Constantly. It’s like a physical weight that keeps slowing me to a crawl.” “Then let me help you carry it,” $rthey says, $rtheir eyes kind. “Maybe I can make it a little lighter.” This is all so new to you, having someone by your side who’s honest and trusting and wants you to rely on $rthem just as $rthey relies on you in return. You don’t think you’ve ever had that before, not even with friends you’ve made in your previous life, because your inevitable departure always loomed in the back of your mind. <<if $pass gt $ass>>You hesitate at first, reaching out your hand to lightly brush against $rname’s fingers, not confident enough to do anything more. “Thank you, $rname.” $crtheir surprise is brief; $rthey smiles warmly as $rthey reaches back and takes your hand. “You don’t need to thank me for that.”<<else>>You reach out your hand, watching for $rname’s reaction as you wrap your fingers around $rtheirs. $crthey looks surprised at first, but doesn’t pull $rtheir hand away. “Thank you, $rname.” $crtheir surprise melts away into a warm smile, giving your hand a gentle squeeze. “You don’t need to thank me for that.”<</if>> Someone clears their throat. Your hands release, both of you startled as you turn towards whoever has just arrived in the corridor. To your surprise, it is a face you’ve seen before. “Master Zîn?” The teahouse owner bows with a red-lipped smile, most of her gray hair pulled up into an elegant knot on top of her head, the rest of it falling down her back. Her orange dress has many layers and a long hem that trails behind her on the ground, elaborately decorated with golden embroidery, matching her jewelry. “Your Imperial Majesty.” $rname gives you a curious look. “You two know each other?” “We’ve met once before,” you say, the incident at the Red Lantern and the tax officials that stormed it still vivid in your mind. “She’s Lady Zerya’s friend that you were waiting on?” “Yes.” $rname gives Master Zîn a fond smile as she straightens up from her bow again. “They went to the School of Zeratun together; at times, Master Zîn would give me lessons in magic whenever Lady Zerya was occupied.” You blink, looking back at Master Zîn. “You’re a magus?” Master Zîn chuckles at the bemused look on your face. “They don’t call me <em>Master</em> for nothing, Your Imperial Majesty.” “It’s the rank of a magus who has mastered at least one discipline, or contributed significantly with research,” $rname explains helpfully—and here you thought it was just a term used out of deference for elders. “Master Zîn has made great strides in spiritual theory, especially.” “But… you own a teahouse?” you say, still puzzled about that part, and Master Zîn huffs, making an impatient motion with her hand. “No one seemed to appreciate what I had to say at the school, so I decided to find work elsewhere,” Master Zîn replies, disdain dripping from every word. “At least my customers listen to me, but that’s not what I’m here to discuss.” Clearly not a topic she wants to get into at the moment. [[Continue|7.47c]]$rname looks over toward a spot near the doorway, stating, “Make sure we’re not disturbed.” Talking to the Imperial Guards. $crthey must expect this to be a sensitive conversation, then. “I won’t keep you long,” Master Zîn assures you and $rname. “The guests would become suspicious with both the Crown and $their Sorcerer missing from the banquet. However… $rtitle $rname, you should know that this discussion would be going against Lady Zerya’s wishes.” Sensitive may have been an understatement. You glance over at $rname, who looks too taken aback to reply, so you answer instead, to give $rthem some time to think on it. “Why would you do something like that?” you ask, frowning at Master Zîn. “Weren’t you friends?” “She was my dearest friend, yes.” A look of melancholy passes by on Master Zîn’s features, though it is accompanied by nostalgia as she walks over toward the windows, gazing out over the gardens as well. “That doesn’t mean that I agreed with everything she did. Namely, keeping certain things from $rtitle $rname that $rthey has a right to know.” This story is all too familiar. “Why would…” $rname’s voice sounds unsteady for a moment, before $rthey takes a breath and tries again, calmer this time. “Why would she do that?” “To protect you, little one.” Master Zîn looks regretful, tearing her gaze away from the gardens to meet $rname’s eyes. “I can’t say I don’t understand her reasons, knowing what I know.” “Which would be what?” Master Zîn doesn’t say anything for a short while, lips thinning as a wrinkle deepens between her brows, caught in some inner conflict before a decision is made and she releases the tension with a sigh. “It’s about your birth parents.” [[Continue|7.48c]]$rname is stunned into silence, as are you. While you knew that $rname had initially grown up an orphan, $rthey told you that $rthey was later taken in by $rtheir uncle Faraj, and appeared at peace with that. $crthey has a family now, one $rthey cares deeply for—you can’t imagine what a shock this must be. Has the thought of $rtheir parents ever even crossed $rtheir mind? “If you wish to hear nothing more, I will speak no more of it,” Master Zîn continues to say, a sympathetic look in her eyes. “I will forget everything I know and never mention it again.” “What brought this on, Master Zîn?” you ask, the timing of it seeming important. On the day of your coronation, when $rname has also become the Sorcerer in official capacity? That can’t be a coincidence. “The coronation, of course.” Master Zîn sighs, turning away from the window to fully face you now. “It seems Zerya made arrangements for when this moment would occur. A letter was delivered to me, early this morning, written by Zerya before her death. In it, she made a request of me, but also asked me to keep it a secret from you.” Beside you, $rname remains quiet, appearing at a total loss. It must be overwhelming, especially when $rthey wasn’t expecting it. “$rname,” you say softly, and $rname appears to wake up from $rtheir daze, looking at you with uncertainty. “What do you want to do? You don’t have to hear it, if you don’t want to.” “I…” $rname looks back at Master Zîn, and as $rthey meets her eyes, something of realization seems to come to $rthem. “I remember… when I was a child, Lady Zerya asked me about this once. Whether I would want to know why I was left an orphan. I did wonder about it sometimes, but I wasn’t sure if I really wanted to know. If she went behind my back with this, then… yes. I want to know what she found out.” This time, when you reach for $rtheir hand and hold it on yours, you don’t pull away when Master Zîn notices it. You can tell $rname needs it as $rthey gives you a grateful look, tightening $rtheir grip around your fingers—you can <em>feel</em> $rtheir anxiety, thrumming beneath $rtheir skin like the restlessness of the wind right before a storm is about to hit. $rname takes a breath, seeming a little steadier now as $rthey orders Master Zîn, “Tell me.” There is a hint of admiration in Master Zîn’s gaze, but it is outweighed by sadness, and you have a horrible feeling you already know what she’s going to say before she says it. “Your birth parents are both alive.” Master Zîn pauses briefly, trying to soften the blow that comes next: “I’m sorry, $rname. They abandoned you.” [[Continue|7.49c]]$rname’s fingers squeeze so tightly around your hand that you think your grip on $rthem might be the only thing keeping $rthem together in that moment. Your heart breaks for $rthem. $crtheir voice comes out as a whisper as $rthey stares down at the ground. “I see.” “$rname—” “It’s alright.” $crthey lifts $rtheir gaze again to meet yours with a sad smile. “I always knew this was a possibility.” Even so, $rthey doesn’t deserve this. “It’s their loss. They’ll never know what a wonderful person they missed out on raising. Now they can’t take any credit for your brilliance, or your kindness.” $rname’s eyes shine for a moment, and $rthey has to blink the tears away as $rtheir hands shifts $rtheir grip, fingers sliding in between yours, your palms pressed together. “Thank you, $name.” The stormy winds calm into a softer breeze, brushing gently against <<if $magicaffinity is 'eclipse'>>the depths of your shadows that welcome them readily<<else>>the brightness of your light that welcomes them readily<</if>>. You smile at $rname. “You don’t have to thank me for that.” $rname, having a handle on $rtheir composure again, turns back to look at Master Zîn, who has been watching you with a nostalgic expression. “Master Zîn, does this mean… she knew who my parents were?” “I would assume so, yes.” “And she didn’t tell me.” That hurt and betrayal, you know exactly what it feels like. “She only gave me the name of one of your parents,” Master Zîn says. “Her request was that I find them, so that I could ask them about your other parent. She didn’t say why, but she stressed in her letter that it was of the utmost importance. Her final wish.” “Of importance to me, or something else?” $rname asks, $rtheir voice gaining an edge of coldness now that the shock is gradually wearing off, leaving room for everything else, including anger. “Did I even factor into her decision at all? Why couldn’t she tell me about this herself? Why wait until she—” $crthey cuts $rthemselves off, closing $rtheir eyes for a brief moment to try and calm down. You give $rthem the time $rthey needs, quietly holding $rtheir hand through it. “I couldn’t say.” Master Zîn’s head lowers. “She kept me as much in the dark as you.” $rname’s anger breaks for a brief moment. “I’m sorry. I know this isn’t your fault.” “You’re allowed to be angry, $rname.” Master Zîn gives a wan smile. “It’s a lot to have thrust upon you all at once.” “It is.” $crthey looks back at you again, searching. “I don’t know what to do with this right now.” $crthey’s asking for your advice. <ul class="a"> <<if $rgender is 'female'>><li>[[Tell her to find a way to move on.|7.50c.1][$rpoints -= 2]]</li><li>[[Tell her to find out the truth.|7.50c.2][$rpoints += 4]]</li><<else>><li>[[Tell him to find a way to move on.|7.50c.1][$rpoints -= 2]]</li><li>[[Tell him to find out the truth.|7.50c.2][$rpoints += 4]]</li><</if>> </ul>“It is a lot to process, but you cannot change the past,” you respond after a moment of thought. “It might be better to let go and move forward rather than tormenting yourself with questions.” $rname nods slowly, seeming to be considering your words. “Perhaps that’s for the best. I never expected to find out anything about my parents to begin with…” “Do you remember anything, from when you were a child?” you ask, and $rname shakes $rtheir head. “My earliest memories are of huddling up in crumbling buildings with the other orphans, stealing scraps of food, fending for ourselves—” $crthey sighs. “Nothing of use. Perjin and Uncle Faraj didn’t know where I came from either. I just… appeared one day. When my parents abandoned me, apparently.” “How old were you in these memories?” “I’m not sure.” $rname frowns a little. “I think maybe six, or seven.” “So you remember your birthday and the year you were born,” you say, “but nothing about your parents?” $rname blinks. “I’ve never thought about it that way, but you’re right. That is a little odd.” “If they abandoned you purposefully, $rname,” Master Zîn says quietly, “they may have erased your memories so that you wouldn’t be able to find your way back to them.” Erasing your own child’s memories? You keep your mouth firmly shut, knowing you’ll have nothing kind to say about $rname’s parents if you were to speak. $rname looks stricken by the thought. “Would they have gone that far?” “If they had something to hide, as Lady Zerya suspected they might, then it is a possibility.” “Then…” $rname’s hand squeezes yours. “I <em>have</em> to find them. I need to understand. Without that, I cannot move forward.” “I’ll help,” you say without hesitation. “Whatever you need, $rname.” “I know,” $rname replies softly, looking at you with such an affectionate smile that it takes your breath away, as you know that even in this moment you’re proving yourself worthy of $rtheir trust, and $rthey is grateful to you because of it. $crthey doesn’t need to be. You know the kind of pain $rthey feels; even if yours is older, it still feels fresh sometimes. It’ll feel fresh for $rname as well, for a very long time before it eases. Anything you can do to soothe it… Someone other than Master Zîn clears their throat this time, cutting through the moment between the two of you and reminding you that you have an audience. Master Zîn tries to hide a smile as she turns away from you, and the three of you look toward the newcomer. Ziryan stands there with an apologetic look on their face, and it occurs to you that your Imperial Guards have also been listening in on this conversation. $rname doesn’t appear to be bothered by it, though, seeming unsurprised by Ziryan’s presence. “Yes?” you say, giving them permission to speak. “Forgive the intrusion, Your Imperial Majesty,” Ziryan says regretfully. “The guests are starting to ask questions about your absence.” You sigh, resigned. Master Zîn did warn you that this was going to happen. “You go on ahead,” $rname says to you. “I… need a moment to collect myself. And to talk a bit more with Master Zîn.” That’s more than understandable, considering what just happened. “Will I see you later?” “Of course,” $rname answers, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze, and after casting $rthem a last look, your fingers slip out of $rtheirs as you head back toward the banquet hall, Ziryan fading away from sight as they follow. [[Continue|7.51]]“You should try to find out the truth,” you respond after a moment of thought. “It might always be in the back of your mind, otherwise.” “So you think I should find them?” “I would want to, if I were you.” $rname nods slowly, seeming to consider your words. “Now that I know that they… abandoned me, part of me do wants to know why, but what if…” What if $rthey’s faced with even more rejection? You understand the fear of that; it can’t be an easy thing, to confront the parents who didn’t want anything to do with you, callous enough to leave you at the mercy of the city. “Does their acceptance matter to you?” “No,” $rname says, not having to think about it. “They’re strangers to me.” “Do you remember anything, from when you were a child?” you ask, and $rname shakes $rtheir head. “My earliest memories are of huddling up in crumbling buildings with the other orphans, stealing scraps of food, fending for ourselves—” $crthey sighs. “Nothing of use. Perjin and Uncle Faraj didn’t know where I came from either. I just… appeared one day. When my parents abandoned me, apparently.” “How old were you in these memories?” “I’m not sure.” $rname frowns a little. “I think maybe six, or seven.” “So you remember your birthday and the year you were born,” you say, “but nothing about your parents?” $rname blinks. “I’ve never thought about it that way, but you’re right. That is a little odd.” “If they abandoned you purposefully, $rname,” Master Zîn says quietly, “they may have erased your memories so that you wouldn’t be able to find your way back to them.” Erase your own child’s memories? You keep your mouth firmly shut, knowing you’ll have nothing kind to say about $rname’s parents if you were to speak. $rname looks stricken by the thought. “Would they have gone that far?” “If they had something to hide, as Lady Zerya suspected they might, then it is a possibility.” “Then…” $rname’s hand squeezes yours. “I <em>have</em> to find them. I need to understand.” “I’ll help,” you say without hesitation. “Whatever you need, $rname.” “I know,” $rname replies softly, looking at you with such an affectionate smile that it takes your breath away, as you know that even in this moment you’re proving yourself worthy of $rtheir trust, and $rthey is grateful to you because of it. $crthey doesn’t need to be. You know the kind of pain $rthey feels; even if yours is older, it still feels fresh sometimes. It’ll feel fresh for $rname as well, for a very long time before it eases. Anything you can do to soothe it… Someone other than Master Zîn clears their throat this time, cutting through the moment between the two of you and reminding you that you have an audience. Master Zîn tries to hide a smile as she turns away from you, and the three of you look toward the newcomer. Ziryan stands there with an apologetic look on their face, and it occurs to you that your Imperial Guards have also been listening in on this conversation. $rname doesn’t appear to be bothered by it, though, seeming unsurprised by Ziryan’s presence. “Yes?” you say, giving them permission to speak. “Forgive the intrusion, Your Imperial Majesty,” Ziryan says regretfully. “The guests are starting to ask questions about your absence.” You sigh, resigned. Master Zîn did warn you that this was going to happen. “You go on ahead,” $rname says to you. “I… need a moment to collect myself. And to talk a bit more with Master Zîn.” That’s more than understandable, considering what just happened. “Will I see you later?” “Of course,” $rname answers, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze, and after casting $rthem a last look, your fingers slip out of $rtheirs as you head back toward the banquet hall, Ziryan fading away from sight as they follow. [[Continue|7.51]]“You don’t need to keep bowing,” you say, frowning down at $dname. “No one else is here to watch.” “Regardless, I prefer to do so,” $dname says, arms stiff by $dtheir sides, though $dthey reluctantly straightens up. $cdthey doesn’t meet your eyes, however, keeping $dtheir gaze focused on the floor. “Forgive the commotion, Your Imperial Majesty.” “$dname,” you say with a sigh, rubbing at your forehead with your fingers. “I thought we went over this? We are alone right now. You can call me by my name.” $dname doesn’t reply. “Fine.” This clearly isn’t getting you anywhere. “Kham really seems to have it out for you, in any case.” “Yes, she…” $dname hesitates, but then says, “I’ve known her for a long time. I’m afraid she’s not going to change.” You sense there’s some sort of history here, but you don’t want to get sidetracked considering what Kham said to $dname earlier. $dname seems to anticipate that that’s where your thought are at as well, saying, “I’m assuming you heard what she said to me earlier.” “I did.” You give $dname a long look, but $dthey seems to be doing $dtheir very best to not have to meet your eyes. “$dname, look at me.” After a long moment of silence, $dname finally lifts $dtheir gaze to meet yours. “I’m not upset with you,” you reassure $dthem as best you can. “I only want to know what’s going on.” “Yes, of course.” $dname looks wound tighter than you’ve ever seen $dthem, but if the nobles really were gossiping the way Kham said they were, $dname must have seen this coming. “It would be better if you heard it from me, in any case.” You take a few steps closer, bridging the distance between the two of you as $dname is silent, seeming to be thinking on how to best tell you. While $dtheir face is difficult to read, $dtheir expression closed off, something about the way $dthey’s standing so perfectly still is making you think $dthey must be feeling a lot more worried about this than $dthey’s letting on. “$dname, whatever it is—” Before you can even finish trying to reassure $dthem, however, $dname lowers $dtheir head, and you cut yourself off. “The previous general,” $dthey says, “the one who had to resign in disgrace after Crown Ferzan was assassinated… she was my mother.” [[Continue|7.46d]] You really wish $dthey wouldn’t be so quick to bow to you all the time, especially when $dthey wields it like $dthey does now, a way to keep $dtheir distance from you. Telling $dthem to stop, though, might only end up making $dthem uncomfortable. If $dthey’s more at ease keeping $dtheir distance, then you don’t want to force $dthem to give that up solely to reassure you. “Kham really seems to have it out for you,” you say instead, deciding not to remark on it. “Yes, she…” $dname hesitates, but then says, “I’ve known her for a long time. I’m afraid she’s not going to change.” You sense there’s some sort of history here, but you don’t want to get sidetracked considering what Kham said to $dname earlier. $dname seems to anticipate that that’s where your thought are at as well, saying, “I’m assuming you heard what she said to me earlier.” “I did.” You give $dname a long look, but $dthey seems to be doing $dtheir very best to not have to meet your eyes. “$dname, look at me.” After a long moment of silence, $dname finally lifts $dtheir gaze to meet yours. “I’m not upset with you,” you reassure $dthem as best you can. “I only want to know what’s going on.” “Yes, of course.” $dname looks wound tighter than you’ve ever seen $dthem, but if the nobles really were gossiping the way Kham said they were, $dname must have seen this coming. “It would be better if you heard it from me, in any case.” You take a few steps closer, bridging the distance between the two of you as $dname is silent, seeming to be thinking on how to best tell you. While $dtheir face is difficult to read, $dtheir expression closed off, something about the way $dthey’s standing so perfectly still is making you think $dthey must be feeling a lot more worried about this than $dthey’s letting on. “$dname, whatever it is—” Before you can even finish trying to reassure $dthem, however, $dname lowers $dtheir head, and you cut yourself off. “The previous general,” $dthey says, “the one who had to resign in disgrace after Crown Ferzan was assassinated… she was my mother.” [[Continue|7.46d]] The previous general? “I don’t understand,” you say, brows furrowing. “It’s not a hereditary title, is it?” “No, it isn’t.” $dname turns $dtheir head away, looking out the windows of the garden. “But with Crown Ferzan assassinated, there was no one to appoint the next general.” You suddenly remember $dthem telling you that $dthey joined the army at a young age. “That’s why you joined the army. Because of your mother.” “She was the military commander of Penawar at the time, not yet the High General,” $dname clarifies, gaze seeming faraway as $dthey recalls $dtheir memories of that time. “The violence in our home province was at an unprecedented scale. Bandits terrorizing the roads, raiding and burning down villages—the previous military commander had defected under Crown Piruz’ rule, leaving the provincial army in chaos. My mother took control.” “And you joined her?” “I was stubborn.” $dname sighs. “I wanted to help protect our home. My mother refused many times, but my uma—my other parent—realized I’d probably do something stupid and run off on my own. I tried to many times, anyway. They convinced my mother it would be better to have me by her side, where at least one of them could keep a close eye on me.” Uma. That’s not a word of any language you recognize. Then again, it’s not as if you know that many languages. Common Arsurian and the Ardian dialect of it are all you can speak and write. “I didn’t see battle until I was older,” $dname continues, “but I found out very quickly that I might have had an idealistic view of things. I learned from the way my mother would strategize, and… on occasion, from the difficult decisions she had to make.” A dark look crosses $dtheir face. It could not have been an easy thing to discover at a young age, but it does explain how $dthey manages to remain so unflinching in the face of everything. $cdthey must have been accustomed to much more stressful situations growing up. “That seems like a harsh environment for a child,” you bring up uncertainly, and $dname shakes $dtheir head. “Everywhere in Penawar was a harsh environment,” $dthey replies. “Things are better now—Mîr Sarya is a competent ruler, even if they do not look it—but back then… the province had fallen into poverty, and both the previous Mîr and Crown Piruz turned a blind eye. Some took advantage, while others were just trying to fend for themselves. It was chaos.” “Your mother must have been successful in restoring the province, if she became the High General,” you infer, and a complicated expression flits by on $dname’s face. It’s no wonder, considering $dtheir mother was forced to resign after being blamed for failing to stop Ferzan’s assassination. “One of the first things Crown Ferzan did was appoint her,” $dname says, which almost makes you wince. You can’t imagine how painful that must’ve been, being unable to protect the person that appointed you to do so in the first place. “It must’ve been difficult for her after he was assassinated.” $dname doesn’t say anything, and you almost think $dthey must be lost in thought, when $dthey suddenly raises $dtheir head, staring at the doorway you came through. “Leave us, and make sure there isn’t anyone listening in,” $dthey commands, likely speaking to the Imperial Guard. “$dname?” You give $dthem a questioning look, and $dthey turns away from you, moving further from the doorway and closer to the windows. You follow $dthem, standing beside $dthem as $dthey peers out into the gardens. $cdthey closes $dtheir eyes for a moment and takes a deep breath, as if to gather $dtheir composure, or perhaps $dtheir nerve, before $dthey opens $dtheir eyes again and says something you never expected to hear. “Crown Ferzan is dead because of me.” [[Continue|7.47d]] For a moment, all you can do is stand there and stare at $dname, who looks like someone waiting for the executioner’s blade to come crashing down on $dthem. <em>Honor sacrificed</em>, the earth spirits said. <em>Disgraced</em>. “The nobles don’t know that part,” $dthey says while you’re trying to wrap your mind around what $dthey just said. “All they know is that my mother neglected her responsibility to the Crown, but the reason she did that was because of me.” “What happened?” you ask quietly, almost regretting the question when you see the pain reflected on $dtheir face. “Crown Ferzan was in Ivia at the time,” $dname recounts. “He was a guest of a local Ivian leader; they would both meet with Thalloi nobles in the morning, for peace negotiations. My mother as well her own handpicked soldiers were there for additional protection, which included me.” $dname clenches $dtheir jaw for a moment, breathing out through $dtheir nose. $cdthey raises $dtheir hand to the back of $dtheir neck, rubbing over the nape—where you remember seeing a white scar there. “I was patrolling around the area, and was ambushed by masked assailants. They knew who I was.” You can tell where the story is going. “They kidnapped you and drew your mother away from Crown Ferzan.” Is that where $dthey got the scar? “She thought it was an acceptable risk, as the Royal Protector and the High Guard were also supposed to be present, as well as the Ivian leader’s own protection,” $dname confirms, “but she was wrong. By the time she saved me and we returned Crown Ferzan, the Ivian leader and their guards were all dead, as well as a handful of Imperial Guards—some were missing. The Royal Protector, who was supposed to be in the room with Crown Ferzan to guard him, was missing as well.” “Did the Royal Protector…?” “No.” $dname frowns. “We found him later, as well as the missing Imperial Guards, killed in the outskirts of town. Something had drawn him away as well, leaving Crown Ferzan completely vulnerable. If he had been present, the assassins would not have succeeded.” It sounds like the assassination was even more meticulously orchestrated than you initially thought. If the Followers of Vidarna really are behind it, that means they had enough information to account for each aspect of the guard that would be present that night. They knew $dname’s mother wouldn’t be able to ignore her own child being abducted. You thought it was simply in $dname’s nature before, but now you finally understand why. The insistence on propriety, the rigid rules, the sensitivity about honor; this has been haunting $dthem for years. “You didn’t want to tell me,” you remark, studying the shadows cast over $dname’s eyes, averted from you. “Did you think I would judge you?” $dname remains silent for a while, frozen like a statue carved from stone—or perhaps glass, you think. It’s in the way $dtheir head is bent lower, giving a glimpse of that scar on the back of $dtheir neck, as if $dthey is waiting for another blade to fall and inflict that wound on $dthem once more. “I understand if you wish for me to resign my post,” $dthey says, still not looking at you. Even dressed head to toe in armor, for all $dtheir height and stature, in this moment $dname looks frail. <ul class="a"> <<if $dgender is 'male'>><li>[[It’s not his fault.|7.48d.1][$dpoints += 4]]</li><li>[[It’s not his fault, and it’s not his mother’s fault either.|7.48d.2][$dpoints -= 2]]</li><<else>><li>[[It’s not her fault.|7.48d.1][$dpoints += 4]]</li><li>[[It’s not her fault, and it’s not her mother’s fault either.|7.48d.2][$dpoints -= 2]]</li><</if>> </ul>“$dname, why would I want that?” You had no idea this was something that $dthey was carrying with $dthem. “It wasn’t your fault. I’m sure you did your best—” “And it wasn’t good enough,” $dname says. “If I had fought them off, or held them off long enough for help to arrive, my mother would’ve never been forced to choose, and Crown Ferzan—” “You don’t know that.” $cdthey seems determined to punish $dthemselves over this, has been punishing $dthemselves for the past ten years. That’s more than enough. “$dname, look at me.” Reluctantly, $dname turns $dtheir head to meet your eyes, and you need to stress this to $dthem as much as possible. “The only ones to blame for this are the assassins.” There is a rare uncertainty in $dname’s eyes as $dthey looks at you, but you know better than to expect $dthem to accept it merely by you saying it. This has stayed with $dthem for the past decade, after all. “I wish I could believe that,” $dname says softly, and your heart aches for $dthem—you wish there was something you could say or do to make $dthem believe you, but you know it’ll have to come with time. You decide to move the conversation along instead. “So, after your mother resigned, you took over? I can’t imagine there weren’t any objections.” “There were a few,” $dname says, “but the exact nature of her failure wasn’t publicly known—they didn’t know that she abandoned her post because of me. She hadn’t trained a successor either, as everyone assumed she would have the position for a long time. I was the closest thing to a replacement anyone was going to get.” “Still, that’s a big responsibility.” “It was my duty.” $dname’s brows furrow. “I had to try and make up for what I let happen in some way, but I also assumed it would be a temporary position. Once the next Crown came along, they would surely replace me and appoint someone more experienced, except…” “That never happened,” you finish $dtheir sentence, and $dthey nods. “Mîr Mêrxas once argued that the Mîrs should appoint the next general instead, but when asked if he had any candidates, he didn’t have an answer,” $dname says, looking vaguely annoyed by the recollection. “So they let me stay in charge, indefinitely. It wasn’t a very powerful position without a Crown, so I didn’t form a threat to anyone in power.” “What did your mother do, after?” you ask. “Once she resigned?” “She retired.” $dname’s expression softens. “Uma was certainly happy about that, even though the circumstances were less than ideal.” [[Continue|7.49d]]“$dname, why would I want that?” You had no idea this was something that $dthey was carrying with $dthem. “It wasn’t your fault, and it wasn’t your mother’s, either. She didn’t know what would happen. She was only trying to protect you.” “She put me first,” $dname says, frowning. “Before the Crown, before Arsur, and look what happened.” “$dname, look at me.” Reluctantly, $dname turns $dtheir head to meet your eyes, and you need to stress this to $dthem as much as possible. “The only ones to blame for this are the assassins.” There is a rare uncertainty in $dname’s eyes as $dthey looks at you, but you know better than to expect $dthem to accept it merely by you saying it. This has stayed with $dthem for the past decade, after all. “I wish I could believe that,” $dname says softly, and your heart aches for $dthem—you wish there was something you could say or do to make $dthem believe you, but you know it’ll have to come with time. You decide to move the conversation along instead. “So, after your mother resigned, you took over? I can’t imagine there weren’t any objections.” “There were a few,” $dname says, “but the exact nature of her failure wasn’t publicly known—they didn’t know that she abandoned her post because of me. She hadn’t trained a successor either, as everyone assumed she would have the position for a long time. I was the closest thing to a replacement anyone was going to get.” “Still, that’s a big responsibility.” “It was my duty.” $dname’s brows furrow. “I had to try and make up for what I let happen in some way, but I also assumed it would be a temporary position. Once the next Crown came along, they would surely replace me and appoint someone more experienced, except…” ‘That never happened,” you finish $dtheir sentence, and $dthey nods. “Mîr Mêrxas once argued that the Mîrs should appoint the next general instead, but when asked if he had any candidates, he didn’t have an answer,” $dname says, looking vaguely annoyed by the recollection. “So they let me stay in charge, indefinitely. It wasn’t a very powerful position without a Crown, so I didn’t form a threat to anyone in power.” “What did your mother do, after?” you ask. “Once she resigned?” “She retired.” $dname’s expression softens. “Uma was certainly happy about that, even though the circumstances were less than ideal.” [[Continue|7.49d]] When you first heard about Kham and $dname arguing about something from the guard, you certainly didn’t expect for $dname to tell you anything like this. According to what Kham said, the nobles—and likely the public as well—are aware that $dname is the <<if $dgender is 'male'>>son<<else>>daughter<</if>> of the previously disgraced general, though they don’t know the exact circumstances. <<if $calc gt $kind>>It could make this a potentially tricky situation in the future, should anyone try to question $dname’s authority. That’s all the more reason why you should stand behind $dtheir appointment, however. Aside from the fact that you wouldn’t even know where to begin to look for a replacement, $dname has had ten years to build experience, and $dthey clearly knows what $dthey’s doing.<<else>>You could imagine the nobles might make it hard on $dname in the future by using $dtheir mother’s resignation to question $dtheir authority, as $dthey was never officially appointed by a Crown. That’s all the more reason why you should stand behind $dtheir appointment, however. Even if you knew where to look for a replacement, you wouldn’t want to; $dname has been doing $dtheir best to help you, even having saved your life back in the tunnels. $cdthey hasn’t let you down yet.<</if>> $dname, having noticed your lingering silence, seems to be having other thoughts, however. “$name, truthfully…” The use of your name catches your attention, though the somber way in which $dthey says it is less welcome. “I never aspired to be the general; I only did what I had to do, in order to secure the army after my mother resigned. You should look for someone more suited—” “$dname, do you <em>want</em> to resign?” The question cuts through any musings $dname may have had, narrowing it down to one simple factor. “I won’t force you to be the general if you don’t want to,” you emphasize, catching $dname’s gaze in yours. “But I want it to be your decision. One that isn’t made out of shame or a sense of guilt. What is it that you want? What do you think is best?” “I…” $dname looks torn, and you wish you knew what was going on in $dtheir head so you could assuage $dtheir worries. “Like I said before, for right now, I think it would be better if I kept the position and remained by your side, at least until the situation in Arsur has stabilized.” “What about later?” you ask. “When things are more stable?” $dname looks away. “I don’t know.” $cdthey has no answers for you. Pushing $dthem any further on this isn’t likely to get you anywhere, as it seems $dname $dthemselves isn’t certain of what $dthey wants to do—$dtheir whole of $dtheir past ten years as the general was spent revolving around duty, irrespective of what $dtheir personal desires might be. “$dname,” you say, reaching out<<if $pass gt $ass>>—hesitating for one moment—and<<else>> and<</if>> placing your hand on $dtheir upper arm, against the soft black fur draping down $dtheir shoulders. “Whatever you decide, I’ll support you.” $dname stares at you, and though $dthey always keeps such tight control of $dtheir facial features, $dtheir dark brown eyes brim with emotion as $dthey looks back at you, seeming at a loss for words for a moment. What might $dthey have imagined, when $dthey first met you? From $dtheir reaction now, $dthey must have been convinced that you would force $dthem to resign, and yet despite thinking that, $dthey still did $dtheir utmost to serve you. It’s as humbling as it is heartbreaking. $cdthey’s not just a tool for you to use and then discard when it becomes inconvenient to keep $dthem around. You wish $dthey knew that too. “Thank you, $name,” $dname says quietly, and you manage a smile, fingers grasping onto $dtheir fur coat, feeling the solid armor beneath that has become a second skin to $dthem. You’re not quite ready to let go yet. [[Continue|7.50d]] Someone clears their throat behind you, interrupting you before you can say anything more to $dname, and you quickly pull your hand away from $dname as you both look toward the noise. Ziryan stands there with an apologetic look on their face, and it occurs to you that seeing the two of you staring into each other’s eyes like that may have given them the wrong impression. <<if $flirt gt $res>>Though you do <em>wish</em> it had been right.<</if>> “Yes?” you say, keeping your gaze trained on them, even though you see $dname turn $dtheir head away, redness creeping up $dtheir neck and into $dtheir face. You try not to smile. “Forgive the intrusion, Your Imperial Majesty,” Ziryan says sheepishly. “The guests are starting to ask questions about your absence.” You sigh, resigned. You would’ve liked to spend some more time talking with $dname, especially as it doesn’t seem like $dthey is fully convinced of $dtheir place by your side just yet, but there is still a banquet for you to host. “I will stay here,” $dname says to you. “I’d like a moment to myself, if that would be permissible.” “Will I see you later?” “I will be there,” $dname answers with certainty, and after casting $dthem a last look, you head back toward the banquet hall, Ziryan fading away from sight as they follow. [[Continue|7.51]] From now on, you would like to be addressed with... <ul class="a"> <li>[[She/her|Character Traits][$pronouns to "sheher"]]</li> <li>[[He/him|Character Traits][$pronouns to "hehim"]]</li> <li>[[They/them|Character Traits][$pronouns to "theythem"]]</li> <li>[[Insert your own pronouns|More Pronouns][$pronouns to "neutral"]]</li> </ul> <<back>><b>Subject;</b> <em>She</em> is fun. @@.footnote;capital letter@@ <<textbox "$cthey" $cthey>> @@.footnote;lowercase@@ <<textbox "$they" $they>> <b>Object;</b> I wrote to <em>them</em>. @@.footnote;capital letter@@ <<textbox "$cthem" $cthem>> @@.footnote;lowercase@@ <<textbox "$them" $them>> <b>Possessive adjective;</b> <em>His</em> belongings. @@.footnote;capital letter@@ <<textbox "$ctheir" $ctheir>> @@.footnote;lowercase@@ <<textbox "$their" $their>> <b>Possessive pronoun;</b> That book is <em>eirs</em>. @@.footnote;capital letter@@ <<textbox "$ctheirs" $ctheirs>> @@.footnote;lowercase@@ <<textbox "$theirs" $theirs>> <b>Reflexive;</b> Xe loves <em>xemself</em>. @@.footnote;capital letter@@ <<textbox "$cthemselves" $cthemselves>> @@.footnote;lowercase@@ <<textbox "$themselves" $themselves>> [[Confirm and continue|Character Traits]] <<back>><<set $progress to "8">><<unset $djoins>><<unset $rjoins>><<unset $xjoins>><<unset $ajoins>><div id="8.1">@@.chaptertitleact1;CHAPTER EIGHT@@</div>@@.titleblack;Asha@@ <em>“Your mother and I, we’ve done things we’re not proud of.”</em> When was it that your father told you this? <em>“Things we regret.”</em> Behind your eyes, your spirit remembers the heat of flames glowing against your skin, the reflection of them in your father’s glassy gaze as he stared into a life faraway from you. The exact time and place escapes you, but maybe it doesn’t matter. You were ignorant, but you weren’t blind. Glimpses of ghosts haunted your mother and father’s faces when they thought you weren’t looking, carrying an unspoken burden of sin until it broke their backs. You felt it yourself at times, the phantom weight that dragged them down further and further, away from you. Now, a past that you thought lost forever is staring right back at you from the thin line of blood sliding down the throat of a magus bowing deeply before you. The present rushes back into your ears with the chatter of nobles and guests surrounding you. As you look up into the banquet hall, you notice the dozens of eyes aimed in your direction, watching with curiosity and interest. Looking back down at the magus in front of you, you realize that you can’t simply accept their offer and be seen leaving with them to a private room. If there are any enemies in the crowd—or, Sky watch over you, if there are any Followers of Vidarna in the crowd—then they’ll no doubt target the magus as soon as you’re done with them. <<if $kind gt $calc>>Taking a subtle, quiet breath to try and calm your racing heart, you paint a pitying expression on your face as you gaze down at the magus. <<if $blunt gt $charm>>“I have no idea who you’re talking about,” you lie, and the magus looks startled—even better, if you’re to convince whoever is looking on. “I…” A moment of doubt crosses the magus’ face. “N-no, I’m certain that—” You place a hand on the magus’ shoulder, giving a gentle squeeze. “You should see a healer, poor thing. Guards, if you mind? Our guest is clearly unwell; see to it that they’re taken care of.”<<else>>“Are you quite alright?” you ask with a concerned tone, placing a hand on the magus’ shoulder as you give them a sympathetic smile. “Had too much to drink, I take it? We’ve all had those nights.” The magus looks bewildered—even better, if you’re to convince whoever is looking on. “No, I…” A moment of doubt crosses the magus’ face. “I assure you, I didn’t drink a single drop!” “Guards,” you command, ignoring their protests. “Our guest here clearly needs a room to sober up. Fetch a healer to treat that cut as well, while you’re at it.”<</if>><<else>>Taking a subtle, quiet breath to try and calm your racing heart, you paint a cold expression on your face as you gaze down disdainfully at the magus. <<if $blunt gt $charm>>“You dare darken my path on the eve of my coronation?” you say with imperious indignation, speaking as you think a haughty ruler would, and the magus look startled. Even better, if you’re to convince whoever is looking on. “Your Imperial Majesty, please, I beg of you—” “You haven’t earned the right to beg me for anything,” you snap, your feigned glare filled with contempt, and the magus winces. “Guards!”<<else>>“You certainly don’t lack for audacity,” you mock, and the magus look startled—even better, if you’re to convince whoever is looking on. “Who are you to cast your shadow across my feet?” The magus looks alarmed, desperation creeping into their voice. “Your Imperial Majesty, please, if you would listen—” “I will not,” you dismiss in a bored tone. “Guards.”<</if>><</if>> Kaja as well as another Imperial Guard come into full view, each taking the magus by an arm, who is starting to look panicked. “No, wait, Your Imperial Majesty!” They start to struggle, but Kaja tightens her grip, exchanging a glance with you. “Keep an eye on them,” you speak to her in a low tone, hoping the urgency in your gaze will be enough to convey your message. Seeming to have understood your intent, or at least you hope, she leans in to mutter into the magus’ ear: “You’re causing a scene, friend.” The magus blinks several times, looking around the room for the first time, as if having forgotten where they were. They stop struggling and quiet down at the very least, and Kaja pats them on the back. “Come along now,” she says, she and the other guard escorting the magus toward the hallway you just came from. You want to tell the guards to protect them until you get there, but with so many magi in the room your words would be easily overheard if any of them possess sensory abilities. You’ll simply have to hope the Imperial Guards will make sure to watch them while you deal with your guests. [[Continue|8.2]] It isn’t an easy task. Even without the anticipation of speaking to the magus later, your mind is also still preoccupied with <<if $loveinterest is 'R'>>what Master Zîn revealed to you and $rname about $rtheir parents. You would’ve never expected to be confronted with someone who knew your own parents right afterwards, like a stroke of fate. It makes you wonder whether $rname would prefer to be in your shoes. Would $rthey rather have been orphaned because $rtheir parents died, instead of being deliberately abandoned? It’s not a question you think you will ever ask $rthem because of the pain it might cause, and your situations aren’t comparable besides. You had your parents all your life; if nothing else, you know with certainty that they would’ve never abandoned you, no matter what. In the end, they even died for you.<</if>><<if $loveinterest is 'A'>>what $aname revealed to you about $atheir parents, especially $atheir father. You cannot fathom what it must’ve been like to grow up the child of a Crown, at the center of an empire; your childhoods could not be further apart. You wonder if $aname’s father ever regretted the decisions he made. Remembering the glimpse you caught of Crown Piruz in the vision given to you by the fire spirits, there was nothing of pride in his posture. Not at all like the quiet confidence that his <<if $agender is 'male'>>son<<else>>daughter<</if>> radiates, and far from the stories of the man who once defied Crown Keybanû for love. He looked frail and terrified—the other Crowns in the vision didn’t fare much better, either. Is that what you could turn into, if given enough time? Was that what your parents were trying to protect you from?<</if>><<if $loveinterest is 'D'>>what $dname revealed to you about $dtheir mother. It’s a weight that $dthey has carried for the past ten years, so much so that it has overtaken $dtheir whole identity. What must $dthey have felt after $dtheir mother rescued $dthem, only for them to return to find the Crown assassinated? You cannot imagine how heavy the guilt must have been for them both, but especially for $dname. $cdtheir mother, at least, might’ve been able to cope with the reasoning that she only wanted to protect her child, something any parent in her position would do, but $dname had no such solace. Your parents protected you, too, but at the cost of their lives instead of their reputation. Protected you from people hunting <em>you</em>, the Crown, and they won’t be the last. You think you can understand, at least a little bit, the guilt that $dname must feel.<</if>><<if $loveinterest is 'X'>>what $xname revealed to you about $xtheir past. You know what it’s like to be torn away from home, but you cannot imagine witnessing it destroyed at such a young age as $xname was. If your parents had died when you were a child, you surely would’ve died as well. Another town might have taken you in, assuming you even made it that far, but the Followers of Vidarna would’ve easily found you. It begs the question of how $xname survived. Was $xthey taken in by others, adopted into another village, another family? Depending on how young $xthey was, you can’t imagine $xthey would’ve been able to survive on $xtheir own for very long. If $xthey was taken in by others, how did $xthey end up a mercenary? The more you find out about $xname, it seems, the bigger the mystery becomes.<</if>> You ponder all this from your seat back at your table, observing the ongoing mingling and festivities the guests are engaging in with half-awareness. <<if $loveinterest isnot 'R'>>$rname isn’t at $rtheir seat, likely having wandered off somewhere else.<</if>> It leaves you alone with the Mîrs and your guards<<if $loveinterest isnot 'A'>>, and though you can’t sense $aname near you, it is at least relieving to know you aren’t completely alone.<<else>>.<</if>> “Your Imperial Majesty.” A soft voice sounds from over your shoulder, and you recognize it as Keko’s. “The artists from Marabad’s pleasure house have arrived for their performance.” This was one of the things $rname planned for the festivities, one considered a tradition on the day of the Crown’s coronation. Pleasure houses are where the most talented entertainers tend to gather, whether they are employed either as artists themselves or simply as visitors. [[Continue|8.3]] Pleasure houses are, as the name implies, well-known for offering companionship, whether emotionally or physically. As $rname explained it to you, however, to think that’s <em>all</em> they are would be gravely underestimating the role artists play in the upper ranks of society. Many nobles seek the approval of well-known pleasure houses and their artists as they are extremely discerning in who they allow as patrons. Artists are very talented in many different areas: from magic to music and art, to poetry and philosophy and beyond. Some artists, in fact, choose not to offer companionship at all, talented enough to solely offer their services in art and entertainment instead. As a result, most artists have incredibly high standards for who they’ll accept as patrons. Since they are very well paid, they won’t feign interest or attraction for the sake of coin. If there is none of either, then one will likely be rejected as a patron; having wealth or a title is not enough. Some artists have been known to turn away Mîrs in the past and even a few unfortunate Crowns, instead preferring patronage from those of more modest backgrounds such as farmers, carpenters, healers and so on. By and large, artists appreciate those who contribute to society the most; even the highest ruler of the land need not apply if they are incompetent or tyrannical. To be a noble that is accepted by a pleasure house means that you are worthy to carry your title. For many, it becomes a way to affirm their status and wield it as a tool of influence. This, $rname explained, makes pleasure houses and artists one of the most important sources of information in Arsur. There is nothing a popular pleasure house would not know about the local nobility, renowned magi, and other influential figures. “One of Crown Dila’s lovers was employed at Zerat’s largest pleasure house as its most desired artist,” $rname told you, naming an example of the esteem pleasure houses carry. “Having the Crown as his beloved gave him access to even high-ranking foreign dignitaries vying for his attention. When he seduced one such dignitary, he discovered a plot to assassinate one of Crown Dila’s ambassadors in Qathesh during trade negotiations. Thanks to that she was able to prevent what would’ve no doubt been a war.” Having it described to you in this way, you realized at the time that there are entire undercurrents of power and influence moving through Arsurian society that you had no idea existed before. Now, as you watch the nobles in the room, your gaze honing in on Steward Welat standing among a group of attendees, you wonder how much Marabad’s own pleasure house would know about Rojan’s noble class. It’s something to consider. “Bring them in, Keko.” [[Continue|8.4]] You look up when the music dims and the artists are announced, and as they enter, they all look radiant yet very distinct, light fractured into every hue of a rainbow. “The artists of Marabad’s House of Roses have arrived!” Long-sleeved robes and dresses with their glimmering embroidery are colorful but soft in their shades as they glitter in golden light, each one a different tint complemented with layers of delicate jewelry. The elegant fabrics also look unusually light in weight, the edges flowing around their ankles and wrists, trailing behind them as if a constant, gentle breeze were making them float, or as if they were moving underwater. The artists themselves all notably vary in appearance as well; some are tall and some are short, some are broad and full in figure while others are lean and small, wearing different styles of hair with colors that range from natural black and brown to dyed vivid blue and purple hues. Each possesses a unique kind of beauty, evident in the way they carry themselves—graceful, confident, modest, proud, playful. You can’t imagine there is a single person in the room that doesn’t find something alluring or admirable in at least one of them. The only thing they seem to have in common are the delicately painted symbols of roses on their right cheeks. From the way the nobles are all staring and whispering amongst each other, your assessment seems to be an accurate one. You’d be admiring the artists as well, were this any other day. As it is, it takes all your willpower to keep your attention on the here and now instead of spiraling into what the apprehended magus might have to say about your parents. The artists line up facing you in the center of the room, all dropping down to their knees before you and bowing deeply. “Be welcome,” you greet them<<if $charm gt $blunt>> with a smile<</if>>. You know that they’ll be performing a dance of some sort, and you’re admittedly curious to see it, which helps you focus. $rname wouldn’t tell you the details about the performance, only that it might displease some of the nobles in attendance when $rthey asked for your permission to invite them. <<if $elitefavored lt 2>>Naturally, you told $rthem to book the artists immediately.<<else>>While it may be a risk, you are curious to see the results; hopefully not <em>all</em> the nobles will hold it against you.<</if>> $rname also warned you that parts of the performance would depict violent acts, though not explicitly, and with purpose. <<if $caut gt $adven>>You were most hesitant about that part of it, but<<else>>None of that made you hesitate, however;<</if>> you realize that violence, whether in your name or against you, will be unavoidable. An artistic depiction of it shouldn't be too much to handle. An artist at the center who must be the leader of the group humbly replies to your greeting, clothed in a bright red dress and with long locks of hair the unnatural color of flame. “Thank you, Your Imperial Majesty. It is our greatest honor to be able to perform for you today.” “I’m certainly looking forward to it.” The artist raises their head, giving you a confident smile. “We won’t disappoint.” Everyone in the room is fixated on the artists as they all get back up to their feet and move into their positions, splitting off into two groups standing across from each other. That is, with the exception of the artist who spoke to you before, remaining at the very center as they rise to their feet. The leader of the artists raises their hand and at their signal, all the lights go out. Even the sun. [[Continue|8.5]] Darkness covers the hall. You hear soft gasps from around you, your own body tensing up and your magic reacting on instinct. There is something foreign in the air, almost like a veil drawn over the room, but still being able to sense and hear other people around you keeps you calm. Someone starts to speak. “Does it really have to be—” Another shushes them. As if it were a signal, silence descends upon the hall. <<if $magicaffinity is 'sun'>>You cannot even see the outlines of your own hands, but you’ve experienced similar darkness before—hiding deep in caves, when there wasn’t any other kind of shelter available—so it doesn’t frighten you as it might someone else. That doesn’t mean that it’s comfortable, however. You feel blind in more ways than one; your magic simmers uneasily beneath the surface of your skin, weakened and suppressed, as if it were being blocked by something. The darkness feels stifling.<<else>>Despite the total darkness, affecting even the light ordinarily shining from your eyes, you feel your magic push outwards like a reflex, or perhaps more like a muscle spasm. Golden sparks flicker from your hands, for a single moment forming an outline of your fingers, before they disappear into the dark again. It feels familiar and, strangely, even comfortable. Your magic is perfectly in tune here; you have the sense that if you tried to, you would be able to light the darkness with ease, though it isn’t necessary. You can sense the others in the room around you even better, sharper, than before.<</if>> As you ponder the way your magic is reacting to the situation, the silent anticipation for the artists’ performance is finally broken with the first notes played from a tembûr. It resonates in a way you’ve never heard before. Each string is plucked slowly, its sound lingering in the air like a request for its audience to listen, let the sound sink in. It heralds the light that gradually returns to the room, though not in any way that you were expecting. The center of the floor where the artists were standing illuminates first, revealing someone kneeling there. You recognize them instantly. It’s Ashadūna herself. She wears the same striking red dress that you saw her in during your coronation’s final vision, though now you have more time to appreciate the luxurious hand-stitched embroidery and jewelry adorning her from head to toe. Her long black hair, a few locks of it braided with golden chains, pools around the place where she kneels, which is not the tiled floor of the great hall you were in moments before. It is rocky terrain beneath her knees and open air higher around her and above her, showing pure blue skies as if she were outside. She sits with her eyes closed, her hands folded on her lap as light shines down on her from above and the tembûr continues to play a calming, slow melody, as if she were waiting for something. From the dark, a voice speaks: “This is the tale of Ashadūna, the Fourth Princess of the Monarchy of Ardia.” It’s an illusion, you know, but it looks so real that it was as if you were watching the real Ashadūna open her golden eyes and lift her head. She looks up at the light shining down on her and, with a gentle smile, reaches out her arms towards it in tune with the music, rising to her feet as if wishing to embrace it. Dots of golden light descend from the sky, like fireflies, accepting the invitation of her arms and surrounding her. Spirits, joining her. They are similar to what peris look like in their spirit forms, though they are much more radiant. With that, Ashadūna's dance begins. You’re mesmerized as she lowers her arms with elegant motions of her wrists, before sweeping into a joyful twirl as the tembûr’s melody picks up the pace, playing high notes to suit the atmosphere. Her hair follows her graceful steps, chains sparkling, clinking softly to match the tembûr. The light shining on her, following her as she spins around the room, begins to expand, revealing the scene. She is atop a mountain. [[Continue|8.6]] Soon the illusion encompasses the entire hall. You can see the other guests again, many of whom appear equally as enchanted by the performance. Ashadūna—or the artist disguised as her—does not approach them, instead remaining inside the same square as the artists were standing in before, though that still gives her more than enough space to dance. <<if $intel gt $intu>> The other artists must be hidden in the illusion, waiting for their turn, or perhaps some of them maintain it. You imagine an illusion of this scale would take a sizable group of people to keep steady, especially considering it includes the guests <em>in</em> the illusion; the amount of control and precision required must be incredibly taxing.<<else>>She looks absolutely dazzling as she dances carefree and in her element, reminding you of the way the spirits in your coronation vision called her <em>beloved</em>. There must have been something within her that attracted the spirits to her, though it seems hard to believe a single person could draw so much power merely for existing. What was it about her that created an empire?<</if>> You as well as everyone else in the room are so entranced by her performance that you seem to forget all about your surroundings, until the artificial sky above you appears to darken. The lively, cheerful notes of the tembûr suddenly stop. Ashadūna slows her dance, confusion written on her face as the spirits who had danced together with her flee, flitting away towards the clouds and disappearing from sight. A blood-curdling scream echoes through the room. You grip the edges of the table in shock, several of the guests who surround Ashadūna flinching back. Ashadūna herself appears bewildered, twisting and turning around as the scream fades into mournful wailing, but it still appears to be part of the performance, though a visceral one. Soon the lone wailing is accompanied by other voices, some weeping in grief, some shouting in anguish. It becomes a cacophony of pain as the skies continue to darken with storm clouds. The wind that sweeps angrily through Ashadūna’s hair, making her shield her eyes with a hand, does not affect you or the others in the room, reminding you that this is only an illusion. Are these the spirits crying out, or people? As a light appears on the horizon, both the audience of the performance as well as Ashadūna turn towards it, but it isn’t the hopeful sign you expected. Fire sweeps across the landscape of Rojan. Flickers of flame scattered across the terrain, burning villages and cities that gradually begin to spread, until even the forest of Anshan catches fire. A look of horror appears on Ashadūna’s face as she realizes what’s happening, before the scene descends into darkness once more. The screaming and sobbing fades into a soft echo in the background, and the tembûr steadily picks up again, this time with a different melody. It starts as slowly as it did before, but quickly builds up speed as the sound of drums come in, accompanying it as it plays faster and faster. Sudden flashes dimly illuminate grisly scenes one by one with each harsh strike of the drum, ripping through the air like lightning and thunder. Soldiers with their weapons raised on villagers as their homes burn all around them, parents trying to shield their children from the violence, others trying desperately to run as soldiers aim arrows at their backs. These scenes are mere glimpses, cutting off into darkness right before the moment of murder; something about that makes it worse. More visceral, as the horrors of it all are left to your imagination. You see your father in the villagers and the way they are cut down where they stand, his face flashing before your eyes as you held him for the last time. Only once the scene ends, and you are returned to the silent darkness you were in right before the performance started, are you able to breathe again. Your hands shake, so you keep them rooted onto the armrests of your chair, trying to separate memory from illusion. You hear Mîr Behram mutter something in the silence. “That was rather… visceral.” Even Mîr Lîlan appears taken aback by the display. “I have to question the necessity of including such scenes. Surely today is a celebration, not a commemoration?” “It was needlessly violent,” Mîr Mêrxas grumbles, disgruntled. Mîr Sarya looks uncertain, glancing from the other Mîrs back to the performance with a frown on their face. The chatter quiets just in time for the next scene to begin. [[Continue|8.7]] It’s Ashadūna, now dressed in armor, wandering through the smoldering ruins of the villages that were destroyed, accompanied by a small retinue of guards. She encounters mourning villagers, grieving their lost homes and loved ones, but angry villagers as well. Villagers that erupt with righteous fury when they see her. One of them takes a fallen sword, its blade still red with blood, and lashes out at her. “Murderers!” the villager screams, the only word spoken in the performance so far, as they swing the blade around with reckless abandon. “<em>Murderers</em>!” Ashadūna gestures her guards to stay back as she nimbly avoids the rage-fueled attacks, her hands raised to indicate she means no harm, but it doesn’t stop the villager. Ashadūna’s guards and the other villagers look on, forming a loose circle around them as Ashadūna and the villager are locked in a wild, erratic dance, emphasized by the rhythmless tune of the tembûr following their motions, matching with every scream and shout the villager lets out as they swing their blade over and over. Slowly, steadily, the villager runs out of breath, out of energy. With one last attempt they heave the sword up, its blade hovering unsteadily in the air for a moment before they let it fall to the ground. Ashadūna easily evades as the sword slips out of the villager’s grasp, dropping onto the scorched earth. The villager falls onto their hands and knees, and soon their heaving breaths thin into a keening sound, sobs wracked from their chest as their fingers dig into the dirt. It is one of the most heartbreaking things you have ever seen, all the more so because you know what the villager must have felt, to have watched their home destroyed and their loved ones killed.<<if $loveinterest is 'X'>> Reflexively, your eyes search the audience for a familiar face. You can’t find $xname anywhere, and you wonder if $xthey’s watching the performance as well. If $xthey is, what must be going through $xtheir head, seeing such a vivid image reflected back at $xthem? To have history prove $xthem right? Centuries passed, dynasties fell and arose, yet it seems nothing has truly changed.<</if>> Silently, Ashadūna kneels down in front of them. The tembûr stops playing. The villager raises their tear-streaked face to look at her, and Ashadūna lifts the handle of their fallen sword, pressing it into their hands.<<if $loveinterest is 'D'>> You wonder if this is what it was like for $dname, for $dthem to join the army at a young age. To have no choice but to take up a weapon to protect $dtheir home—and then to think that $dthey failed, years later. That $dthey was the reason the country fell into chaos. Your eyes search the audience, but you cannot spot $dname among the crowd.<</if>> The illusion fades out again. [[Continue|8.8]] It is unmistakable what the scene depicted: the Year of Ishtiveg’s Greed. There can’t be a single Arsurian citizen that does not know of it. King Ishtiveg was the last ruler of the Monarchy of Ardia and Crown Ashadūna’s father. His hunger for conquest and brutal rule is infamous in history for causing the downfall of Ardia and the rise of Arsur. In the darkness, you hear more whispers from the audience now where there was only silence during the previous intervals. There is a sense of discomfort and tension in the air as they seem to echo the Mîrs’ sentiments from earlier. Hesitance, distaste. “I don’t think this is suitable for the coronation…” “Should we ask $ctheir Imperial Majesty to put a stop to it?” You tense at the mention, but before anything can come of it, the performance has resumed again. This time the illusion depicts the familiar red-and-blue reception hall of Marabad’s Royal Palace as the tembûr picks up again, its tune quieter somehow, almost mournful. You witness Ashadūna surrounded by people that appear to be nobility, if not related to her based on the silver crowns they wear on their head. The one with the largest silver crown appears to be much older than her; likely her mother. The scene is performed as a dance, but where Ashadūna’s dancing atop the mountain was cheery and energetic as she twirled from place to place, her movements here are much more restrained. Slow and graceful motions of her arms, her wrists, reaching her hands out to the queen as she kneels, pleading wordlessly. Yet the queen does not listen. She turns away from Ashadūna, and no matter how many times Ashadūna dances around her to face her again, the queen moves further and further away from her, until she finally loses her temper. She makes a sweeping, cutting motion with her arm, as if to say enough, before she storms off, disappearing from the illusion. Ashadūna looks frustrated, but does not give up. She appeals to the others—her siblings?—but each of them turn away from her as well, one by one until she is left kneeling on the floor, alone and looking utterly lost. After a moment, someone new arrives, stepping into view from behind her. The first thing you notice about them is the heavy golden crown they wear atop their head, adorned with large, red gemstones, matching the golden robe they wear. The symbol of the crown is unmistakable; you recognize who this is at once. “Ashadūna,” he speaks, the stern, disapproving tone of his voice cutting through the music, and as Ashadūna tenses up you tense up with her. [[Continue|8.9]] This is King Ishtiveg. Ashadūna’s father, and the last ruler of the Monarchy of Ardia before it became the Arsurian Empire. His hands are folded behind his back, and though he isn’t much taller than her, with her kneeling on the floor and the presence he projects he seems to tower over her. An expression of fear crosses Ashadūna’s expression before she takes a breath and stands up. Only once she is composed does she turn to face him, though she does not seem to dare look him in the eyes, bowing deeply in time with the music, facing the floor. The drums return again as she tentatively begins to dance, her movements much smaller, almost nervous. The king watches, expressionless save for the deep furrow of his brow, his gaze a weight upon her. When she finally works up the courage to look him in the eyes, clasping her hands together as if to say <em>please</em>, his eyes widen in infuriated outrage, and she flinches back as if physically struck. He begins to dance with her, but his movements are curt, angry, arms sweeping in large gestures as he turns and spins, and when his hands lift upwards he brings them down like hammers. Yet his anger only seems to give Ashadūna the courage to defy him instead of backing down, her dancing becoming insistent, just as furious and determined with strong twists and cutting motions of her hands. <<if $loveinterest is 'A'>> As you watch the two of them, father and daughter, you have to wonder what must be going through $aname’s mind—if $athey’s even watching the performance, that is. The two situations aren’t exactly comparable; King Ishtiveg hardly seems like a loving father, unlike what $aname described of Crown Piruz, and $aname would’ve been too young to defy him like this regardless. Still, it bothers $aname. That much was clear from your conversation with $athem, and you have no doubt seeing a scene like this reflected back at $athem must agitate those regrets even further. But you are not your parents. Not Ashadūna, not you, and not $aname. That much you know.<</if>> Ashadūna and the king dance around each other as the tune of the tembûr and the drums speed up. A flute joins them, the almost hoarse sound filling in the silence of where the two would have no doubt been screaming at each other if this had been a performance of spoken word. For the first time you notice that, of all the royal family members you have seen so far, Ashadūna is the only one without a crown. The dance ends when the two spin toward each other, and the king raises his hand as if to hit her, an infuriated scream breaking through the music: “I am your father and I am your KING!” Instead of shrinking back, Ashadūna lifts her head while she looks him in the eyes with a defiant glare, daring him to do it. You hear a collective gasp from the audience—but then the king slowly lowers his hand, balling it into a fist instead. “You are a <em>murderer</em>,” Ashadūna hisses, then turns her back on her father and leaves the scene as the light dims into darkness once more. A fight about the king’s reign. You remember learning King Ishtiveg was on a ruthless campaign back then, the Monarchy of Ardia only spanning the northeastern part of what is now Rojan. He was intent on conquering the rest of it, regardless of the fact that various smaller tribes of Sur had already settled there; they were given the choice to either join the monarchy, or to be trampled under foot. Ashadūna, during that campaign in the Year of Ishtiveg’s Greed, was very publicly disowned by him as an heir for trying to rally the nobility into protesting. She very nearly succeeded at the time, and you wonder what would’ve happened if she had. If she’d managed to depose her father then and there, and take the throne. Arsur surely would not have existed as she would not have needed to form an alliance with the larger tribes of Sur in the south, yet many more lives would’ve been spared as a result. [[Continue|8.10]] The following scenes are those of war, though that much was to be expected. They are similar to what you’ve witnessed before, of homes being destroyed, Surian tribes forced to flee all at once to escape the merciless might of the advancing Ardian army, but as Ishtiveg conquers, Ashadūna doesn’t sit still. She meets with the tribes instead, convincing them to ally with her, and so the trap is set. The final scene is one that every Arsurian knows. It has been described, performed and retold millions of times; it is almost mythical, known well even by those in other nations because of how it changed the entire continent. While the truth of it is too harsh to be told as a bedtime story, even children learn about it: you yourself were twelve years old when your father judged you mature enough to be able to understand what happened. As the anticipation in the room increases, so does the tension. The audience knows what’s coming. The light illuminates a grassy hill beneath a blanket of stars covering the night sky, where King Ishtiveg stands as if a statue, the dim light of a crescent moon glinting off the metal scales of his armor. There is no music this time, only the sound of the wind blowing through the flowering meadows below. Ashadūna comes into view, walking up the hill. She appears unarmed, wearing a traveler’s cloak but otherwise plain clothes beneath, a far cry from the rich, red dress she wore before. Her hair lacks jewelry and care, though it is just as long as before, gathered in a long, simple braid instead. She approaches her father atop the hill, and as the two look at each other, Ashadūna slowly bows. The wind stops blowing. Silence settles between them, and the rest of the room, as if it has a physical presence. Ashadūna slowly raises her head, looking the king in the eyes with a remorseful expression. She looks more visibly older than her father does, the youth of her full cheeks thinned into more gaunt features. By this point, years have passed. “Please forgive me, father.” The stone-like expression on Ishtiveg’s face appears to falter for a moment as he steps forward. He hesitates, his eyes narrowing for a moment, before a look of sadness gleams in his gaze and he raises his hands to her face as if to cup her cheeks. A shadow appears from behind him, carrying a short sword. You hold your breath. Mîr Mêrxas curses from beside you, “They wouldn’t—” Ashadūna embraces her father, an arm wrapped tightly around his shoulders while her other hand reaches into her cloak, pulling a hidden dagger from it. She keeps her unsuspecting father from moving as the shadowy figure from behind him comes into full view—the villager from before, who tried to kill Ashadūna—and lifts their sword. Just as Ishtiveg’s arms settle around his daughter, the villager sinks their sword into his back at the same time as Ashadūna thrusts her dagger into his gut. As Ishtiveg gasps in pain, fingers digging into her back, Ashadūna keeps holding him. As she pulls away from him, he tries to keep standing, clinging to her cloak, his eyes blown wide as if he cannot understand what is happening to him. She pulls her dagger out and rips her cloak out of his hands, no more remorse in her face as she watches him collapse to his knees before her with cold fury. The villager yanks their sword out next, blood coating the blade. As Ishtiveg falls to the grass in silent despair, breathing his last, the words immortalized in thousands of stories and poems for years afterwards finally pass Ashadūna’s lips: “You are king of nothing and father of no one, Ishtiveg.” [[Continue|8.11]] The moment darkness falls upon the scene it is as if the entire Royal Palace erupts in protest. “This is completely irresponsible!” Mîr Mêrxas exclaims. “It is bordering on slander!” He’s accompanied by the shouts of other nobles and guests who seem equally outraged by the artistic depiction. Even the more levelheaded people in the room, such as Mîr Lîlan, look displeased even if they don’t voice it as harshly and loudly as others. There are only a few, like Mîr Sarya, who appear mostly indifferent about the situation and merely observe. You are bemused at this outcry: from what you recall about the stories your father has told you, this performance falls fairly in line with how you remember the events to have taken place. Some of it is rumor, of course, such as the notion that it was Ashadūna herself who killed her father, but she helped plan the ambush and you thought it was common knowledge that she was present at the scene. When the light returns to the room the illusion is gone, and the artists are all visible again, standing where they stood facing you before the performance started. They look around the upset crowd, but otherwise seem unaffected by the angry cries, appearing perfectly calm and composed. While you’re surprised at the fierce reaction, you notice that the nobles and high-ranking officials from Rojan, such as Mîr Behram and Steward Welat, do not voice their anger as loudly and as vocally. They must not want to risk invoking the ire of Marabad’s artists, whereas nobles and officials from other provinces, like Mîr Mêrxas and Mîr Lîlan, don’t have anything to risk by criticizing Rojan’s artists. You could intervene and find out what the issue is for yourself, or you could watch a while longer to see how the artists plan on handling the commotion. <ul class="a"> <li>[[You shout: “QUIET!”|8.12a]]</li> <li>[[You give the artists an expectant look.|8.12b]]</li> </ul><<if visited("8.12a") is 1>><<set $nazapoints += 2>><</if>><<if $magicpref is 'inner'>>As you shout you feel your magic react to the exertion of your body, and without even realizing it, the volume of your voice increases as a rush of heat gathers in your throat. Your voice deafens as it pierces through the walls, easily drowning out the protests of your guests and instantly cutting out the cacophony of screaming and complaints. Your guests are shocked into silence, but some also look pained, holding their ears as your voice lingers in a ringing echo.<<else>>As you shout you feel the magic in the air around you react, already dense and charged with the presence of so many people in one place. Your own magic pushes outwards, light sparking off your shoulders, crackling and connecting with the rest of the room. A fierce, glowing heat radiating outward with you as its core fills the air, instantly silencing the cacophony of screaming and complaints. Your guests are shocked into silence, and as the crowd settles, some look they’re beginning to sweat due to the sudden heatwave. A few even start fanning themselves; it must feel as if the very sun itself is bearing down on them.<</if>> With calm and quiet returning to the hall, your magic ebbs away again. All eyes are now on you. <<if $pass gt $ass>>It’s not usually in your nature to be so direct, but the situation required an intervention.<</if>> From the edges of the room you think you see Lady Naza, towering over the other nobles, looking immensely amused. Turning to Mîr Mêrxas, who appears one of the angriest people regarding the performance, you say, <<if $blunt gt $charm>>“What, exactly, are you so upset about?” Your blunt tone of voice seems to catch him off-guard. “Well- I mean no offense, Your Imperial Majesty, but- is it not obvious?” That only confuses you further. “<<if $kind gt $calc>>Please e<<else>>E<</if>>xplain.”<<else>>“It seems the performance was rather controversial for you, Mîr Mêrxas.” Mêrxas bristles. “Indeed it was, Your Imperial Majesty!” You smile <<if $kind gt $calc>>patiently<<else>>with a sharp edge<</if>>. “What is it that you take issue with, specifically?” The question appears to surprise him.<</if>> “King Ishtiveg’s death, of course!” Mîr Mêrxas’ expression darkens, aiming a glare toward the artists as he clarifies further. “The notion that Crown Ashadūna would have murdered her own father is an outrageous falsehood meant to discredit the founder of our great nation as an opportunist, a murderer of her own kin!” Many agreements from the other nobles are voiced as Mîr Mêrxas speaks, most of them clearly on his side of the issue. “If I may add, Your Imperial Majesty,” Mîr Lîlan says, having watched quietly. “There is no evidence to suggest Ashadūna was involved in any way in King Ishtiveg’s murder. What happened that day was not recorded, there are only stories—but the ruling of previous Crowns has always been that Ashadūna was not present, let alone directly responsible.” The artists appear visibly displeased as they listen. The red-haired artist from before, who seems to be their leader, appears especially annoyed, crossing their arms and giving the Mîrs and officials a disdainful look. You turn towards them. <<if $blunt gt $charm>>“What say you to that, artist?” <<else>>“Would you like to respond to the Mîrs?” “Yes, Your Imperial Majesty, thank you.” <</if>>The artist bows to you, before straightening up again and addressing their displeased audience in cold tones. “You call it murder, I call it deposing a tyrant.” This time, it is Mîr Lîlan who scoffs. “So you glorify her as a savior! What of the Surian tribes who we know for a fact were the ones present, who ambushed Ishtiveg’s armies and killed him? Do they not deserve most of the credit?” “There were no saviors on either side, my lady,” the artist replies equally scathingly, ignoring the jeers and disagreeing rumbles from the crowd surrounding them. “It was a plan made by allies on equal footing. They both needed each other in order to plan any ambush at all; it is not an exaggeration to say that Ashadūna was equally responsible for his death, even if in reality she was not the one to hold the sword that struck him down. If it bothers you that much, you may consider it a creative interpretation.” “You cannot interpret history whichever way you wish!” Mîr Mêrxas erupts, bolstered by the other nobles supporting him. “There are truths and there are falsehoods! A clear line must be drawn.” “And who decides that, my lord?” the artist retorts. “History is not an immutable fact. Like all knowledge, it originates from somewhere, from <em>someone</em>. It can be altered, rewritten, even forgotten or purposefully erased. History may even differ depending on who you ask.” “Then let us ask the only judge of history among us,” Mîr Behram says curtly, putting an end to the argument as he turns to you. “Your Imperial Majesty, we will humbly leave this matter to your wisdom.” Of course. You shouldn’t be surprised at this point: you are the most important person in the room, and what you say goes. Apparently, this even includes matters of history. <<if $adven gt $caut>>It’s not often that you’ve had to make a decision in front of a room filled with so many people, but you may as well get your practice in now. Thankfully, you don’t feel very nervous. After what you witnessed during your coronation, this feels like child’s play.<<else>>The idea of making a decision in front of so many people has your heartbeat picking up from the tension, but no matter what happens, you can’t let it show. If these nobles detect even the slightest hints of weakness, they’ll be merciless. You keep your hands firmly on your armchair to anchor yourself.<</if>> According to Mîr Lîlan, previous Crowns have judged the matter as Ashadūna not being directly involved, and the artist even admitted to have taken creative liberty with the performance. Then again, there also doesn’t appear to be any conclusive evidence that proves Ashadūna was <em>not</em> the one who killed him. Popular belief seems to lean towards believing that Ashadūna was directly involved in killing the king, and you’ve been told similarly by your own father. The notion that this was a controversial issue among the nobility completely eluded you. Yet, you don’t necessarily need to state your personal beliefs on the matter. What is at the core of the issue is if you’re willing to anger all of the most important nobility in Rojan before your rule has even begun, including sympathetic faces like Mîr Lîlan. It may start you off on the wrong foot and create problems down the line, but on the other hand, chastising the artists could also have unseen consequences. <ul class="a"> <li>[[You believe the artists should be allowed to interpret the story however they wish.|8.13a][$publicfavored to $publicfavored + 2]]</li> <li>[[You believe the performance went too far.|8.13b][$elitefavored to $elitefavored + 2]]</li> </ul><<if $kind gt $calc>>Directly intervening now may only cause more commotion. You’re very aware of the kind of power you wield, and you don’t want to risk accidentally bringing it down on the wrong person in your haste to understand what’s going on.<<else>>You decide not to intervene directly. It risks letting the argument get out of hand somewhat, but when one’s emotions get heated, that’s when they tend to reveal their true thoughts most often. It could very well serve you better to let this play out for a bit before stepping in.<</if>> The red-haired artist from before, the one you took as the leader of their group, seems to interpret your gaze as permission to argue back against Mîr Mêrxas and those siding with him. They turn to Mêrxas, raising their voice to be heard over the loud protests of the crowd: “There is nothing slanderous toward Crown Ashadūna in the performance, unless you think that helping to free her nation from the clutches of King Ishtiveg is something to be ashamed of rather than celebrated.” This only seems to infuriate Mîr Mêrxas further, however. “Do not have the gall to act innocent,” he retorts sharply. “While King Ishtiveg was a harsh ruler, he was still her parent! The notion that she would have murdered her own father is an outrageous falsehood meant to discredit the founder of our great nation as an opportunist, a murderer of her own kin!” Many agreements from the other nobles are voiced as Mîr Mêrxas speaks, most of them clearly on his side of the issue. “If I may add,” Mîr Lîlan says, having watched quietly. “There is also no evidence to suggest Ashadūna was involved in any way in King Ishtiveg’s murder. What happened that day was not recorded, there are only stories—but the ruling of previous Crowns has always been that Ashadūna was not present, let alone directly responsible.” The artists appear visibly displeased as they listen. The leader of the group who has been arguing appears especially annoyed, crossing their arms and giving the Mîrs and officials a disdainful look. They address their displeased audience in cold tones: “You call it murder, I call it deposing a tyrant.” This time, it is Mîr Lîlan who scoffs. “So you glorify her as a savior! What of the Surian tribes who we know for a fact were the ones present, who ambushed Ishtiveg’s armies and killed him? Do they not deserve most of the credit?” “There were no saviors on either side, my lady,” the artist replies equally scathingly, ignoring the jeers and disagreeing rumbles from the crowd surrounding them. “It was a plan made by allies on even footing. They both needed each other in order to plan any ambush at all; it is not an exaggeration to say that Ashadūna was equally responsible for his death, even if in reality she was not the one to hold the sword that struck him down. If it bothers you that much, you may consider it a creative interpretation.” “You cannot interpret history whichever way you wish!” Mîr Mêrxas erupts, bolstered by the other nobles supporting him. “There are truths and there are falsehoods! A clear line must be drawn.” “And who decides that, my lord?” the artist retorts. “History is not an immutable fact; like all knowledge, it originates from somewhere, from <em>someone</em>. It can be altered, rewritten, even forgotten or purposefully erased—history may even differ depending on who you ask.” “Then let us ask the only judge of history among us,” Mîr Behram says curtly, putting an end to the argument as he turns to you. “Your Imperial Majesty, we will humbly leave this matter to your wisdom.” Of course. You shouldn’t be surprised at this point: you are the most important person in the room, and what you say goes. Apparently, this even includes matters of history. <<if $adven gt $caut>>It’s not often that you’ve had to address a room filled with so many people, but you may as well get your practice in now. Thankfully, you don’t feel very nervous. After what you witnessed during your coronation, this feels like child’s play.<<else>>The idea of addressing a hall filled with so many people has your heartbeat picking up from the tension, but no matter what happens, you can’t let it show. If these nobles detect even the slightest hints of weakness, they’ll be merciless. You keep your hands firmly on your armchair to anchor yourself.<</if>> According to Steward Welat, previous Crowns have judged the matter as Ashadūna not being directly involved, and the artist even admitted to have taken creative liberty with the performance. Then again, there also doesn’t appear to be any conclusive evidence that proves Ashadūna was <em>not</em> the one who killed him. Popular belief seems to lean towards believing that Ashadūna was directly involved in killing the king, and you’ve been told similarly by your own father. The notion that this was a controversial issue among the nobility completely eluded you. Yet, you don’t necessarily need to state your personal beliefs on the matter. What is at the core of the issue is if you’re willing to anger all of the most important nobility in Rojan before your rule has even begun, including sympathetic faces like Mîr Lîlan. It may start you off on the wrong foot and create problems down the line, but on the other hand, chastising the artists could also have unseen consequences. <ul class="a"> <li>[[You believe the artists should be allowed to interpret the story however they wish.|8.13a][$publicfavored to $publicfavored + 2]]</li> <li>[[You believe the performance went too far.|8.13b][$elitefavored to $elitefavored + 2]]</li> </ul><<set $patricide to true>>While you have questions about the secrets your parents have kept from you, you don’t think they would’ve lied to you about what they thought—and what most people think—happened that day. The stories about Ashadūna being present for her father’s murder, if not being the one to kill him, must have come from <em>somewhere</em>. Besides which, is there really that much of a difference whether she was truly there or not? The fact of the matter is that she planned the ambush together with the tribes of Sur, and knew what would happen to her father as a result. At best she enabled it, at worst she was the one who ended his life with her own two hands, but is the distinction really that important? You look around the room of disgruntled nobility and esteemed government officials, before your gaze settles on the artists standing in the center of the hall before you. <<if $caut gt $adven>>All you have to do is keep your nerves steady: you take a quiet breath, then begin to speak.<</if>> <<if $charm gt $blunt>>“I don’t believe,” you start, taking a measured tone as you anticipate the discontent, “that such depictions as we saw in the performance are deceptive.” When Mîr Mêrxas opens his mouth, you raise your hand, silencing him. “As Mîr Lîlan said, there is no evidence proving Ashadūna was present, but can anyone tell me: is there any evidence proving, definitively, that she was absent?” Silence. The nobles and Mîrs—save for Mîr Sarya—look frustrated by your argument, but no one appears to have any facts to present you that would prove you wrong. “I see.” You turn towards the artists, smiling at them. “In which case, it is impossible for our artists to have lied or deceived anyone, as the truth cannot be known. Surely we must allow creative liberty? These are artists after all, my good friends, not historians! Why can we not enjoy the performance for what it is?” A few of the nobles who appeared previously disapproving or largely indifferent now appear thoughtful as they listen to you, and the mood in the room shifts gradually. “$ctheir Imperial Majesty speaks sense, it was only a performance…” “You know Mîr Mêrxas, he is always causing a ruckus.” “What a waste of everyone’s time!” Not everyone is won over, however; half the room still appears unconvinced. “Your Imperial Majesty,” Mîr Behram starts, “condoning this performance is no different than agreeing that Crown Ashadūna was—” “And so what if I agree?” you interrupt, though your tone remains as calm and pleasant as it was before, almost mimicking an innocent question. “Are you going to tell me I’m wrong?” Mîr Behram narrows his eyes but averts his gaze. He, as well as everyone else still against you, cannot openly disagree without looking unreasonable. “No, Your Imperial Majesty, I would never doubt your judgment.” When you smile at him your lips carry a hint of warning, one Mîr Behram accepts as he bows his head. You consider it a victory. “Then the matter is settled.”<<else>>“I have no issues with the performance,” you state without hesitation, disregarding the wave of discontent that travels through the room at your words. “If there is no definitive proof either way, then we must leave room for interpretation.” When you see Mîr Mêrxas part his lips to speak while you render your judgment, you shoot him a sharp look. He closes his mouth again and averts his gaze. “Frankly speaking, I find it absurd for you to be making such commotion about a story that has been told in this country since the day it was founded,” you continue, irritated by the persisting displeasure of the nobility around you. Your voice gradually raises together with your temper as you speak, the brazenness of the nobility irking you further the more you think about it. “Does it offend you, that our founder might have killed her father?” you sneer, both unable and unwilling to hide your derision and contempt. “Do I need to explain to you what it means to depose a ruler? Hathura's monarch was publicly executed in the streets by his own royal court! You want to throw a temper tantrum about the purity of Crown Ashadūna’s image? Don’t be so childish!” No one is looking at you anymore, save for the artists and Mîr Sarya. The rest are all looking away, people twice and even thrice your age with their heads bowed like children being scolded by a parent. Good. They should feel embarrassed for wasting your time and energy on this nonsense. “The matter is settled,” you state once you have regained your calm, looking around the room and daring anyone to argue.<</if>> The artists, on the other hand, look pleasantly surprised and very pleased by your decision, the entire group bowing deeply before you as their leader says, “We thank you for your wisdom, Your Imperial Majesty. If it pleases, we have other—more traditional—dances that are purely for entertainment; we would not wish to sour the rest of your coronation night.” The thought occurs to you that the artists performing further dances would give you the perfect cover to slip out to talk to the magus unseen. <<if $blunt gt $charm>>You nod your assent.<<else>>You smile agreeably to the artists. “Perhaps something more lighthearted this time?”<</if>> [[Continue|8.14]]<<set $patricide to false>><<if visited("8.13b") is 1>><<if $loveinterest is "A">><<set $apoints -= 2>><<else>><<set $afriendship -= 1>><</if>><<if $loveinterest is "R">><<set $rpoints -= 1>><</if>><<if $loveinterest is "D">><<set $dpoints -= 1>><</if>><<if $loveinterest is "X">><<set $xpoints -= 2>><<else>><<set $xfriendship -= 1>><</if>><</if>>One has to wonder where this story of Ashadūna murdering her own father originated, and for what purpose. There is nothing definitive to prove that she was there, much less that she stabbed her father, even though that seems to be a popular part of the stories most often told about her. She may have planned the ambush, but that does not necessarily mean she was the one to strike the final blow with her own hands. It makes you consider the possible ramifications were you, a new Crown, to go against the judgment of your predecessors and admit it possible that Arsur was built on a foundation of patricide. It would certainly be seen as controversial by the upper classes, if the reactions in this room are any indication, and you’re not certain you want to make any enemies on the day of your coronation. You look around the room of disgruntled nobility and esteemed government officials, before your gaze settles on the artists standing in the center of the hall before you. <<if $caut gt $adven>>All you have to do is keep your nerves steady: you take a quiet breath, then begin to speak.<</if>> <<if $charm gt $blunt>>“I’m sure the artists’ intentions were good,” you start, taking a measured tone as you anticipate the discontent, “but it may have been a reckless choice on a day such as this one.” When the artist opens their mouth, you raise your hand, silencing them. “As Mîr Lîlan said, there is no evidence proving Ashadūna was present. Now, on the day of my coronation, during festivities in my honor we are sidetracked into debating whether Ashadūna killed her own father or not.” You give the artists a sympathetic look. “I certainly commend you for your bravery, but don’t you think you could have picked a better time and place for this?” While your expression is friendly, the warning in your tone is clear: <em>do you realize the offense you’ve caused with your antics?</em><<else>>“This was neither the time nor the place for this kind of performance,” you state without hesitation, disregarding the wave of discontent from the group of artists before you. “There is no proof for Crown Ashadūna’s involvement in the matter; it is inappropriate to speculate.” When you see the leader of the artists part their lips to speak while you render your judgment, you shoot them a warning look. They close their mouth again and avert their gaze. “I am not against taking creative liberties,” you continue, “but surely you understand how this would look? Not to mention, you’ve soured the festivities on the eve of my coronation. Do you really want to be known as the artists that caused such a commotion at the new Crown’s banquet? I wonder how your superiors at the House of Roses would feel about that.”<</if>> A few of the artists who appeared previously adamant that they’ve done nothing wrong now seem unsure, glancing toward their leader, who is frowning back at you. But is there anything they can truly say in response? Eventually, the leader, followed by the other artists bow deeply to you. The nobles, in the meantime, look very pleased by your decision, and even more pleased to see the artists admit their mistake. “Our sincerest apologies, Your Imperial Majesty,” the leader says. “We did not mean to insult you. If it pleases, we have other—more traditional—dances that are purely for entertainment; we would not wish to sour the rest of your coronation night.” The thought occurs to you that the artists performing further dances would give you the perfect cover to slip out to talk to the magus unseen. <<if $blunt gt $charm>>You nod your assent.<<else>>You smile agreeably to the artists. “Perhaps something less controversial this time?”<</if>> [[Continue|8.14]]<<if visited("8.14") is 1>><<if $tujotrust is 5>><<set $tujoheval to 1>><</if>><<if $tujotrust is 10>><<set $tujoheval to 2>><</if>><<if $tujotrust is 15>><<set $tujoheval to 3>><</if>><</if>><<set $ashaduna to true>><<set $mapii to true>>[ <b>Lessons In History updated | <em>Ashadūna and the Tribes of Sur</em> unlocked</b> ] [ <b>[[Geography|Geography]] updated | <em>Map of Arsur</em> unlocked</b> ] [ <b>[[The Arsurian Calendar]] updated</b> ] There are no illusions when the artists start another performance this time. They all remain visible, fanning out around the room and dancing in tune with a more cheerful melody. Despite the previous anger of their audience, the nobles and officials seem quick to forget all about it when the artists dance near them or smile at them, their charms and attention soothing the ire lingering in the air. Before the Mîrs seated at your table can rope you into conversation, you rise from your chair<<if $charm gt $blunt>>, giving them a genial smile. “I should chat with some of my guests. I’m sure you can manage to entertain yourselves in the meantime.” “Of course, Your Imperial Majesty,” Mîr Lîlan replies with an understanding nod, speaking on behalf of the other three as well. “We cannot expect to monopolize your attention all evening. I do hope you enjoy the rest of the banquet.” With that, you take your leave.<<else>>, stating plainly, “I’m taking a walk.” The Mîrs look startled at your declaration, but don’t dare protest it. “Your Imperial Majesty,” Mîr Lîlan says, inclining her head as you take your leave.<</if>> As you walk away from the table, you feel very grateful for the artists’ continued performance, keeping the majority of the eyes in the room fixed in their direction. You suspect, however, that it won’t last long; as you move towards the corridor that the magus from before was escorted out of, you start drawing the eyes from the nobles around you. From over your shoulder, a soft voice murmurs to you: “Do you wish to disappear again, Your Imperial Majesty?” You are at once relieved by the competence of your guards. As you move behind one of the columns in the hall to use it as a cover, like you did before, you feel a touch on your shoulder rendering you invisible once more. It goes even more smoothly this time as there are less people in the way between you and the exit to the corridor, most of them crowded around the area where the artists are dancing. Leaving the hall, you step out into the corridor. Save for visible guards stationed here there are also a few guests milling about, and you halt, unsure of which direction to go on. “The magus was taken to a room up ahead, Your Imperial Majesty,” your guard mutters in your ear when they notice you pausing, guiding you forward. You walk past the other guests—a few of them dressed in the familiar green robes of tax officials, you notice, but thankfully not anyone unsavory that attempted to extort a teahouse. As you turn around a corner, being lead further away from the banquet hall into emptier corridors, the music and chatter from the festivities turns distant until it disappears altogether. You start to tense, but your guard’s hand on your shoulder reminds you that you are not alone. Besides which, this is <em>your</em> palace. Your new home. There is nothing here for you to fear. Turning around another corner, you see two people up ahead standing guard outside a room, people you recognize instantly. You tap the hand on your shoulder, your guard releasing you and letting you turn visible once more. “Tûjo, Heval?” [[Continue|8.15]] Tûjo and Heval turn to look at you the moment you appear. You can’t tell whether they’re surprised to see you considering Heval wears their helmeted mask and Tûjo never takes his face covering off, but you suspect they aren’t. Neither of them move from their post aside from bowing to you. “Your Imperial Majesty,” Heval greets you. <<if $loveinterest is "X">>“What are you two doing here?” you ask, frowning slightly. “Shouldn’t you be with $xname?” “Chief wanted time alone.” Heval doesn’t sound too concerned. “We can catch up to $xthem later, but in the meantime, we have a job to do.” That’s fair enough. It isn’t as if $xname was in any distress when you returned to the banquet hall. <<if $xpoints gte 12>>You wouldn’t have left $xthem by $xthemselves if $xthey was. The ease and certainty in which that thought occurs to you takes you aback a little, but you recognize it to be true. Despite all the distance and the walls $xname has put up between the two of you, even so, you would want to comfort $xthem should $xthey need it. Something light flutters inside of you at the realization, but you quickly push it aside. Now is not the time for it. <</if>>$cxthey seemed contemplative, maybe a little sad at most. That doesn’t entirely answer your question, however. “But how did you end up <em>here</em>, specifically?”<<else>>“What are you two doing here?” you ask, curious. You would’ve expected them to help keep an eye out on busier places within the palace, such as the banquet hall. “Standing guard,” Tûjo answers simply, and Heval sighs with exasperation. “Yes, I can see that,” you reply, your mouth quirking up a little in amusement. Tûjo merely nods in acknowledgment, as if to say <em>I can see that you can see that</em>, and remains silent. “Forgive him, Your Imperial Majesty,” Heval says, shooting Tûjo a look through the holes of their mask. “As you can tell, Tûjo is far from a poet with words.” “Not everyone needs to be.” You return to the topic at hand. “What I meant was, what are you doing <em>here</em>, specifically?”<</if>> Tûjo and Heval exchange a glance before Tûjo answers, <<if $tujoheval gte 2>>“The Imperial Guards were escorting a magus on your orders. We figured you would want the additional security.” You arch your brows, not having expected them to be so attentive to your needs. <<if $loveinterest is 'X'>> “Besides, the chief would want us to help you,” Heval adds, and though their tone is straightforward, you can’t help but wonder if it’s meant to be a tease. You decide to not to respond, merely humming to acknowledge it.<</if>> “My thanks,” you say to them both, and while Heval simply inclines their head in acceptance, Tûjo averts his gaze, shifting a little in place. “To you as well, Tûjo.” Tûjo does not meet your eyes. “I did it for the coin.” It startles a laugh out of you, and you shake your head. “You know, you and $xname are more alike than I thought.”<<else>>“All the other sections of the palace were already covered. We figured we might as well help the Imperial Guards.” “That was certainly thoughtful of you,” you comment, and Heval shrugs. “We had nothing better to do.” They cross their arms over their armored chest. “These types of parties are a little too uptight compared to what we’re used to.” With the Crescent Blades, you can certainly believe that.<</if>> Your gaze falls on the door they’re guarding, your somewhat lighthearted mood fading again into one of apprehension. Behind that door could be the answers you thought you would never get, an opportunity to lift the veil on your parents’ secrets. “I should go inside,” you say out loud, though it is more to yourself than to Tûjo and Heval, who sense the shift in atmosphere. <<if $tujoheval eq 3>>“If you would rather have us leave, we can,” Tûjo says unexpectedly. It must be obvious to them both that this is a sensitive matter, so they’re being considerate of your privacy.<<else>>“Do you want us to keep standing guard, or should we leave?” Heval asks.<</if>> The question is whether you trust them enough not to eavesdrop. <ul class="a"> <li><<if $charm gt $blunt>>[[You answer diplomatically. “The banquet hall was getting a little rowdy earlier; I wouldn’t mind additional guards on it.”|8.16a]]<<else>>[[You cut straight to the point. “You may return to the banquet hall.”|8.16a][$tujohevalpresence to false]]<</if>></li> <li>[[You have no reason to doubt them. “I would appreciate it if you stayed.”|8.16b][$tujohevalpresence to true]]</li> </ul> Neither of them seem to take it personally, though that is to be expected. They’re being paid by you to do a job; whatever orders you give them, they’ll accept it. “Understood,” Tûjo replies, and he and Heval bow to you before they move away from their posts and take their leave, heading in the direction of the banquet hall. It’s not as if you <em>distrust</em> them, necessarily, but how well do you really know them? If they were to overhear something, even accidentally, you’re not certain you could count on them not to speak of it or share it with the other Crescent Blades. <<if $tujoheval lt 3>>You are acquaintances at best, after all. <</if>>It is better to remain cautious. You turn your attention back to the door. Taking a deep breath, you step forward. The door opens for you before you can reach for the handle, revealing Ezo standing in the doorway. She must’ve sensed—or heard—your arrival. She bows to you, then steps aside. “The magus has been waiting for you, Your Imperial Majesty.” Past her, you see the magus that accosted you seated at a low table with their hands folded on their lap. Kaja sits beside them, and they both look up when you enter the room. It looks to be a standard lounge, curtains framing the windows that offer a view of an inner courtyard somewhere inside the palace, one you haven't even discovered yet. As you approach the magus quickly scrambles up to their feet, bowing deeply before you with the sound of rattling chains. They’re cuffed onto their wrists, familiar purple sigils glowing faintly from its metal; similar ones to what $xname made you wear to seal your magic temporarily. “Your Imperial Majesty—” You raise your hand, gesturing for them to be quiet, and when they glance up at you and see it they quickly fall silent. Turning to Ezo, you state, “Can we secure the room?” Ezo nods, closing the door, then reaching up to the frame of it along its left side. She uses the tips of her fore and middle fingers, tracing along its wood, and as she does, symbols carved within it that you hadn’t noticed before start to light up. “This seals any sound within the room, preventing it from reaching outside these walls,” Ezo explains. “It is one of the sitting areas that can be used for privacy.” You make note of it, in case you’ll have need of one in the future. “I’ll remember that.” Satisfied with the measure, you turn back toward the magus who hasn’t moved from their bow. They are small and short of stature<<if $height is 'short'>> about as short as you<</if>><<if $height is 'very short'>> though not as short as you<</if>>, with narrow shoulders and a wiry face. Physically, they seem far from imposing, and with their magic sealed away you can at least rest assured that they wouldn’t try to attack you. The knowledge they hold, however, may be just as threatening. You glance at Kaja, then at Ezo. Ezo notices your look, and seeming to anticipate what you’re thinking, she says, “We are sworn to serve you, Your Imperial Majesty. That being said, if you would prefer to be alone…” <ul class="a"> <li>[[Let them stay.|8.17a][$kajaezo to $kajaezo + 2]]</li> <li>[[Have them leave the room.|8.17b]]</li> </ul><<if visited("8.16b") is 1>><<set $tujoheval += 1>><</if>><<if $kind gt $calc>>You’ve trusted them with your life before, so letting them stay to guard the door doesn’t seem as risky. Neither of them strike you as the type to willingly protect you but then turn around to abuse your trust.<<else>>Your own Imperial Guards will be guarding the room as well, and they’d be able to tell you if they caught Tûjo or Heval eavesdropping. Which, if they did eavesdrop, would allow you to dole out whatever punishment you saw fit. It wouldn’t reflect well on the Crescent Blades’ reputation either.<</if>> Both Tûjo and Heval seem to accept your request without further thought or reaction; this is a job that you’re paying them for, after all. “We will make certain that you are left undisturbed,” Heval promises, the consideration making you smile a little before you turn your attention back to the door. You take a deep breath, then step forward. The door opens for you before you can reach for the handle, revealing Ezo standing in the doorway. She must’ve sensed—or heard—your arrival. She bows to you, then steps aside. “The magus has been waiting for you, Your Imperial Majesty.” Past her, you see the magus that accosted you seated at a low table with their hands folded on their lap. Kaja sits beside them, and they both look up when you enter the room. It looks to be a standard lounge, curtains framing the windows that offer a view of an inner courtyard somewhere inside the palace, one you haven't even discovered yet. As you approach the magus quickly scrambles up to their feet, bowing deeply before you with the sound of rattling chains. They’re cuffed onto their wrists, familiar purple sigils glowing faintly from its metal; similar ones to what $xname made you wear to seal your magic temporarily. “Your Imperial Majesty—” You raise your hand, gesturing for them to be quiet, and when they glance up at you and see it they quickly fall silent. Turning to Ezo, you state, “Can we secure the room?” Ezo nods, closing the door, then reaching up to the frame of it along its left side. She uses the tips of her fore and middle fingers, tracing along its wood, and as she does, symbols carved within it that you hadn’t noticed before start to light up. “This seals any sound within the room, preventing it from reaching outside these walls,” Ezo explains. “It is one of the sitting areas that can be used for privacy.” You make note of it, in case you’ll have need of one in the future. “I’ll remember that.” Satisfied with the measure, you turn back toward the magus who hasn’t moved from their bow. They are small and short of stature<<if $height is 'short'>> about as short as you<</if>><<if $height is 'very short'>> though not as short as you<</if>>, with narrow shoulders and a wiry face. Physically, they seem far from imposing, and with their magic sealed away you can at least rest assured that they wouldn’t try to attack you. The knowledge they hold, however, may be just as threatening. You glance at Kaja, then at Ezo. Ezo notices your look, and seeming to anticipate what you’re thinking, she says, “We are sworn to serve you, Your Imperial Majesty. That being said, if you would prefer to be alone…” <ul class="a"> <li>[[Let them stay.|8.17c][$kajaezo to $kajaezo + 2]]</li> <li>[[Have them leave the room.|8.17d]]</li> </ul><<set $ezokajapresence to true>>Sending Tûjo and Heval away is one thing, but Kaja and Ezo as well as the rest of the Imperial Guards are <em>your</em> guards. $dname and $aname already made sure that there wouldn’t be any spies among them. If you can’t trust them to keep a secret, who can you trust? “You can stay.” Ezo inclines her head in a very professional manner while Kaja smiles warmly at you, not even bothering to hide her satisfaction at being trusted. With that taken care of, you finally shift your attention to the magus beside Kaja, who hasn’t moved an inch from their bow. The first question to ask is an obvious one. “Who are you?” [[Continue|8.18]] While it’s true the Imperial Guards are sworn to you, that doesn’t mean you’re comfortable with letting them in on all your family secrets. You don’t even know the possible scale and importance of what the magus is about to reveal to you—it’s not about trust at this point, it’s about caution. “I would prefer it if you and any other Imperial Guards guarded the room instead,” you say, and to their credit, Ezo and Kaja seem to take it in stride. Ezo inclines her head in a very professional manner, and Kaja gives you an understanding nod, getting up from her seat. The two of them head for the door, though Kaja adds in passing, “We will make sure you’re not disturbed, Your Imperial Majesty!” She closes the door behind them. With that taken care of, you finally shift your attention to the magus, who hasn’t moved an inch from their bow. The first question to ask is an obvious one. “Who are you?” [[Continue|8.18]]<<set $ezokajapresence to true>>Kaja, Ezo and the rest of the Imperial Guards are <em>your</em> guards. $dname and $aname already made sure that there wouldn’t be any spies among them. If you can’t trust them to keep a secret, who can you trust? You even let Tûjo and Heval stay. “You can stay.” Ezo inclines her head in a very professional manner while Kaja smiles warmly at you, not even bothering to hide her satisfaction at being trusted. With that taken care of, you finally shift your attention to the magus beside Kaja, who hasn’t moved an inch from their bow. The first question to ask is an obvious one. “Who are you?” [[Continue|8.18]] While it’s true the Imperial Guards are sworn to you, that doesn’t mean you’re comfortable with letting them in on all your family secrets. You don’t even know the possible scale and importance of what the magus is about to reveal to you—it’s not about trust at this point, it’s about caution. “I would prefer it if you and any other Imperial Guards guarded the room instead,” you say. “You can join Tûjo and Heval in the hallway.” To their credit, Ezo and Kaja seem to take it in stride. Ezo inclines her head in a very professional manner, and Kaja gives you an understanding nod, getting up from her seat. The two of them head for the door, though Kaja adds in passing, “We will make sure you’re not disturbed, Your Imperial Majesty!” She closes the door behind them. With that taken care of, you finally shift your attention to the magus, who hasn’t moved an inch from their bow. The first question to ask is an obvious one. “Who are you?” [[Continue|8.18]]<<set $yekbun to true>>There is a slight, tremulous quality to their voice when they answer you. “I am a scholar, studying the ways in which spirits communicate with us and with each other at the School of Marabad.” They keep their eyes fixed firmly to the ground. “My name is Yekbûn Bajarî and I go by she, Your Imperial Majesty.” While you remain calm on the outside, your thoughts begin to race. <<if $intel gt $intu>>Your father said he himself primarily studied ritual magic in order to qualify as a priest, though that must have also necessitated studying how to summon and communicate with spirits. Could the two of them have been colleagues at the School of Marabad? If so, studying what? And how does your mother fit into all of this?<<else>>She spoke both your father and your mother’s names, which means she must’ve known both of them, or at least of their relationship. Was she close with your father? Did they work together at the School of Marabad? If so, how did your mother become involved?<</if>> “I assume you are aware of what happened to my parents,” you say, coldness creeping into your tone as you remember the way she blurted out their names in the middle of the banquet hall. “Do you understand the risk you took by speaking their names?” Scholar Yekbûn seems to hesitate for a long moment, but then lifts her head to bare her throat to you. On the center of her neck you see red sigils painted from right below her chin down to her chest, where the collar of her robe hides the rest. You only manage to read a few of the sigils—three vertical lines, the bottom half of them crossed into a simple circle beneath—before she lowers her head again and pulls up her collar: <em>Walls of Silence</em>. “Anyone not within a certain distance of me will not be able to overhear my words,” Scholar Yekbûn says, bowing low to you. “It was why I had to get close to you, Your Imperial Majesty. Please forgive my impudence.” <<if $ezokajapresence is true>> “Is that true, Ezo?” you ask, looking to Ezo who is the furthest away from the scholar, standing by the door. Ezo gives you a questioning look. “Is what true? I can’t hear the scholar from over here.” That’s as good an answer as any.<</if>> You ease, though only slightly. It is relieving to know that no one else overheard the scholar utter the names of your parents, at least, and with the sigils on the door active as well you’ll have double the protection. <<if $intel gt $intu>>Were this any other conversation, you would’ve been more than curious to know about how she managed such a feat with the sigils, but you can’t waste any more time.<<else>>You don’t have time to assuage her obvious anxiety about having offended you, however.<</if>> No doubt your absence will be noticed as soon as the artists finish dancing for the evening. You composure is balanced on a razor’s edge. As you move to take a seat across from Scholar Yekbûn, you watch her for a moment. You study the deep lines on her forehead adding age to her olive brown complexion, the wrinkles tensed between her thin brows, and her dark gray eyes sunken from an exhaustion that must have plagued her for a long time. Your parents looked the same way. Tired, haunted. [[Continue|8.19]] You indicate for her to sit down as well, and you wait until she has settled<<if $ezokajapresence is true>> beside Kaja again<</if>> before you speak. <<if $ezokajapresence is true>>Ezo remains standing, deciding to stand guard beside the door.<</if>> <<if $intel gt $intu>>“The summer of year 545,” you state, the restraint heavy in your voice, and Scholar Yekbûn looks up at you, eyes widening in surprise. “Did you meet with my father?” Establish the facts first, no matter how much you want to scream. After a moment’s hesitation, Scholar Yekbûn bows her head again. “I did, Your Imperial Majesty.”<<else>>“You knew my parents were on the run, didn’t you?” you say, the restraint heavy in your voice, and Scholar Yekbûn looks up at you, guilt flashing across her face. “Did you meet with my father during those years?” “I did,” the scholar says quietly.<</if>> “Why?” “He…” The scholar clasps her hands together on her lap, brows furrowing. She does not meet your eyes as she says, “He and your mother knew that there was a possibility you would see the throne. They asked me to find you, if that were ever to come to pass.<<if $intu gt $intel>> He came to me one summer, a few years ago, and made me promise to do so.<</if>>” So that’s what he was doing during that summer. Precautions, so many precautions—why not ever just the truth? “So, my father attended the School of Marabad.” That much was obvious considering he was a priest, not to mention an educated person in general. “Did you attend together? Is that where you knew him from?” The scholar nods. “Yes, Your Imperial Majesty. We were admitted into the same class as children. Beyond peers, we were close friends for many years. When I heard that you…” She pauses, inhaling a deep breath; her eyes shine for a moment, before she blinks it away. “When I heard that you had been found, I realized what must have happened.” She must be mourning him still; it has been less than a week since you arrived at the Royal Palace. <<if $kind gt $calc>>You wish you could muster up any sympathy, but your chest is empty; you have nothing left to give.<</if>> “Did you work together?” The emotion visible in Scholar Yekbûn’s eyes blinks away. <<if $ezokajapresence is true>>She glances at Kaja sitting beside her, then Ezo. “You can say it in front of them,” you clarify, your pulse beating louder in between your ears as you <<if $intel gt $intu>>suspect<<else>>feel<</if>> that you have reached the heart of the matter. The secrets being kept from you. “I trust them.” Kaja shoots you a grateful look, though her smile seems fainter now; the change in atmosphere is palpable.<<else>>She glances toward the doors. “You have your sigils active and the door is secured as well,” you state, your pulse beating louder in between your ears as you <<if $intel gt $intu>>suspect<<else>>feel<</if>> that you have reached the heart of the matter. The secrets being kept from you. “There is no more reason to hesitate.”<</if>> Scholar Yekbûn bows her head for a moment, remaining silent, before she finally takes a deep breath and begins to speak. [[Continue|8.20]]“Your father always had a great affinity for spirits,” Yekbûn recounts, hands fidgeting in her lap as she keeps her gaze aimed down to the table. “Arsur has a different bond with the spirits of our land compared to other nations. Unlike Thallos we do not shun them, and unlike Ivia we do not fear them—we are more alike to Qathesh in that way. Spirits can aid us, and we can aid them in turn. We converse with them, we ask them for advice, we honor their dwellings, we even share our magic with them. “Your father did all that and more. During his time at the School, he made many lifelong friends with various spirits in Marabad’s temples. They were just as fond of him as he was of them.” That sounds like your father. He was the one to teach you about spirits and magic, and you always wondered whether his knowledge went much deeper than he led you to believe. “Perhaps it was this affinity for spirits and divine matters that resulted in his fascination with the Crown.” Scholar Yekbûn pauses briefly, looking up to meet your eyes before she continues, “More precisely, he was fascinated with… with the way the Crown is chosen.” He knew. Your hands ball into fists on top of your lap. He knew you would be the Crown. He must have known all along. He— He knew <em>how the next Crown would be chosen</em>? You were aware, on some level, that you were being lied to by your parents even when they were still alive. Your feelings on the matter are complicated, still painful, but now for the first time the possible consequences of what this might mean for the entirety of Arsur start to settle in. Your mother’s face flashes before you, the phantom sensation of her palms squeezed around your cheeks, the fear bordering on sheer terror as she stared into your eyes all those years ago. <em>“Just like <b>he</b> foretold…”</em> Your father found a way to predict who the next Crown would be without the Crown’s vision. He figured it out all those years ago, before Ferzan died. Is that why you went on the run as a child, or is it because— You close your eyes when your thoughts threaten to spiral, edging into frantic restlessness. You’re getting ahead of yourself; Scholar Yekbûn hasn’t yet finished her story. After calming yourself, you open your eyes again to see Yekbûn staring at you with concern on her face, frowning at you. You ignore it. “I take it he tried to study the process?” “Yes.” Yekbûn’s frown softens, her gaze turning distant as she looks away from you. “Countless of others have tried in the past, of course, but after the first few centuries of Arsur’s founding the novelty of the succession wore off and became an accepted, even expected truth. No different from how the sun rises and sets, only to rise again. “Your father thought differently.” A slight smile appears on her face then. “Our professors all tried to dissuade him from studying it, warning him that it would be a ‘lost cause’, but he would not give up. He thought, perhaps, that there might be a spirit old enough to have witnessed the creation of the succession, or know something about it at the very least. “It was somewhat naive, admittedly. Spirits may be immortal in a sense, but it is extremely difficult to find one that has retained its memory for over a century, let alone five centuries. They merge, separate and transform over time, the same way that nature changes, the same way that humans and our settlements change. Finding a spirit that has not gone through such transformation for such a long period is exceedingly difficult. One would have to find a place that ages incredibly slowly, somewhere that remains largely untouched by other creatures.” “The peris?” you guess, and Scholar Yekbûn shakes her head. “It is a possibility your father considered as well,” she says, “but there is no reason to believe any of them would know about how the Crown’s succession works. During the Year of Ishtiveg’s Greed, the peris in Anshan isolated themselves completely and utterly, refusing to let any humans enter the forest until long after Ashadūna became the Crown. Besides which, the only peri who might know something would be Queen Nis, and your father had no hope to ever reach her.” Ruling out that option would certainly have been more realistic: only a very small amount of humans have ever been invited into Anshan, and only for very brief periods of time. You doubt your father would have had anything to offer them to not only be allowed into Anshan, but also to speak to their ruler. Still, that leaves the question unanswered. “Then where did he go?” Scholar Yekbûn’s answer is wholly unexpected. “The mountains.” [[Continue|8.21]] It takes you a moment to understand what she’s referring to. “The Armas Mountains?” you specify, and the scholar nods. “Why? What was he—” Şahmaran. The mountains have always belonged to her and her serpents: she is their king, an almost mythical being whose life spans thousands of years. You feel like you were made a fool of. All your life the answer was right there, watching over you in the distance, a permanent fixture in your consciousness. Come rain or sunshine, night or day, you could always see the Armas Mountains on the horizon, the only thing that would never change and the only sight that would give you comfort when you felt your life was falling apart. To think that’s what might have started all of this—you don’t know whether to laugh or cry. “Your father wanted to find Şahmaran,” Scholar Yekbûn replies, confirming your thoughts. “She is the only one, aside from Queen Nis and the peris, who is old enough to have witnessed the Crown’s succession come into existence. Furthermore, many folktales connect Ashadūna to the Armas Mountains; it was the only other place your father could think of that might have answers.” Ashadūna, Mother of the Mountains. The dance, the vision at the coronation; Ashadūna and the mountains have always been linked to each other, but you always assumed it was meant to be a symbolic connection. It makes sense why your father would think to look there. Still, there is one part of this that you can’t understand. “Seeing Şahmaran is even more difficult than to speak to the peris,” you say, brow furrowing in confusion. “The last Crown to see her was Ardashir, and that was two centuries ago. Not to mention the journey to the mountains is far more challenging than visiting the forest.” “You’re right in more ways than one,” Yekbûn admits. “Many have tried to visit Şahmaran in the past, but she has closed herself and her serpents off to the outside world. No one knows why. The thought to seek her out did not occur to your father either, until a spirit suggested it to him.” “A spirit did?” “It was a very powerful spirit of storms that had been born in the mountains from a lightning strike, then was swept away to Marabad as the storm traveled south,” Yekbûn explains. “I helped your father connect to the spirit and speak to it. The spirit mentioned Şahmaran, and was willing to be your father’s guide to her. “All there was left to do then was to plan and prepare the expedition.” She gives a wry smile. “It was easier said than done. The School refused to fund your father’s expedition, calling it a fool’s errand, so he had to look for benefactors outside the School. He spent nearly a year speaking to wealthy merchants and nobles, trying to convince someone to invest. That was when he met your mother.” [[Continue|8.22]] You inhale a deep breath, feeling a sharp pang in your chest. Your parents told you that they met in the village where you were born, and that your mother was a simple farmer. That was a lie too, then. “Was she…” “She wasn’t a noble or an investor,” Yekbûn quickly clarifies. “She was a mercenary looking for coin. Your father did eventually find a benefactor to fund the expedition, and she was one of the people he hired for protection during the journey.” As much as you hate to admit it, you were at times intentionally blind to inconsistencies you noticed about your parents and their supposed backgrounds. How would your mother, a simple farmer, know how to wield weaponry with such expertise as to be able to kill assassins on her own if she had no training in it? To have the coordination to ride a horse and use a shamshir to strike down enemies with little effort? You didn’t want to think about your parents lying to you, so you closed your eyes to it. “Is that when they fell in love?” you ask instead of addressing that fact; it isn’t Yekbûn’s fault that they lied to you, she’s merely the messenger. “Oh, yes.” A nostalgic smile appears on Yekbûn’s face. “They were smitten with each other from the moment they locked eyes. Your father tried very hard to keep it professional and hide his feelings, but it was obvious to everyone else that he worshipped the ground she walked on. Your mother thought it was quite funny. Planning the expedition took months, and during that time they were utterly inseparable.” You wonder if they were still in love while they raised you, or after you went on the run. You never doubted that they loved each other and drew comfort from each other, as they were promised to each other, but most of the time they were far too tired to indulge in romance. It became yet another luxury that they couldn’t afford. It hurts to think about. Everything about this whole story is utterly painful. Still, you grit your teeth and bear it, knowing that the truth is more important. “If my mother wasn’t the benefactor,” you say, “then who was?” Scholar Yekbûn’s expression darkens, and a horrible pit opens up in your stomach. [[Continue|8.23]]“Your father thought it was an eccentric noble from Zerat who wanted to sate their curiosity,” Yekbûn explains. “That’s what they posed as, in any case. They had the coin, they owned an estate in Marabad, other nobles knew of them and did business with them—we thought that was proof enough, so we didn’t dig any deeper. At the time, we had no way of knowing how deeply the Followers of Vidarna had infiltrated the upper classes.” “Is this…” You can feel your voice start to shake in your throat, so you pause to take a breath, exhaling through your nose before you try again. “Is this why the Followers were always after us? Because my parents… they discovered how the Crowns are chosen.” Is this what they regretted? “Yes.” Yekbûn looks mournful, unable to keep looking you in the eyes. “We didn’t care to look beyond the coin we were given, we never even questioned it, too blinded by ambition. Our naivety put the entirety of Arsur in danger.” “Did you go with them?” “No.” The scholar briefly closes her eyes. “I was too weak to make the journey, so I stayed behind. A month passed before your parents returned, and they were the only ones. All Harun said was that he found out the truth, but nothing more than that. For my own safety, he said, because the Followers would be after him and Nazire. Your mother discovered that she was pregnant of you during that time as well. It terrified them both.” You can’t even imagine how they must’ve felt: to know you have to run for your life, while having a baby on the way? It sounds like a parent’s worst nightmare. Not to mention the strength your mother must’ve had, not only to make it through the journey to the mountains while carrying you—especially as you were likely conceived before they set out—but to go on the run as well. You’re almost in disbelief that she didn’t end up losing you with how much distress she must’ve been in. The fact that Yekbûn didn’t go with them to the mountains, however, means she also cannot tell you what it is that your parents stumbled upon, beyond that it allowed your father to predict who the next Crown would be. It seems you are not the only one they kept secrets from. When Yekbûn opens her eyes again, they meet yours. “Whatever happened in those mountains, it haunted them. I could see it in their faces. The other members of their expedition… some of them were your father’s closest friends, and your mother- her younger brother, Ciwan, came with them as well. He didn’t return with them. That was the last time I saw either of them, until your father visited me again seventeen years later.” Once, you asked your mother about her family, as you didn’t know anything about your maternal relatives. She replied that she didn’t have any living family members left. You assumed that meant she was an only child and her parents and other relatives had passed away with old age, as was the case with your father’s side of the family. Any other possibility hadn’t even occurred to you. You would’ve had an uncle, but he died before you were even born. How much more can be taken from you, without you even <em>realizing</em> what you never had? You didn’t even know his name until moments ago, told to you by a stranger. “Your Imperial Majesty?” Scholar Yekbûn’s voice is heavy with concern as she leans across the table, and you startle belatedly when you notice it’s because your chest is heaving with tight breaths, your hands balled into fists atop your lap and trembling. You are overcome with many things all at once, many different emotions tearing through you like a storm, but one among them is dominant. It is… [[…sheer rage.|8.24][$mood to 'rage']] [[…bottomless grief.|8.24][$mood to 'grief']]<<if $spirits is 'somber'>><<if $mood is 'rage'>>You have been drowning in betrayal after betrayal after betrayal. When will it be enough? When will you get a chance to leave it all behind you so you can live in the present and look forward to the future? When will you finally be able to <em>breathe</em>? In that moment, you choose anger. It is easier to feel than despair.<<else>>You have been drowning in betrayal after betrayal after betrayal. It has filled your lungs so greatly that you’ve forgotten what it’s like to breathe freely, without the weight inside your chest dragging you down to depths you can never seem to escape. In that moment, you choose grief. It is easier to feel than despair.<</if>><</if>><<if $spirits is 'sympathetic'>><<if $mood is 'rage'>>You never asked for this, you never wanted any of this, and the injustice of it all boils over in your blood. It swells in your throat with words you never spoke, and can now only utter to ghosts. But you can’t let go of them, you can’t move on. Even your anger is just another way to cling to them.<<else>>It is as if you are clinging to the end of a rope that frays between your fingers, threads splitting one by one as it threatens to snap at any moment. You know it would be better to release it on your own, to let your parents rest. But you can’t let go of them, you can’t move on. Even your grief is just another way to cling to them.<</if>><</if>><<if $spirits is 'admiring'>><<if $mood is 'rage'>>You are angry at your parents for keeping the truth from you, but you’re even angrier at the fact that you understand why they did it. Even the righteousness of your fury is being denied to you, or that’s what it feels like, because beneath your anger you feel your heart hurting. It knows how much your parents loved you, how much they sacrificed for you, and it wishes it could tell them.<<else>>You thought you already mourned them, that you closed the chapter on your grief, that there would come a point where you could delineate between a <em>before</em> and <em>after</em> of moving on, moving forward. But that’s not how your heart works. It knows how much your parents loved you, how much they sacrificed for you, and it wishes it could tell them.<</if>><</if>> “Your Imperial Majesty, are you alright?” <<if $ezokajapresence is true>>Kaja<<else>>Yekbûn<</if>> asks, alarmed as your emotions fill up the air, giving it a heaviness, a pressure as if gravity itself were shifting inside it. It reflects the feeling inside you, that foreboding weight as you can sense it coming, your breaths getting quicker, nearing frantic. Fear. So much fear and pressure. How can you correct your parents' mistakes? What if it's already too late? How many more assassination attempts can you survive? What if Arsur is destroyed because of you, under your rule? Will you end up like your parents? Will you end up like King Ishtiveg? You feel your water spirits gather against your chest, glowing blue with a nervous energy as if trying to fix the hurt inside of you and calm you down, but you close yourself off to them. Anything they try to do now will only be a repeat of the water temple, or worse. This is something you need to do on your own, but that doesn't mean that you're alone. <<if $comfortbyr is true>><em>“I’m here, $name. You’re alright.”</em> $rname’s gentle voice revisits you, the tenderness of $rtheir hand as it cradled your cheek like something precious returning to you. $crthey helped you overcome it; you've done it before, you can do it again. <em>“All you need to do is breathe. In and out. Slow and steady.</em> You close your eyes, focusing on your breaths. The room is silent. The feel of embroidered fabric beneath your palms helps to ground you in your body. Your water spirits remain beside you. The weight lightens. Little by little, with every inhale and exhale, as if teaching your lungs how to breathe again. The world doesn't end, and time continues to trickle past. Your fear can't find soil for its roots, so it slowly fades instead. <em>“See?”</em><</if>><<if $comfortbyx is true>><em>“Hey now, my darling, why all the tears?”</em> $xname’s warm voice revisits you, the feeling of $xtheir arms offering comfort like a hearth returning to you. $cxthey helped you overcome it; you've done it before, you can do it again. <em>“I’m here, $name. There’s nothing for you to fear.”</em> You close your eyes, focusing on your breaths. The room is silent. The feel of embroidered fabric beneath your palms helps to ground you in your body. Your water spirits remain beside you. The weight lightens. Little by little, with every inhale and exhale, as if teaching your lungs how to breathe again. The world doesn't end, and time continues to trickle past. Your fear can't find soil for its roots, so it slowly fades instead. <em>“There we are.”</em><</if>><<if $comfortbya is true>><em>“This will pass.”</em> $aname’s calm voice revisits you, the memory of $atheir hands holding yours with the steadiness of anchors returning to you. $cathey helped you overcome it; you've done it before, you can do it again. <em>“Inhale through your nose, then out between your lips… slowly… that’s it. Take your time.”</em> You close your eyes, focusing on your breaths. The room is silent. The feel of embroidered fabric beneath your palms helps to ground you in your body. Your water spirits remain beside you. The weight lightens. Little by little, with every inhale and exhale, as if teaching your lungs how to breathe again. The world doesn't end, and time continues to trickle past. Your fear can't find soil for its roots, so it slowly fades instead. <em>“Everything is fine.”</em><</if>><<if $comfortbyd is true>><em>“You will make it through this.”</em> $dname’s steady voice revisits you, the memory of $dtheir hands and how they kept you from crumbling returning to you. $cdthey helped you overcome it; you've done it before, you can do it again. <em>“Nothing is going to hurt you, I promise.”</em> You close your eyes, focusing on your breaths. The room is silent. The feel of embroidered fabric beneath your palms helps to ground you in your body. Your water spirits remain beside you. The weight lightens. Little by little, with every inhale and exhale, as if teaching your lungs how to breathe again. The world doesn't end, and time continues to trickle past. Your fear can't find soil for its roots, so it slowly fades instead. <em>“You are safe.”</em><</if>> You open your eyes, facing Scholar Yekbûn<<if $ezokajapresence is true>> and Kaja<</if>>, feeling more like yourself again. The weight has eased from your chest, and the air feels lighter. Your water spirits hover around your shoulders, but they feel placated for the time being. “I’m fine,” you reassure <<if $ezokajapresence is true>>the others, who are<<else>>Scholar Yekbûn, who is<</if>> still looking at you with worry. “It was… a lot to take in.” Now comes the exhaustion. Averting what could’ve been an uncontrolled descent into panic took a lot of energy from you, not that you had much left after the coronation ceremony to begin with. Your emotions feel like an exposed wound, over-sensitized and painful, and you feel a headache building behind your eyes. All your body wants now is to go to sleep and rest. “Of course it would be,” Yekbûn says, speaking softly as if afraid speaking any further might upset you. She looks almost ashamed. “I shouldn’t have… please forgive me. I should have realized- you were no doubt already fatigued from the coronation today, and—” <<if $blunt gt $charm>>“Scholar, it’s fine,” you repeat, more firmly this time.<<else>>“I’m touched by your concern, but it’s really not necessary,” you say, smiling reassuringly.<</if>> “I should be thanking you. You’ve given me more answers than anyone else ever has, even going so far as to risk your life to speak to me.” Scholar Yekbûn bows deeply. “It is the very least I could do, Your Imperial Majesty.” “Would you stay in the Royal Palace for a while?” you ask, causing her to lift her head again. “I may still have more questions about my parents later, and… to be frank, even if no one overheard you say my parents’ names, I think it would still be safer for you to stay here.” Scholar Yekbûn frowns deeply at that, seeming somewhat troubled, but ultimately, she relents. “As you wish, Your Imperial Majesty. I am at your service.” It will take some time to let everything she told you sink in, both emotionally and otherwise. Still, it is the most clarity you’ve ever had on the matter. In a strange way, you feel closer to your parents than ever. [[Continue|8.25]]“Your Imperial Majesty?” You look at Scholar Yekbûn, who appears hesitant. “If I may ask,” she says, “what… what exactly do you plan to do with this information?” Your gaze turns questioning. “Isn’t it obvious?” She looks startled by your reply. “You cannot mean that you are—” “I am.” The stare of your eyes is unflinching. “I’m going to find out exactly what it is my parents discovered.” “Your Imperial Majesty, you must understand,” the scholar says urgently, appearing greatly disturbed by your statement. “This knowledge, should it fall into wrong hands, it could change everything. <em>Everything</em>.” But it already has, you want to say. It has changed everything you thought you knew about your parents, everything they’ve ever told you. They tried to take this secret to their grave for Arsur’s sake, for your protection, and maybe even out of shame, out of pain for having caused the deaths of their loved ones who followed them to those mountains. All that did was leave you unprepared to face the consequences. “Can you guarantee that no one else knows of this?” you ask instead, not ready to confront the ruins of the sunken home within you, resting gently beneath the surface of your awareness until you return to it again in your dreams. “That the Followers won’t return to the mountains to try again, or spread the knowledge of this to others?” The scholar avoids your gaze, the hesitance in her features already an answer to your question. “No, Your Imperial Majesty.” You take a breath, sitting back as you consider the magnitude of this secret that has claimed lives already. Through your own turmoil, however, one thing remains crystal clear: you know what to do next. “We need to go to the mountains.” [[Continue|8.26]]<<set $yekbuncodex to true>><<set $nextlevel to true>>[ <b>[[Relationships]] updated | <em>Platonic Relationships</em> revealed</b> ] You have Ezo and Kaja escort Scholar Yekbûn to a guest room with additional instructions for a few of the Imperial Guards to keep watch. She’s the only source of information you have about your parents, one you can’t afford to lose. Before she leaves you, the scholar promises to deliver you all the notes relating to the expedition she and your father planned at the time. Apparently she hid them in a secure location, and will guide the Imperial Guard to retrieve them for you some time after the coronation. The moment the door closes and leaves you alone in the room, you exhale, and all the energy and tension in your body flows out of you as your posture sags forward. <<if $intu gt $intel>>You place your elbows on the edge of the table as you rub your face with your palms, before remembering that you’re wearing your face paint and quickly pulling your hands away again. Small flecks of gold glitter on your fingers, but you’re too tired to care whether you smudged it or not. You don’t have any intention of returning to the banquet hall after what you just heard, regardless.<<else>>You place your elbows on the edge of the table, intending to rub your face with your palms, before remembering that you’re wearing your face paint and quickly putting your hands down again. Though truthfully, it wouldn’t matter if you smudged your face paint at this point. You don’t have any intention of returning to the banquet hall after what you just heard, regardless.<</if>> You thought you would have time to get settled after the coronation before ending up here again, a place of constant tension, mistrust, doubt. Many times you imagined what kinds of secrets your parents could’ve been hiding, sometimes hoping it would not be as bad as you assumed, other times fearing that it was many times worse. This? You don’t know what to make of this. According to the scholar your parents held the secret of the Crown’s succession in the palms of their hands, and might have lead the Followers of Vidarna right to it. Though, if the Followers already know the secret, why continue to hunt your family if they’ve already gotten what they wanted? To prevent your parents from telling anyone else, like tying up a loose end, in an effort to control the succession themselves? Or was it because they <em>didn’t</em> manage to find out and still needed your parents to tell them? The more gaps you fill, the more you realize how many yet remain. You don’t know how long you remain sitting there, lost in thought as you ponder all that Yekbûn told you until your skull aches as if her words were hammered into it with nails. They burrow behind your eyes, digging into places you can’t reach, an ever-present dull ache you’d become accustomed to reigniting again. The faint blue glow of your water spirits shimmer in the air around your head, quickly followed by a coolness that touches your skin. You close your eyes as it soothes the headache, if only a little. “Thank you,” you whisper, feeling pitiful. You need to pull yourself together, but every time you think you’re starting to find your footing, something else beats you down again, as if punishing you for daring to stand back up. In the distance, the sun sets. You’re so tired. Eventually, <<if $loveinterest isnot 'X'>>polite<<else>>loud<</if>> knocks sound against the door to your sitting room, breaking up the silence and denying you any further rest. While you have half a mind to shout at your visitor to go away, you know you can’t simply hide in this room forever. Whoever it is might need you for something urgent. Pulling yourself up to your feet—finding your footing once more—you try again. [[Continue|8.27]] To your surprise, as you open the door you find someone else standing on the other side<<if $loveinterest isnot 'X'>>, who reached up to knock again just as you opened it<</if>>. <<if $loveinterest is 'D'>>$dname’s hand freezes briefly midair, before $dthey quickly lowers it to $dtheir side, taking a step back to give you a shallow bow—a quick formality. “Your Imperial Majesty, forgive the intrusion. I heard you were accosted by a magus earlier.” $cdthey came to check on you. At the sight of $dthem, a sensation comes over you: like falling backwards into unseen depths, before suddenly being caught in the safe embrace of someone’s arms. You were so utterly lost in your own <<if $mood is 'grief'>>grief<<else>>anger<</if>>, consuming your spirit like poison from the inside out, that it made you forget. You don’t have to be alone with your pain. $dname notices something in your face that makes $dthem frown, shifting a little closer to you, just the smallest step but closer even so. $cdtheir voice lowers, “$name?” Hearing your name from $dtheir lips, spoken with such care, you take a deep breath to steady yourself before you fall apart in the middle of the doorway. You glance towards <<if $tujohevalpresence is true>>Tûjo and Heval, still standing guard in the hall.<<else>>the hallway behind $dname, where more Imperial Guards must still be keeping watch.<</if>> “Can we discuss it inside?” Following your glance to the hallway, $dname nods in understanding. You move aside to let $dthem step into the sitting room, and $dthey closes the door behind $dthem. At least this way no one will be able to overhear you. $dname turns to face you, brows lifting in alarm when all you manage to do is lean back against the closed door, like a pillar toppling over against the wall. “What happened? Are you not feeling well?” “No.” You close your eyes, focusing on your breathing, trying to keep it together. “I’m not.” There is a brief silence, until you hear the shift in $dname’s armor as $dthey moves closer. $cdtheir hands settle lightly on your shoulders, and when you crack your eyes open again, $dthey’s looking you over from head to toe, as if checking for injuries or signs of illness. When $dthey doesn’t find any, $dthey seems a little more at ease, though concern is still heavy in $dtheir features as $dthey hovers near you, keeping hold of your shoulders. “What did the magus tell you?” $cdtheir guess strikes true, though you suppose you must’ve made it obvious. Still, $dname is surprisingly perceptive of other people’s emotions, though you suppose that’s part of $dtheir job: being able to read other people, know what motivates them, anticipate their next moves. It lets $dthem see clearly, pinpointing the cause of your distress. When you clench your jaw in an involuntary tension, hands balling against the door, $dname’s grip shifts from your shoulders slightly lower to your upper arms. “You should sit, $name. You look tired.” You nod, having no energy to spare for anything else. $dname leads you toward the table as $dthey gently grips your elbow, as if prepared to catch you should your legs give out. Do you appear that weak? “I can walk on my own,” you snap, pulling your arm from $dtheir grip more forcefully than you need to as you move to sit down on one of the pillows. You regret your loss of temper instantly, knowing you’re acting childishly, taking things out on $dname that $dthey’s not to blame for. $dname remains standing beside you, and you can’t bring yourself to look up at $dthem, too ashamed for lashing out. After a moment, you say, “I’m sorry. That was rude of me, you didn’t deserve that.” From the way $dname always acts so deferential toward you, you worry that as $dthey sits down on the pillow beside you, $dthey’ll accept your behavior and say nothing of it. Yet to your surprise, when you cast a glance at $dname, $dthey’s frowning at you. “Your Imperial Majesty,” $dthey speaks coolly, “I understand that you’re under a lot of stress at the moment, but if you aren’t honest with me, I won’t know how to support you. Lashing out won't solve anything.” “I know,” you say quietly, avoiding $dtheir gaze. “It won’t happen again.” $dname seems placated with that, $dtheir voice taking on a softer tone when $dthey replies, “Will you tell me? If not what happened, then at least what you need?” As far as scoldings go it is very mild, but it makes you feel regretful nonetheless, as well as reassured. $dname is not so loyal to you that $dthey’ll put up with anything you do. As much as you want to be honest with $dthem, however, you’re not in the state of mind to go over everything that Scholar Yekbûn told you when you’ve barely even processed it all. Eventually, you look up at $dname again, your eyes feeling worn and brittle like the pages of an old book, turned over one too many times. “For right now… I want to rest my eyes, if only for a moment.”<</if>><<if $loveinterest is 'X'>>$xname stands there awaiting you in the doorway, likely having sensed you approaching the door, but $xthey looks different. Serious in a way you’ve rarely glimpsed before. There’s an uncharacteristic frown on $xtheir face—concern? “$name,” $xthey says, and even $xtheir voice is quieter than it usually is, $xtheir hand bracing against the side of the door frame. “Are you alright? What happened?” $cxthey must’ve sensed you while you were talking to Scholar Yekbûn. Your emotions, all the distress and the <<if $mood is 'grief'>>grief<<else>>anger<</if>> caused by those revelations, things a silencing ward could not hide. Part of you is almost relieved at the realization, because it means you don’t have to pretend otherwise. $xname can already feel it, all of it. Just as you expected, $xname doesn’t wait for a verbal response. $cxthey glances back over $xtheir shoulder to <<if $tujohevalpresence is true>>Heval, they and Tûjo still standing guard in the hallway<<else>>the hallway where there must still be Imperial Guards keeping watch<</if>>, before turning back to you. “Let’s go inside,” $xthey says, and you nod, moving aside for $xthem as $xthey steps into the room, closing the door behind $xthem. Before you can say anything, $xname turns around to face you and, unexpectedly, lifts up $xtheir arms towards you. “Come here.” Despite the command of $xtheir words, the way $xtheir hands reach out to you is an invitation, one $xthey knows you’ll likely accept because $xthey can sense it in you. It feels so freeing and yet so frustrating both—freeing to be known without needing words, frustrating because you can’t do the same for $xthem. Even as you step into the circle of $xname’s arms, letting them embrace you, letting them take your weariness from you, you have no idea what’s going through $xname’s head. The way $xthey can sense you almost makes $xthem seem even more unknowable, and you wonder if that’s why $xthey wields it. To make you feel content, never asking for more. “$xname,” you say softly, muttering it against the smooth, soft fabric of $xtheir tunic, thin enough that you can feel the heat of $xtheir body blazing through it against your cheek and lips. “Do you ever feel tired?” $cxtheir hands are warm against your back, while yours merely touch lightly against $xthem, afraid that if you were to hold $xthem any more tightly $xthey might slip from your grasp like sand. You still don’t know where you stand with $xthem. You hate the uncertainty of it all more than anything else. “All the time,” $xname replies truthfully, murmuring it <<if $height isnot 'very short' or $height isnot 'short'>>into<<else>>against the top of<</if>> your ear. “I just don’t show it.” It’s like Heval said: showing it would be weakness. “How?” “By deluding myself, mostly.” There’s something self-deprecating to $xtheir words, almost scathing. “I eat, fight, sleep, spend my coin when I have it, roll around in a few beds, then eat, fight, sleep again. I don’t have time to think about it, which must mean I’m fine.” “Does that work?” “No.” $xname lowers $xtheir head further, a soft sigh against your neck that shudders down your spine. For a wistful moment, it’s almost as if $xthey’s leaning on you more than you lean on $xthem, but maybe that’s just wishful thinking on your part. “It’s not a good way to be.” Closer. You want to be closer; you want to know $xthem when $xthey’s tired, alone, vulnerable. You want to be there for $xthem, but you know $xthey wouldn’t let you—talking about what happened to $xtheir village alone was already difficult enough for $xthem. $cxthey doesn’t need you trying to drag the answers out of $xthem. You’ll have to trust that $xthey’ll be ready to share it with you freely, some day. It’s a way for you to deal with your own pain, you realize. Maybe helping $xname with $xtheirs will make yours go away. Maybe it might get a little lighter, if nothing else. “Will you tell me what happened?” $xthey asks then, and you tense up in $xtheir embrace. $cxthey runs a hand down and up your back, as if to reassure you. “I won’t force you to, but when I sensed you before, it felt like you were having one of your nightmares.” No wonder $xname came over to check on you. Your last nightmare flooded the entirety of your private quarters; with water spirits attached to you, you may as well be radiating your feelings like a beacon whenever you feel any strong emotions. Exhaustion settles on the back of your neck, digging into your shoulders. If only you could lie down and forget about it all, let sleep take your memories. “I will have to talk about it, soon.” You pull your head away to look at $xthem again, your eyes feeling worn and brittle like the pages of an old book, turned over one too many times. “But for right now… I want to rest my eyes, if only for a moment.”<</if>><<if $loveinterest is 'A'>>$aname takes a quick but small step back, likely assuming you were coming through, but unlike you $athey doesn’t appear startled. “Your Majesty—did I disturb you?” $athey asks, speaking the shortened title with casual familiarity. $cathey looks you over from head to toe in a measured glance as if to make sure you haven’t lost pieces of yourself from the last time you saw each other, mere hours ago. “I noticed the wards on the door were activated.” You’ll have to tell $aname, you realize. Like how $athey told you about $atheir parents, $atheir father, you need to tell $athem about yours. As you look into $atheir eyes, hues of brown and green almost turning amber in the sunlight, you feel a sense of comfort that is nearly unfamiliar. If it were anyone else, you don’t think you would feel as calm and secure in the prospect of sharing your family’s darkest secrets, but you know $aname will understand. It hits you all at once: you are so grateful to have met $athem. When you remain silent, $aname’s brows furrow in growing concern, and $athey steps closer to you, voice lowering when $athey speaks again. “$name, is everything alright?” Without even being truly conscious of what you’re doing, you drop your forehead <<if $height isnot 'very short'>>onto $atheir shoulder. The white fur atop $atheir armor feels soft, cushioning your skin against the hard armor beneath.<<else>>against $atheir chest, right below $atheir shoulder. $catheir scale armor isn’t very comfortable, but the coolness of its metal is still pleasant to your skin.<</if>> $aname freezes, remaining perfectly still. <<if $ass gt $pass>>It seemed like a natural thing to do, but maybe that’s your weariness clouding your judgment, getting the better of you. You start to lift your head, imagining you must’ve made $aname uncomfortable. “Sorry, did I—”<<else>>When $athey tenses up, it snaps you out of whatever stupor you were in, realizing what you’re doing. You quickly start to lift your head again and pull away. “Ah, I didn’t mean to—”<</if>> “No, it’s—” A touch against the back of your neck<<if $hairlength is 'long hair'>> through your hair<</if>> stops you, but $aname’s fingers quickly pull back again. For a beat, neither of you move, until $aname clears $atheir throat and speaks again. “I don’t mind, truly.” You hesitate, but when $aname’s fingers settle gently, almost cautiously against the top of your back, you fully lower your head against $athem again with a sigh. The weight of $atheir hand fully rests on you, and it feels good in a way that’s hard to describe. Like sating some need you didn’t remember that you had, but thinking about it now, it seems so absurd to you that you could’ve ever forgotten it. You’ve always needed comfort, you’ve always needed to be held like anyone else would. The desire for it is a quiet, small part of you that you buried deep since your parents passed away, and yet $aname brought it out so easily. It’s because $athey makes you feel safe. Safe enough to express it, however <<if $caut gt $adven>>cautiously<<else>>gradually<</if>>. You don’t know how long you stand there in the doorway, and you imagine you must make quite a sight for <<if $tujohevalpresence is true>>Tûjo and Heval still standing guard in the hallway. Though, to their credit, they keep their gazes firmly fixed ahead of them, not looking in your direction<<else>>any Imperial Guards still standing guard in the hallway<</if>>. $aname seems to realize as much as well, because after a while, $athey lowers $atheir hand from your back. “Let’s head inside, $name. I’d rather not remain in the doorway forever.” You move aside for $athem as $athey steps into the room, closing the door behind $athem. Before you can even begin to explain your behavior, which must seem erratic at best, $aname calmly gestures to the table to sit. $catheir composure makes you feel less on edge about the impending questions $aname no doubt has as well, and you follow $atheir lead as you both sit beside each other on the pillows. You look up at $aname’s face, finding $athem already staring back at you with a deep frown. “Did something bad happen?” $athey asks, eyes scouring your face for any hints. “A guard reported that you were accosted by a magus from the School earlier.” Where do you even begin to explain it? Not feeling ready to address it yet, instead you ask, “Were you there during the performance?” $aname is quiet at first, looking at you intently, as if to let you know that $athey easily sees through your evasion. Still, $athey plays along. “No, I missed it. I didn’t feel like returning to the banquet hall after our conversation.” “I didn’t meant to bring up bad memories,” you say, but $athey waves your concerns aside with a hand. “No harm done.” $cathey gives you an expectant look, not willing to let you off so easily. “Are you ready to answer my question now?” You remain silent, your gaze dropping down to your hands on your lap as exhaustion settles on the back of your neck, digging into your shoulders. If only you could lie down and forget about it all, let sleep take your memories. $aname picks up on it. “You don’t have to speak of it if it’s difficult.” “No, I will.” You look up at $athem again, your eyes feeling worn and brittle like the pages of an old book, turned over one too many times. “I will have to, soon. But for right now… I want to rest my eyes, if only for a moment.”<</if>><<if $loveinterest is 'R'>>$rname blinks and flinches back from the door, startled, before realizing what happened as $rthey looks at you. “Ah, I was told I could find you here,” $rthey says, smiling with some embarrassment at the minor run-in, hands smoothing down the length of $rtheir skirt. “I noticed the wards on the door are active. Is this a bad time?” Your eyes follow the movement of $rtheir hands as $rtheir words wash over you. Seeing $rname suddenly appear in front of you, appearing bashful—for a moment it almost feels like it’s another day at the palace. Before the coronation, when $rname would seek you out at the end of the day to discuss progress made with the preparations. $crthey always looks so pleased to see you, the sight of you enough to make $rthem smile. Even now, after what $rthey learned from Master Zîn about $rtheir parents, none of the weight of it is visible on $rtheir face as $rthey looks at you. $crtheir eyes shine as they reflect the golden light from your own. <<if $ass gt $pass>>Without thinking, you reach down and take $rtheir soft, warm hands in yours. $rname’s eyes widen in surprise, but $rthey doesn’t pull away. “$crnickname?” You yourself are bemused by your own bold actions<<if $res gt $flirt>>, which is usually so unlike you<</if>>, but you can’t bring yourself to let go. Keeping your gaze fixed on your linked fingers, you ask quietly, “Can I hold your hands for a little while?” $rname is silent for a few heartbeats, before $rtheir grip tightens around your own with a gentle squeeze. $crtheir voice is notably softer when $rthey says, “I should step inside.”<<else>>You look down at $rname’s soft, slender hands, and an urge wells up inside you so suddenly that you can’t repress the question. “$rname, could I hold your hands for a little while?” $rname’s eyes widen in surprise at the request. “My hands?” You yourself are bemused by your own actions, but you can’t bring yourself to take it back either. Instead, you keep your gaze fixed downwards, unable to meet $rtheir gaze. $rname is silent for a few beats, before $rthey reaches for your hands, gripping them gently with $rtheir own. $crtheir voice is notably softer when $rthey says, “I should step inside.”<</if>> The two of you are still standing in the doorway, after all, in plain sight of <<if $tujohevalpresence is true>>Tûjo and Heval still standing guard by the hallway as well as any other Imperial Guards around. To their credit, though, both Tûjo and Heval keep their gazes fixed firmly ahead of them<<else>>any Imperial Guards who are still around guarding the hallway<</if>>. You move aside for $rthem as $rthey steps into the room, briefly releasing one of your hands to close the door behind $rthem before returning $rtheir grip. Before you can speak to even try to explain, $rname tugs you toward the low table, pulling you down beside $rthem as $rthey sits on one of the pillows. $crthey faces you while you sit on another facing $rthem. You look up at $rname’s eyes again, finding $rtheir brows furrowed with concern. Your clasped hands hang between your knees, like a bridge between the two of you. “What happened?” $rthey asks, a searching look examining your face, as if $rthey could read what happened in your features like a book. “I heard you were accosted by a magus earlier.” Where do you even begin to explain it? Not feeling ready to address it yet, instead you ask, “Were you there during the performance?” $rname shakes $rtheir head. “I missed it, I was still talking to Master Zîn in the hallway.” $rname hesitates. “She proposed to find any leads about where my named birth parent might be.” “Isn’t that a good thing?” “It is, that’s not what’s bothering me.” $rname pauses, quiet in $rtheir contemplation, before $rthey finally says, “It’s about Lady Zerya. I still can’t wrap my head around it. She knew all this time, yet she told me nothing.” You squeeze $rtheir hands. “I know how you feel.” “Unfortunately for both of us.” $crthey gives you a faint smile tinged with melancholy; it’s not a happy way to relate to someone, even if it gives you comfort. “But what about you? You didn’t answer my question.” So $rthey noticed your attempt to dodge the subject. You remain silent, your gaze dropping down to your hands again as exhaustion settles on the back of your neck, digging into your shoulders. If only you could lie down and forget about it all, let sleep take your memories. “Do you not wish to speak of it?” $rname says when you don’t respond. “I will have to, soon.” You look up at $rthem again, your eyes feeling worn and brittle like the pages of an old book, turned over one too many times. “But for right now… I want to rest my eyes, if only for a moment.”<</if>> [[Continue|8.28]]<<if $loveinterest is 'D'>>$dname furrows $dtheir brows. “Shall I take you back to your quarters?” “No.” As much as you’d like to, you can’t end the day just yet. “I should stay close by, in case something happens during the banquet.” You consider the pillows spread around the table. They’re more wide than thick as they’re intended mostly for comfortably sitting, but you figure it’ll be good enough to rest your head on as well. When you reach for one of the pillows, arranging it behind you so you can lay on it, $dname looks confused. “What are you doing?” Looking back at $dthem as you lean back onto your elbows, lining your head up with the pillow, you reply questioningly, “Isn’t it obvious?” $dname appears bewildered by what you’re doing, quickly interfering. “Wait- surely you don’t intend to take a nap on the <em>floor</em>?” You frown up at $dthem. “Where else do you suppose I could rest? On the table?” “You may use my shoulder, if you wish,” $dname says without hesitation, the confident suggestion taking you aback. While you would’ve expected $dthem to look embarrassed or flustered while suggesting it, $dtheir composure is calm and steady. Even determined, in fact, to prevent you from sleeping on the floor. <<if $height is 'very short'>>“I’m not sure that I can reach your shoulder,” you say, a faint smile pulling on your lips at the amusing thought. $dname blinks at that, not having expected your response. “My chest, then.”<<else>>“I don’t think your armor would be very comfortable to rest my head on,” you say, a faintly teasing smile pulling on your lips. $dname blinks at that, as if you said something very obvious. “I would be taking it off, of course. Give me a moment.”<</if>> To your surprise, $dthey actually reaches up to loosen $dtheir green cape lined with black fur from $dtheir clasps, sliding it off $dtheir shoulders before working on the straps and buckles of $dtheir engraved silver chest plate. You watch attentively, realizing with a start that this will be the first time you’ll see $dthem without $dtheir armor on. The upper, large metal parts of it, at least; $dthey still wears chain mail beneath it. As $dthey lifts $dtheir chest plate up over $dtheir head and sets it aside, $dthey seems to realize the same as $dthey glances at the chain mail. “Ah.” $dname quickly starts to take off the metal mail as well, its linked pieces clinking noisily against each other. It reveals a black, padded tunic that $dname wears beneath. “That should feel softer.” You take note of the fact that $dname’s stature and broadness of shoulders only shrank slightly with the absence of armor and mail. When you look back up at $dtheir face, $dtheir expression is expectant. “Would this suffice?” $dthey says, and while you should’ve realized $dthey was being deadly serious about you resting against $dtheir shoulder, it didn’t quite sink in because you were so distracted by seeing $dthem with $dtheir armor off. Now, however, $dthey’s sitting there waiting for you to lean against $dthem. <<if $pass gt $ass>>You hesitate only because of the way you feel your heart stutter at the thought of being so close to $dthem, no armor in the way. There’s still the padded tunic, but even so… After a moment’s pause, you sit up beside $dthem, glancing at $dtheir eyes. $cdthey looks calm and assured, extending $dtheir arm to you in invitation, hovering around your shoulders. Slowly, you shift closer, very aware of $dtheir gaze on your face as your leg bumps $dtheirs. Maybe this isn’t anything meaningful for $dname, merely a way to fulfill $dtheir duty to you as a subject—thinking about it that way both alleviates some of your nerves, but also makes you feel worse about it.<<else>>“Are you sure?” you ask, uncertain how to feel about how unaffected $dname looks by all this. Maybe this isn’t anything meaningful for $dname, merely a way to fulfill $dtheir duty to you as a subject—thinking about it that way, it only makes you feel worse. “I’m certain.” $dname looks calm and assured, extending $dtheir arm to you in invitation, hovering around your shoulders. “Will you let me do this for you? It will make me feel better.” The way $dthey rephrases it makes you smile, as if you were doing <em>$dthem</em> a favor. Eventually, you relent, shifting closer to $dthem. You’re very aware of $dtheir gaze on your face as your leg bumps $dtheirs, but there isn’t any more reason to hesitate.<</if>> Carefully, you lean your head<<if $height is 'tall' or $height is 'very tall'>> down<</if>> against <<if $height is 'very short'>>the upper part of $dtheir chest<<else>>$dtheir shoulder<</if>> as your sides fit against each other. The padded tunic feels soft against your cheek and body, and as $dname’s arm settles around you, you find your eyes slipping shut far more easily than you expected. You know you won’t be able to sleep, not with all your restless thoughts about your parents still hounding you, but it helps release your tension if nothing else. As you lean against $dname, the warmth of $dtheir body starts to seep in through your clothes. You start to notice the sound and the rhythm of $dtheir breaths as $dtheir lower chest and stomach moves with every inhale and exhale, slowly in and out. It’s like a lullaby. For a while, you drift off. Somewhere between sleep and consciousness, only barely awake. No glimpses of dreams, for which you’re grateful; you’re certain they wouldn’t have been pleasant. $dname’s presence is the only constant, $dthem and the water spirits attached to you, and if given a little more time you’re certain you could eventually fall asleep. The feeling of $dname’s body against yours, however, is as effective at soothing you as it is at keeping you awake. You couldn’t possibly doze off easily when you keep wondering what the expression on $dname’s face looks like, what $dthey’s thinking about as you rest against $dthem. Does $dthey find it as comforting as you, or is this a burden for $dthem? You hear the rustle of fabric being moved around, almost tempting you to open your eyes when you feel $dname shift slightly against you. The touch of something against your legs startles you, and your eyes open on reflex. It’s $dname’s fur-lined cape. $cdthey carefully drapes it over you, pulling up the top part of it that’s covered in the soft, black fur over your shoulders. It feels so warm. When you pull up a hand to settle it better around you, $dname tenses against you. You look up at $dtheir eyes, meeting $dtheir startled stare. It’s a bit harder to see $dthem now; while you were resting, the sun set, leaving a dim twilight in its wake that darkens the room. The atmosphere feels more intimate because of it. “I… thought you were asleep,” $dthey admits, voice low as if still afraid to disturb you, and you smile back at $dthem. “No, not yet.” You pull the cape tighter around yourself, a slight chill in the air now that the sun has set. Its fur tickles your face. “Thank you for this, but won’t you be cold?” “You’re enough to keep me warm.” Your gaze snaps back up to $dtheirs, eyes wide at the surprisingly bold statement. In the dark, even the light of your eyes only faintly illuminates $dtheir gaze. You wish you could see it better, to see $dtheir expression—the thought is followed immediately by the realization at how close your faces actually are in the moment. $dname makes no effort to pull away or take back $dtheir words, $dtheir dark eyes not avoiding yours, the deep brown of them taking in your golden glow like the earth warmed over by the sun. Your heart beats with the quickness of <<if $res gt $flirt>>a rabbit<<else>>anticipation<</if>>, your stare dropping down to $dtheir lips, so tantalizingly near. “$dname—” Just then, the door to the hallway bursts open, cutting into the conversation and making you both jump up apart, as if having being caught doing something inappropriate. Which might not be that far off from what would’ve happened. You’re both caught unaware at the sudden entrance of another visitor, but you recognize from the armor that it’s an Imperial Guard, and then from the face—the very panicked face—that it’s Ziryan. They’re completely out of breath, the tanned brown of their skin waned as if all the blood has drained from them. The quiet, intimate atmosphere shatters instantly. $dname regains $dtheir composure first, addressing them quickly. “Ziryan, what happened?” <<if $prisoner is 'palace'>>“The palace,” Ziryan manages to speak in between gasps for air, pushing out words you hoped you would never hear: “The palace has been attacked!”<<else>>“The city,” Ziryan manages to speak in between gasps for air, pushing out words you hoped you would never hear: “There’s been an attack in the city!”<</if>><</if>><<if $loveinterest is 'X'>>$xname seems thoughtful at that, looking over your weary features, before $xtheir expression brightens. “Let’s take a nap.” You blink back at $xthem. “A nap, this late in the day?” “It’s never too late for a nap.” $xname lets go of you, turning around and heading to the table you were sitting at earlier. $cxthey picks up some pillows, arranging them side by side on the carpet. As you watch with some bemusement, $xname lies down on the floor on $xtheir back, head on the small stack of pillows as $xthey folds $xtheir hands onto $xtheir stomach. $cxthey tilts $xtheir head backwards to look at you. “Aren’t you going to join me, $name?” You look at the pillows $xthey placed a small distance beside $xtheir own, leaving a small forearm’s length of space between the two of you. The nonchalant way $xname behaves no doubt would seem audacious to most, but to you, it’s reassuring. To $xthem, in this moment, you’re not the Crown: you’re just you, $name. A person in need of rest. Moving to $xtheir side, you sit, then carefully lie down beside $xthem, laying your head on your own pile of pillows. It isn’t entirely comfortable compared to your rather luxurious bed, but the thick carpet makes it much softer than many a time in the past when you’ve slept on cold, hard ground outside. You can’t complain. As soon as your head meets the pillow your eyes slip shut. You know you won’t be able to sleep, not with all your restless thoughts about your parents still hounding you, but it helps release the tension in your body if nothing else. You hear $xname beside you, exhaling a deep sigh. The sound of $xtheir breaths beside you is rhythmic, comforting, encouraging you to rest. The room turns dimmer as the fading sunlight disappears entirely, the darkness like a blanket to lull you to sleep. It feels peaceful. For a while, you drift off. Somewhere between sleep and consciousness, only barely awake. No glimpses of dreams, for which you’re grateful; you’re certain they wouldn’t have been pleasant. $xname’s presence is the only constant, $xthem and the water spirits attached to you, and if given a little more time you’re certain you could eventually fall asleep. When you focus hard enough, through the lucid haze of your half-awake state, you can almost feel $xname beside you. <<if $magicpref is 'outer'>>Sensing is not a talent you have, but with<<else>>With<</if>> $xname so near to you, you can recall the time<<if $comfortbyx is true>>s<</if>> that your magic connected, and the way $xtheirs felt to you, that glowing bonfire. It very much heightens your awareness of $xthem. <<if $magicpref is 'outer'>>Even for an outer magic type like you, it is easy to sense.<</if>> Which means that when $xname shifts, turning to face your direction, you’re very much in tune with it. You think you can even feel $xtheir warm breaths brushing against your cheek from across the distance, but maybe that’s your imagination. You don’t move. $cxthey must know that you’re still awake, with $xtheir sensory abilities, but $xthey doesn’t shift any further. $cxthey doesn’t touch you either, and you wonder what $xthey’s doing. Is the sight of you sleeping so fascinating, or perhaps $xthey’s the one who fell asleep and merely turned over? “I know you’re still awake.” $xname sounds thoroughly amused by your attempt to pretend. <<if $blunt gt $charm>>“I am not,” you insist, somewhat petulantly as you stubbornly keep your eyes closed, and $xname chuckles.<<else>>“Well, I certainly am <em>now</em>,” you reply wryly, though you stubbornly keep your eyes closed, and $xname chuckles.<</if>> You feel a soft, unexpected touch against your brow; $xname’s fingers, gently smoothing over the wrinkle between them. “Do you always frown this much when you’re sleeping?” $cxtheir fingertips continue to trail down the outer edge of your brow to your temple, then over your cheek to brush against the skin where your jawline and neck meet, right below your ear. The restful beat of your heart picks up into a rhythm so loud you have no doubt that $xname can hear it. When you open your eyes and turn your head to look at $xthem, through the dimness of darkening twilight you see $xthem smirking back at you, seeming utterly pleased with $xthemselves. “Do you always touch people so freely?” you reply, attempting to distract yourself from the heat gathering on the spots where $xname’s fingers touch your neck. You know $xthey does: you've seen the way $xthey acts with the Crescent Blades, freely touching and being touched. Is it wrong to hope that you'd be special? $xname pulls $xtheir hand back at that, $xtheir amusement waning, and you regret having pointed it out instantly. “Does it bother you?” <<if $ass gt $pass>>“No, only…” You think about what you want, and the answer is clear to you as your gaze falls on $xname’s neck. <<if $flirt gt $res>>A mischievous smile tugs at your lips. “Can I touch you as well? To make it fair.”<<else>>“Can I touch you as well, if you don’t mind?”<</if>> $cxthey looks briefly surprised by your request, but then smiles back at you, but in a different way this time. Something darker in $xtheir eyes, and the growing darkness in the room only makes it feel more intimate—as if you were sharing a bed at night. “Wherever you want,” $xthey says, voice lowered into alluring invitation. Your mouth feels dry.<<else>>“No,” you say honestly. <<if $res gt $flirt>>“It’s fine. I didn’t mind it.”<<else>>“I liked it.”<</if>> But you can’t bring yourself to say anything more, unsure if you should voice your wants because of how vulnerable it would make you. Your gaze drops to $xname’s neck almost in reflex as you think about what you want. Would it be alright to trust $xname with that? As if $xname can read it from your face, $xthey smiles and asks, “Would you like to touch me instead?” You look up at $xtheir eyes again, your fingers twitching. <<if $res gt $flirt>>“Can I?”<<else>>“Where?”<</if>> There is something darker in $xname’s eyes, and the growing darkness in the room only makes it feel more intimate—as if you were sharing a bed at night. “Wherever you want,” $xthey says, voice lowered into alluring invitation. Your mouth feels dry.<</if>> You lift your hand, eyes flitting down to $xname’s open tunic only barely covering <<if $xgender is 'male'>>the sides of his chest and nipples<<else>>her breasts<</if>>, leaving $xthem bare down to $xtheir navel, but you don’t want to venture that far yet. What you truly want is something almost innocent. When your hand lifts to $xname’s neck, $xthey seems slightly taken aback, perhaps not having expected you to choose it. $cxthey appears almost hesitant about it, as if it were more intimate than touching $xtheir chest. Maybe to a mercenary, it is: how many people in the past have tried to slit $xtheir throat? Yet here you are, silently asking $xthem to give you permission. Your hand hovers uncertainly, wondering if $xname is uncomfortable with it and whether you should pull back. Before you can ask, however, $xthey tilts $xtheir head, baring $xtheir neck to you while avoiding your gaze. It is such a simple gesture, but the trust in it makes your breath catch. Gently, almost cautiously, you settle your fingers against $xtheir pulse with the lightness of a feather. It’s beating fast, and the skin of $xtheir neck is burning. <<if $xgender is 'male'>>Very short stubbles of facial hair scrape the pads of your fingers as they curl around the side of $xname’s neck<<else>>Your fingers slowly curl around the side of $xname’s neck, fitting against its shape<</if>>. $cxthey looks so calm and composed on the surface, but $xtheir heart doesn’t lie. “How does it feel?” $xname asks, a hoarseness in $xtheir voice you didn’t expect. $cxthey’s still not meeting your eyes; no quips, no flirtatious lines. You've gotten what you wanted, to be closer to $xthem. So why doesn't it feel like enough? Why do you still want <em>more</em>? “Good,” you whisper back, thumb caressing $xtheir pulse-point on $xtheir throat, and you feel $xthem shiver against your hand. Something about the feeling of it stirs something in you that takes control of your limbs, gripping you with an intensity you've never felt. Before you realize it, you find yourself already shifting your head on the pillow, moving closer to $xthem, wanting $xthem to lift $xtheir gaze and meet yours. When $xthey finally does so $xtheir eyes are wide, pupils of black edging out the green and reflecting gold as $xtheir hot breath brushes your lips. Your longing only seems to grow bigger from that, like a neverending hunger. Is this what it's like to feel insatiable? Just then, the door to the hallway bursts open, cutting into the conversation and making you both jump up into a sitting position, as if having being caught doing something inappropriate. You’re both taken off-guard at the sudden entrance of another visitor, but you recognize from the armor that it’s an Imperial Guard, and then from the face—the very panicked face—that it’s Ziryan. They’re completely out of breath, the tanned brown of their skin waned as if the blood has drained from their face. The quiet, intimate atmosphere shatters instantly. $xname regains $xtheir composure first, addressing them quickly. “What happened?” <<if $prisoner is 'palace'>>“The palace,” Ziryan manages to speak in between gasps for air, pushing out words you hoped you would never hear: “The palace has been attacked!”<<else>>“The city,” Ziryan manages to speak in between gasps for air, pushing out words you hoped you would never hear: “There’s been an attack in the city!”<</if>><</if>><<if $loveinterest is 'A'>>$aname almost appears surprised by the admission. “Is that all?” Without even waiting for a response, $aname shifts around, reaching for another pillow and settling it on the carpet. $cathey then rises to $atheir feet, approaching a cabinet against the wall, opening one of its small doors to a stack of what looks like sheets or towels. When $athey glances over to you to see you haven’t moved, still sitting there and staring at $athem in bemusement, $athey gestures to the pillow $athey put down for you. “Lie down, I’m getting you a blanket. It’ll get chillier once the sun sets.” The moment you said you needed rest, $aname didn’t question it. $cathey accepted it, and did what $athey could to make you comfortable. It’s exactly what you needed: no more questions, no more talking. Just for someone to listen, and let you rest. $cathey pulls the blanket from the cabinet before closing it, returning to your side again, handing you the rolled up blanket. “I’ll make sure no one disturbs you. Catch some shuteye while you can.” $aname must know that whatever is on your mind, it isn’t a simple matter. Even so $athey is giving you the time and the respite that you need. You smile at $athem, one you think you see $athem return from the slightest curving of $atheir lips, before you spread out the blanket over your body and lay your head down. It isn’t entirely comfortable compared to your rather luxurious bed, but the thick carpet makes it much softer than many a time in the past when you’ve slept on cold, hard ground outside. You can’t complain. As soon as your head meets the pillow your eyes slip shut. You know you won’t be able to sleep, not with all your restless thoughts about your parents still hounding you, but it helps release the tension in your body if nothing else. You hear $aname move around, the sound of curtains being pulled shortly after. The room turns dimmer as the fading sunlight disappears entirely, before you hear a sparking sound and a warm glow filters through your eyelids—$aname lighting candles. It feels peaceful. For a while, you drift off. Somewhere between sleep and consciousness, only barely awake. No glimpses of dreams, for which you’re grateful; you’re certain they wouldn’t have been pleasant. $aname’s presence is the only constant, $athem and the water spirits attached to you, and if given a little more time you’re certain you could eventually fall asleep. When you focus hard enough, through the lucid haze of your half-awake state, you can almost feel where $aname is in the room. <<if $magicpref is 'outer'>>Sensing is not a talent you have, but <</if>>$aname’s magic resonates with your water spirits, the similarity in their signatures making $aname’s seem like a beacon. <<if $magicpref is 'outer'>>Even for an outer magic type like you, it is easy to sense.<</if>> Which means that when $aname moves closer to you, you are very much aware of it. You don’t move, keeping your breaths even as you feel $aname sit down beside you. $cathey must know that you’re still awake, or perhaps $athey can’t tell the difference; your heartbeat has slowed considerably, and your breathing has steadied like it would while you’re asleep. There wouldn’t be any outward signs of you being awake unless $athey made the effort to sense it. $cathey doesn’t touch you, and you wonder what $athey’s doing. Is the sight of you sleeping so fascinating? Then, you feel something unexpected. $catheir fingers again, this time sliding underneath the back of your head, gently lifting it. The sensation is so unexpected that your brows and eyelids twitch, and the hand $aname has supporting your head stills in mid-air. You think $athey must’ve finally noticed that you’re not asleep yet, but then, you feel something soft slide underneath your head. An extra pillow, giving more support to your neck. $cathey softly settles your head down onto the pillow, fingers slipping away again. You suppose $athey didn’t notice after all— “Need anything else while you’re pretending to sleep?” You crack your eyes open, seeing $aname’s amused face hovering above. Your face heats in slight embarrassment at being caught, but you can’t help but smile at yourself, the situation humorous more than anything else. “I <em>was</em> starting to fall asleep,” you argue, though your intent is lighthearted. “You’re surprisingly good at tucking people in, did you know that?” Now it’s $aname’s turn to look embarrassed at that, or as embarrassed as $athey can look anyway; $atheir facial expression sets into something carefully neutral, and $athey avoids your eyes entirely. “It’s my first time doing it, so I’ll take that as well-earned praise.” You chuckle at that, though it makes sense considering $aname’s upbringing. It’s unlikely $athey’s ever had to take care of someone in this way before when $atheir family must’ve had hundreds of servants at their beck and call. “It was intended as such, Your Highness,” you say, meaning the address to be a tease, but the smile drops from your face when $aname’s face turns blank. That must’ve hit a nerve. “Ah, I didn’t mean—” “You shouldn’t…” $aname crosses $atheir arms, glancing at you once before looking away again. “I’m not a real <<if $agender is 'male'>>prince<<else>>princess<</if>>, you realize? Crownsblood don’t have titles like that.” Oh, $athey’s embarrassed. You consider whether it’s safe to keep teasing $athem, but as you look at $athem you realize $athey doesn’t seem uncomfortable. $cathey hasn’t moved away from you, and $athey keeps glancing at you from the corner of $atheir eyes—$athey’s just being shy about it. For a moment you were sure it would offend or anger $athem. From what $athey's told you about $atheir childhood so far, it seemed mostly negative. But then you remember that $atheir mother was the one to call $athem Mirza, and despite $atheir father's faults as a ruler he was still a loving parent. $cathey must have as many good memories attached to it as $athey does regrets. Maybe you can make another good memory for $athem, to outweigh the bad. “But that used to be your address, didn’t it?” you say, deciding to take another chance as you grin at $athem again. “Sure, you’re not an heir, but is it really that wrong to call you a <<if $agender is 'male'>>prince<<else>>princess<</if>>?” $aname sighs. “<em>Formerly</em> known as such, if you insist.” When $athey sees the way you’re grinning, $athey frowns. “You’re having far too much fun with this.” “How can I not find it fun?” you insist. “I’m the Crown, and my Royal Protector is Crownsblood, a former <<if $agender is 'male'>>prince<<else>>princess<</if>>. It’s like we were meant to be.” The bold statement<<if $pass gt $ass>>, uncharacteristic as it is for you,<</if>> is something truthful that simply slipped from your mouth without you noticing, but <<if $res gt $flirt>>it flusters you all the same, and surprises $aname. “What I mean is, you serving as my Royal Protector,” you clarify, now being the one to avoid $aname’s gaze. “That’s all.” You hear $aname hum. It’s a low, considering sound, and when your eyes flit back toward $athem, you find the unexpected sight of a slight smile on $atheir face, a hint of teasing in its shape. “I didn’t know you were a romantic,” $athey says, and you very much wish you’d kept your damned mouth shut; you’re certain you’re never going to hear the end of this one. “Though I suppose it suits you.” You’re taken aback by that. “It suits—?” “Or maybe I should say that I like it?” $aname corrects $athemselves casually, either completely unaware at the way it makes your heart do a somersault in your chest, or pretending to be unaware. Judging from the mischievous smile on $atheir face, it’s probably the latter.<<else>>it surprises both you and $aname all the same. “As a Crown and a Royal Protector?” $aname says after a brief silence, and you’ve never seen someone look so suspicious at possibly being flirted with before. It’s a little endearing. “Of course,” you reply, giving $athem an innocent smile. “What else did you think I meant?” $aname’s mouth opens and then closes again, before $athey states resolutely, “I’m not playing this game with you.” “What game would that be, Your Highness?” $aname turns $atheir head away, but not quickly enough for you to miss the hint of a smile on $atheir face, even though $atheir words are exasperated. “Don’t be annoying.” You continue your innocent charade. “I have no idea what you mean.” Making $aname shy might be your new favorite pastime.<</if>> Just then, the door to the hallway bursts open, cutting into the conversation before you can reply. You both flinch at the sudden entrance of another visitor, but you recognize from the armor that it’s an Imperial Guard, and then from the face—the very panicked face—that it’s Ziryan. They’re completely out of breath, the tanned brown of their skin waned as if the blood has drained from their face. The lighthearted, serene atmosphere shatters instantly. $aname straightens up first, addressing them quickly. “Ziryan, what’s wrong?” <<if $prisoner is 'palace'>>“The palace,” Ziryan manages to speak in between gasps for air, pushing out words you hoped you would never hear: “The palace has been attacked!”<<else>>“The city,” Ziryan manages to speak in between gasps for air, pushing out words you hoped you would never hear: “There’s been an attack in the city!”<</if>><</if>><<if $loveinterest is 'R'>>The understanding in $rname’s gaze is one that must be felt deeply, considering how much $rname $rthemselves has been shouldering as the Crown’s Sorcerer. There is no one else that could relate to you better, no one else that could make you feel as heard. “We can spare more than a moment,” $rthey tells you, gesturing to some of the other pillows around the table. “Why don’t you lay down for a while? I’ll stay and make sure no one bothers you.” Your gratitude is one you can’t express with words, but you have a feeling $rname understands that too from the way $rthey smiles at you. Neither of you know what the future holds, what secrets you will uncover left behind by your parents, but as long as you have each other it doesn't seem so scary to imagine. You hope you give $rname as much strength as $rthey gives you. Arranging a pillow to put your head down on, you let go of $rtheir hands to lie down. It isn’t entirely comfortable compared to your rather luxurious bed, but the thick carpet makes it much softer than many a time in the past when you’ve slept on cold, hard ground outside. You can’t complain. As soon as your head meets the pillow your eyes slip shut. You know you won’t be able to sleep, not with all your restless thoughts about your parents still hounding you, but it helps release the tension in your body if nothing else. You hear $rname move around, the sound of curtains being pulled shortly after. The room turns dimmer as the fading sunlight disappears entirely, before you hear a sparking sound and a warm glow filters through your eyelids—$rname lighting candles. It feels peaceful. For a while, you drift off. Somewhere between sleep and consciousness, only barely awake. No glimpses of dreams, for which you’re grateful as you’re certain they wouldn’t have been pleasant. $rname’s presence is the only constant, $rthem and the water spirits attached to you, and if given a little more time you’re certain you could eventually fall asleep. When you focus hard enough, through the lucid haze of your half-awake state, you can almost feel where $rname is in the room. <<if $magicpref is 'outer'>>Sensing is not a talent you have, but <</if>>$rname’s magic is so great that it creates shifts in the air, pulling natural currents of idle magic toward $rtheirs. <<if $magicpref is 'outer'>>Even for an outer magic type like you, the effect is noticeable when you concentrate on it.<</if>> Which means that when $rname moves closer to you, you are very much aware of it. You don’t move, keeping your breaths even as you feel $rname sit down beside you. $crthey must know that you’re still awake, or perhaps $rthey can’t tell the difference. Your heartbeat has slowed considerably, and your breathing has steadied like it would while you’re asleep. There wouldn’t be any outward signs of you being awake unless $rthey made the effort to sense it. $crthey doesn’t touch you, and you wonder what $rthey’s doing. Is the sight of you sleeping so fascinating? Then, you feel something unexpected. The light but unmistakable weight of a blanket, carefully pulled over you. It startles you at first, and you end up opening your eyes in reflex. $rname stares back at you, eyes wide and the edge of the blanket still in $rtheir hands. “I’m sorry,” $rthey says quickly, but doesn’t seem to know what to do with the blanket now, holding it awkwardly above you. “I thought- did I wake you?” You can’t help it; you start to laugh, head falling back down onto the pillow as you cover your mouth. $crthey’s simply too endearing. $rname’s bemused expression shifts into a smile as $rthey lowers the rest of the blanket on top of you. “Do I really deserve to be laughed at for trying to do something nice?” “I’m not laughing at you,” you say, lowering your hand and peering up at $rname. “You looked so startled, I didn’t expect it.” $rname looks away, hands folding onto $rtheir lap as $rthey murmurs quietly, “I thought you might get cold.” A smile spreads on your face that you can’t seem to control. Something light and warm and inordinately giddy for such a simple gesture as having a blanket pulled over you, but it makes you grin like a fool all the same. If you could spend all your days at the palace with $rname like this, even if they are only brief moments of respite, then it could be bearable. So long as $rthey is there, awaiting you at the end of the day. “Your arms must be where the sun goes after it sets,” you say, something truthful that simply slipped from your mouth without you noticing, and <<if $res gt $flirt>>both you and $rname are flustered by it<<else>>$rname is utterly flustered by it<</if>>. $crthey doesn’t speak at first, glancing away and lifting $rtheir hand to cover $rtheir mouth as you realize $rthey’s trying to hide $rtheir smile. <<if $comfortbyr is true>>“Did you pick up poetry after all?” You compared $rthem to a star before, you remember. <<if $flirt gt $res>>Sitting up to face $rthem properly, you’re delighted by the shy look $rthey gives you. “With you, it comes naturally.”<<else>>You look up at the ceiling, avoiding $rname’s eyes on you; it’s gotten far too warm under the blanket. “…It’s just what came to mind.”<</if>><<else>>“Do you like poetry, $rnickname? I think you would do quite well at it.” <<if $res gt $flirt>>Your cheeks warm at the suggestion as you look away, a slightly nervous chuckle leaving your lips. <<if $charm gt $blunt>>“Who knows, I might pick it up as a hobby.”<<else>>"Maybe."<</if>><<else>>You chuckle, lips curving with amusement and suggestion as you sit up to face $rthem properly. <<if $blunt gt $charm>>“For you, I think I could give it a try.”<<else>>“Perhaps I could write you a poem.”<</if>><</if>><</if>> The door to the hallway bursts open, cutting into the conversation before $rname can reply. You both flinch at the sudden entrance of another visitor, but you recognize from the armor that it’s an Imperial Guard, and then from the face—the very panicked face—that it’s Ziryan. They’re completely out of breath, the tanned brown of their skin waned as if the blood has drained from their face. The lighthearted, serene atmosphere shatters instantly. $rname straightens up first, addressing them quickly. “Guard, what’s wrong?” <<if $prisoner is 'palace'>>“The palace,” Ziryan manages to speak in between gasps for air, pushing out words you hoped you would never hear: “The palace has been attacked!”<<else>>“The city,” Ziryan manages to speak in between gasps for air, pushing out words you hoped you would never hear: “There’s been an attack in the city!”<</if>><</if>> <<if $prisoner is 'palace'>>[[End Chapter|9.1a]]<<else>>[[End Chapter|9.1b]]<</if>>@@.titleblack;CREDITS@@ @@.titlepurple5;<b>Writing, Coding and Design</b>@@ <a href="https://ataleofcrowns.tumblr.com">qeresî</a> @@.titlepurple5;<b>Game Engine</b>@@ Twine v2.3.16, with SugarCube v2.21.0 @@.titlepurple5;<b>Twine Template</b>@@ Made by <a href="https://vahnya.itch.io/">Vahnya</a> @@.titlepurple5;<b>Vector Images & Logo</b>@@ Vecteezy @@.titlepurple5;<b>Map of Arsur</b>@@ Created by qeresî, using Wonderdraft v1.1.6 @@.titlepurple5;<b>Character Art</b>@@ Made by <a href="https://artbygaia.tumblr.com">artbygaia</a> <<link "Return" $return>><</link>><<set $progress to "9">><div id="9.1a">@@.chaptertitleact1;CHAPTER NINE@@</div>@@.titleblack;<<if $cs gt 3>>The Palace in White<</if>><<if $cs gt 0 and $cs lte 3>>The Palace Stained<</if>><<if $cs lte 0>>The Palace in Red<</if>>@@ The night is as young as the bloodstains freshly fallen atop the decorated floor, shining faintly in the torchlight. Delicately carved symbols of stars are hidden behind clouds of red. Your eyes trace the irregular patterns coating the ground further down the corridor, small splatters among bigger smears across the tiles, as if someone was dragged over its stone. By the time you arrive on the scene of the attack, it has already ended. There are Imperial Guards on all sides of the windowless corridor, securing it in case any of the banquet’s guests come looking. The air is thick with tension and heavy with the grimness of the situation. You can’t imagine a worse way this evening could have gone: it is exactly the scenario you and everyone else were trying to prevent while planning the coronation. It seems the Spirits are still testing you, or else they have a very cruel sense of humor. Ziryan hurriedly follows after you <<if $loveinterest is 'A'>>and $aname, who walks beside you with purpose. Stern lines have settled $atheir face into a mask of tension, but $atheir gaze is alert, flitting over the bloodstains of the corridor as you pass them by, coolly taking stock of the situation<</if>><<if $loveinterest is 'D'>>and $dname, who walks just a step behind you on your left. When you glance over, you see nothing but a mask of perfect neutrality; $dname looks remarkably calm, as if none of the tension in the air affects $dthem<</if>><<if $loveinterest is 'X'>>and $xname, who walks beside you with an air of tension that you’ve never seen on $xthem before. There is an edge to the distant gaze in $xtheir eyes, much colder than you’re used to; you notice the way $xtheir left hand lingers near the hilt of $xtheir shamshir as you walk<</if>><<if $loveinterest is 'R'>>and $rname, who walks just a step behind you on your right. When you glance over you see $rtheir brows are furrowed, the worry in $rtheir eyes increasing when $rthey looks at the bloodstains you walk past; $rthey takes a quiet breath only just audible to you, as if trying to calm $rthemselves<</if>>. Neither of you speak, approaching the others already present at the scene, gathered a short distance away from the bloodstains near a set of familiar stairs that seem to lead down to a basement level. <<if $loveinterest is 'A'>>$dname and $xname are the first ones your gaze falls upon among the small crowd of Imperial Guards, $rname the only one who’s missing. They’re in a quiet discussion together with Tûjo and Kaja. As you and $aname approach, the four of them turn to face you. $dname, Tûjo and Kaja bow reflexively at your appearance, and $xname follows a moment later in a curt gesture.<</if>><<if $loveinterest is 'D'>>You find $aname and $xname already present as well, $rname the only one who’s missing. They’re in a quiet discussion together with Tûjo and Kaja. As you and $dname approach, the four of them turn to face you. Tûjo and Kaja bow reflexively at your appearance, and $aname and $xname follow a moment later in quick gestures.<</if>><<if $loveinterest is 'X'>>$dname and $aname are the first ones your gaze falls upon among the small crowd of Imperial Guards, $rname the only one who’s missing. They’re in a quiet discussion together with Tûjo and Kaja. As you and $xname approach, the four of them turn to face you. $dname, Tûjo and Kaja bow reflexively at your appearance, and $aname follows a moment later in a curt gesture.<</if>><<if $loveinterest is 'R'>>$dname, $xname and $aname are the first ones your gaze falls upon among the small crowd of Imperial Guards, thankfully already present. $rname stops in $rtheir tracks. When you turn around to look at $rthem in question, you see a conflicted expression on $rtheir face. Meeting your gaze, $rthey says with a troubled frown, “It seems the others are already gathered, in which case, I should return to the banquet hall. Someone needs to keep an eye on the guests.” You don’t like the idea of $rthem leaving your side now, which $rname seems to read from your gaze as $rthey gives you a faint but reassuring smile. “I promise not to insult anyone <em>too much</em>,” $rthey says, injecting a little humor in what is an otherwise severe situation, before $rthey turns serious again. “Please, let me do this?” $crthey wants to prove $rthemselves to you. Especially after what happened during your first audience with Rojan’s nobles, the way Lady Naza got $rthem to lose $rtheir temper—the incident must still linger on $rtheir mind. $crthey’s asking for your trust. <<if $rpoints lte 14>><<set $rrelationship to 'low'>><<if visited("9.1a") is 1>><<set $rlowcount to 1>><</if>>You’re not entirely sure about it, considering the possibility of $rname losing $rtheir temper again without anyone there to interfere this time. “Are you sure you can handle it?” $rname’s smile dims a little, and you wonder if you showed too much of your reluctance. “I'll do my best, Your Imperial Majesty.” What happened to <em>my Crown</em>? “Go ahead, then,” you say, perhaps pausing a moment too long as $rname's smile is all but gone now. The confidence in $rtheir voice has lessened when $rthey bows before you and quietly says, “Stay safe.”<<else>><<set $rrelationship to 'high'>><<if visited("9.1a") is 1>><<set $rhighcount to 1>><</if>>It’s not something you have to think about: $rname already has it. “If that’s what you think would be best, then I’ll leave it to you.” $rname almost looks surprised at your easily given permission, as if $rthey expected to have to argue the point. “I trust you, $rname,” you say, wanting to reassure $rthem, and the look on $rtheir face softens to one of gratitude; $rtheir vulnerability shines for a moment, only for your eyes to see, before $rthey sweeps into a bow. “I won’t disappoint, my Crown.”<</if>> You watch $rthem leave<<if $rpoints lte 14>> with mixed feelings<</if>> before turning back to the chaos before you. $dname, $aname, and $xname, who were having a quiet discussion together with Tûjo and Kaja, turn to look at you when you approach. $dname, Tûjo and Kaja bow reflexively at your appearance, $xname and $aname following a moment later in curt gestures.<</if>> Ziryan quickly joins the other Imperial Guards stationed throughout the corridor. There is only one question on your mind. “What <em>happened</em>?” [[Continue|9.2a]]<<set $progress to "9">><div id="9.1b"><<set $day to 22>><<set $holiday to false>>@@.chaptertitleact1;CHAPTER NINE@@</div>@@.titleblack;<<if $cs gt 3>>The City Sleeps<</if>><<if $cs gt 0 and $cs lte 3>>The City Stained<</if>><<if $cs lte 0>>The City Screams<</if>>@@ From the darkness of the palace tunnels, you emerge onto the streets of Marabad. The night is reaching its end, aged into a quiet darkness; not even the earliest waking birds dare intrude on its long-kept vigil. The stars are fading, clouds rolling in from a distance to break up the clarity of the night sky, and the moon is nowhere to be seen. You waited for hours to be able to visit the scene of the attack yourself, only after $dname and $aname deemed it safe, but you must see this with your own eyes. $dname, $aname and $xname accompany you silently, together with several Imperial Guards—most of them invisible, save for Kaja—as well as Tûjo. $rname stayed behind at the palace, both to usher out the guests as well as keep watch in case anything happened in your absence. <<if $loveinterest is 'R'>>You didn’t like the idea of $rname leaving your side at such a crucial moment, which $rname seemed to pick up on. $crthey tried to reassure you as much as $rthey could, even though you knew it would be the wisest decision to have $rthem stay behind as a precaution. “I promise not to insult anyone <em>too much</em>,” $rthey said, injecting a little humor in what was an otherwise severe situation, before $rthey turning serious again. “Please, let me do this?” $crthey wanted to prove $rthemselves to you. Especially after what happened during your first audience with Rojan’s nobles, the way Lady Naza got $rthem to lose $rtheir temper—the incident must still linger on $rtheir mind. $crthey asked for your trust. <<if $rpoints lte 14>><<set $rrelationship to 'low'>><<if visited("9.1b") is 1>><<set $rlowcount to 1>><</if>>You, however, weren’t entirely sure about it, considering the possibility of $rname losing $rtheir temper again without anyone there to interfere this time. So you replied, “Are you sure you can handle it?” $rname’s smile dimmed a little, and you wonder if you showed too much of your true thoughts. “I’ll do my best, Your Imperial Majesty.” It did not escape your notice that $rthey didn’t call you <em>my Crown</em>. “Go ahead then,” you said, perhaps pausing a moment too long as $rname’s smile had all but vanished from $rtheir face. The confidence in $rtheir voice had lessened as well when $rthey bowed before you and quietly said, “Stay safe.”<<else>><<set $rrelationship to 'high'>><<if visited("9.1b") is 1>><<set $rhighcount to 1>><</if>>It wasn’t something you had to think about: $rname already has your trust. “If that’s what you think would be best, then I’ll leave it to you.” $rname almost seemed surprised at your easily given permission, as if $rthey expected to have to argue the point. “I trust you, $rname,” you said, wanting to reassure $rthem in turn, and the look on $rtheir face softened to one of gratitude; $rtheir vulnerability shone for a moment, only for your eyes to see, before $rthey swept into a bow. “I won’t disappoint, my Crown.”<</if>> <</if>>Part of you is worried about leaving the palace on such a night, but you cannot justify letting others clean up what is evidently <em>your</em> mistake. Your flaw in judgment, sending the assassin you captured days ago to Marabad’s prison, or perhaps in not having assigned them more guards. You’re responsible for this incident, <<if $cs is 0>>and the lives that were lost<<else>>and the harm that was done<</if>>. [[Continue|9.2b]]<<set $yekbun to 'dead'>>When Kaja remains silent, <<if $loveinterest isnot 'X'>>$xname takes over. “One of the guests was killed,” $xthey answers, a dark look in $xtheir eyes you’ve never seen before; it isn’t anger, but a bitter anticipation. “A scholar from Marabad’s School of Magic.”<<else>>Tûjo takes over. “During the attack, one of the guests was killed,” he answers evenly, though you can see a scowl right above his eyes, the wrinkle inching into view from underneath his black head-wrap. “A scholar from Marabad’s School of Magic.”<</if>> Your heart almost stops. It can’t be— “Yekbûn?” The others look surprised when you mention the name, except for $xname. $cxtheir frown deepens; $xthey must be able to sense the dread expanding rapidly in your chest. “Did you know her?” $aname asks quietly, but rather than answer, you find the strength leave your legs. You brace your hand against a windowsill, <<if $tujoheval gte 2 and $tujoheval gt $kajaezo>>Tûjo quickly stepping forward to grab your elbow, supporting you<</if>><<if $kajaezo gte 2 and $kajaezo gt $tujoheval>>Kaja quickly stepping forward to grab your elbow, supporting you<</if>><<if $tujoheval eq $kajaezo and $tujoheval gte 1>>Kaja and Tûjo both quickly stepping forward, though Kaja is the one to grab your elbow, supporting you<</if>><<if $tujoheval eq $kajaezo and $tujoheval lte 1>>Kaja quickly stepping forward to grab your elbow, supporting you<</if>>. The air around you grows heavy, weighted with the presence of the water spirits attached to you as they flit about restlessly. There is no threat to protect you from, and no water for them to influence; they are as helpless as you. A laugh escapes your mouth, bordering on hysteric. <<if $blunt gt $charm>>“Damn it all to the void.”<<else>>“Of <em>course</em> it had to be her.”<</if>> “Your Imperial Majesty?” $dname prompts, and you realize the others are now staring at you with concern. It reminds you of where you are, <em>who</em> you are. As much as the news is a punch to the gut, you don’t have the luxury to double over and collapse to your knees: you are who people look to for direction. If you were to fall apart now, it would place the burden on fixing this situation onto the others, akin to failing in your duty as the Crown. Most of all, though, you owe it to Yekbûn to keep it together. She didn't deserve this. The nostalgic look in her eyes as she told you about how much your parents loved each other echoes in your head, and it takes all your strength not to let the tremor in your hands show. Everything else she could've told you is now gone; words that were killed suddenly, violently. Just like her, just like your mother and father. You inhale a deep breath through your nose, briefly closing your eyes to find your balance again. <<if $spirits is 'admiring'>><em>Keep it steady, there will be time to mourn later.</em> It's a familiar refrain you've told yourself countless times before, but you are nothing if not a survivor.<</if>><<if $spirits is 'somber'>>Another weight to drag on your feet as you try to move forward, but it’s nothing you aren’t used to. What’s a few more to add to it? You haven’t broken yet.<</if>><<if $spirits is 'sympathetic'>>There is no choice but to move forward. It’s a fresh hurt, a new failure, but one you can’t afford to dwell on in the moment. There are still people who need you now.<</if>> Slowly, you straighten up, <<if $tujoheval gte 2 and $tujoheval gt $kajaezo>>giving Tûjo a grateful look as he releases you again<</if>><<if $kajaezo gte 2 and $kajaezo gt $tujoheval or $tujoheval eq $kajaezo>>giving Kaja a grateful look as she releases you again<</if>>. “She knows—” You pause, the correction a painful one when you give it, “She knew my parents.” The statement causes a ripple of shock and suspicion among the others. <<if $loveinterest is 'A'>>You feel $aname staring at you, but you avoid $atheir gaze; $athey must be able to guess now what had you so distraught earlier. After a lingering look, $aname averts $atheir eyes from you with a scowl<</if>><<if $loveinterest is 'D'>>You feel $dname staring at you, but you avoid $dtheir gaze; $dthey must be able to guess now what had you so distraught earlier. $aname scowls<</if>><<if $loveinterest is 'X'>>You feel $xname staring at you, but you avoid $xtheir gaze; $xthey must be able to guess now what had you so distraught earlier. $aname scowls<</if>><<if $loveinterest is 'R'>>$aname scowls<</if>>, looking toward the stairs leading to the dungeons. “That’s not a coincidence.” “How did she die?” you ask, not wanting to linger on the knowledge that your only living connection to your parents is now gone as well. If you think about it too long, it’ll haunt you forever. Maybe it will regardless. “It’s our fault, Your Imperial Majesty,” Kaja says, guilt writ across her face. “Ezo and I, we were escorting her when the attacker- they simply <em>appeared</em>. Before I knew it, the scholar was stabbed, and then Ezo…” You tense up. “What happened to Ezo?” “She’s alive, but… but severely injured.” Kaja’s jaw clenches. “The healers are looking at her now. I couldn’t protect her, or the scholar.” <ul class="a"> <li>[[“This isn’t your fault, Kaja. You did the best you could.”|9.4a.1][$tempchoice to true]]</li> <li>[[“Blaming yourself won’t change what happened. I share just as much responsibility.”|9.4a.1][$tempchoice to false]]</li> </ul><<set $yekbun to 'injured'>>When Kaja remains silent, <<if $loveinterest isnot 'X'>>$xname takes over. “One of the guests was injured,” $xthey answers, a thoughtful look in $xtheir eyes, as if $xthey isn't certain what to make of this. “A scholar from Marabad’s School of Magic.”<<else>>Tûjo takes over. “During the breakout, one of the guests was injured,” he answers evenly, his expression mostly indifferent, though there's a slight tilt to his head that tells you he has questions about the incident. “A scholar from Marabad’s School of Magic.”<</if>> You tense. It can’t be— “Yekbûn?” The others look surprised when you mention the name, except for $xname. $cxtheir frown deepens; $xthey must be able to sense your rising concern. “Do you know her?” $aname asks, and you nod. “She knew my parents.” You look back at Kaja. “How is her condition? Are her injuries serious?” While you inquire after her health, your statement causes a ripple of shock and suspicion among the others. <<if $loveinterest is 'A'>>You feel $aname staring at you, but you avoid $atheir gaze; $athey must be able to guess now what had you so distraught earlier. After a lingering look, $aname averts $atheir eyes from you with a scowl<</if>><<if $loveinterest is 'D'>>You feel $dname staring at you, but you avoid $dtheir gaze; $dthey must be able to guess now what had you so distraught earlier. $aname scowls<</if>><<if $loveinterest is 'X'>>You feel $xname staring at you, but you avoid $xtheir gaze; $xthey must be able to guess now what had you so distraught earlier. $aname scowls<</if>><<if $loveinterest is 'R'>>$aname scowls<</if>>, looking toward the stairs leading to the dungeons. “That’s not a coincidence.” “She wasn’t wounded severely,” Kaja quickly replies to your question, seeming eager to put your worries to rest. “Only a cut on her arm; she’s with the healers now, being examined for poison.” “What about Ezo?” you ask, having noted that Kaja’s other half isn’t anywhere to be seen. “She was also injured during the attack.” Kaja’s jaw clenches. “It isn’t grave, but it was more severe than the scholar’s injury. The prisoner almost certainly broke her arm.” You almost reflexively wince in sympathy. Granted, a broken arm is better than a broken neck, but the thought that it <em>could</em> have been much worse will almost certainly plague you for the rest of the night. As it is, you can only be thankful that both of them escaped with their lives. “My apologies, Your Imperial Majesty,” Kaja says suddenly. “If I had been more competent…” <ul class="a"> <li>[[“This isn’t your fault, Kaja. You did the best you could.”|9.4a.2][$tempchoice to true]]</li> <li>[[“Blaming yourself won’t change what happened. I share just as much responsibility.”|9.4a.2][$tempchoice to false]]</li> </ul><<set $yekbun to 'fine'>>When Kaja remains silent, <<if $loveinterest isnot 'X'>>$xname takes over. “One of the guests was attacked,” $xthey answers, a thoughtful look in $xtheir eyes, as if $xthey isn't certain what to make of this. “A scholar from Marabad’s School of Magic.”<<else>>Tûjo takes over. “During the breakout, one of the guests was targeted,” he answers evenly, his expression mostly indifferent, though there's a slight tilt to his head that tells you he has questions about the incident. “A scholar from Marabad’s School of Magic.”<</if>> You tense. It can’t be— “Yekbûn?” The others look surprised when you mention the name, except for $xname. $cxtheir frown deepens; $xthey must be able to sense your rising concern. “Do you know her?” $aname asks, and you nod. “She knew my parents.” You look back at Kaja. “How is she doing? Was she injured?” While you inquire after her health, your statement causes a ripple of shock and suspicion among the others. <<if $loveinterest is 'A'>>You feel $aname staring at you, but you avoid $atheir gaze; $athey must be able to guess now what had you so distraught earlier. After a lingering look, $aname averts $atheir eyes from you with a scowl<</if>><<if $loveinterest is 'D'>>You feel $dname staring at you, but you avoid $dtheir gaze; $dthey must be able to guess now what had you so distraught earlier. $aname scowls<</if>><<if $loveinterest is 'X'>>You feel $xname staring at you, but you avoid $xtheir gaze; $xthey must be able to guess now what had you so distraught earlier. $aname scowls<</if>><<if $loveinterest is 'R'>>$aname scowls<</if>>, looking toward the stairs leading to the dungeons. “That’s not a coincidence.” “She wasn’t wounded,” Kaja quickly replies to your question, seeming eager to put your worries to rest. “We kept her safe, Your Imperial Majesty. She was only startled, but anyone would be in those circumstances.” “What about Ezo?” you ask, having noted that Kaja’s other half isn’t anywhere to be seen. “She did get injured during the attack.” Kaja’s frowns deeply. “A cut on her forearm as she was holding off the prisoner, while other guards came to assist us. It isn’t grave, thankfully, and easily healed.” You almost reflexively wince in sympathy. Granted, a cut on the arm is much better than a slit throat, but the thought that it <em>could</em> have been much worse will almost certainly plague you for the rest of the night. “It's a relief that there were other guards nearby to help us fight the assailant off,” Kaja continues, and even smiles at you, some of her typical cheer returning. “Arranging for additional security was the right choice, Your Imperial Majesty.” “I'm glad,” you say, sincere in your relief. You don't know what you would've done if one of them had been severely injured, or worse. “It's good to hear Ezo made it through safely as well.” “It would take far more than a scrape on the arm to incapacitate an Imperial Guard,” $aname remarks, and you think you almost hear a hint of pride in $atheir voice. $cathey must be very pleased with Ezo and Kaja especially, for guarding the scholar as well as they did. “Yes, Ezo will be alright,” Kaja murmurs quietly, mostly to herself, but loud enough to overhear, and you realize she must be more concerned about Ezo than she's letting on. [[Continue|9.4a.3]]<<unset $tempchoice>>Kaja starts to lead the way down the corridor, presumably to wherever they have moved the prisoner’s body, when you notice $aname lagging behind you. When you stop to give $athem a questioning look, $athey says, “I need to check security around the rest of the city, now that the palace has been secured.” “Have you heard any reports?” $dname asks, and $aname shakes $atheir head. “It’s merely a precaution.” You frown with worry; in all the chaos, the festivities in the city slipped your mind. “Do you think other places would be targeted?” “It’s hard to say.” $aname seems uncertain. “Whoever is behind this, be it the Followers or someone else, it’s clear that you’re their target. While harming the city wouldn’t hurt you directly, it <em>could</em> harm your image in the eyes of the nobility and the public.” It might lead to doubts about you, in other words. Whether you’re competent enough to be leading the nation, hurting innocent people solely to get others to question your readiness. Then again, considering that whoever is behind this uses their assassins like mere puppets, you can’t say such a cold-hearted tactic would be surprising. If you could at least have confirmation that it <em>was</em> the Followers of Vidarna behind this for a fact, you’d be able to approach the situation with much more certainty. As it is, there’s no guarantee that the assassins weren’t sent by someone else unconnected to the Followers; going a decade without a Crown, there must be plenty of people who have consolidated power in the ruler’s absence, and now that one has returned, feel threatened as a result. Though, you suppose it’d be a bit much to expect assassins to leave convenient hints about their identity lying around. <<if $loveinterest is 'A'>><<if $apoints gt 14>><<set $arelationship to 'high'>><<set $ahighcount to 1>>You meet $aname’s gaze, reluctant to see $athem leave your side at a time like this, yet you also recognize $athey feels a duty to the citizens to see them protected. It’s almost surprising, in a way. You thought the Royal Protector’s foremost task was to safeguard the Crown, but $aname at the very least seems to have taken on the responsibility to guard not only the ruler, but also the citizens. How much of that is guilt for $atheir father’s rule, and how much of it is a sense of duty and care towards $atheir fellow citizens? You suspect it may be a bit of both; perhaps all these aspects are inseparably intertwined. Whichever the case, it’s undeniable that $aname is Arsur’s Royal Protector as much as $athey is yours. It’s something you should keep in mind and accept, if you are to work together from now on. “Go on,” you say to $aname, letting go of your own trepidation; you feel secure enough to entrust $aname with this, and you are confident in $atheir judgment. If $athey feels it necessary, then you have no doubt that it must be. “We’ll fill you in later.” $aname’s gaze changes ever so slightly, but you think you see a hint of gratitude as $athey bows before you, $atheir tone uttering your title with more sincerity than you’re used to from $athem. “Your Imperial Majesty.” You watch $athem depart, feeling a sudden sense of anxiety creeping up on you as $athey walks away. “$aname!” $cathey pauses, turning around to look at you in question. “Be careful,” you say, trying to ignore the others staring at you. $aname looks almost taken aback for a moment, but then, you catch a slight smile on $atheir lips. “Is that an order?” “It is.” $catheir smile turns warmer. “Who am I to refuse my Crown?” With a last incline of $atheir head, $athey turns around again and heads out, leaving you to stand there with the sound of your heartbeat drumming between your ears, repeating <em>my Crown</em> with every beat. As you turn around to face the others again, you avoid $xname’s far too amused gaze on you. At least $dname and Kaja have the decency to look indifferent towards your exchange—though you suspect with $dname, it is genuine indifference.<<else>><<set $arelationship to 'low'>><<set $alowcount to 1>>You meet $aname’s gaze, reluctant to see $athem leave your side at a time like this. Why does $athey even want to, considering the attack that just happened? You’re concerned for the citizens as well, of course, but $aname is the <em>Crown’s</em> Royal Protector. “Can you not send someone else?” you ask, thinking you’d much rather have your bodyguard near you at a time like this. “I’d rather take care of this myself,” $aname replies evenly, “to ensure nothing is overlooked.” There is a brief, tense silence. $dname appears entirely unaffected by $aname’s outright refusal to entertain your reluctance, and you think you may have overestimated exactly how loyal $dthey is to you. $xname, predictably, looks amused. Kaja glances at you, then says to $aname, “Captain, if the Crown would feel more comfortable with you here, I could go in your stead—” “No.” $aname frowns, irritation creeping into $atheir expression as $athey turns to address you again. “With both $xdnickname and $xname here, you are more than well protected. It’s the citizens that need my attention, and my protection.” You’re taken aback at $atheir blunt tone. $cathey’s not taking any orders from you, nor bothering with any formalities in acknowledging your title. Perhaps the recent deference you’ve been shown from people has already been starting to become expected, and it feels jarring now to be addressed as an equal. “If that was all.” $cathey sweeps into a brief bow, turning around and walking off without waiting for dismissal. While Kaja looks a little wide-eyed at her captain’s bold disregard, you notice $dname looking at you, taking in the deep frown on your face. You can’t quite read what $dthey’s thinking, but when your gazes meet, $dname averts $dtheir eyes again toward the door where $aname just left. $cdthey doesn’t seem at all bothered by $aname’s display. “Well,” $xname says, looking thoroughly amused as $xthey flashes you a cheeky grin. “Good luck trying to order that one around, Your Imperial Majesty. I don’t imagine there’s a single person on earth who could make $athem kneel.” You wonder whether $aname’s boldness is due to being raised Crownsblood, or something innate to $athem. Either way, $athey has certainly made $atheir point, even if you don’t like it.<</if>><<else>>You meet $aname’s gaze, nodding to $athem. “Go on ahead. We’ll fill you in later.” $aname bows before you. “Majesty.” $cathey doesn’t waste any further time, turning around and leaving for the city; every moment counts, especially if whoever is behind this attack planned it to be a diversion. “Stay on your guard!” $xname calls out after $athem at the last moment, and you see $athem give a backwards wave before disappearing around the corner.<</if>> With that resolved, you and the others move on, continuing through the corridor to where the guards have moved the prisoner’s body. You pass by several doors leading to other rooms and side areas; they must have gone to great lengths to choose a secure location rather than one that was nearby. “Will we be able to discover any clues without a magus present?” $xname asks as you turn around the corner of the hallway, bringing you further away from the dungeons. “I don’t know about the rest of you, but I am not well-versed in warding magic.” You wonder how many times the architecture of the palace is shifting to accommodate you; the layout is impossible to remember. “There are several among the Imperial Guards who have studied at a School of Magic, Kaja being among them,” $dname answers, looking over to Kaja who manages a weak smile. “For now, she will suffice for an initial examination. We can bring in magi at a later date, when all of Rojan’s nobles aren’t present.” $xname concedes. “Point taken.” “Are soldiers often trained in magic?” you ask, partly out of curiosity, partly because you’re very much avoiding the increasing stress accumulating in your body as the night wears on. “Yes, they are typically instructed by a magus for combat purposes,” $dname answers, going along with your detour. “Most armies are structured based on the amount of inner and outer magic users among their soldiers, magus specialists, and those that don’t show any talent at all. Some soldiers may choose to further their studies to gain advanced knowledge, next to regular training. Kaja in particular has an aptitude for warding magic.” You look over to Kaja, but unlike her usual cheerful demeanor, she remains silent and looks straight ahead. She might not have even heard $dname; considering she blamed herself for the attack, no doubt she has other things on her mind rather than idle chatter. Kaja quietly leads you and the others to large double doors at the far end of the corridor. They are made of stone, nearly identical to the doors you saw leading to the bathing chambers underground, decorated with the same carvings of snakes blocking the pathway. Just as Siham did before, Kaja takes a stone tablet from a pouch around her belt, holding it against the sigil beside the doors. The snakes come to life with a loud rumble, eyes glowing gold as they shift out of the way, the doors swinging open. It looks to be a small, but extremely well-organized study. There are large bookcases spread along the walls, its books seeming to be grouped together based on a system of colors labeled onto the spines. There is a large table at the center holding a map of Arsur spread across it, this one marked extensively as well with small, carved wooden figures of snakes, lions, shirdal, wolves, and larger, giant serpents. There are color markings as well along various cities. Marabad and Zeratun, you notice, are both marked with black. Whoever owns this study, seeing the room is almost like a glimpse into their mind. You don’t think it’s $rname’s; $rtheir organized chaos isn’t marked in any visible way for the outside observer. “Are the bathing chambers really just as heavily secured as a room where we’ve stored an assassin’s body?” you remark as you enter the room. $dname gives you a quizzical look as the five of you spread around the study, the double doors slowly closing behind you again. “Where else would the Crown be more vulnerable, aside from your bedchamber?” You frown. “Have there been assassination attempts on the Crown while they’ve been bathing before?” “I wouldn’t be surprised if there have been, and that’s why they had to shore up security,” $xname says thoughtfully, meandering around the table to study Arsur’s map. “If I were an assassin, it could make for a promising opportunity. Bathing times tend to be routine, there’ll be less guards present due to privacy, and there are multiple ways to kill.” You, $dname and Kaja stare at $xname while Tûjo remains in the corner of the room, squinting his eyes. $cxthey doesn’t seem to notice as $xthey continues, “Poison in the bathwater could work just as well as a weapon, assuming you can access such a thing. Pay off a servant or two, maybe infiltrate the household staff yourself…” Finally, $xname lifts $xtheir head up to notice the gazes aimed at $xthem. “What?” $xthey says, arching $xtheir brows innocently. “I’m only pointing it out. Assassinations are not my preference; I’d rather have a good fight.” [[Continue|9.6a]]@@.chaptertitle;LESSONS IN THE CROWN'S DOMAIN@@ <blockquote><em>“It is better to have a wise enemy than a foolish friend.”</em> —<b>Crown Keybanû, 489 AE</b></blockquote> First, it must be understood that the totality of the Crown's Domain encompasses two different sections, each with their own factions: the Inner Court and the Outer Court. These terms are almost never used colloquially, rather they are the divide that the people within the Crown's Domain have established themselves. The system is informal, but a longlasting holdover from the way Ardian monarchs used to rule. The @@.stattext;<b>Inner Court</b>@@ encompasses the rooms occupied by the Crown on a more intimate basis, such as their bedchambers, bathrooms, dining halls, as well as the people who serve or join the Crown in these rooms. The Imperial Household, and its Imperial House, forms the Crown's Inner Court. The @@.stattext;<b>Outer Court</b>@@ refers to more public spaces, such as the throne rooms and the banquet halls where public servants and others will engage the Crown. In other words, the Outer Court encompasses <em>visible</em> politics; the nobles and elites who assist in governance and all their subordinates, better known as the Imperial Court. @@.footnote;<em>select the black/white titles to view further information</em>@@ @@.titlepurple3;THE IMPERIAL HOUSEHOLD, THE INNER COURT@@ <<click "@@.titleblacksmall;<b>THE IMPERIAL HOUSE</b>@@">><<toggleclass "#section1" "hidden">><</click>> <div id="section1" class="hidden">Aside from the Crowns that have reigned in history, their families, lovers, and friends are all part of the Imperial House. They do not earn any special authority merely by being related to the Crown, however, and if the Crown were to attempt to give them any it would cause scandal. It is different if they already possessed rank or authority prior to the Crown's ascendancy. Loved ones are formally titled @@.stattext;<b>Crownsblood</b>@@. Within the title, “blood” refers to an oath sworn by blood, not that of blood relation. Relatives through adoption are included, and many Crowns in the past have at times declared their closest friends as Crownsblood as well. In the case that a new Crown ascends the throne and Crownsblood from their predecessor remain, nothing changes: once declared Crownsblood, no one but the Crown who gave the title can take it away, not even their successor. As for the Crown's lovers, should they take up any, there is a distinction made between casual lovers, styled simply as royal concubines, while promised lovers of the Crown are titled officially as @@.stattext;<b>Jewels of the Crown</b>@@, seen as equal to Crownsblood. A royal concubine can always be made a Jewel and a Jewel can always be demoted at the Crown's whims. Much like Crownsblood, Jewels of the Crown do not have any authority to wield in governing. As a result the Imperial Court has no say in who the Crown takes as a Jewel, unless political implications would be severe, such as the Crown deciding to court a royal from a neighboring nation. If a Jewel had their own rank or title before being courted by the Crown, they maintain those after being made a Jewel. Generally, though, it is considered questionable or even wholly frowned upon if the Crown were to choose someone of the Imperial Court as their lover, due to possible biases and mismanagement that could cause.</div> <<click "@@.titleblacksmall;<b>COURTIERS</b>@@">><<toggleclass "#section2" "hidden">><</click>> <div id="section2" class="hidden">Seeing as the Crown’s main duties consist of governance of the Empire and managing their Imperial Court, they need someone to manage the household aspects on their behalf. This is where the @@.stattext;<b>Court Steward</b>@@ comes into play: they are tasked with overseeing an administrative department responsible for all the royal palaces and royal properties within the Empire, and they tend to the needs of both the Imperial Court as well as the servants. Food distribution, renovation, and the management of the Crown’s estate are their main duties. The Head Servants of each palace, such as Keko, are part of the Court Steward's department. While the Court Steward tends to the management of the Crown's household, the @@.stattext;<b>Royal Protector</b>@@ is in charge of the safety and security of that household. The Royal Protector personally guards the Crown's body, and they are in charge of the <b>Imperial Guards</b> who protect not only the Crown, but the entirety of their Inner Court. There is also the @@.stattext;<b>Royal Secretary</b>@@, who is in charge of more practical matters: planning out the Crown's daily agenda, and communicating to the Imperial Court or the Mîrs in the Crown's absence, is foremost of their duties. Aside from the Court Steward, the Royal Secretary and the Royal Protector, there is another essential position in the Crown's Inner Court. Considered the Crown's foremost advisor and companion, and their leading expert on matters of magic: @@.stattext;<b>The Crown's Sorcerer</b>@@.</div> <<click "@@.titleblacksmall;<b>LIST OF APPOINTED COURTIERS</b>@@">><<toggleclass "#section3" "hidden">><</click>> <div id="section3" class="hidden"><ul><li><b>Court Steward</b>: <<if $court is false>><span style="color:#d10000"><b>VACANT</b></span><<else>>Geşa Sheriqan<</if>></li><li><b>Royal Secretary</b>: <<if $court is false>><span style="color:#d10000"><b>VACANT</b></span><<else>>Felek Siyan<</if>></li><li><b>Royal Protector</b>: $aname Mirza</li><li><b>Crown’s Sorcerer</b>: $rtitle $rname</li></ul></div> @@.titlepurple3;THE IMPERIAL COURT, THE OUTER COURT@@ Aside from the Inner Court, there are of course the more political positions directly in charge of advising the Crown on matters of governance. @@.stattext;<b>Ministers of the Court</b>@@ are the most important figures, as heads of various bureaucratic offices heading different arms and departments of Arsur's central government. @@.titleblacksmall;LIST OF IMPERIAL COURT POSITIONS SO FAR@@ <<click "@@.titleblacksmall;<b>Descriptions of Court Positions</b>@@">><<toggleclass "#section4" "hidden">><</click>><div id="section4" class="hidden"><ul><li><b>Voice of the Crown</b>: The chief minister in charge, representing the Crown to the public as well as being the main liaison between the Crown and their Imperial Court. They are often a spokesperson for the concerns of the Court as well. <<if $court is false>><span style="color:#d10000"><b>VACANT</b></span><</if>></li><li><b>Minister of Law</b>: The head official in charge of advising the Crown on matters of legality and law, accompanied by several imperial judges at their court, usually chosen from noble families and given lifetime appointments.</li><li><b>Minister of Defense</b>: The head official in charge of advising the Crown on matters of defense. They are the administrative equivalent of the High General, and in charge of management and logistics for the Imperial Army. With the position unappointed, the current General has had to take over these duties. <<if $court is false>><span style="color:#d10000"><b>VACANT</b></span><</if>></li><li><b>High General</b>: Often times simply referred to as the General. The foremost military official in the Empire. All the commanders of the provincial armies are directly under their command, and they in turn report solely to the Crown. They work closely together with the Minister of Defense.</li><li><b>Wisdom of the Crown</b>: The chief official who heads a group of scholars and experts in various fields in order to advise the Crown. Their office may concern itself with anything ranging from agriculture, to infrastructure, to public health, and other such matters. Often works closely together with the Crown's Sorcerer when it concerns matters of magic. <<if $court is false>><span style="color:#d10000"><b>VACANT</b></span><</if>></li><li><b>Minister of Diplomacy</b>: The head official in charge of advising the Crown on matters of foreign relations, and representing the Crown to foreign monarchs. They head an office of ambassadors and dignitaries that will visit other nations on the Crown’s behalf. <<if $court is false>><span style="color:#d10000"><b>VACANT</b></span><</if>></li><li><b>Minister of Personnel</b>: The head official in charge of recruiting and appointing personnel to various court position in the Crown's name, as well as issuing official promotions, demotions or firings on behalf of other departments. <<if $court is false>><span style="color:#d10000"><b>VACANT</b></span><</if>></li><li><b>Minister of Imperial Decrees</b>: The head official in charge of issuing the Crown's decrees to the public and to officials. Court scribes and royal historians who record the Crown's daily activities are also under their command. <<if $court is false>><span style="color:#d10000"><b>VACANT</b></span><</if>></li><li><b>Minister of Correspondence</b>: Relays petitions from the public, as well as from stewards, to the Crown. They’re also responsible for communication between the various bureaucratic offices, and in charge of the Imperial Couriers. The couriers retrieve petitions for the Crown and deliver the Crown’s edicts and decrees all over the Empire. Their courier houses are located along the Crown’s Road, which connects the major cities and capitals of Arsur. <<if $court is false>><span style="color:#d10000"><b>VACANT</b></span><</if>></li><li><b>Representatives of the Mîrs</b>: They are mainly responsible for relaying the Mîrs' wishes or concerns to the Crown, as well as to attend Imperial Court meetings and communicating its happenings back to the Mîrs. <<if $court is false>>None of these have yet been appointed by the Mîrs.<</if>></li><li><b>Eyes of the Crown</b>: Representatives of the Crown and experts in judicial matters, attending each Mîr’s court and observing them to ensure they don’t overstep their lawful authority in making decisions. <<if $court is false>><span style="color:#d10000"><b>VACANT</b></span><</if>></li><li><b>Ears of the Crown</b>: Representatives of the Crown who act as inspectors of the state of affairs in each Mîr’s court. They make periodic, unexpected visits to the Mîrs and their administrators, and report any corruption or mismanagement back to the Crown. <<if $court is false>><span style="color:#d10000"><b>VACANT</b></span><</if>></li></ul></div> <<click "@@.titleblacksmall;<b>List of Appointed Officials</b>@@">><<toggleclass "#section5" "hidden">><</click>><div id="section5" class="hidden"><ul><li><b>Voice of the Crown</b>: <<if $court is false>><span style="color:#d10000"><b>VACANT</b></span><<else>>Karwan Feylî<</if>></li><li><b>Minister of Law</b>: <<if $law is true or $law is 'rejected' or $law is 'compromise'>>Besna Piran<</if>><<if $law is 'outwitted'>><<if $lawminister is 'nudem' or $lawminister is 'zar'>><<if $lawminister is 'nudem'>>Nûdem Sarshiv<</if>><<if $lawminister is 'zar'>>Zar Amar<</if>><<else>><span style="color:#d10000"><b>VACANT</b></span><</if>><</if>></li><li><b>Minister of Defense</b>: <<if $defenseappointed isnot true>><span style="color:#d10000"><b>VACANT</b></span><<else>><<if $nazaminister is true>>Naza Ishtal<<else>>Metin Balyan<</if>><</if>></li><li><b>High General</b>: <<if $dappointed is false>>$xdnickname Sîdar, not yet sworn in<<else>>$xdnickname Sîdar<</if>></li><li><b>Wisdom of the Crown</b>: <<if $court is false>><span style="color:#d10000"><b>VACANT</b></span><<else>>Senger Hesinan<</if>></li><li><b>Minister of Diplomacy</b>: <<if $court is false>><span style="color:#d10000"><b>VACANT</b></span><<else>>Ramyar Kelhûr<</if>></li><li><b>Minister of Personnel</b>: <<if $court is false>><span style="color:#d10000"><b>VACANT</b></span><<else>>Lerzan Lashani<</if>></li><li><b>Minister of Imperial Decrees</b>: <<if $court is false>><span style="color:#d10000"><b>VACANT</b></span><<else>>Awir Xastiyan<</if>></li><li><b>Minister of Correspondence</b>: <<if $court is false>><span style="color:#d10000"><b>VACANT</b></span><<else>>Çinar Omeran<</if>></li><li><b>Representatives of the Mîrs</b>: <<if $court is false>>Not yet appointed by the Mîrs<<else>>Appointed<</if>></li><li><b>Eyes of the Crown</b>: <<if $court is false>><span style="color:#d10000"><b>VACANT</b></span><<else>>Appointed<</if>></li><li><b>Ears of the Crown</b>: <<if $court is false>><span style="color:#d10000"><b>VACANT</b></span><<else>>Appointed<</if>></li></ul></div> <<back>><<if $rfriend is false>>[ <b>[[Romantic relationship|Relationships]] updated</b> ] <</if>><<if $loveinterest isnot 'D'>>$dname is the first to answer, $dtheir decisiveness helping you feel a little less like the entire night just spiraled utterly out of your control. Out of the others present, $dthey appears the calmest, a careful mask of neutrality on $dtheir face, reflected in $dtheir tone, “There was a breakout from the dungeons.”<<else>>$aname takes it upon $athemselves to answer, $atheir steady composure helping steady your own nerves around the disaster this night turned out to be. There is still a note of tension to $atheir tone, even quieter than usual, “There was a breakout from the dungeons of the palace.”<</if>> “From the dungeons?” Your gaze wanders the corridor, returning to the familiar stairs leading down on the left of you. The same ones you took days ago, you realize now, to deal with the prisoner that was captured during the assassination attempt in the tunnels. A sinking feeling settles in your stomach. “The prisoner?” you ask, and based on the grim looks and lingering silence you get as a response, you can already guess what happened. <<if $loveinterest is 'D' or $loveinterest is 'A' or $loveinterest is 'X'>> <<if $loveinterest is 'D'>>Beside you, $dname exhales a deep breath, closing $dtheir eyes and rubbing over $dtheir forehead with $dtheir fingers. The first crack in $dtheir composure as $dthey comes to the same realization as you: “They died trying to escape.” $aname gives a curt nod, <<if $blunt gt $charm>>and you barely stop yourself from cursing out loud<<else>>and for a rare moment, you feel like cursing out loud<</if>>.<</if>><<if $loveinterest is 'A'>>Beside you, $aname closes $atheir eyes, jaw clenching. A visible crack in $atheir composure as $athey infers the same thing as you: “I assume they were killed while attempting to escape.” “They were,” $dname confirms, <<if $blunt gt $charm>>and you barely stop yourself from cursing out loud<<else>>and for a rare moment, you feel like cursing out loud<</if>>.<</if>><<if $loveinterest is 'X'>>Beside you, $xname’s eyes narrow. The edge $xthey carries sharpens into a knife’s point as $xthey voices your own assumption: “They’re dead, aren’t they? Killed during the escape attempt?” $aname gives a cool nod, <<if $blunt gt $charm>>and you barely stop yourself from cursing out loud<<else>>and for a rare moment, you feel like cursing out loud<</if>>.<</if>> <<if $cs lte 3>>“Your Imperial Majesty,” Kaja cuts in, speaking reluctantly as she bends her head down low, <<if $cs lte 0>> her hands balled into fists at her sides, “I regret to inform you… that’s not the worst of it.”<<else>>“Unfortunately, that’s not all.”<</if>><</if>><</if>><<if $loveinterest is 'R'>>As much as you don’t want to hear it, there is only one thing that could deserve such a response from the others: “They were killed, weren’t they?” <<if $cs lte 3>>As the others exchange looks among each other, as if silently debating who is going to take the lead on this, Kaja is the one that answers you next. “Yes, but…” She looks reluctant to clarify,<<if $cs lte 0>> her hands balled into fists at her sides, <</if>>and bends her head down low. <<if $cs lte 0>>“That’s not the worst of it. My deepest apologies, Your Imperial Majesty. We’ve failed you.”<<else>>“Unfortunately, that’s not all.”<</if>><</if>><</if>><<if $cs gt 3>>“Thankfully, we all came away mostly unharmed,” Kaja adds, though she has a troubled frown on her face. Her phrasing doesn’t reassure you either.<</if>> <<if $cs lte 3>>Your eyes widen in alarm. “Kaja, what are you talking about?”<<else>>“What do you mean with <em>mostly</em>?”<</if>> <<if $cs lte 0>>[[Continue|9.3a]]<</if>><<if $cs gt 0 and $cs lte 3>>[[Continue|9.3b]]<</if>><<if $cs gt 3>>[[Continue|9.3c]]<</if>><<if $afriend is false>>[ <b>Romantic relationship updated</b> ] <</if>><<set $body to false>><<set $face to false>><<set $mask to false>>As you continue to look around the room your gaze falls on a door across from you, behind where $xname stands by the table, just over $xtheir shoulder. Its dark wood seems a stark contrast between the lighter, brighter color schemes you’ve come to expect from the palace’s interior; it seems to loom almost ominously from a distance. “Is that where the body is?” you ask. $dname follows your gaze to the door, then nods. “Are you comfortable seeing it?” “I will have to be.” You haven’t ever seen a body up close, but you’ve glimpsed corpses from a distance before. Ones placed upon Towers of Silence: raised, circular structures upon which bodies are placed after death, as feed for the vultures. Corpses are considered unclean, and cannot be exposed to the earth, water, or to fire, as it is thought by some that it will contaminate these sacred elements. Not everyone adheres to the practice. It is an older one that dates to rituals from the Monarchy of Ardia, as funeral pyres and burial mounds are also often used depending on one’s particular sect, or simply on the place where they live. Towers of Silence are often built away from towns, and for smaller villages it may be too long of a journey or too difficult to build a tower of their own, so they have other forms of funerals. Still, the practice is common enough to where you’re familiar with the sight of them. That doesn’t mean you’re entirely at ease with seeing a corpse up close, however. “Is this a study of some sort?” $xname asks out of the blue, having moved on from the table to now idly peruse the books lined along the walls. $dname frowns at $xthem. “It used to be Lady Zerya’s.” Ah, that explains a lot. You suppose Lady Zerya must have been the meticulous sort, at least in terms of her workspace; a habit that hadn’t been passed onto $rname, evidently. Slowly turning to $dname, an incredulous look on $xtheir face, $xname asks, “And why does Lady Zerya have a room connected to her study that is fit for storing bodies?” That is a rather valid question. Why <em>does</em> Lady Zerya have such a room? $dname rolls $dtheir eyes at $xname, opening the dark wood door. “It isn’t particularly meant to store bodies, but we’ve re-purposed it as such; it is one of the most secure places in the palace. Now, if you’re done looking for conspiracies and wasting time?” $cdthey turns to Tûjo, ignoring the way $xname scowls at $dthem. “You stay out here, in case an Imperial Guard needs to disturb us.” “Tûjo doesn’t answer to you,” $xname retorts, then turns to Tûjo and says, “You stay out here.” The glare $dname gives $xname is one of long-suffering irritation, but as $dthey opens $dtheir mouth to respond, $dthey notices your <<if $blunt gt $charm>>unamused<<else>>warning<</if>> look and averts $dtheir gaze again. “Let’s just go.” The last thing you need is for these two to continue bickering while you’re trying to examine the body. You walk around the table and follow after $dname, $xname and Kaja trailing along behind you as you enter the next room. Immediately, you are greeted with the eerie sight of the puzzle that awaits you. [[Continue|9.7a]]<<if $tempchoice is true>>Kaja looks conflicted, as if she wants to believe in what you’re saying, but feeling too guilty to accept your words fully. Being the only one left standing after the attack must weigh on her, and she hasn’t been an official Imperial Guard for very long either. This was, in essence, the first assignment you gave to her directly instead of one given by $aname. You can only imagine how ashamed you'd feel in her shoes, if your newly crowned ruler finally gave you your first task and it ended up a disaster. It might take her some time to accept that she wasn’t culpable. “The Crown is right,” $aname says, meeting Kaja’s eyes. “No one could have anticipated this. The prisoner was an empty shell; I can’t even figure out how they managed to break through the dungeon’s barriers. The mental ward placed upon their mind was somehow activated.”<<else>>Kaja lowers her eyes to the floor immediately. “I would never dare imply that Your Imperial Majesty is—” “Then <em>I</em> will say it,” you state, your tone brooking no further argument. “It was my decision to have Yekbûn escorted out with you and Ezo, and it was my responsibility to decide on the amount of security present.” If anything, you are more responsible than a lone guard who was caught by surprise. For whatever Kaja’s failings, it cannot compare to yours, but punishing yourself for it won’t do anyone any good. You hope Kaja will realize the same about herself, as well. “The Crown is right,” $aname says, meeting Kaja’s eyes. “We can only learn from this and try to do better in the future. The prisoner was an empty shell; I can’t even figure out how they managed to break through the dungeon’s barriers. The mental ward placed upon their mind was somehow activated.”<</if>> “That is a good question,” you add, your head already feeling full with tension. “The prisoner broke out and attacked...<<if $loveinterest is 'R' or $loveinterest is 'A'>> How? I thought their mind was gone.<</if>>” <<if $loveinterest is 'D'>> “How is that possible?” $dname says, voicing the question in your head as $dthey looks toward the dungeon’s stairs.<</if>><<if $loveinterest is 'X'>> “The allegedly empty-headed prisoner without a single trace of their spirit left in their body,” $xname says, just as incredulous as you at the mere idea. “How?”<</if>> <<if $loveinterest isnot 'D'>>“We don’t know yet,” $dname says, seeming frustrated with that fact as $dthey folds $dtheir hands behind $dtheir back. “Both $rtitle $rname as well as magi specialized in warding magic made sure to study the prisoner, to ensure something like this wouldn’t happen, but…” “But?” $dname appears reluctant to admit it: “No one has seen this kind of mental ward before.”<<else>>“We’re not sure,” $aname says, trying to keep $atheir expression neutral, but the wrinkle between $atheir brows and the firm set of $atheir jaw betrays $atheir frustration. “$rname and scholars from the school studied the prisoner to make sure it would be safe, but this kind of mental ward… it’s unprecedented.” That’s not very reassuring.<</if>> <<if $intel gt $intu>>“Is it possible that the mental ward was activated from a distance?” you ask, thoughts racing as you try to understand what exactly went wrong. It's easier to focus on finding a solution to a puzzle; you've always had a talent for that. $dname and $aname glance at each other, a wordless conversation taking place between them until $dname turns to you again to answer, “Ordinarily, I would say no. The barriers in the dungeons that block the cells are designed specifically to prevent such connections to the outside.<<if $loveinterest isnot 'D'>> We also could not find any evidence of tampering with the barriers.”<<else>>” “There aren't any signs of tampering with the barriers either,” $aname adds. “We’ve gone over them.”<</if>> You take a breath, trying to remember what your father taught you about warding. All you can recall are the basics, as it wasn’t his specialty. Wards govern the realm of space. They can sever it, protect it, filter out certain elements, purposefully draw in others, or simply control whatever is in the designated space—in the prisoner’s case, their mind. Wards are formed by sigils, and sigils are created from a user’s magic; sigils are essentially the language that wards speak. They can be placed on a location or an object, or even a person. By placing a ward on the prisoner’s mind, it made a puppet out of them, under the control of an unseen master, but— A thought occurs to you. “Wards don’t need a constant connection to their wielder to activate,” you remember, the realization striking you like a simple yet plainly obvious answer. “You can create functions that will trigger later on, when certain conditions are met, without the wielder needing to be present or bound to the ward.” $xname seems the first to pick up where you’re going with this. <<else>>“And no one else has had contact with the prisoner during that time?” you ask, trying to get a better grasp on the situation. The theoretics of magic was never an area that interested you much, but you have a talent for asking the right questions to get you to the answer. It's an easy diversion from having to face your own failures in this situation. $dname and $aname glance at each other at your question, a wordless conversation taking place between them until $aname turns to you again to answer, “No. We made certain to have Imperial Guards accompany every magi who examined the prisoner. Beyond them, the only other person to see them was $rtitle $rname, and $rthey didn't notice anything amiss either.” You frown deeply, faced with a conundrum. In cases like these it's best to return to the fundamentals, and try to work things out from there. “Remind me, how do wards function, exactly? Their basic principles.” To your surprise, it's Kaja who has a ready answer. “Wards are spacial magic, formed by sigils, which are powered by someone's magic. They can assign a function to a space, such as a boundary ward that prevents someone from crossing a certain threshold. They can also be used on objects, such as on garments to protect them from staining, or... on people, evidently.” “Which is what happened with the mental ward,” you reason out. “The prisoner's mind had a ward placed upon it, with conditions attached. How do conditions function? Are there limits on what kind of conditions you can place?” “As long as it doesn't conflict with natural law, there are many kinds of conditions you can place,” Kaja answers thoughtfully. “Wards can't create things, for example. They only work with what is already present in the designated space. If the ward has multiple conditions, these also should not conflict with each other, or the ward will malfunction. Also, the more a ward is used, the more magic its sigils will use up. The creator of the ward will want to replenish it every so often, especially if the ward is used from a—” From a distance. “That's it!” Your sudden interruption startles Kaja, who nearly jumps at your exclamation, she and $dname staring at you in bemusement. “The creator of the prisoner's metal ward must have written multiple conditions into it, and stored enough magic for it to trigger later on.” $aname and $xname also seem to have realized it at the same time as you. $xname quickly adds on: <</if>>“When they realize they’ve failed the mission, the ward activates. When you try to remove their mask, the ward activates. So, there was another condition that activated the ward tonight, and took control of the prisoner, helping them to break out. Maybe even directing them to target Yekbûn specifically.” Tonight would have been the best moment for it: the palace's usual defenses were lowered in certain corridors and hallways, to allow for many guests to enter without the palace leading them astray within its maze. The timing of it cannot have been a coincidence. “Multiple conditions?” $aname repeats. “In a single ward, a <em>mental</em> ward, at that? That’s unheard of; the complexity and amount of magic that would require is far more likely to backfire.” “Just because it hasn’t been done before, doesn’t mean that it’s impossible.” “Even so, it doesn’t explain how they managed to breach the dungeon’s barriers,” $dname points out, the only gap in your explanation that you can’t quite fill up. You turn to <<if $loveinterest is 'D' or $loveinterest is 'A'>>$aname as well as $dname, as you figure they must know the most about these barriers<<else>>$aname and $dname, hoping they can tell the more about these barriers<</if>>. “How do the dungeon’s barriers function, usually?” $dname looks to $aname, deferring to $athem to answer as $aname would likely know more about the magic behind it. $aname is silent for a short while, and for the first time, you see a deeply troubled look on $atheir face. $cathey seems lost in thought, before $athey finally meets your gaze and says: “Their condition is to block magic from passing through.” “But the mental ward,” you say, cutting in. “That is magic, is it not? How did the prisoner manage to pass through the barrier?” “The mental ward was stored in their mask,” $aname answers. “And their mask was left behind in their prison cell. Somehow, the prisoner took it off, likely after the ward imprinted a directive into them, and… managed to pass through the barriers unscathed.” That seems impossible. Magic is infused in everyone, <em>everything</em>, down to the very bones. It’s the world’s lifeblood, a cosmic energy that holds reality intact. There should be no such thing as a body without magic, even after death. So how did the prisoner escape? You look at the others. “Take me to the body.” [[Continue|9.5a]] The body sits at the center of the room on a stone platform that looks suspiciously like an altar of some sort. The grey slab of stone has sigils carved along its rim that glow a bright green, overpowering the torchlight and coloring the rest of the room in its eerie glow. The prisoner is still dressed head to toe in the same black robes and trousers you saw them in when they tried to assassinate you days ago. The only difference is that, instead of wearing a mask, their face is covered with a white sheet. Their mask lays beside their head on the stone altar. Aside from the altar, the rest of the room is incredibly bare. There are more shelves along the walls lined with books, as well as various stone minerals and gems in differing shapes and colors. On another shelf you find jars of neatly labeled herbs and liquids. These shelves remind you of Perjin’s shop, almost like an alchemist’s workplace. That aside, the walls lack windows, and in terms of furniture there is only a worktable in the corner: it holds a wooden mortar and pestle, as well as an iron pot sitting on top of a heating stone inscribed with a sigil for fire, likely to brew potions in. There are still many empty and half-filled glass bottles sorted neatly along the desk, as well as a small bundle of flowers. “It’s barred off?” $xname says as $xthey studies the altar, $xtheir remark pulling your gaze away from the table. “There’s a barrier around the altar,” you reply, pointing to the sigils, being able to read a few of them. “It doesn’t appear to let anything through, though I thought there’d at least be a smell.” “Corpses don’t start smelling until their innards begin to rot,” $xname replies offhandedly. “That usually takes at least a day in most cases. How are we supposed to examine, then?” You stare at $xname; between $xtheir impromptu assassination plan and knowledge of corpse decomposition, you’re getting to see a whole new side of $xthem. “I had no idea you could be so morbid.” $xname gives you an amused look, shrugging casually. “You pick up on these things in my line of work.” <<if $loveinterest isnot 'D'>>“We can dispel the barrier,” $dname says to answer $xname’s question, taking out a small, round stone tablet glowing with a similar green sigil. “Master Keko gave this to me, though I’m not entirely sure how it works. I assume it’s the same as a key.” “It is.” You hold out your hand. “Allow me?” $dname looks reluctant. “Magic can be unpredictable…” “General, it’s a corpse,” you point out. “It’s not going to hurt me.” <<if $loveinterest is 'X'>>“I’ll protect $name if something happens,” $xname adds, but there is none of $xtheir usual mischief to be found as $xthey briefly meets your eyes. $cxthey’s entirely serious, stepping a little closer to you near the head of the altar. “But I don’t sense anything dangerous; it should be safe.” <<if $res gt $flirt>>A flush of warmth beneath your skin rises to your face, one you ignore; it’s not the appropriate time when you’re standing in front of a stranger’s corpse.<<else>>You feel a glow of warmth in your chest, but choose to ignore it; it’s not the appropriate time when you’re standing in front of a stranger’s corpse.<</if>> Still, you feel better with $xthem near. “See?” you say to $dname. “Even $xname says so.” Reluctantly placated, $dname hands the stone tablet over. “What, no grumbling about me using $their name?” $xname says, a small touch of lighthearted teasing. “It’s not my place, clearly,” $dname replies, giving you a glance you’re not sure how to interpret.<<else>>Finally, $dname hands it over.<</if>><<else>>“Master Keko gave me this to dispel the barrier,” Kaja says to answer $xname’s question, taking out a small, round stone tab glowing with a similar green sigil. “May I have it?” you say, holding out your hand, and Kaja hands it over. “Are we sure that’s safe?” $dname says, frowning deeply. “Perhaps you should let Kaja do it.” “$dname, it’s a corpse,” you point out. “It’s not going to hurt me.” “If anything happens, you can simply protect your dear Crown, can you not?” $xname says to $dname, a knowing look in $xtheir eyes as $xthey grins at the general. $dname doesn’t rise to $xtheir bait, replying curtly, “Prevention would be preferable.” The blunt retort makes you frown, and you feel disappointed at $dtheir easy dismissal. You realize it’s not the appropriate time for such things, and it is better to separate personal feelings from the task at hand—but is it unreasonable of you to still feel a sting at $dtheir words? Pushing the feeling aside, you try to refocus.<</if>> You look at the sigil carved on it, four lines crossed diagonally with a dot in each of its inner corners. Searching for its match along the table, you finally find it carved at the head of the stone altar, right beneath where the prisoner’s body has laid its head. Seeing a corpse hasn’t disturbed you as much as you thought it might. Their face is still covered; not having to see their face is making it easier. You can almost pretend it isn’t a person at all. Just a large doll, in the shape of a human but devoid of a spirit. It has already left this body. You press the stone key to its matching sigil, and a flash of purple streaks through the air, briefly illuminating the invisible barrier before it fades away. As you remain standing at the head of the altar, peering down at the body, Kaja and $dname stand on your right and $xname walks around the altar to stand on your left, the three of them facing the body as well. Now, where to start? <ul class="a"> <li>[[The mask.|9.8a.1]]</li> <li>[[The face.|9.8a.2]]</li> <li>[[The body.|9.8a.3]]</li> </ul><<set $mask to true>>You look down at the prisoner’s mask, removed from their face now that they’ve died. It seems unremarkable at first glance: it is an oddly smooth, pure black surface, molded to fit their features. There are only two small holes for the eyes, and nothing else. “Is it safe to touch?” you ask Kaja. “Not with your bare hands, Your Imperial Majesty.” She picks up the mask with her gloved fingers, turning it over to reveal the inside. It is silver, every inch of it carved with many rows of sigils patterned in a whirlpool that glow a very faint white light, its center-point seeming to be the spot between where the prisoner’s eyebrows would be. “The touch of skin could be dangerous, in case your magic should accidentally connect to the mental ward.” You certainly wouldn’t want <em>that</em> to happen. “What else can you tell me about how this mental ward functions?” “As mentioned before, the mental ward is located in the prisoner’s mask,” Kaja explains, pointing to the swirl of sigils glowing an ominous pale light. “When you put the mask on, the mental ward within the mask will connect to your mind. The ward itself is the kind of ward that can store things within it.” She looks up to meet your eyes. “<<if $intel gt $intu>>If what you suggested earlier is true, Your Imperial Majesty, then there are<<else>>Based on what we’ve deduced about how the ward works so far, there must be<</if>> commands already stored within the mental ward. These were then transferred to the prisoner’s mind when certain conditions were met.” You have to admit, you’re impressed with Kaja’s display of knowledge. While you knew $aname wouldn’t recruit anyone incompetent, due to her and Ezo’s playful antics part of you might have underestimated them both. “So, to summarize,” $xname says, gaze trailing over the prisoner’s cloth-covered face, “the mental ward in the prisoner’s mask was triggered. It likely commanded the prisoner to take their mask off, break out of the prison cell, and… attack the scholar?” $cxtheir sentence ends in a tentative question, and $xthey looks at you. “Do you think it was a purposeful attack?” “Yes.” At least on this, you don’t have to hesitate. “Yekbûn knew too much for it to be a coincidence. Besides which, why would the mental ward order the prisoner to attack a random passerby?” $dname lets out a deep exhale, crossing $dtheir arms as $dthey peers down at the mask. “While I don’t understand much about magic, the implication here is that anyone who wears such a mask becomes a puppet, controlled from afar without even a direct connection to their puppeteer. How do we trace this kind of magic back to its source?” “It would be difficult, but not impossible,” Kaja responds, a thoughtful look on her face. “There is still magic stored within this mask. A skilled enough specialist in magical signatures could identify the signature that created this mask—the provincial Schools of Magic keep records of their students and their magical affinities and signatures. There is a high chance that whoever created this mental ward graduated from a school like that.” “But we don’t know which school,” $dname points out. “It could be any single one of the five provinces, even as far away as Şevan—it could take <em>months</em> before we hear back from them. Not to mention the risk of divulging such sensitive knowledge. For all we know, the magus responsible for this could be attending or teaching at one of these schools.” “If nothing else, it’s an option,” you consider. <<if $body is true and $face is true>>You’ve found out all you can; it’s time to figure out your next move. [[Continue|9.9a]]<</if>><<if $body is false and $face is true>>With both the mask and the prisoner’s face examined, all there is left now is the body. [[Continue|9.8a.3]]<</if>><<if $body is true and $face is false>>With both the mask and the prisoner’s body examined, all there is left now is the face. [[Continue|9.8a.2]]<</if>><<if $body is false and $face is false>>There are still the prisoner’s face and body to examine; perhaps those can offer you more clues and avenues of investigation. <ul class="a"> <li>[[Examine the body next.|9.8a.3]]</li> <li>[[Examine the face next.|9.8a.2]]</li> </ul><</if>><<set $face to true>><<if $loveinterest isnot 'A'>>This will probably be the least pleasant part of the examination; you can still very much recall the scent of burned flesh when you saw the mask activate on the other assassin that chased you down in the tunnels. The sounds of the muffled screaming as they clawed at the mask, burning the flesh from their face, the trail of thin smoke rising from beneath together with the <em>stench</em>— You close your eyes, willing the memories away before you start feeling nauseous. “$name?” $xname asks as you breathe through it. “Feeling alright?” <<if $blunt gt $charm>>“Fine.” You open your eyes again, staring down at the white cloth draped over the prisoner’s face. “Remove it.”<<else>>“No, but you already knew that,” you say as you open your eyes again, managing a wry smile. Your then gaze falls on the white cloth covering the prisoner’s head. “Can I see their face?”<</if>><<else>>You consider the prisoner's face, hidden behind a simple white sheet. It looks unassuming enough, probably put there out of a customary respect for the dead. “Can we lift the veil so I can see their face?”<</if>> “Are you sure?” $dname asks, exchanging a glance with $xname. “There might not be anything to learn here. From what we could tell, removing the mask was a painful process: it seemed to have been glued to the prisoner’s face.” Your eyes flit to the mask. <<if $mask is true>>The inside of it looked pristine, but from what $dname is describing…<<else>>From what $dname is describing…<</if>> “You mean their skin was…?” “Ripped off, yes.” That certainly doesn’t help your lingering nausea. “That’s… going to make identifying them difficult. But you’re right, it’s not something I need to see.” Mostly because you’re not certain if you could keep the contents of your stomach from rising up to your throat—best not to think of it, even. “There could be other ways to identify them,” $dname says, eyes trailing over the corpse in consideration. “We have their body, even if their mind <<if $body is true>>and spirit are<<else>>is<</if>> destroyed; there are magi who are adept at tracking the places an object, or in this case, a body has been.” “Even if we do find out where the body has been,” $xname remarks, “that doesn’t necessarily mean that we’ll be lead back to whoever put this mask on them. A magus who is <em>this</em> skilled in crafting a mental ward wouldn’t recklessly leave traces of themselves behind.” “Still, it’s a possible path to take,” you say, considering it. It is not a method of magic you’ve heard of before. “What kind of discipline does this sort of magic fall under?” When you look at $dname, $dthey appears exasperated. “Please don’t ask me. I’ve memorized any useful theory purely for practical reasons; I don’t know the specifics of how it all works.” “I believe it falls under divination, Your Imperial Majesty,” Kaja answers helpfully. That explains your lack of knowledge on it; your father was never very fond of divination. He often called it superstitious, as much of divination relies on the diviner’s interpretation. There is no one who can predict the future with complete certainty, no matter how skilled a magus they are. The future was to be considered the realm of the Major Spirits, in your father’s opinion. He was always far more interested in puzzling out the divine, rather than mortal minds. Even so, there are still some basics he taught you about the discipline, enough that you are aware of its fundamentals. “Isn’t divination mainly used to foretell future events?” you ask, remembering your visit to the Sky Temple earlier and seeing its artificial sky spread out above you. Divining the stars is one of the oldest and well-known methods, one often reserved for royalty, but you can’t imagine it helping you trace the tracks of a single body. “Yes,” Kaja agrees, “but by knowing someone’s future, it is possible to retrace their steps in order to divine their past.” One’s future certainly doesn’t get any clearer than when they’re a corpse. “Well, I’m glad at least one of us is educated,” $xname quips, drawing a glare from $dname. “I <em>was</em> educated, just not in magic.” “Ask a magus and they’d say there isn’t a difference.” $dname rolls $dtheir eyes but doesn’t contradict $xname, returning $dtheir attention to the body. “In any case, this reinforces our findings that whoever this person was, there wasn’t anything left of their mind<<if $body is true>> and spirit<</if>> when the mental ward was placed on them. I cannot think of anyone who could so easily rip their own skin off their body, let alone be able to attack another afterwards.” You look over at Kaja, whose gaze has turned distant. Being targeted by masked assailants is one thing; someone with their face torn from them, attacking you as if they’re possessed? You can’t imagine it. <<if $kind gt $calc>>Your brows furrow with concern as you continue to watch Kaja. “It must’ve been a horrible sight.” Kaja looks up at you, a pained look passing over expression as she averts her eyes from you again. “I’ve seen worse, Your Imperial Majesty. I’ll be alright.”<<else>>Still, Kaja used to be a soldier, even if she did end up pushed into the Imperial Guard. You don’t believe she would crumble that easily, though you <em>do</em> need her to be focused. “Do you need some time off after this?” you ask her, and she looks up at you with surprise. “No!” Determination hardens in her expression. “I want to- I <em>have</em> to help you catch whoever did this. I can handle myself.”<</if>> While you’re not entirely convinced, it’s not the time and place to get into it. You return your gaze to the body lying in front of you. <<if $body is true and $mask is true>>You’ve found out all you can; it’s time to figure out your next move. [[Continue|9.9a]]<</if>><<if $body is false and $mask is true>>With both the mask and the prisoner’s face examined, all there is left now is their body. [[Continue|9.8a.3]]<</if>><<if $body is true and $mask is false>>With both the face and the prisoner’s body examined, all there is left now is the mask. [[Continue|9.8a.1]]<</if>><<if $body is false and $mask is false>>There are still the prisoner’s mask and body to examine; perhaps those can offer you more clues and avenues of investigation. <ul class=”a”> <li>[[Examine the body next.|9.8a.3]]</li> <li>[[Examine the mask next.|9.8a.1]]</li> </ul><</if>><<set $body to true>>“Is it safe to examine their body?” you ask, looking between $xname and Kaja as they’re the most adept magic users present. “The mental ward seems to have been neutralized after the attack,” Kaja answers. She points to the mask. “It is still present in the mask, but with it now removed, there are no further commands embedded inside the prisoner, as far as I could tell.” “Even if there were,” $xname says, “they’re now dead. So, unless death magic is involved, I don’t see anything posing a risk.” “If I may, Your Imperial Majesty.” Kaja looks down at the prisoner’s arm, seeming fixated on something. “There’s something I noticed when they attacked us. I’d like to roll up their sleeve.” Curiosity piqued, you nod. “Go ahead.” Kaja reaches out, hesitating a moment as her hands hover over the prisoner’s wrist. A scowl deepens on her face, and without further delay, she rolls up the fabric of the prisoner’s sleeve. The skin revealed beneath is nothing like what you expected. Veins of white streak over their forearm like lightning branded on their body. Kaja’s eyes widen in surprise as she slowly tugs the prisoner’s glove off as well while the rest of you lean in to look more closely. The white lines continue here as well. When Kaja turns their hand over, you see a large, white dot on the center of their palm, as well as similar dots on all of their fingertips. “Their magic pathways are marked,” Kaja says with a start. “Or… scarred? Pale Sword, can you—” “Already looking,” $xname says, rolling up the sleeve of the prisoner’s other arm and pulling the glove off their hand. It is the same here as well, the same irregular patterns that lead into the dots on their palm and fingertips. “What does this mean?” $dname asks, looking among the three of you. “Why would their magic pathways be made visible?” $cdtheir confusion is understandable, and equal to yours; using magic ordinarily should never leave marks on your skin like this. Magic pathways are unique to each individual, differing in size and length and position depending on the way it is used. The only consistency among <em>some</em> magi are the common exit-points for magic on the body: the hands. You struggle to understand what this means, reasoning out loud: “Inner magic types who often push the magic within their body outwards are sometimes known to have marks like these dots. My mother had them on her dominant hand, but they’re usually very faint. I’ve also never heard of magic showing up in these veins. This is…” Frowning deeply, you reach out with your fingers, not touching the prisoner’s skin but hovering over it. There’s nothing left, no trace of heat, not even a spark of magic. It’s as if the body was drained completely. You look at $xname, who is doing the same thing across the table, ghosting $xtheir fingers over the scars, toward the prisoner’s hand. A grave expression darkens $xtheir gaze. “There is nothing,” $xname says, meeting your gaze. “No magic. Their pathways weren’t just marked, they were destroyed.” This person was made someone else’s puppet in much more horrifying ways than you first assumed. Their mind was erased, their body moving to another’s commands, and their magic pathways destroyed—it is a violation in every possible aspect. You feel sick just thinking about it. “There can’t be <em>no magic</em>,” $dname says incredulously. “Even corpses still have magic. There must be traces of their spirit to be found.” “But it would explain how they would’ve been able to pass through the barrier, wouldn’t it?” Kaja points out, arms folding in a gesture of discomfort. “If they had no magic.” A troubled silence stretches out among the four of you, each of your gazes aimed at the body lying on the stone altar like an omen of things to come. It seems an impossibility, yet there is no other way to explain how the prisoner could’ve possibly escaped, but the implications of there being something in existence—especially a human body, one that was <em>alive</em>—without any magic within it are too great to fully wrap your mind around it. “There is one way to find out,” $xname says quietly, breaking the silence. <<if $loveinterest is 'X'>><<if $xpoints lte 14>><<set $xrelationship to 'low'>><<set $xlowcount to 1>>“No.” The word leaves your mouth before you even consider $xtheir proposition: $xthey wants to study the body $xthemselves, to try and sense for any magic. “It’s too dangerous. We can have magi look at the body instead.” $xname meets your eyes with a deep frown. “You would trust magi from the school to keep their mouths shut about such a finding?” “They’re better equipped than you are,” you argue, and now $xname looks annoyed, $xtheir gaze sharpening with warning. “Don’t underestimate me, and <em>don’t</em> tell me what to do.” You know you shouldn’t have phrased it that way, and it would be better to tell $xname that you’re concerned for $xtheir safety—but <em>why</em> does $xthey insist on defying you like this to begin with? You are not Crown Piruz, you should get some the benefit of the doubt, yet $xthey refuses to give it to you. It was the same during $xtheir fight with Mîr Behram; $xthey does what $xthey wants, consequences be damned. $cxthey has always had $xtheir own motivations, after all. Your jaw clenches. “Are you forgetting who you’re talking to?” The tension between you is palpable, almost jarring considering the unexpectedly intimate moment you shared in the sitting room before. It seems that as soon as you are reminded of your respective positions, things get more complicated than they should. $dname cuts in, looking between you and $xname, $dtheir tone one that is neutral yet also matter-of-fact: “$xname’s suggestion has merit, Your Imperial Majesty. Merely sensing for traces of magic shouldn’t be as dangerous as trying to connect to it, which is what $aname attempted to do.”<<else>><<set $xrelationship to 'high'>><<set $xhighcount to 1>>You hate the suggestion before $xname can even fully voice it, the reluctance in your words reflecting as much: “You want to try and sense magic from the body?” “It’ll be a challenge, but I know how to be cautious.” $xname’s eyes lower, trailing over the veins of lightning on the body’s still exposed arms. “I won’t try to connect to anything, like $aname did last time. Besides which, my mental defenses are better than most.” “It would be wiser than entrusting the body to magi from the school,” $dname considers, though $dthey looks uncertain as well as $dthey addresses $xname, “Are you confident that you can do so safely?” $xname appears thoughtful, considering $dname’s question. “There’s danger, of course. There <em>could</em> still be residual commands left in the body that Kaja could not uncover, but it seems unlikely that merely trying to sense the presence of magic could trigger anything. If you ask me, the risk is worth it.” $cxthey meets your eyes, no doubt being able to sense your hesitance. “You hired me to keep you safe, didn’t you? This is one way for me to do that. Let me help.” With $xname, there are always questions in the back of your mind about $xtheir motivations. $cxthey has told you about $xtheir family’s history with Crowns and Mîrs in the past, though $xthey hasn’t yet illuminated the role the Followers of Vidarna played in that. Still, if the Followers are connected to this, as you all suspect, then there’s no doubt $xname is motivated by a personal grudge. The decision that lies in front of you now is whether you are still willing to give $xthem your trust, even while so much about $xthem is a mystery to you. “Alright.” It feels like a leap of faith you’re taking, in more ways than one, but despite $xname’s own motivations you don’t believe $xthem to be malicious, or self-centered. This will benefit you both, if $xthey succeeds. “Try it, but be careful.” A flicker of surprise flits by on $xname’s face, before $xthey grins, $xtheir typical nonchalance returning. “Your Imperial Majesty, I am <em>always</em> careful.” You snort. “Of course.”<</if>><<else>>You consider $xname’s suggestion. “You want to try and sense magic from the body?” “I won’t try to connect to anything, like $aname did.” $xname’s eyes lower, trailing over the veins of lightning on the body’s still exposed arms. “Besides which, my mental defenses are better than most.” “It would be wiser than entrusting the body to magi from the school,” $dname considers, though $dthey looks uncertain as well as $dthey addresses $xname, “Are you confident that you can do so safely?” $xname appears thoughtful, considering $dname’s question. “There’s danger, of course. There <em>could</em> still be residual commands from the mental ward left in the body, but it seems unlikely that merely trying to sense the presence of magic could trigger anything dangerous. If you ask me, the risk is worth it.” If $xname is that confident in being able to do it, then you see no reason to decline. The quicker you can confirm what’s going on with this body, the better. “Alright, give it a try.” $xname smiles wryly, though the humor of it doesn’t quite reach $xtheir eyes. “If anything happens to me, tell Heval that I was the one that stole their whetstone.” “Nothing is going to happen to you,” $dname replies with exasperated irritation, but the way $dthey says it, $dtheir words sound almost like a reassurance—either to $dthemselves or to $xname—more than simply a statement of fact.<</if>> Turning to the corpse, the rest of you watch as $xname redirects $xtheir attention to the body. The tension rises into the air, the silence of anticipation giving it a heavy weight. There are as many things that could go wrong as they could go right. You hope it’ll be the latter. $xname takes a quiet, steady breath, the shine of focus glazing over $xtheir eyes as $xthey reaches out a hand. $cxtheir palm curls around the body’s wrist, where the pale white scars of their magic pathways crisscross over the green-tinged veins still visible beneath their skin. Nothing happens, at first. [[Continue|9.8a.3.2]] <<if $xfriend is false>>[ <b>[[Romantic relationship|Relationships]] updated</b> ] <</if>>The four of you fall silent now that the examination has been completed, no doubt each of you pondering all that you’ve discovered so far. Whatever is going on with the body was certainly the most illuminating—and most troubling—finding so far. Unfortunately, it doesn’t offer much in terms of finding out who is behind this. Whoever it is, they’re even more powerful than you first assumed. How did they manage to put the Void itself into someone’s body? Trigger it on command to consume the assassin’s spirit? Terrifying implications aside, to uncover the culprit behind all this, you could use divination on the body to try and uncover where the prisoner has been before they were caught trying to assassinate you. With some luck, it could help identify the prisoner. It’s unlikely it’ll lead directly to the magus responsible, but it would be a start. There’s also the mask to consider. While identifying the magic signature that forms the mental ward could lead directly to its creator, it could be a longer process, and one that would be difficult to keep quiet. There’s the risk that the magus could be tipped off to your investigation. “Any thoughts?” $xname asks, the first to break the silence. “Only unpleasant ones,” $dname replies, then sighs. “We should get $rtitle $rname and $aname’s opinions as well, but as far as I can see it, we have two options: identify the body, or identify the magic signature. I’m certain they would agree as well.” Much the same as what you thought. “Won’t the…” You pause, trying to find the right phrasing for what happened to $xname, “…lack of magic in the body form a problem, if we’re going to try divination?” You look to Kaja, who appears uncertain. “I must admit, I’m not sure, Your Imperial Majesty. If the body lacks magic… but then again, we would be looking for the body’s past, not its present or future.” “We should prioritize whichever approach you think is wise, Your Imperial Majesty,” $dname adds as you consider your next course of action. “The other option can function as an alternative if the first doesn’t work. If we inquire about the magic signature, it will take many people to get it done, not to mention keep it hidden. If we divine the body’s past instead, results could be more immediate, but also unpredictable; we need to be prepared for anything.” You nod, taking out the stone tablet to reactivate the barrier around the body again as you think. What would be wisest? <ul class="a"> <li>[[Use divination to reveal the body’s past.|9.10a][$divination to true]]</li> <li>[[Search the schools for the magical signature that created the mask.|9.10a][$divination to false]]</li> </ul> You exchange a glance with $dname who seems to share your uncertainty; $dthey looks uncomfortable, shifting in place and folding $dtheir hands around $dtheir back as if to stop from fidgeting. In matters of magic, $dname can’t do anything to help, and you imagine doubly so for inner magic like this. $xname doesn’t so much as move for what feels like hours. The look of concentration remains on $xtheir face, which you assume is a sign of it going well, until cracks start to show in $xtheir expression. It comes slowly, gradually. Brows drawing together into a wrinkle, a small twitch that lifts them, a long pause, and then a scowl. $cxtheir lips thin into a tense line, the skin around the corner of $xtheir jaw shifting with the flex of muscle clenching it tightly, held there for what feels like an eternity, until something breaks. $cxtheir eyes go wide, the blacks of them swallowing up the green, lips parting into a slit and nostrils flaring as $xtheir breaths become shallower, quicker— In a single moment, all the air is sucked out of the room. You double over against the altar in shock, gasping but finding nothing for your lungs to inhale. It is not even comparable to being underwater, because even then there is water to swallow down—here and now, there is <em>nothing</em>. Suffocating emptiness. Beside you, Kaja grasps at her throat in an instinctive panic, and $dname is wild-eyed, reaching for the handle of $dtheir sword strapped to $dtheir hip as if $dthey could physically fight whatever is causing this. $cdthey stares at $xname in alarm, opening $dtheir mouth to speak or to call out to $xthem, but no sound comes out. $xname looks frozen, hand still pressed against the body’s wrist. You reach across the altar and snatch $xtheir arm, yanking $xthem towards you with all your might. $xname offers no resistance, pulled violently in your direction, $xtheir hand ripped from the body’s wrist. It is as if the room itself breathes a sigh, and just as suddenly as it disappeared, the air returns. $xname collides into you<<if $height is 'short' or $height is 'very short'>> and with your short stature you’re unable to carry $xtheir weight. You topple over to the floor onto your behind with $xname falling sideways onto you, knocking the newly recovered air from your lungs. $dname and Kaja rush to your side. You grit your teeth through the fall; it was harsh, but not particularly painful, and you wave a hand to Kaja to let her know as much. Rather, your attention is on $xname, who quickly rolls off you with $dname’s help, but hasn’t moved off the floor. $cxthey’s leaning a hand against the stone tiles, head bent low, panting like $xthey just ran a circle around the outer walls of Marabad. That was the first time you’ve seen $xname look scared. Kaja extends a hand, helping you up to your feet. “$xname,” you say, still a little out of breath from whatever that was. “Are you alright?” $xname lifts $xtheir head to look at you, eyes still wide with shock, but less horrified now than $xthey appeared before as $dname hovers around $xthem. $cxthey doesn’t immediately answer, taking $dname’s offered arm and lifting $xthemselves up to $xtheir feet. It seems $xthey needs a moment to collect $xthemselves.<</if>><<if $height is 'average'>> and you barely manage to keep standing to catch $xthem. The two of you stumble a few steps; $xname feels like a sack of stones in your arms, $xtheir weight almost too heavy to carry. Your back hits the wall behind you, almost knocking your newly recovered air out of your lungs again, but somehow you keep standing. $dname and Kaja rush to your side. You would use a hand to wave them off and let them know you’re alright, but both your straining limbs are occupied with carrying $xname’s weight at the moment. You manage to squeeze out an, “I’m fine,” through your lips. Thankfully, $xname seems to recover again, pushing off from you. $dname grabs $xtheir arm, supporting $xthem as $xthey leans face-first against the wall instead. $cxtheir head is bent low, panting like $xthey just ran a circle around the outer walls of Marabad. “$xname,” you say, still a little out of breath from whatever that was. “Are you alright?” $xname lifts $xtheir head to look at you, eyes still wide with shock, but less horrified now than $xthey appeared before. $cxthey doesn’t immediately answer, pushing $xthemselves off the wall and straightening out. It seems $xthey needs a moment to collect $xthemselves.<</if>><<if $height is 'tall' or $height is 'very tall'>>. You plant a foot behind you, managing to keep standing in place as you catch $xthem, your stature thankfully tall enough that you don’t get toppled over. $xname sags, feeling like a sack of stones in your arms as you brace to keep holding $xthem up. In the interest of not breaking your back, however, you quickly help $xname shift $xtheir weight against the altar instead, while also making sure $xthey doesn’t touch the body again. “Is $xthey alright?” $dname asks, still sounding slightly out of breath as $dthey and Kaja circle around the altar to join the two of you. “I don’t know.” You frown deeply as you watch $xname, $xtheir head bent low and panting like $xthey just ran a circle around the outer walls of Marabad. “$xname?” Eventually, $xname lifts $xtheir head to look at you, eyes still wide with shock but less horrified now than $xthey appeared before. $cxthey doesn’t immediately answer, pushing $xthemselves off the altar and straightening out. It seems $xthey needs a moment to collect $xthemselves.<</if>> <<if $xgender is 'female'>>She runs a hand over the top of her hair, resting it atop her head right in front of her messy bun, looking more disheveled than usual.<<else>>He runs his fingers through his disheveled hair from front to back, making it look even messier than usual as the locks flop back in front of his eyes.<</if>> “What happened?” $dname asks, looking $xname over from head to toe, before $dthey glances at the body on the altar. “Did you trigger the mental ward?” “No.” $xname’s gaze takes on a glare of what you can only describe as pure hatred as $xthey follows $dname’s look to the corpse. “It wasn’t magic. That body- I don’t know how, but someone put the forsaken <em>Void itself</em> into that body.” “The Void?” $dname repeats, uncomprehending. “What are you talking about?” While $dname and Kaja appear confused, a sense of growing horror twists in your gut as you address $xname. “What did you feel when you connected to it?” $xname, almost instinctively, seems to take a step back from the body as $xthey recalls it. “Nothing. Not a damn thing.” $cxthey meets your eyes, the graveness in $xtheir features expanding the dread in your gut to your chest, squeezing around your heart. “At first, it was just a lack of sensation, like the body wasn’t even there. When I tried to sense more, dig deeper, I…” $cxthey halts, averting $xtheir eyes. “Something… it was like something swallowed me up. I couldn’t think. Couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. My thoughts went blank, my senses were gone—my vision, my hearing, my sense of touch. I was still aware, awake to some extent, but even that started fading. When I came to again, I was suddenly <<if $height is 'short' or $height is 'very short'>>on the floor<</if>><<if $height is 'average'>>leaning against the wall<</if>><<if $height is 'tall' or $height is 'very tall'>>leaning against the altar<</if>>.” The Void. The nothingness, the endless black of space. Eating stars, eating light, eating existence. Held back only by the Sky, shielding Arsur from its abyss. <em>Protect it.</em> “Seal the body away.” Everyone turns to look at you. “Your Imperial Majesty?” $dname asks, frowning deeply. You thought it was merely part of the coronation, a message to keep Arsur safe—but what if the spirits of the Sky were trying to <em>warn you</em>? “No one touches that body without my say so,” you state. “Not until we have a way to deal with- whatever it is that $xname sensed. It’s too dangerous otherwise.” “I agree.” $xname says, seeming a little calmer now. “Though I have to wonder when this happened. When $aname connected to the prisoner’s mind, $athey didn’t mention sensing anything like this.” “It must’ve happened later on,” $dname proposes. “If it’s true what you said, that there was nothing to be sensed in the body, then perhaps that is how the prisoner circumvented the barriers. There wouldn’t have been magic either.” “Do you suppose that’s also what destroyed their magic pathways?” Kaja asks uncertainly. “Which would mean… it also destroyed their spirit?” The four of you look at the scars scattered over the body’s arms. Like the evidence of the final sparks of ember before the fire goes out; the spirit rebelling against its antithesis in vain, struggling in its death throes before it is finally extinguished. It’s a horrifying thought. <<if $mask is true and $face is true>>For the moment, though, you’ve found out all you can, as disturbing as it was; it’s time to figure out your next move. [[Continue|9.9a]]<</if>><<if $mask is false and $face is true>>With both the body and the prisoner’s face examined, all there is left now is their mask. [[Continue|9.8a.1]]<</if>><<if $mask is true and $face is false>>With both the mask and the prisoner’s body examined, all there is left now is the face. [[Continue|9.8a.2]]<</if>><<if $mask is false and $face is false>>There are still the prisoner’s mask and face to examine; perhaps those can offer you more clues and avenues of investigation. <ul class="a"> <li>[[Examine the mask next.|9.8a.1]]</li> <li>[[Examine the face next.|9.8a.2]]</li> </ul><</if>><<if $divination is true>>“Focus on finding traces of the body’s past for now,” you decide, feeling more confident with the approach as your initial lead. “If any problems come up, we can always shift our focus to the magic signature instead. I assume we have ways to preserve the body while we do that?”<<else>>“Search the schools for the magic signature,” you decide, feeling more confident with the approach as your initial lead. “If any problems come up, we can always try divination instead. I assume we can preserve the body, in the meantime?”<</if>> Kaja nods at your question. “There are wards and other methods of magic to delay decomposition, yes. Not indefinitely, but for a month at least.” Hopefully, a month will be enough time. $dname inclines $dtheir head at your decision. “I’ll inform $rtitle $rname as soon as possible, and we’ll make sure the body stays sealed away in the meantime.” <<if $yekbun is 'dead'>>“What about the scholar?” Kaja asks, and your expression falls for a moment at the painful reminder of your failure. “I-I don’t mean to distress you, Your Imperial Majesty—” “No, it’s fine.” You take a deep breath, ignoring the creep of shame crawling up your shoulders, refusing to bend your back and hang your head. It’s not the time for such self-pity. “We need to take care of the body. Find out if she has loved ones that need to be informed, they will want a funeral, and… an explanation.” “What do we tell them?” You hesitate, but only for a moment: “The truth.” $dname frowns at you. “Are you certain that’s wise?” <<if $calc gt $kind>>“There are ways to swear one to secrecy through magic, are there not?” you say, pushing aside your emotion. “We can’t tell them a lie; even if they believed it, having someone die at the Royal Palace on the eve of the coronation would raise questions, even if we frame it as an accident. It’s better that they understand the need for secrecy.” $dname nods, and you think you see a hint of approval in $dtheir steady gaze. “A wise precaution.” “Albeit not a pleasant one,” $xname mutters, though $xthey doesn’t seem opposed to the idea. “The best we can do for them is to find the person responsible.”<<else>>“We can have them sworn into secrecy through magic,” you propose, though it isn’t a method you like having to use. “They should know what happened to her, and why. I owe them at least that much as their Crown.” $dname regards you quietly for a moment, seeming sympathetic as $dthey says, “It is unfortunate, but necessary.” “It is good of you to think of them,” $xname remarks, for once no mocking to $xtheir tone. “They deserve justice.”<</if>> “What of Ezo?” You meet Kaja’s eyes. “I should visit—” “You should rest,” $dname interrupts, giving you a stern look. “In your chambers, where you can be guarded.” “I can’t turn in and leave the banquet without a word,” you reply incredulously. “Of course you can.” $xname raises $xtheir brows meaningfully. “It’s <em>your</em> banquet. Besides, would you really feel safe going back in there after all this?” You look down at the body in front of you, the discomfort and tension that overtakes you when you imagine walking back into the banquet hall illustrating $xname’s point. It wouldn’t feel safe; you’d be jumping at shadows all night. Eventually, you relent. “Alright. But I want to visit Ezo first thing in the morning.” Kaja smiles at you, even through her weariness. “I’m sure she’ll be awake by then to greet you. Please, allow me to escort you to your quarters, Your Imperial Majesty.” “Shouldn’t you rest as well, Kaja?” you ask, frowning at her in concern. “You were just attacked.” “It’s only to escort you,” she reassures you, and you relent.<</if>><<if $yekbun is 'injured'>>There is still the matter of the scholar who was attacked. “How was Scholar Yekbûn feeling after the attack?” you ask Kaja. “A little shaken, but I think she’ll be fine,” Kaja replies thoughtfully. “Her injury was taken care of quickly. She said she had already prepared for this possibility when she came to the palace.” You nod, saying nothing more. It was a considerable risk for her to come here and tell you everything she knew, and it appears she was aware of the risk to her own life. Still, she spoke to you regardless. “I’ll visit her in the morning,” you decide. “I’m sure she needs some rest, first. Ezo as well, perhaps I should go over to see—” “You should also rest,” $dname interrupts, giving you a stern look. “In your chambers, where you can be guarded.” “I can’t turn in and leave the banquet without a word,” you reply incredulously. “Of course you can.” $xname raises $xtheir brows meaningfully. “It’s <em>your</em> banquet. Besides, would you really feel safe going back in there after all this?” You look down at the body in front of you, the discomfort and tension that overtakes you when you imagine walking back into the banquet hall illustrating $xname’s point. It wouldn’t feel safe; you’d be jumping at shadows all night. Eventually, you relent. “Alright. But I will visit them first thing in the morning.” Kaja smiles at you, even through her weariness. “Ezo would be happy to see you. Please, allow me to escort you to your quarters, Your Imperial Majesty.” “Shouldn’t you rest as well, Kaja?” you ask, frowning at her in concern. “You were just attacked.” “It’s only to escort you,” she reassures you, and you relent.<</if>><<if $yekbun is 'fine'>>There is still the matter of the scholar who was attacked. “How was Scholar Yekbûn after the attack?” you ask Kaja. “A little shaken, but I think she’ll be fine,” Kaja replies thoughtfully. “She said she had already prepared for this possibility when she came to the palace.” You nod, saying nothing more. It was a considerable risk for her to come here and tell you everything she knew, and it appears she was aware of the risk to her own life. Still, she spoke to you regardless. “I’ll visit her in the morning,” you decide. “I’m sure she needs some time to recover, first. Ezo as well, perhaps I should go over to see—” “Ezo’s injuries are being taken care of,” $dname interrupts, giving you a stern look. “You, however, need rest. In your chambers, where you can be guarded.” “I can’t turn in and leave the banquet without a word,” you reply incredulously. “Of course you can.” $xname raises $xtheir brows meaningfully. “It’s <em>your</em> banquet. Besides, would you really feel safe going back in there after all this?” You look down at the body in front of you, the discomfort and tension that overtakes you when you imagine walking back into the banquet hall illustrating $xname’s point. It wouldn’t feel safe; you’d be jumping at shadows all night. Eventually, you relent. “Alright. But I will visit them first thing in the morning.” Kaja smiles at you, even through her weariness. “I’m sure Ezo will be happy to see you, but she would want you to rest as well. Please, allow me to escort you to your quarters, Your Imperial Majesty.” “Shouldn’t you take a break, Kaja?” you ask, frowning at her in concern. “You were just attacked.” “It’s only to escort you,” she reassures you, and you relent.<</if>> The four of you head out of the room, then through Lady Zerya’s study, filing out back into the hallway. Before you part from the others, you turn to address $xname, “What about you, $xname? Will you be alright after what happened?” “Don’t worry about me.” $xname dismisses your concern with practiced nonchalance. “It was disturbing, sure, but I’ve seen worse.” “I highly doubt that,” $dname says, watching $xthem with narrowed eyes. “What’s one more nightmare to add to the list?” $xname quips, though it falls a little flat as you recall the look of terror on $xtheir face when $xthey connected to the body. “$xname—” <<if $xfriend is true or $xrelationship is 'low'>>“I’ll be fine,” $xname insists, $xtheir tone a little bit more curt this time; walls pulling up. It seems you’ve pushed $xthem enough<<if $xrelationship is 'low'>>—it has a sting to it, especially after the way $xthey snapped at you earlier, but there’s not much else you can say.<<else>>.<</if>> “Goodnight, then.” You glance between $xthem and $dname. “To both of you.” The latter bows, the former following with a shallow dip. “Your Imperial Majesty,” $dname says, $xname remaining quiet and avoiding your gaze.<</if>><<if $xrelationship is 'high'>>“You should be more concerned with your own health, $name,” $xname says, though $xtheir tone is not a harsh one. “I’ll be fine; I’ve been through worse.” You scowl. “You realize that’s not comforting to hear?” $xname gives you a half-hearted smirk. “It is what it is. Now, instead of wasting time pitying me, take care of yourself instead—for Arsur’s sake, if nothing else.” $cxthey knows just the way to dodge the subject, giving you a knowing look that makes you feel bare; no doubt $xthey knows exactly how this whole night has weighed on you. You let out a sigh, realizing $xname won’t hear anything else on this matter. “Fine.” You glance between $xthem and $dname. “Goodnight, then. To both of you.” The latter bows deeply, the former following with a shallow dip. “Your Imperial Majesty,” $dname says, $xname giving you a reassuring smile that still fails to hide the shadows you see creeping beneath $xtheir eyes. It’s another worry to add to the long list of ones you’ve accumulated so far. At least you can find reassurance in the fact that $xthey has Tûjo and Heval to look out for $xthem.<</if>> As you turn away and follow Kaja down the corridors, you hope you can find whoever is behind this attack sooner rather than later. [[Continue|9.11a]] Your chambers are quiet and dark when you arrive, not a single candle lit within. Kaja remains outside in the hall as you enter and she closes the doors behind you to give you privacy; you turned down her offer to call the servants for you. Even if they are friendly faces like Siham and Ishrah, you’d like some time for yourself. As you quietly pad through the room, you find yourself wandering toward the windows. You stand by the windowsill and look up to the sky. Its darkening blue has dimmed into black, and there are no clouds to obscure it, leaving its stars bare. The constellation of the Gates are shining most brightly in the east, your eyes tracing the lines between its glittering white dots that form the foundations of its well-known columns. Some think the Gates are the passageway to the realm of the divine, there where the Major Spirits reside. Others see it merely as a symbol for change and transitions, whether good or bad. It can be a sign of new life as equally as it can be a foretelling of death. <<if $yekbun is 'dead'>>A bitter feeling takes hold of you as you realize the latter applies, for today.<</if>> As you study the stars, your heart holds a memory of your father’s hand around yours, helping you trace the lines of the Gates as a child as he pointed them out to you one by one. You can’t remember the words he spoke—you avert your gaze, unable to bear its weight. The Armas Mountains look like black shadows in the distance; the moon is absent. You wonder what an astronomer would have to say about the new moon and the prominence of the Gates. Ordinarily you imagine the coronation would’ve been planned on an auspicious day instead of an ambiguous one, but like everything else, you had no choice in the matter. For all the power you now supposedly hold at your fingertips, you are still at the mercy of greater things, like a sailor is at the mercy of the sea and its tides. You thought everything would change once you got to this point, that you could make a difference as the Crown, yet it is not even the first day of your rule and you already feel the same as you did before: a survivor, trying to see the next sunrise. As you retire to bed that night, the Gates remain closed to you. [[Continue|9.14b]]<<if $tempchoice is true>>Kaja looks conflicted. Seeing her comrade so seriously injured and nearly failing to protect the scholar must weigh on her. She hasn’t been an official Imperial Guard for very long either. This was, in essence, the first assignment you gave to her directly instead of one given by $aname. Thankfully, it doesn't seem to be something she won't be able to forgive herself for. She relents after a long moment with a deep sigh, inclining her head to you. “Thank you for your kindness, Your Imperial Majesty.” “No one could have anticipated this,” $aname says to emphasize your point, meeting Kaja’s eyes. “The prisoner was an empty shell; I can’t even figure out how they managed to break through the dungeon’s barriers.”<<else>>Kaja lowers her eyes to the floor immediately. “I would never dare imply that Your Imperial Majesty is—” “Then <em>I</em> will say it,” you state, your tone brooking no further argument. “It was my decision to have Yekbûn escorted out with you and Ezo, and it was my responsibility to decide on the amount of security present.” If anything, you are more responsible than a lone guard who was caught by surprise. Even so, punishing yourself for it won’t do anyone any good. You hope Kaja will realize the same about herself, as well. “No one could have anticipated this,” $aname says to emphasize your point, meeting Kaja’s eyes. “We can only learn from this and try to do better in the future. The prisoner was an empty shell; I can’t even figure out how they managed to break through the dungeon’s barriers.”<</if>> “That is a good question,” you add, your head already feeling full with tension. “The prisoner broke out and attacked...<<if $loveinterest is 'R' or $loveinterest is 'A'>> How? I thought their mind was gone.<</if>>” <<if $loveinterest is 'D'>> “How is that possible?” $dname says, voicing the question in your head as $dthey looks toward the dungeon’s stairs.<</if>><<if $loveinterest is 'X'>> “The allegedly empty-headed prisoner without a single trace of their spirit left in their body,” $xname says, just as incredulous as you at the mere idea. “How?”<</if>> <<if $loveinterest isnot 'D'>>“We don’t know yet,” $dname says, seeming frustrated with that fact as $dthey folds $dtheir hands behind $dtheir back. “Both $rtitle $rname as well as magi specialized in warding magic made sure to study the prisoner, to ensure something like this wouldn’t happen, but…” “But?” $dname appears reluctant to admit it: “No one has seen this kind of mental ward before.”<<else>>“We’re not sure,” $aname says, trying to keep $atheir expression neutral, but the wrinkle between $atheir brows and the firm set of $atheir jaw betrays $atheir frustration. “$rname and scholars from the school studied the prisoner to make sure it would be safe, but this kind of mental ward… it’s unprecedented.” That’s not very reassuring.<</if>> <<if $intel gt $intu>>“Is it possible that it was activated from a distance?” you ask, thoughts racing as you try to understand what exactly went wrong. It's easier to focus on finding a solution to a puzzle; you've always had a talent for that. $dname and $aname glance at each other, a wordless conversation taking place between them until $dname turns to you again to answer, “Ordinarily, I would say no. The barriers in the dungeons that block the cells are designed specifically to prevent such connections to the outside.<<if $loveinterest isnot 'D'>> We also could not find any evidence of tampering with the barriers.”<<else>>” “There aren't any signs of tampering with the barriers either,” $aname adds. “We’ve gone over them.”<</if>> You take a breath, trying to remember what your father taught you about warding. All you can recall are the basics, as it wasn’t his specialty. Wards govern the realm of space. They can sever it, protect it, filter out certain elements, purposefully draw in others, or simply control whatever is in the designated space—in the prisoner’s case, their mind. Wards are formed by sigils, and sigils are created from a user’s magic; sigils are essentially the language that wards speak. They can be placed on a location or an object, or even a person. By placing a ward on the prisoner’s mind, it made a puppet out of them, under the control of an unseen master, but— A thought occurs to you. “Wards don’t need a constant connection to their wielder to activate,” you remember, the realization striking you like a simple yet plainly obvious answer. “You can create functions that will trigger later on, when certain conditions are met, without the wielder needing to be present or bound to the ward.” $xname seems the first to pick up where you’re going with this. <<else>>“And no one else has had contact with the prisoner during that time?” you ask, trying to get a better grasp on the situation. The theoretics of magic was never an area that interested you much, but you have a talent for asking the right questions to get you to the answer. It's an easy diversion from having to face your own failures in this situation. $dname and $aname glance at each other at your question, a wordless conversation taking place between them until $aname turns to you again to answer, “No. We made certain to have Imperial Guards accompany every magi who examined the prisoner. Beyond them, the only other person to see them was $rtitle $rname, and $rthey didn't notice anything amiss either.” You frown deeply, faced with a conundrum. In cases like these it's best to return to the fundamentals, and try to work things out from there. “Remind me, how do wards function, exactly? Their basic principles.” To your surprise, it's Kaja who has a ready answer. “Wards are spacial magic, formed by sigils, which are powered by someone's magic. They can assign a function to a space, such as a boundary ward that prevents someone from crossing a certain threshold. They can also be used on objects, such as on garments to protect them from staining, or... on people, evidently.” “Which is what happened with the mental ward,” you reason out. “The prisoner's mind had a ward placed upon it, with conditions attached. How do conditions function? Are there limits on what kind of conditions you can place?” “As long as it doesn't conflict with natural law, there are many kinds of conditions you can place,” Kaja answers thoughtfully. “Wards can't create things, for example. They only work with what is already present in the designated space. If the ward has multiple conditions, these also should not conflict with each other, or the ward will malfunction. Also, the more a ward is used, the more magic its sigils will use up. The creator of the ward will want to replenish it every so often, especially if the ward is used from a—” From a distance. “That's it!” Your sudden interruption startles Kaja, who nearly jumps at your exclamation, she and $dname staring at you in bemusement. “The creator of the prisoner's metal ward must have written multiple conditions into it, and stored enough magic for it to trigger later on.” $aname and $xname also seem to have realized it at the same time as you. $xname quickly adds on: <</if>>“When they realize they’ve failed the mission, the ward activates. When you try to remove their mask, the ward activates. So, there was another condition that activated the ward tonight, and took control of the prisoner, helping them to break out. Maybe even directing them to target Yekbûn specifically.” Tonight would have been the best moment for it: the palace's usual defenses were lowered in certain corridors and hallways, to allow for many guests to enter without the palace leading them astray within its maze. The timing of it cannot have been a coincidence. “Multiple conditions?” $aname repeats. “In a single ward, a <em>mental</em> ward, at that? That’s unheard of; the complexity and amount of magic that would require is far more likely to backfire.” “Just because it hasn’t been done before, doesn’t mean that it’s impossible.” “Even so, it doesn’t explain how they managed to breach the dungeon’s barriers,” $dname points out, the only gap in your explanation that you can’t quite fill up. You turn to <<if $loveinterest is 'D' or $loveinterest is 'A'>>$aname as well as $dname, as you figure they must know the most about these barriers<<else>>$aname and $dname, hoping they can tell the more about these barriers<</if>>. “How do the dungeon’s barriers function, usually?” $dname looks to $aname, deferring to $athem to answer as $aname would likely know more about the magic behind it. $aname is silent for a short while, and for the first time, you see a deeply troubled look on $atheir face. $cathey seems lost in thought, before $athey finally meets your gaze and says: “Their condition is to block magic from passing through.” “But the mental ward,” you say, cutting in. “That is magic, is it not? How did the prisoner manage to pass through the barrier?” “The mental ward was stored in their mask,” $aname answers. “And their mask was left behind in their prison cell. Somehow, the prisoner took it off, likely after the ward imprinted a directive into them, and… managed to pass through the barriers unscathed.” That seems impossible. Magic is infused in everyone, <em>everything</em>, down to the very bones. It’s the world’s lifeblood, a cosmic energy that holds reality intact. There should be no such thing as a body without magic, even after death. So how did the prisoner escape? You look at the others. “Take me to the body.” [[Continue|9.5a]]<<if visited("9.4a.3") is 1>><<set $kajaezo += 1>><</if>>“Don't feel too responsible for this, Kaja,” $aname says, meeting Kaja’s eyes as $athey seems to have noticed Kaja's lingering concern as well. “You and Ezo did what you were supposed to, and accomplished your mission. Besides, the prisoner was an empty shell; I can’t even figure out how they managed to break through the dungeon’s barriers.” “That is a good question,” you add, your head already feeling full with tension. “The prisoner broke out and attacked...<<if $loveinterest is 'R' or $loveinterest is 'A'>> How? I thought their mind was gone.<</if>>” <<if $loveinterest is 'D'>> “How is that possible?” $dname says, voicing the question in your head as $dthey looks toward the dungeon’s stairs.<</if>><<if $loveinterest is 'X'>> “The allegedly empty-headed prisoner without a single trace of their spirit left in their body,” $xname says, just as incredulous as you at the mere idea. “How?”<</if>> <<if $loveinterest isnot 'D'>>“We don’t know yet,” $dname says, seeming frustrated with that fact as $dthey folds $dtheir hands behind $dtheir back. “Both $rtitle $rname as well as magi specialized in warding magic made sure to study the prisoner, to ensure something like this wouldn’t happen, but…” “But?” $dname appears reluctant to admit it: “No one has seen this kind of mental ward before.”<<else>>“We’re not sure,” $aname says, trying to keep $atheir expression neutral, but the wrinkle between $atheir brows and the firm set of $atheir jaw betrays $atheir frustration. “$rname and scholars from the school studied the prisoner to make sure it would be safe, but this kind of mental ward… it’s unprecedented.” That’s not very reassuring.<</if>> <<if $intel gt $intu>>“Is it possible that it was activated from a distance?” you ask, thoughts racing as you try to understand what exactly went wrong. It's easier to focus on finding a solution to a puzzle; you've always had a talent for that. $dname and $aname glance at each other, a wordless conversation taking place between them until $dname turns to you again to answer, “Ordinarily, I would say no. The barriers in the dungeons that block the cells are designed specifically to prevent such connections to the outside.<<if $loveinterest isnot 'D'>> We also could not find any evidence of tampering with the barriers.”<<else>>” “There aren't any signs of tampering with the barriers either,” $aname adds. “We’ve gone over them.”<</if>> You take a breath, trying to remember what your father taught you about warding. All you can recall are the basics, as it wasn’t his specialty. Wards govern the realm of space. They can sever it, protect it, filter out certain elements, purposefully draw in others, or simply control whatever is in the designated space—in the prisoner’s case, their mind. Wards are formed by sigils, and sigils are created from a user’s magic; sigils are essentially the language that wards speak. They can be placed on a location or an object, or even a person. By placing a ward on the prisoner’s mind, it made a puppet out of them, under the control of an unseen master, but— A thought occurs to you. “Wards don’t need a constant connection to their wielder to activate,” you remember, the realization striking you like a simple yet plainly obvious answer. “You can create functions that will trigger later on, when certain conditions are met, without the wielder needing to be present or bound to the ward.” $xname seems the first to pick up where you’re going with this. <<else>>“And no one else has had contact with the prisoner during that time?” you ask, trying to get a better grasp on the situation. The theoretics of magic was never an area that interested you much, but you have a talent for asking the right questions to get you to the answer. It's an easy diversion from having to face your own failures in this situation. $dname and $aname glance at each other at your question, a wordless conversation taking place between them until $aname turns to you again to answer, “No. We made certain to have Imperial Guards accompany every magi who examined the prisoner. Beyond them, the only other person to see them was $rtitle $rname, and $rthey didn't notice anything amiss either.” You frown deeply, faced with a conundrum. In cases like these it's best to return to the fundamentals, and try to work things out from there. “Remind me, how do wards function, exactly? Their basic principles.” To your surprise, it's Kaja who has a ready answer. “Wards are spacial magic, formed by sigils, which are powered by someone's magic. They can assign a function to a space, such as a boundary ward that prevents someone from crossing a certain threshold. They can also be used on objects, such as on garments to protect them from staining, or... on people, evidently.” “Which is what happened with the mental ward,” you reason out. “The prisoner's mind had a ward placed upon it, with conditions attached. How do conditions function? Are there limits on what kind of conditions you can place?” “As long as it doesn't conflict with natural law, there are many kinds of conditions you can place,” Kaja answers thoughtfully. “Wards can't create things, for example. They only work with what is already present in the designated space. If the ward has multiple conditions, these also should not conflict with each other, or the ward will malfunction. Also, the more a ward is used, the more magic its sigils will use up. The creator of the ward will want to replenish it every so often, especially if the ward is used from a—” From a distance. “That's it!” Your sudden interruption startles Kaja, who nearly jumps at your exclamation, she and $dname staring at you in bemusement. “The creator of the prisoner's metal ward must have written multiple conditions into it, and stored enough magic for it to trigger later on.” $aname and $xname also seem to have realized it at the same time as you. $xname quickly adds on: <</if>>“When they realize they’ve failed the mission, the ward activates. When you try to remove their mask, the ward activates. So, there was another condition that activated the ward tonight, and took control of the prisoner, helping them to break out. Maybe even directing them to target Yekbûn specifically.” Tonight would have been the best moment for it: the palace's usual defenses were lowered in certain corridors and hallways, to allow for many guests to enter without the palace leading them astray within its maze. The timing of it cannot have been a coincidence. “Multiple conditions?” $aname repeats. “In a single ward, a <em>mental</em> ward, at that? That’s unheard of. The complexity and amount of magic that would require is far more likely to backfire.” “Just because it hasn’t been done before, doesn’t mean that it’s impossible.” “Even so, it doesn’t explain how they managed to breach the dungeon’s barriers,” $dname points out, the only gap in your explanation that you can’t quite fill up. You turn to <<if $loveinterest is 'D' or $loveinterest is 'A'>>$aname as well as $dname, as you figure they must know the most about these barriers<<else>>$aname and $dname, hoping they can tell the more about these barriers<</if>>. “How do the dungeon’s barriers function, usually?” $dname looks to $aname, deferring to $athem to answer as $aname would likely know more about the magic behind it. $aname is silent for a short while, and for the first time, you see a deeply troubled look on $atheir face. $cathey seems lost in thought, before $athey finally meets your gaze and says: “Their condition is to block magic from passing through.” “But the mental ward,” you say, cutting in. “That is magic, is it not? How did the prisoner manage to pass through the barrier?” “The mental ward was stored in their mask,” $aname answers. “And their mask was left behind in their prison cell. Somehow, the prisoner took it off, likely after the ward imprinted a directive into them, and… managed to pass through the barriers unscathed.” That seems impossible. Magic is infused in everyone, <em>everything</em>, down to the very bones. It’s the world’s lifeblood, a cosmic energy that holds reality intact. There should be no such thing as a body without magic, even after death. So how did the prisoner escape? You look at the others. “Take me to the body.” [[Continue|9.5a]]<<if $rfriend is false>>[ <b>[[Romantic relationship|Relationships]] updated</b> ] <</if>>“A moment,” $aname says from beside you before you can venture further out into the streets. “We need to await word to ensure the area is still secure.” “I don’t sense anyone other than the guards nearby,” $xname remarks from behind you, and $aname gives $xthem an exasperated look from over $atheir shoulder. “Unlike what you may believe, $xname, you are not infallible.” “A slanderous accusation.” Even $xname’s usual good humor falls a little flat, considering the situation. Looking around you, you wouldn’t believe anything to be amiss at first glance. The alleyways of the streets you emerged onto are quiet, tall residential buildings looming around you. Clothes and sheets hang from windows, left out at night to dry. A lone lantern illuminates the alley in dim candlelight, otherwise remarkably empty; there are no windows on ground level here, only bare walls. There should be more noise. From early risers, waking to attend to their labor early or otherwise, yet even the expected birdsong is eerie. The longer the silence goes on, the more uncomfortable you find it. “Why is it so quiet?” you ask, glancing back to $xname, who wears a grim expression. $cxtheir eyes are darkened from the shadows of the alley, but even in the faint light you can see the uneasy clenching of $xtheir jaw as $xtheir gaze moves up to the sky. “I’m not sure,” $xthey murmurs, doing nothing to allay your concern. Tûjo, standing beside $xthem, watches $xname for a moment before following $xtheir gaze to the sky. “If the prisoner escaped using magic,” he says, “could that have an effect?” “On the entire surrounding area?” $xname says, appearing skeptical. “It would have to be a strong piece of magic, in that case.” “That <em>is</em> what would be required to break out of prison,” $aname adds, and the four of you fall silent once more. Kaja is the only visible Imperial Guards bringing up the rear behind $xname and Tûjo, but her attention is on the streets surrounding you rather than the conversation, silently keeping watch unlike her usual cheery and boisterous demeanor. According to $dname and $aname, as they told you when you first heard the news back at the palace, Marabad’s prison is protected by both steel as well as the magic barriers you’ve seen in the Royal Palace’s own dungeons. While it’s feasible that one could escape the physical restrictions of the prison cells, it’d be much more difficult for the average person locked in such a place to circumvent the barriers. Barriers that block any and all forms of magic from passing through, including the magic innately present in human beings. From what $dname told you, the last time there was a prison break was centuries ago, and that was before the barriers were placed in the prison. This isn’t even taking into account the fact that the prisoner’s mind was functionally destroyed and they were left in a deep, dreamless sleep. How did your would-be assassin not only wake up, but then manage to escape such confinement? <<if $intel gt $intu>>During the discussion, you remembered a vital characteristic of wards: namely, they can be activated at a <em>later</em> date, without the user needing to be present to trigger them.<<else>>During the discussion, you came to an epiphany about the mental ward placed on the prisoner. Wards can be activated at a <em>later</em> date, without the user needing to be present to trigger them.<</if>> It’s possible that certain conditions were met to trigger the mental ward, giving the prisoner their orders. After which, the prisoner took their mask off—it was left behind in their prison cell—and somehow managed to pass through the barriers unscathed. It should be impossible. Magic is infused in everyone, <em>everything</em>, down to the very bones. It’s the world’s lifeblood, a cosmic energy that holds reality intact. There should be no such thing as a body without magic, even after death. So how did the prisoner escape? As you mull this over, a disembodied voice sounds from $aname’s left, muttering softly: “Captain, we’ve secured the prison area.” $aname nods, meeting your eyes. “If you’re ready, we can move on.” It’s not as if you have a choice to be ready or not. This isn’t something that can wait. “Let’s go.” <<if $cs lte 0>>[[Continue|9.3b.a]]<</if>><<if $cs gt 0 and $cs lte 3>>[[Continue|9.3b.b]]<</if>><<if $cs gt 3>>[[Continue|9.3b.c]]<</if>><<set $innocents to 'dead'>>As you move in a group, $dname continues to lead the way in front of you with $aname beside you, $xname, Tûjo and Kaja behind you. Leaving the alleyways behind and stepping foot onto the main roads, the Prison District—a grim name—doesn’t look quite like what you expected. It’s not as meticulously clean and pristine as the Crown’s Hill District, the one where your Royal Palace is located, but the buildings look well-maintained. You venture through what appears to be a purely residential area, no storefronts in sight. The houses here aren’t blocked off by massive walls, either; simple windows and front doors give direct access to the street. “Many people seem to live here,” you muse, frowning deeply as you look at each house you pass by, imagining the citizens living there. Families, children, innocents trying to live day by day. You’re thankful that your hands are hidden beneath your clothes; ever since $aname told you about what happened near the prison, they haven’t stopped shaking. After the prisoner escaped, they not only killed two guards in their way, but also managed to kill and injure several citizens who were outside celebrating the coronation at the time. Your throat almost closed up in panic when you first heard about it. Gambling with your own life is one thing, a possibility you already started to make peace with, but in one of your first decisions as the Crown you caused the deaths of innocents. If you had kept the prisoner in the palace, or if you had assigned more guards to the prison, maybe none of this would have happened. It’s too late to lament that, now. The harsh and cruel reality of the fact is that somewhere during the preparations, you made a mistake in judgment, and now that mistake has cost you the lives of your subjects. People who died, because of <em>you</em>. Just like your parents. <<if $loveinterest is 'X'>>“$name?” $xname asks quietly from beside you, and you realize you’ve stopped walking, noticing with a start that $xthey has placed $xtheir hand on your shoulder. The others are standing around you and staring at you with concern, as well. You look <<if $height is 'average' or $height is 'short' or $height is 'very short'>>up at<</if>><<if $height is 'tall'>>at<</if>><<if $height is 'very tall'>>down at<</if>> $xname’s face, the second time tonight you’ve made $xthem worry. Placing your hand on top of $xtheirs, letting $xtheir glow of warmth soothe you for only a moment, you take it off your shoulder.<</if>><<if $loveinterest is 'A'>>“$name, do you need to rest?” $aname asks softly from beside you, and you realize you’ve stopped walking, $aname hovering near your side with a worried furrow in $atheir brow. The others are standing around you and staring at you with concern, as well. The guilt and the fear that grips your heart seems to ease, at least a little bit, with $aname near. You feel safer near $athem, comforted to know that $athey’s around to help you should you need it, even if this is a problem that $aname can’t solve.<</if>><<if $loveinterest is 'D'>>“Your Imperial Majesty?” $dname prompts, and you realize you’ve stopped walking, $dname standing beside you and peering <<if $height isnot 'very tall'>>at<<else>>down at<</if>> you with worry, while still keeping a polite distance. The others are standing around you and staring at you with concern, as well. Perhaps you’re deluding yourself, but you get the sense that $dname isn’t merely expressing such concern as your general. At least, it comforts you to think that.<</if>><<if $loveinterest is 'R'>><<if $tujoheval gt $kajaezo>>“Your Imperial Majesty?” Tûjo prompts from beside you, and you realize with a start you’ve stopped walking, the Crescent Blade frowning at you silently. The others are standing around you and staring at you with concern, as well.<</if>><<if $kajaezo gt $tujoheval>>“Your Imperial Majesty?” Kaja prompts carefully from beside you, and you realize with a start you’ve stopped walking. The others are standing around you and staring at you with concern, as well.<</if>><<if $tujoheval eq $kajaezo and $tujoheval gte 1>>“Your Imperial Majesty?” Kaja prompts carefully from beside you, and you realize with a start you’ve stopped walking, Tûjo on your other side looking at you with a silent frown. The others are standing around you and staring at you with concern, as well.<</if>><<if $tujoheval eq $kajaezo and $tujoheval lte 1>>“Your Imperial Majesty?” Tûjo prompts from beside you, and you realize with a start you’ve stopped walking, Kaja on your other side looking at you with a worried frown. The others are standing around you and staring at you with concern, as well.<</if>><<if $tujoheval eq $kajaezo and $tujoheval lt 1>>“Your Imperial Majesty?” Kaja prompts from beside you, giving you a questioning look. The others are standing around you and staring at you with concern.<</if>> In a situation such as this, the others still prioritize your wellbeing over what is essentially an emergency. It might make rational sense, weighing the Crown’s health against anything else, but it doesn’t sit right.<</if>> “I’m alright.” The alarm of your companions reminds you of where you are, <em>who</em> you are. As much as the news was a punch to the gut, you don’t have the luxury to double over and collapse to your knees: you are who people look to for direction. If you were to fall apart now, it would place the burden on fixing this situation onto the others, akin to failing in your duty as the Crown. Most of all, though, you owe it to those who died to keep it together. They didn't deserve this. To you, they are faceless, nameless, but to their loved ones they were everything. Just as your parents were to you; no one deserves the pain that you went through, and yet through your mistakes, you inflicted it upon others. You inhale a deep breath through your nose, briefly closing your eyes to find your balance again. <<if $spirits is 'admiring'>><em>Keep it steady, there will be time to mourn later.</em> It's a familiar refrain you've told yourself countless times before, but you are nothing if not a survivor. You will overcome this too, in time.<</if>><<if $spirits is 'somber'>>Another weight to drag on your feet as you try to move forward, but it’s nothing you aren’t used to. What’s a few more to add to it? You haven’t broken yet.<</if>><<if $spirits is 'sympathetic'>>There is no choice but to move forward. It’s a fresh hurt, a new failure, but one you can’t afford to dwell on in the moment. There are still people who need you now.<</if>> “We shouldn’t linger,” you say, steeling yourself as best you can for what you will see when you arrive. “Let’s continue.” [[Continue|9.4b.1]]<<set $innocents to 'injured'>>As you move in a group, $dname continues to lead the way in front of you with $aname beside you, $xname, Tûjo and Kaja behind you. Leaving the alleyways behind and stepping foot onto the main roads, the Prison District—a grim name—doesn’t look quite like what you expected. It’s not as meticulously clean and pristine as the Crown’s Hill District, the one where your Royal Palace is located, but the buildings look well-maintained. You venture through what appears to be a purely residential area, no storefronts in sight. The houses here aren’t blocked off by massive walls, either; simple windows and front doors give direct access to the street. “Many people seem to live here,” you muse, frowning deeply as you look at each house you pass by, imagining the citizens living there. Families, children, innocents trying to live day by day. You’re thankful that your hands are hidden beneath your clothes; ever since $aname told you about what happened near the prison, they haven’t stopped shaking. After the prisoner escaped, they injured two guards in their way and managed to wound several citizens who were outside celebrating the coronation at the time. Once you heard the news you lost your composure to panic for a brief, but intense, moment. Gambling with your own life is one thing, a possibility you already started to make peace with, but in one of your first decisions as the Crown you gambled with the lives of others. If it weren’t for the additional guards present along the coronation routes, the prisoner could’ve easily ended up killing someone. Their blood would’ve been on your hands. <<if $loveinterest is 'X'>>“$name?” $xname asks quietly from beside you, and you realize you’ve stopped walking, noticing with a start that $xthey has placed $xtheir hand on your shoulder. The others are standing around you and staring at you with concern, as well. You look <<if $height is 'average' or $height is 'short' or $height is 'very short'>>up at<</if>><<if $height is 'tall'>>at<</if>><<if $height is 'very tall'>>down at<</if>> $xname’s face, the second time tonight you’ve made $xthem worry. Placing your hand on top of $xtheirs, letting $xtheir glow of warmth soothe you for only a moment, you take it off your shoulder.<</if>><<if $loveinterest is 'A'>>“$name, do you need to rest?” $aname asks softly from beside you, and you realize you’ve stopped walking, $aname hovering near your side with a worried furrow in $atheir brow. The others are standing around you and staring at you with concern, as well. The guilt and the fear that grips your heart seems to ease, at least a little bit, with $aname near. You feel safer near $athem, comforted to know that $athey’s around to help you should you need it, even if this is a problem that $aname can’t solve.<</if>><<if $loveinterest is 'D'>>“Your Imperial Majesty?” $dname prompts, and you realize you’ve stopped walking, $dname standing beside you and peering <<if $height isnot 'very tall'>>at<<else>>down at<</if>> you with worry, while still keeping a polite distance. The others are standing around you and staring at you with concern, as well. Perhaps you’re deluding yourself, but you get the sense that $dname isn’t merely expressing such concern as your general. At least, it comforts you to think that.<</if>><<if $loveinterest is 'R'>><<if $tujoheval gt $kajaezo>>“Your Imperial Majesty?” Tûjo prompts from beside you, and you realize with a start you’ve stopped walking, the Crescent Blade frowning at you silently. The others are standing around you and staring at you with concern, as well.<</if>><<if $kajaezo gt $tujoheval>>“Your Imperial Majesty?” Kaja prompts carefully from beside you, and you realize with a start you’ve stopped walking. The others are standing around you and staring at you with concern, as well.<</if>><<if $tujoheval eq $kajaezo and $tujoheval gte 1>>“Your Imperial Majesty?” Kaja prompts carefully from beside you, and you realize with a start you’ve stopped walking, Tûjo on your other side looking at you with a silent frown. The others are standing around you and staring at you with concern, as well.<</if>><<if $tujoheval eq $kajaezo and $tujoheval lte 1>>“Your Imperial Majesty?” Tûjo prompts from beside you, and you realize with a start you’ve stopped walking, Kaja on your other side looking at you with a worried frown. The others are standing around you and staring at you with concern, as well.<</if>><<if $tujoheval eq $kajaezo and $tujoheval lt 1>>“Your Imperial Majesty?” Kaja prompts from beside you, giving you a questioning look. The others are standing around you and staring at you with concern.<</if>> In a situation such as this, the others still prioritize your wellbeing over what is essentially an emergency. It might make rational sense, weighing the Crown’s health against anything else, but it doesn’t sit right.<</if>> “I’m alright.” The alarm of your companions reminds you of where you are, <em>who</em> you are. As much as the news was painful to listen to, you don’t have the luxury to stew in self-pity: you are who people look to for direction. “We shouldn’t linger,” you say, steeling yourself as best you can for what you will see when you arrive. “Let’s continue.” [[Continue|9.4b.1]]<<set $innocents to 'fine'>>As you move in a group, $dname continues to lead the way in front of you with $aname beside you, $xname, Tûjo and Kaja behind you. Leaving the alleyways behind and stepping foot onto the main roads, the Prison District—a grim name—doesn’t look quite like what you expected. It’s not as meticulously clean and pristine as the Crown’s Hill District, the one where your Royal Palace is located, but the buildings look well-maintained. You venture through what appears to be a purely residential area, no storefronts in sight. The houses here aren’t blocked off by massive walls, either; simple windows and front doors give direct access to the street. “Many people seem to live here,” you muse, frowning deeply as you look at each house you pass by, imagining the citizens living there. Families, children, innocents trying to live day by day. Thankfully, after the coronation, they all remain unharmed. Ever since $aname told you about what happened near the prison, you haven’t been able to be at ease. After the prisoner escaped, they apparently injured two guards in their way, scaring several citizens who were outside celebrating the coronation at the time and causing a great commotion. It is a miracle the guards only had minor injuries, but there were many of them present at the scene and the prisoner was subdued easily enough. They were forced to kill the prisoner, to prevent them from harming innocent bystanders, and that is the main problem: the crowds witnessed the escape. <<if $hidepublic is false>>While you cautioned the public to be wary due to sightings of wanted criminals, the citizens don’t know that there was an assassination attempt on you specifically. If they catch wind of it, right after the coronation as well, it could lead to panic.<<else>>You never told the public about the assassination, and did not caution them to be wary of any dangers either. They’re blissfully unaware; if they catch wind of there having been an assassination attempt on you, it could lead to panic.<</if>> <<if $loveinterest is 'X'>>“$name?” $xname asks quietly from beside you, and you realize you’ve stopped walking, noticing with a start that $xthey has placed $xtheir hand on your shoulder. The others are standing around you and staring at you with concern, as well. You look <<if $height is 'average' or $height is 'short' or $height is 'very short'>>up at<</if>><<if $height is 'tall'>>at<</if>><<if $height is 'very tall'>>down at<</if>> $xname’s face, the second time tonight you’ve made $xthem worry. Placing your hand on top of $xtheirs, letting $xtheir glow of warmth soothe you for only a moment, you take it off your shoulder.<</if>><<if $loveinterest is 'A'>>“$name, do you need to rest?” $aname asks softly from beside you, and you realize you’ve stopped walking, $aname hovering near your side with a worried furrow in $atheir brow. The others are standing around you and staring at you with concern, as well. The anxiety that grips your heart seems to ease, at least a little bit, with $aname near. You feel safer near $athem, comforted to know that $athey’s around to help you should you need it, even if this is a problem that $aname can’t solve.<</if>><<if $loveinterest is 'D'>>“Your Imperial Majesty?” $dname prompts, and you realize you’ve stopped walking, $dname standing beside you and peering <<if $height isnot 'very tall'>>at<<else>>down at<</if>> you with worry, while still keeping a polite distance. The others are standing around you and staring at you with concern, as well. Perhaps you’re deluding yourself, but you get the sense that $dname isn’t merely expressing such concern as your general. At least, it comforts you to think that.<</if>><<if $loveinterest is 'R'>><<if $tujoheval gt $kajaezo>>“Your Imperial Majesty?” Tûjo prompts from beside you, and you realize with a start you’ve stopped walking, the Crescent Blade frowning at you silently. The others are standing around you and staring at you with concern, as well.<</if>><<if $kajaezo gt $tujoheval>>“Your Imperial Majesty?” Kaja prompts carefully from beside you, and you realize with a start you’ve stopped walking. The others are standing around you and staring at you with concern, as well.<</if>><<if $tujoheval eq $kajaezo and $tujoheval gte 1>>“Your Imperial Majesty?” Kaja prompts carefully from beside you, and you realize with a start you’ve stopped walking, Tûjo on your other side looking at you with a silent frown. The others are standing around you and staring at you with concern, as well.<</if>><<if $tujoheval eq $kajaezo and $tujoheval lte 1>>“Your Imperial Majesty?” Tûjo prompts from beside you, and you realize with a start you’ve stopped walking, Kaja on your other side looking at you with a worried frown. The others are standing around you and staring at you with concern, as well.<</if>><<if $tujoheval eq $kajaezo and $tujoheval lt 1>>“Your Imperial Majesty?” Kaja prompts from beside you, giving you a questioning look. The others are standing around you and staring at you with concern.<</if>> In a situation such as this, the others still prioritize your wellbeing over what is essentially an emergency. It might make rational sense, weighing the Crown’s health against anything else, but it doesn’t sit right.<</if>> “I’m fine.” You let out a sigh. “I was just thinking about how to handle potential witnesses.” “No reason to give yourself a headache over that so soon,” $xname says, for once $xtheir lighthearted tone one you appreciate. “Let’s focus on the prisoner first; we can discuss what to do about everything else later.” “You’re right,” you say, steeling yourself as best you can for what you will see when you arrive. “Let’s continue.” [[Continue|9.4b.2]] Unlike what you expected, there is no sign of the prison anywhere in the distance as you keep walking. Even the few times that you visited Marabad as a child, you never had any reason to venture near the Prison District, but you imagined it would be an unmistakable structure to house the amount of prisoners Marabad must have, being one of the largest cities in the entire empire. Yet, as you keep watch of the horizon, you see nothing. You are well atop the hill where the prison is located, so you should be able to see it in the distance by now. “Are you looking for the prison?” $aname asks from beside you, having noticed your searching gaze. “Don’t bother, you won’t be able to see it from here. It’s built below ground.” You hear $xname scoff from behind you, a sound of mocking. “Innovative, isn’t it?” The others remain silent, focused on their surroundings. “So it’s built within this hill?” you ask, frowning as you look at the ground. The deeply uncomfortable realization that you might be walking <em>on top of prisoners</em> comes over you. “How big is it?” “Not big enough to span the entire hill,” $aname replies, taking a very neutral tone, though you notice the way $athey glances at you, as if watching your reaction. “But a sizable amount; the very top, I would say.” You suspect you will regret asking, but you ask even so, “What kinds of prisoners?” “Those too poor to buy their way to freedom,” $aname replies simply; $athey states it so bluntly you get the sense $athey’s not trying to be sarcastic. “Common thieves, drunkards, those who have severely injured other people or damaged public property, debtors who cannot pay and also cannot work off their debt,” $dname recounts, not commenting on $aname’s remark. “Anything more serious is punished with execution.” <<if $publicfavored gte 2>>You remain silent for a while, falling into thought, before you finally say, “Yet nobles who commit crimes against the Crown are locked away into a comfortable room in the Royal Palace.” Now you fully understand why, when you asked Ziryan if the dungeons were comparable to the prison, they answered that they weren’t without hesitation.<<else>>The conversation falls into silence there, as you have no further questions or thoughts to add. It seems an ingrained practice at this point, and you have other priorities at the moment.<</if>> Your companions have nothing further to comment, and you continue to move through the streets as a group. As you turn another corner, the pitch-black sky gradually starts to lighten into a dark blue. It won’t be much longer until sunrise now. <<if $cs lte 3>>[[Continue|9.5b.1]]<<else>>[[Continue|9.5b.2]]<</if>><<if $innocents is 'dead'>>You see two people kneeling in the middle of a square, a few feet away from a windowless building at its center that is being heavily guarded. Soldiers paired in three stand watch, seeming indifferent to the kneeling couple. $dname glances back at $aname and $xname in question. “They’re harmless,” $aname says quietly, and as you watch $atheir expression, you see a softening in $atheir gaze—something about it is melancholy. “We should head inside, the entrance to the prison is in that building.” You glance at $xname as well, seeing if $xthey senses anything, but $xthey’s as silent as the grave, $xtheir eyes fixated on the couple ahead of you. It makes you wonder what $xthey’s hearing, though you suppose you will find out when you pass them by. Eventually, you nod, and $dname continues walking, leading the rest of you. As you approach the couple, even from a distance, you start to hear the unmistakable sound of weeping. In the shadowed dark of the early morning hours, the light of your eyes hidden behind Perjin’s glamour, you can just about make out one of the couple curled in on themselves, the other having their arms wrapped around them. “You’ve been here for hours, dayê,” the one hugging the other person—calling her mother—says quietly, though you hear the tears in their voice all the same. “Your knees must be bruised, please, let’s go home!” “Go home and do what?” their mother speaks through her weeping, and as you get closer and closer, you realize she has her hands pressed to the ground. “Do <em>what</em>? Let them wash the stains away, so they can forget what happened?” A horrible feeling, slow and sickening, grows in the pit of your stomach as you realize who these people must be. “Father wouldn’t want you to suffer like this,” her child says. On appearances they look quite young, only barely out of their childhood years. They’re trying to remain strong for her, even though they lost their father. Because of <em>your</em> decisions. “They took him from me!” their mother wails, doubling over, her fingers spread over the red-stained stone as if she could bring her beloved back by gathering what was left of him, if only she cupped the bloody pool in her palms. “They took your father from you! They took him away, dilê min- they took him away!” <ul class="a"> <li>[[Avert your eyes.|9.6b.1a]]</li> <li>[[Face the situation.|9.6b.1b]]</li> </ul><</if>><<if $innocents is 'injured'>>The tiled road leading toward the entrance of the prison has been cracked in several areas, and there are dark stains spread across its stone. Bloodstains. The prison itself sits in the middle of a small square, with city guards standing watch along its walls and its entrance, staring ahead like impassive statues. There weren’t enough of them present earlier, to prevent citizens from getting injured, but now there are nearly a dozen of them immediately visible. “That looks dire,” $xname remarks, glancing over at $dname’s shadowed stare. “Were there serious injuries?” $dname meets $xtheir gaze, brows furrowing with hesitation as $dthey casts a look your way. $cdthey and $aname mentioned several injured before, though neither of them gave you an exact count or the scope of the injuries. Your stomach clenches with a hint of nausea, but you suppress your fears. “Tell us.” After a moment, $dname nods, then begins to speak. $cdthey keeps $dtheir voice free of any overt emotion, delivering the facts in a clear, concise way, which makes it easier for you to swallow them. “Aside from two prison guards, five adults and one child were wounded. Their injuries were moderate in most cases. The most severe were among a guard who broke their arm in several places, and an adult citizen who passed out from blood loss after being stabbed. Thankfully, there were several healers present at the time.” Even if you wanted to reply, you can’t find your voice. Someone could’ve—would’ve—died if it weren’t for the healers. Even a child was injured, thankfully not severely, but the knowledge of it stings even so. You’re responsible for it. Your gaze falls upon the bloodstains once more. <ul class="a"> <li>[[Avert your eyes.|9.6b.1a]]</li> <li>[[Face the situation.|9.6b.1b]]</li> </ul><</if>><<if visited("9.5b.2") is 1>><<set $kajaezo += 1>><</if>>A small square appears before you as soon as you round the corner of the street, finding a windowless building at its center. Several city guards stand watch by its walls and in front of its large, heavy metal entrance doors. It reminds you somewhat of the guard barracks you first overheard $dname and $aname speaking in several days ago, while you were searching the city. At seeing the guards, you hear Kaja breathe a deep sigh. Looking over your shoulder at her, when she meets your gaze you give her a questioning lift of your brows. “Tired?” “No, not at all,” Kaja says hastily, seeming a little embarrassed as she avoids your eyes. “I was only thinking how fortunate it was that there were so many guards present.” $aname hums in agreement from beside you. “Indeed. The situation could’ve been much worse.” “So that was a sigh of relief, then?” you say, casting an amused look at Kaja. “It was,” Kaja replies, smiling back. “You made the right decisions in arranging security for the coronation, Your Imperial Majesty.” “Though the Imperial House’s vault is emptier for it,” $xname comments, seeming far too pleased with that fact. You decide not to comment on it; even if you are the Crown, now, you still don’t think of yourself as the owner of all those riches. It’s not as if you’ve done anything to earn it, so it’s not your concern if some of it is spent, especially for a good cause. As you approach the entrance to the prison, $aname suddenly halts. When you stop to give $athem a questioning look, $athey says, “I need to check security around the rest of the city, now that the prison has been secured.” “Have you heard any reports?” $dname asks, and $aname shakes $atheir head. “It’s merely a precaution.” You frown with worry; in all the chaos, the security of the rest of the city slipped your mind. “Do you think other places would be targeted?” “It’s hard to say.” $aname frowns in uncertainty. “Whoever is behind this, be it the Followers or someone else, it could’ve been a distraction for something else. The attack was done quite publicly, after all.” If you could at least have confirmation that it <em>was</em> the Followers of Vidarna behind this for a fact, you’d be able to approach the situation with much more certainty. As it is, there’s no guarantee that the assassins weren’t sent by someone else unconnected to the Followers; going a decade without a Crown, there must be plenty of people who have consolidated power in the ruler’s absence, and now that one has returned, feel threatened as a result. Though, you suppose it’d be a bit much to expect assassins to leave convenient hints about their identity lying around. <<if $loveinterest is 'A'>><<if $apoints gt 14>><<set $arelationship to 'high'>><<set $ahighcount to 1>>You meet $aname’s gaze, reluctant to see $athem leave your side at a time like this, yet you also recognize $athey feels a duty to the citizens to see them protected. It’s almost surprising, in a way. You thought the Royal Protector’s foremost task was to safeguard the Crown, but $aname at the very least seems to have taken on the responsibility to guard not only the ruler, but also the citizens. How much of that is guilt for $atheir father’s rule, and how much of it is a sense of duty and care towards $atheir fellow citizens? You suspect it may be a bit of both; perhaps all these aspects are inseparably intertwined. Whichever the case, it’s undeniable that $aname is Arsur’s Royal Protector as much as $athey is yours. It’s something you should keep in mind and accept, if you are to work together from now on. “Go on,” you say to $aname, letting go of your own trepidation; you feel secure enough to entrust $aname with this, and you are confident in $atheir judgment. If $athey feels it necessary, then you have no doubt that it must be. “We’ll fill you in later.” $aname’s gaze changes ever so slightly, but you think you see a hint of gratitude as $athey bows before you, $atheir tone uttering your title with more sincerity than you’re used to from $athem. “Your Imperial Majesty.” You watch $athem depart, feeling a sudden sense of anxiety creeping up on you as $athey walks away. “$aname!” $cathey pauses, turning around to look at you in question. “Be careful,” you say, trying to ignore the others staring at you. $aname looks almost taken aback for a moment, but then, you catch a slight smile on $atheir lips. “Is that an order?” “It is.” $catheir smile turns warmer. “Who am I to refuse my Crown?” With a last incline of $atheir head, $athey turns around again and heads out, leaving you to stand there with the sound of your heartbeat drumming between your ears, repeating <em>my Crown</em> with every beat. It is almost enough to make you forget the night’s events. As you turn around to face the others again, you avoid $xname’s far too amused gaze on you. At least Tûjo, $dname and Kaja have the decency to look indifferent towards your exchange—though you suspect with $dname, it is genuine indifference.<<else>><<set $arelationship to 'low'>><<set $alowcount to 1>>You meet $aname’s gaze, reluctant to see $athem leave your side at a time like this. Why does $athey even want to, considering the attack that just happened? You’re concerned for the citizens as well, of course, but $aname is the <em>Crown’s</em> Royal Protector. “Can you not send someone else?” you ask, thinking you’d much rather have your bodyguard near you at a time like this. “I’d rather take care of this myself,” $aname replies evenly, “to ensure nothing is overlooked.” There is a brief, tense silence. $dname appears entirely unaffected by $aname’s outright refusal to entertain your reluctance, and you think you may have overestimated exactly how loyal $dthey is to you. $xname, predictably, looks amused. Kaja glances at you, then says to $aname, “Captain, if the Crown would feel more comfortable with you here, I could go in your stead—” “No.” $aname frowns, irritation creeping into $atheir expression as $athey turns to address you again. “With both $xdnickname and $xname here, you are more than well protected. It’s the citizens that need my attention, and my protection.” You’re taken aback at $atheir blunt tone. $cathey’s not taking any orders from you, nor bothering with any formalities in acknowledging your title. Perhaps the recent deference you’ve been shown from people has been starting to become expected, and it feels jarring now to be addressed as an equal. “If that was all.” $cathey sweeps into a brief bow, turning around and walking off without waiting for dismissal. While Kaja looks a little wide-eyed at her captain’s bold disregard, you notice $dname looking at you, taking in the deep frown on your face. You can’t quite read what $dthey’s thinking, but when your gazes meet, $dname averts $dtheir eyes again. $cdthey doesn’t seem at all bothered by $aname’s display. “Well,” $xname says, looking thoroughly entertained as $xthey flashes you a cheeky grin. “Good luck trying to order that one around, Your Imperial Majesty. I don’t imagine there’s a single person on earth who could make $athem kneel.” Tûjo is the only one who appears entirely unbothered. You wonder whether $aname’s boldness is due to being raised Crownsblood, or something innate to $athem. Either way, $athey has certainly made $atheir point, even if you don’t like it.<</if>><<else>>You meet $aname’s gaze, nodding to $athem. “Go on ahead. We’ll fill you in later.” $aname bows before you. “Majesty.” $cathey doesn’t waste any further time, turning around and leaving for the city; every moment counts, especially if whoever is behind this attack planned it to be a diversion. “Stay on your guard!” $xname calls out after $athem at the last moment, and you see $athem give a backwards wave before disappearing around the corner.<</if>> [[Continue|9.7b]]<<if $afriend is false>>[ <b>[[Romantic relationship|Relationships]] updated</b> ] <</if>>With that resolved, you and the others move on, continuing toward the building that functions as an entrance to Marabad’s underground prison. As you approach the large, black doors shining dimly in torchlight, you glance at the city guards lined up on either side.<<if $cs lte 0>> They watched passively as that mother from before cried her heart out in the middle of the street. This isn’t the first time you’ve heard, and even seen, the city guard behave callously. <</if>>$dname told you earlier in the day, while discussing the celebrations in the city, of the tensions between the citizens and the city guard. There were those guards brought in by the tax officials to harass Master Zîn as well, were it not for $xname’s interference. You’re beginning to think you should look into what’s going on with the city guards sooner rather than later, especially if they work at Steward Welat’s behest<<if $cs lte 0>> as the mother from before stated<</if>>. As $dname approaches the doors to the windowless building in front of you, only a single story high, the city guards keeping watch step into the way. “State your identity,” one guard says, holding their spear out to bar the doors from entry. You stare at them in bewilderment. Surely they know what the General of the Imperial Army looks like by now, even if $dthey isn’t wearing $dtheir customary golden armor? “What, you can’t even recognize the one who has been ordering you lot around for the past month?” $xname mocks from behind you, surprising you; of all people, you wouldn’t have expected $xthem to come to $dname’s defense. “What has Steward Welat been feeding you dogs, for you to bark so loudly?” The guard narrows their eyes at $xname through the gaps of their bronze helmet. “Pale Sword. Last I heard, were you not wanted for arrest?” They recognize $xname, but not $dname? No, that’s absurd; they’re most certainly doing this on purpose. “You heard too late, but by all means…” $xname steps up from beside you, a dangerous gleam in $xtheir eyes as $xthey smiles. “Try it.” <<if $caut gt $adven>>“$xname,” you hiss, trying to caution $xthem, but when $xname glances over $xtheir shoulder to you $xthey simply winks at you.<<else>>“You’re not really looking to brawl in front of a <em>prison</em>, are you?” you ask $xname, who glances over $xtheir shoulder at you, and then winks.<</if>> “Have a little faith,” $xthey says, turning back toward the guards, eyes assessing them from head to toe as $xthey sizes them up. “I could take them blindfolded with both hands tied behind my back.” You close your eyes and press a hand to your forehead, rubbing your brow. “That’s not the issue.” The city guard scoffs at $xname. “As I assumed, you’re nothing but a mercenary. A common thug.” Tûjo moves forward to stand a step behind $xname, almost casually placing a hand over the hilt of his sword even while his gaze cuts sharper than any blade. The other city guard glances at it nervously. “Want to find out just how much of a thug I am?” $xname replies blithely, a daring edge to $xtheir smirk. You see $xtheir fingers twitch by $xtheir sides, and the city guard tenses up. “Enough,” $dname thankfully cuts in, speaking to $xname from over $dtheir shoulder. “Don’t provoke them, you’ll just make more trouble for yourself.” $cdthey turns back to the guard and states, “You know who I am. Stand aside.” “With all due respect,” the rude guard says snidely, “there is still protocol to be followed, even if—” $dname calmly reaches out to grip the shaft of the guard’s spear with one hand, and with a simple motion of $dtheir wrist, $dthey snaps it in half. Without care, $dthey tosses the broken upper part of the weapon aside. The city guard gawks, holding their broken spear in shock, and you can’t blame them. The shaft was made of solid, sturdy wood. Spears are built for battle, they shouldn’t be so easily broken, yet $dname shattered it with a bare hand as if it were little more than a twig. “You should repair that,” $dname says coolly, then moves to grasp the ringed handles of the heavy metal doors, beginning to pull on them. “How is <em>that</em> not considered a provocation?” you remark, glancing over at $xname who appears almost sullen, as if $dname took a toy away from $xthem. “That’s a good question,” $xthey agrees, frowning at $dname’s back. The heavy metal doors slowly slide open with a loud, groaning sound that echoes inside the building. You can only stare blankly at $dname’s back as $dthey moves the doors without breaking a sweat, leaving a considerable opening before pulling back and looking at you and $xname with amusement. “Do they look provoked to you?” You glance at the city guard, standing perfectly still and continuing to stare at their broken spear, as if trying to blend in with the stone wall behind them. Definitely no eagerness to fight there. [[Continue|9.8b]] Unlike what you expected, there is no sign of the prison anywhere in the distance as you keep walking. Even the few times that you visited Marabad as a child, you never had any reason to venture near the Prison District, but you imagined it would be an unmistakable structure to house the amount of prisoners Marabad must have, being one of the largest cities in the entire empire. Yet, as you keep watch of the horizon, you see nothing. You are well atop the hill where the prison is located, so you should be able to see it in the distance by now. “Are you looking for the prison?” $aname asks from beside you, having noticed your searching gaze. “Don’t bother, you won’t be able to see it from here. It’s built below ground.” You hear $xname scoff from behind you, a sound of mocking. “Innovative, isn’t it?” The others remain silent, focused on their surroundings. “So it’s built within this hill?” you ask, frowning as you look at the ground. The deeply uncomfortable realization that you might be walking <em>on top of prisoners</em> comes over you. “How big is it?” “Not big enough to span the entire hill,” $aname replies, taking a very neutral tone, though you notice the way $athey glances at you, as if watching your reaction. “But a sizable amount; the very top, I would say.” You suspect you will regret asking, but you ask even so, “What kinds of prisoners?” “Those too poor to buy their way to freedom,” $aname replies simply; $athey states it so bluntly you get the sense $athey’s not trying to be sarcastic. “Common thieves, drunkards, those who have severely injured other people or damaged public property, debtors who cannot pay and also cannot work off their debt,” $dname recounts, not commenting on $aname’s remark. “Anything more serious is punished with execution.” <<if $publicfavored gte 2>>You remain silent for a while, falling into thought, before you finally say, “Yet nobles who commit crimes against the Crown are locked away into a comfortable room in the Royal Palace.” Now you fully understand why, when you asked Ziryan if the dungeons were comparable to the prison, they answered that they weren’t without hesitation.<<else>>The conversation falls into silence there, as you have no further questions or thoughts to add. It seems an ingrained practice at this point, and you have other priorities at the moment.<</if>> Your companions have nothing further to comment, and you continue to move through the streets as a group. As you turn another corner, the pitch-black sky gradually starting to lighten into a dark blue, $dname halts in front of you, bringing the rest of you to a stop as well. When you look past $dthem, you understand why. <<if $cs lte 3>>[[Continue|9.5b.1]]<<else>>[[Continue|9.5b.2]]<</if>> Unbidden, the image of your own <<if $innocents is 'dead'>>father<<else>>parents<</if>> emerges from memory. You avert your eyes from the <<if $innocents is 'dead'>>heartbroken family<<else>>bloodstains<</if>> before you can even think about it. Perhaps it is a cowardly decision, but if you are overwhelmed by your own emotions now, you won’t be of use to anyone. The best thing you can do for <<if $innocents is 'dead'>>this family<<else>>the people injured<</if>> is to ensure that whoever is behind this is found and brought to justice. It’s not solely for the sake of your own safety anymore: Arsur’s citizens are in danger. <<if $innocents is 'dead'>>As you walk past the two family members, however, $aname leaves your side and approaches them. You open your mouth to call out to $athem, but change your mind when you see the mother look up at $aname through her tears. “Who are you?” her child asks warily as their hold around their mother tightens, their gaze flitting to your group. “An Imperial Guard,” $aname answers, kneeling down in front of them. “We’re here to investigate what happened, as ordered by the Crown.” “The Crown knows?” the mother says, her voice trembling. “$cthey <<if $pronouns is 'theythem'>>know<<else>>knows<</if>> what happened to my promised one?” You almost wince at the words, <em>promised one</em>. Of course, you suspected mother and father would’ve been promised to each other, much like your own parents were—bonded through magic, as is the tradition for lovers who commit themselves to each other—but that means she likely felt the very moment his life was taken. You can’t imagine the agony; no wonder she has refused to move from this place. $aname reaches out to her, holding both of her hands. “I know nothing I can say will ease your pain, but I promise, we will find the one responsible and bring them to justice.” The mother clings to $atheir hands, her face wet with tears as she sobs. “It’s because of Steward Welat and his jackals! He sends the city guards to our districts to harass us every day, but where are they when we need protection?” She is not the first citizen in Marabad who you’ve heard complain about the steward. While he’s not responsible in this instance, you have no doubt he must be doing <em>something</em> wrong if this heartbroken mother’s first thought is to blame him for it. “He won’t be involved in this investigation; the Imperial Guards will handle this matter personally,” $aname says, pulling her up by her hands. “You and your child should go home and grieve in comfort, auntie. Let me escort you both, the streets are not safe at night.” <<if $loveinterest is 'A'>><<if $apoints gt 14>><<set $arelationship to 'high'>><<set $ahighcount to 1>>You meet $aname’s gaze, reluctant to see $athem leave your side at a time like this, yet you also recognize $athey feels a duty to the citizens to see them protected. It’s almost surprising, in a way. You thought the Royal Protector’s foremost task was to safeguard the Crown, but $aname at the very least seems to have taken on the responsibility to guard not only the ruler, but also the citizens. How much of that is guilt for $atheir father’s rule, and how much of it is a sense of duty and care towards $atheir fellow citizens? You suspect it may be a bit of both; perhaps all these aspects are inseparably intertwined. Whichever the case, it’s undeniable that $aname is Arsur’s Royal Protector as much as $athey is yours. It’s something you should keep in mind and accept, if you are to work together from now on. “Go on,” you say to $aname, letting go of your own trepidation; you feel secure enough to entrust $aname with this, and you are confident in $atheir judgment. If $athey feels it necessary, then you have no doubt that it must be. “We’ll fill you in later.” $aname’s gaze changes ever so slightly, but you think you see a hint of gratitude as $athey bows towards you. $cathey gestures for the mother and child to walk ahead, though the two glance curiously in your direction. “Is that the Royal Protector?” you hear the child murmur, and you almost smile. If only they knew. You watch them and $aname depart, resisting the urge to call out to $athem to be careful, but only barely. Your eyes fall on the bloodstains scattered across the ground, and with a heavy heart, you return your attention to the matter at hand.<<else>><<set $arelationship to 'low'>><<set $alowcount to 1>>You meet $aname’s gaze, reluctant to see $athem leave your side at a time like this. Why does $athey even want to, considering the attack that just happened? You’re concerned for the citizens as well, of course, but $aname is the <em>Crown’s</em> Royal Protector. “Can we not send someone else?” you ask, thinking you’d much rather have your bodyguard near you at a time like this. “Kaja and Tûjo could both—” “I’d rather take care of this myself,” $aname replies evenly, “to ensure their safety.” There is a brief, tense silence. $dname appears entirely unaffected by $aname’s outright refusal to entertain your reluctance, and you think you may have overestimated exactly how loyal $dthey is to you. $xname looks on silently, frowning. Kaja glances at you, then says to $aname, “I wouldn’t mind going in your stead—” “No.” $aname frowns, irritation creeping into $atheir expression as $athey turns to address you again. “This is more important.” You’re taken aback at $atheir blunt tone. $cathey’s not taking any orders from you, nor bothering with any formalities in acknowledging your title. Perhaps the recent deference you’ve been shown from people has been starting to become expected, and it feels jarring now to be addressed as an equal. “If that was all.” $cathey sweeps into a brief bow, turning to offer $atheir arm to the mother, who looks befuddled by the tense conversation, but casts you a wary glance as she takes it and lets $aname lead her and her child away. While Kaja looks a little wide-eyed at her captain’s bold disregard, you notice $dname looking at you, taking in the deep frown on your face. You can’t quite read what $dthey’s thinking, but when your gazes meet, $dname averts $dtheir eyes again toward the door where $aname just left. $cdthey doesn’t seem at all bothered by $aname’s display. “Well,” $xname says, glancing at your direction with raised brows. “I’m thankful at least someone here has their priorities in order.” “Watch your tone, Pale Sword,” Kaja says sharply, but $xname shrugs, unbothered. $dname doesn’t take offense to $xname’s remark either, staring out ahead to the prison. You frown, averting your gaze. $aname has certainly made $atheir point, even if you don’t like it.<</if>><<else>>You meet $aname’s gaze, nodding to $athem. “Go on ahead. We’ll fill you in later.” $aname bows before you. “Until later.” $cathey doesn’t waste any further time, turning back to the grieving mother and offering her an arm. You watch as $athey leaves with the family, escorting them back home, though you catch a low murmur from the child as they cast you a curious glance. “Is that the Royal Protector?” you hear the child murmur, and you almost smile. If only they knew. “Stay on your guard!” $xname calls out after $athem at the last moment, and you see $athem give a backwards wave before disappearing around the corner.<</if>><</if>><<if $innocents is 'injured'>>“We have to compensate the victims,” you say as the others remain silent, watching your reaction. Focusing on the next step is more productive than wallowing in self-pity; you won’t be of use to anyone in that state. “$aname already sent imperial healers to help treat their wounds,” $dname replies. “Beyond that, compensation in gold coin would go a long way for them; most of the adults will be unable to work for a while.” You nod. “It’s the least I can do for them.” $aname suddenly speaks up at that moment, $atheir gaze lingering on the bloodstains smeared across the street. “I should check security around the rest of the city, now that the prison has been secured.” “Have you heard any reports?” $dname asks, and $aname shakes $atheir head. “It’s merely a precaution.” You frown with worry; in all the chaos, the security of the rest of the city slipped your mind. “Do you think other places would be targeted?” “It’s hard to say.” $aname frowns in uncertainty. “Whoever is behind this, be it the Followers or someone else, it could’ve been a distraction for something else. The attack was done quite publicly, after all.” If you could at least have confirmation that it <em>was</em> the Followers of Vidarna behind this for a fact, you’d be able to approach the situation with much more certainty. As it is, there’s no guarantee that the assassins weren’t sent by someone else unconnected to the Followers; going a decade without a Crown, there must be plenty of people who have consolidated power in the ruler’s absence, and now that one has returned, feel threatened as a result. Though, you suppose it’d be a bit much to expect assassins to leave convenient hints about their identity lying around. <<if $loveinterest is 'A'>><<if $apoints gt 14>><<set $arelationship to 'high'>>You meet $aname’s gaze, reluctant to see $athem leave your side at a time like this, yet you also recognize $athey feels a duty to the citizens to see them protected. It’s almost surprising, in a way. You thought the Royal Protector’s foremost task was to safeguard the Crown, but $aname at the very least seems to have taken on the responsibility to guard not only the ruler, but also the citizens. How much of that is guilt for $atheir father’s rule, and how much of it is a sense of duty and care towards $atheir fellow citizens? You suspect it may be a bit of both; perhaps all these aspects are inseparably intertwined. Whichever the case, it’s undeniable that $aname is Arsur’s Royal Protector as much as $athey is yours. It’s something you should keep in mind and accept, if you are to work together from now on. “Go on,” you say to $aname, letting go of your own trepidation; you feel secure enough to entrust $aname with this, and you are confident in $atheir judgment. If $athey feels it necessary, then you have no doubt that it must be. “We’ll fill you in later.” $aname’s gaze changes ever so slightly, but you think you see a hint of gratitude as $athey bows before you, $atheir tone uttering your title with more sincerity than you’re used to from $athem. “Your Imperial Majesty.” You watch $athem depart, feeling a sudden sense of anxiety creeping up on you as $athey walks away. “$aname!” $cathey pauses, turning around to look at you in question. “Be careful,” you say, trying to ignore the others staring at you. $aname looks almost taken aback for a moment, but then, you catch a slight smile on $atheir lips. “Is that an order?” “It is.” $catheir smile turns warmer. “Who am I to refuse my Crown?” With a last incline of $atheir head, $athey turns around again and heads out, leaving you to stand there with the sound of your heartbeat drumming between your ears, repeating <em>my Crown</em> with every beat. It is almost enough to make you forget the night’s events. As you turn around to face the others again, you avoid $xname’s far too amused gaze on you. At least Tûjo, $dname and Kaja have the decency to look indifferent towards your exchange—though you suspect with $dname, it is genuine indifference.<<else>><<set $arelationship to 'low'>>You meet $aname’s gaze, reluctant to see $athem leave your side at a time like this. Why does $athey even want to, considering the attack that just happened? You’re concerned for the citizens as well, of course, but $aname is the <em>Crown’s</em> Royal Protector. “Can you not send someone else?” you ask, thinking you’d much rather have your bodyguard near you at a time like this. “I’d rather take care of this myself,” $aname replies evenly, “to ensure nothing is overlooked.” There is a brief, tense silence. $dname appears entirely unaffected by $aname’s outright refusal to entertain your reluctance, and you think you may have overestimated exactly how loyal $dthey is to you. $xname, predictably, looks amused. Kaja glances at you, then says to $aname, “Captain, if the Crown would feel more comfortable with you here, I could go in your stead—” “No.” $aname frowns, irritation creeping into $atheir expression as $athey turns to address you again. “With both $xdnickname and $xname here, you are more than well protected. It’s the citizens that need my attention, and my protection.” You’re taken aback at $atheir blunt tone. $cathey’s not taking any orders from you, nor bothering with any formalities in acknowledging your title. Perhaps the recent deference you’ve been shown from people has been starting to become expected, and it feels jarring now to be addressed as an equal. “If that was all.” $cathey sweeps into a brief bow, turning around and walking off without waiting for dismissal. While Kaja looks a little wide-eyed at her captain’s bold disregard, you notice $dname looking at you, taking in the deep frown on your face. You can’t quite read what $dthey’s thinking, but when your gazes meet, $dname averts $dtheir eyes again. $cdthey doesn’t seem at all bothered by $aname’s display. “Well,” $xname says, looking thoroughly entertained as $xthey flashes you a cheeky grin. “Good luck trying to order that one around, Your Imperial Majesty. I don’t imagine there’s a single person on earth who could make $athem kneel.” Tûjo is the only one who appears entirely unbothered. You wonder whether $aname’s boldness is due to being raised Crownsblood, or something innate to $athem. Either way, $athey has certainly made $atheir point, even if you don’t like it.<</if>><<else>>You meet $aname’s gaze, nodding to $athem. “Go on ahead. We’ll fill you in later.” $aname bows before you. “Majesty.” $cathey doesn’t waste any further time, turning around and leaving for the city; every moment counts, especially if whoever is behind this attack planned it to be a diversion. “Stay on your guard!” $xname calls out after $athem at the last moment, and you see $athem give a backwards wave before disappearing around the corner.<</if>><</if>> [[Continue|9.7b]] You feel the impulse to look away from the <<if $innocents is 'dead'>>tragic situation<<else>>evidence of the incident<</if>>, avert your gaze and move forward, but a larger part of you—perhaps your conscience—resists. The blood stained upon the ground is on your hands. It was your decision to send the assassin to the prison, thereby putting the citizens at risk, and it falls on you that you did not secure the area adequately. The least you can do is to face your failure, as painful as it is. <<if $innocents is 'dead'>>It’s as $xname said: this victim may be one of the first to die due to your decisions, but he won’t be the last. <</if>>To agonize over it won’t be of any help to anyone. <<if $innocents is 'dead'>>As you walk past the two family members, however, $aname leaves your side and approaches them. You open your mouth to call out to $athem, but change your mind when you see the mother look up at $aname through her tears. “Who are you?” her child asks warily as their hold around their mother tightens, their gaze flitting to your group. “An Imperial Guard,” $aname answers, kneeling down in front of them. “We’re here to investigate what happened, as ordered by the Crown.” “The Crown knows?” the mother says, her voice trembling. “$cthey <<if $pronouns is 'theythem'>>know<<else>>knows<</if>> what happened to my promised one?” You almost wince at the words, <em>promised one</em>. Of course, you suspected mother and father would’ve been promised to each other, much like your own parents were—bonded through magic, as is the tradition for lovers who commit themselves to each other—but that means she likely felt the very moment his life was taken. You can’t imagine the agony; no wonder she has refused to move from this place. $aname reaches out to her, holding both of her hands. “I know nothing I can say will ease your pain, but I promise, we will find the one responsible and bring them to justice.” The mother clings to $atheir hands, her face wet with tears as she sobs. “It’s because of Steward Welat and his jackals! He sends the city guards to our districts to harass us every day, but where are they when we need protection?” She is not the first citizen in Marabad who you’ve heard complain about the steward. While he’s not responsible in this instance, you have no doubt he must be doing <em>something</em> wrong if this heartbroken mother’s first thought is to blame him for it. “He won’t be involved in this investigation; the Imperial Guards will handle this matter personally,” $aname says, pulling her up by her hands. “You and your child should go home and grieve in comfort, auntie. Let me escort you both, the streets are not safe at night.” <<if $loveinterest is 'A'>><<if $apoints gt 14>><<set $arelationship to 'high'>><<set $ahighcount to 1>>You meet $aname’s gaze, reluctant to see $athem leave your side at a time like this, yet you also recognize $athey feels a duty to the citizens to see them protected. It’s almost surprising, in a way. You thought the Royal Protector’s foremost task was to safeguard the Crown, but $aname at the very least seems to have taken on the responsibility to guard not only the ruler, but also the citizens. How much of that is guilt for $atheir father’s rule, and how much of it is a sense of duty and care towards $atheir fellow citizens? You suspect it may be a bit of both; perhaps all these aspects are inseparably intertwined. Whichever the case, it’s undeniable that $aname is Arsur’s Royal Protector as much as $athey is yours. It’s something you should keep in mind and accept, if you are to work together from now on. “Go on,” you say to $aname, letting go of your own trepidation; you feel secure enough to entrust $aname with this, and you are confident in $atheir judgment. If $athey feels it necessary, then you have no doubt that it must be. “We’ll fill you in later.” $aname’s gaze changes ever so slightly, but you think you see a hint of gratitude as $athey bows towards you. $cathey gestures for the mother and child to walk ahead, though the two glance curiously in your direction. “Is that the Royal Protector?” you hear the child murmur, and you almost smile. If only they knew. You watch them and $aname depart, resisting the urge to call out to $athem to be careful, but only barely. Your eyes fall on the bloodstains scattered across the ground, and with a heavy heart, you return your attention to the matter at hand.<<else>><<set $arelationship to 'low'>><<set $alowcount to 1>>You meet $aname’s gaze, reluctant to see $athem leave your side at a time like this. Why does $athey even want to, considering the attack that just happened? You’re concerned for the citizens as well, of course, but $aname is the <em>Crown’s</em> Royal Protector. “Can we not send someone else?” you ask, thinking you’d much rather have your bodyguard near you at a time like this. “Kaja and Tûjo could both—” “I’d rather take care of this myself,” $aname replies evenly, “to ensure their safety.” There is a brief, tense silence. $dname appears entirely unaffected by $aname’s outright refusal to entertain your reluctance, and you think you may have overestimated exactly how loyal $dthey is to you. $xname, predictably, looks highly amused. Kaja glances at you, then says to $aname, “I wouldn’t mind going in your stead—” “No.” $aname frowns, irritation creeping into $atheir expression as $athey turns to address you again. “This is more important.” You’re taken aback at $atheir blunt tone. $cathey’s not taking any orders from you, nor bothering with any formalities in acknowledging your title. Perhaps the recent deference you’ve been shown from people has been starting to become expected, and it feels jarring now to be addressed as an equal. “If that was all.” $cathey sweeps into a brief bow, turning to offer $atheir arm to the mother, who looks befuddled by the tense conversation, but casts you a wary glance as she takes it and lets $aname lead her and her child away. While Kaja looks a little wide-eyed at her captain’s bold disregard, you notice $dname looking at you, taking in the deep frown on your face. You can’t quite read what $dthey’s thinking, but when your gazes meet, $dname averts $dtheir eyes again toward the door where $aname just left. $cdthey doesn’t seem at all bothered by $aname’s display. “Well,” $xname says, glancing at your direction with raised brows. “I’m thankful at least someone here has their priorities in order.” “Watch your tone, Pale Sword,” Kaja says sharply, but $xname shrugs, unbothered. $dname doesn’t take offense to $xname’s remark either, staring out ahead to the prison. You frown, averting your gaze. $aname has certainly made $atheir point, even if you don’t like it.<</if>><<else>>You meet $aname’s gaze, nodding to $athem. “Go on ahead. We’ll fill you in later.” $aname bows before you. “Until later.” $cathey doesn’t waste any further time, turning back to the grieving mother and offering her an arm. You watch as $athey leaves with the family, escorting them back home, though you catch a low murmur from the child as they cast you a curious glance. “Is that the Royal Protector?” you hear the child murmur, and you almost smile. If only they knew. “Stay on your guard!” $xname calls out after $athem at the last moment, and you see $athem give a backwards wave before disappearing around the corner.<</if>><</if>><<if $innocents is 'injured'>>“We have to compensate the victims,” you say as the others remain silent, watching your reaction. Focusing on the next step is more productive than wallowing in self-pity; you won’t be of use to anyone in that state. “$aname already sent imperial healers to help treat their wounds,” $dname replies. “Beyond that, compensation in gold coin would go a long way for them; most of the adults will be unable to work for a while.” You nod. “It’s the least I can do for them.” $aname suddenly speaks up at that moment, $atheir gaze lingering on the bloodstains smeared across the street. “I should check security around the rest of the city, now that the prison has been secured.” “Have you heard any reports?” $dname asks, and $aname shakes $atheir head. “It’s merely a precaution.” You frown with worry; in all the chaos, the security of the rest of the city slipped your mind. “Do you think other places would be targeted?” “It’s hard to say.” $aname frowns in uncertainty. “Whoever is behind this, be it the Followers or someone else, it could’ve been a distraction for something else. The attack was done quite publicly, after all.” If you could at least have confirmation that it <em>was</em> the Followers of Vidarna behind this for a fact, you’d be able to approach the situation with much more certainty. As it is, there’s no guarantee that the assassins weren’t sent by someone else unconnected to the Followers; going a decade without a Crown, there must be plenty of people who have consolidated power in the ruler’s absence, and now that one has returned, feel threatened as a result. Though, you suppose it’d be a bit much to expect assassins to leave convenient hints about their identity lying around. <<if $loveinterest is 'A'>><<if $apoints gt 14>><<set $arelationship to 'high'>><<set $ahighcount to 1>>You meet $aname’s gaze, reluctant to see $athem leave your side at a time like this, yet you also recognize $athey feels a duty to the citizens to see them protected. It’s almost surprising, in a way. You thought the Royal Protector’s foremost task was to safeguard the Crown, but $aname at the very least seems to have taken on the responsibility to guard not only the ruler, but also the citizens. How much of that is guilt for $atheir father’s rule, and how much of it is a sense of duty and care towards $atheir fellow citizens? You suspect it may be a bit of both; perhaps all these aspects are inseparably intertwined. Whichever the case, it’s undeniable that $aname is Arsur’s Royal Protector as much as $athey is yours. It’s something you should keep in mind and accept, if you are to work together from now on. “Go on,” you say to $aname, letting go of your own trepidation; you feel secure enough to entrust $aname with this, and you are confident in $atheir judgment. If $athey feels it necessary, then you have no doubt that it must be. “We’ll fill you in later.” $aname’s gaze changes ever so slightly, but you think you see a hint of gratitude as $athey bows before you, $atheir tone uttering your title with more sincerity than you’re used to from $athem. “Your Imperial Majesty.” You watch $athem depart, feeling a sudden sense of anxiety creeping up on you as $athey walks away. “$aname!” $cathey pauses, turning around to look at you in question. “Be careful,” you say, trying to ignore the others staring at you. $aname looks almost taken aback for a moment, but then, you catch a slight smile on $atheir lips. “Is that an order?” “It is.” $catheir smile turns warmer. “Who am I to refuse my Crown?” With a last incline of $atheir head, $athey turns around again and heads out, leaving you to stand there with the sound of your heartbeat drumming between your ears, repeating <em>my Crown</em> with every beat. It is almost enough to make you forget the night’s events. As you turn around to face the others again, you avoid $xname’s far too amused gaze on you. At least Tûjo, $dname and Kaja have the decency to look indifferent towards your exchange—though you suspect with $dname, it is genuine indifference.<<else>><<set $arelationship to 'low'>><<set $alowcount to 1>>You meet $aname’s gaze, reluctant to see $athem leave your side at a time like this. Why does $athey even want to, considering the attack that just happened? You’re concerned for the citizens as well, of course, but $aname is the <em>Crown’s</em> Royal Protector. “Can you not send someone else?” you ask, thinking you’d much rather have your bodyguard near you at a time like this. “I’d rather take care of this myself,” $aname replies evenly, “to ensure nothing is overlooked.” There is a brief, tense silence. $dname appears entirely unaffected by $aname’s outright refusal to entertain your reluctance, and you think you may have overestimated exactly how loyal $dthey is to you. $xname, predictably, looks amused. Kaja glances at you, then says to $aname, “Captain, if the Crown would feel more comfortable with you here, I could go in your stead—” “No.” $aname frowns, irritation creeping into $atheir expression as $athey turns to address you again. “With both $xdnickname and $xname here, you are more than well protected. It’s the citizens that need my attention, and my protection.” You’re taken aback at $atheir blunt tone. $cathey’s not taking any orders from you, nor bothering with any formalities in acknowledging your title. Perhaps the recent deference you’ve been shown from people has been starting to become expected, and it feels jarring now to be addressed as an equal. “If that was all.” $cathey sweeps into a brief bow, turning around and walking off without waiting for dismissal. While Kaja looks a little wide-eyed at her captain’s bold disregard, you notice $dname looking at you, taking in the deep frown on your face. You can’t quite read what $dthey’s thinking, but when your gazes meet, $dname averts $dtheir eyes again. $cdthey doesn’t seem at all bothered by $aname’s display. “Well,” $xname says, looking thoroughly entertained as $xthey flashes you a cheeky grin. “Good luck trying to order that one around, Your Imperial Majesty. I don’t imagine there’s a single person on earth who could make $athem kneel.” Tûjo is the only one who appears entirely unbothered. You wonder whether $aname’s boldness is due to being raised Crownsblood, or something innate to $athem. Either way, $athey has certainly made $atheir point, even if you don’t like it.<</if>><<else>>You meet $aname’s gaze, nodding to $athem. “Go on ahead. We’ll fill you in later.” $aname bows before you. “Majesty.” $cathey doesn’t waste any further time, turning around and leaving for the city; every moment counts, especially if whoever is behind this attack planned it to be a diversion. “Stay on your guard!” $xname calls out after $athem at the last moment, and you see $athem give a backwards wave before disappearing around the corner.<</if>><</if>> [[Continue|9.7b]]<<set $body to false>><<set $face to false>><<set $mask to false>>You follow $dname into what you thought would be the building, but instead, turns out to be a small entryway guarded by yet another massive door—singular this time, at least. $dname sighs, taking $dtheir glove off, and placing $dtheir bare palm against the cool metal. Nothing happens. $xname clears $xtheir throat, trying to suppress a grin. “Do you need help, or—” “Be quiet.” After several long seconds, you see the faintest green glow emanate from between $dname’s palm and the metal door. Another moment of silence passes as the weak glow dissipates, and the door pops open, gradually sliding to allow you entry. Those guards really must have tried to test $dname on purpose, if the inner door has such a feature to recognize magical signatures and only open to certain people. Demanding for someone to prove their identity would be pointless in most cases. $dname sighs deeply with relief, putting $dtheir glove back on. For someone who broke a spear and moved two gigantic metal doors effortlessly, $dthey almost looks drained from the smallest effort of magic. You move further into the building, as it opens up into a large, bare hall; its stone walls lit with torches remind you of the tunnels below the palace. The one notable difference is the contraption at its center, what appears to be some sort of metal lift. There are more guards stationed around the room, one standing by the lift that you approach. You’ve seen a few of these things before, mostly in larger villages or cities, used by stonemasons and carpenters while working on a tall building, or used to transport things such as mined ores or large logs of wood from a high cliff down below. This lift is made of metal rather than the wooden ones you’ve seen before, however, with railings on all four sides and a small gate. Like all the other wooden lifts, you do notice the sigils carved into its platform and the railings. “Will we be going down below?” you ask, uncertain how you feel about going even deeper underground than you were in the tunnels, but thankfully $dname shakes $dtheir head. “We’ve moved the prisoner’s body to a separate room up here,” $dthey replies, leading you around the lift towards a corridor across the hall. “Any barriers in the prison have proven ineffective, it was safer this way.” You, $xname, Tûjo and the Imperial Guards—Kaja still the only one visible—continue to follow $dname through the entrance building of the prison. Its architecture looks deceptively simple, but you suspect it would be very easy to get lost here as every hallway looks identical to the next. Eventually, you come to a stop in front of metal doors that look identical to the other ones you’ve seen in this building so far, guarded by two more people on either side. These guards, however, wear the bronze and red of the Imperial Army rather than the silver and black of the Imperial Guards, or the neutral gray tones of Marabad’s city guards. “General.” The two soldiers greet $dname with their gloved hands pressed to their chest-plates. “Has anyone tried to enter?” $dname asks, likely suspicious of the city guards in this building. “No, general.” “Good.” Satisfied, $dname motions to the doors, and the soldiers quickly move to push them open. “Make certain we are not disturbed.” “Yes, general.” After the soldiers have pushed the doors open, one of them hands $dname a stone tablet, similar to the ones you’ve seen used in the palace before to open doors. At that point, Tûjo moves away from the group, standing against the wall opposite the door and $dname’s soldiers. “I cannot be of further use to you; I’ll wait outside.” “If you get bored, feel free to pick on the soldiers,” $xname says casually, earning a glare from $dname and wary glances from the soldiers. They look over at Tûjo, who stares back unflinchingly, and quickly avert their gazes again as if pretending not to see him. Kaja comes along with you; among your group, both visible and invisible, she was apparently trained in warding and has the most knowledge of it. It should come in use for an initial examination. $dname almost moves to continue inside, but then pauses in front of the open doors to turn and look at you. “Are you certain you’re comfortable seeing it?” With ‘it’, $dthey means the body of the prisoner. “I will have to be.” You haven’t ever seen a body up close, but you’ve glimpsed corpses from a distance before. Ones placed upon Towers of Silence: raised, circular structures upon which bodies are placed after death, as feed for the vultures. Corpses are considered unclean, and cannot be exposed to the earth, water, or to fire, as it is thought by some that it will contaminate these sacred elements. Not everyone adheres to the practice. It is an older one that dates to rituals from the Monarchy of Ardia, as funeral pyres and burial mounds are also often used depending on one’s particular sect, or simply on the place where they live. Towers of Silence are often built away from towns, and for smaller villages it may be too long of a journey or too difficult to build a tower of their own, so they have other forms of funerals. Still, the practice is common enough to where you’re familiar with the sight of them. That doesn’t mean you’re entirely at ease with seeing a corpse up close, however. “$cthey can handle it,” $xname says, patting you on the shoulder. “What’s a body compared to facing the nobility of Marabad?” You huff a laugh, though it fades quickly. “Well, when you put it that way…” It appears to reassure $dname, at least enough for $dthem to nod and continue to lead you into the room. Immediately, you are greeted with the eerie sight of the puzzle that awaits you. [[Continue|9.9b]] The body sits at the center of the room on a stone table. The edge of the white slab of stone has sigils carved along its rim that glow a bright green, overpowering the torchlight and coloring the rest of the room in its eerie glow. The prisoner is still dressed head to toe in the same robes and trousers you saw them in when they tried to assassinate you days ago. The only difference is that, instead of wearing a mask, their face is covered with a white sheet. Their mask lays beside their head on the stone table. As you all file into the room, the soldiers close the doors behind you. “It’s barred off?” $xname says as $xthey studies the table, $xtheir remark pulling your gaze away from it. “There’s a barrier around the table,” you reply, pointing to the sigils, being able to read a few of them. “It doesn’t appear to let anything through, but I thought there’d at least be a smell.” “Corpses don’t start smelling until their innards begin to rot,” $xname replies offhandedly. “That usually takes at least a day in most cases. How are we supposed to examine, then?” You stare at $xname. “Why do you know that?” $xname gives you an amused look, shrugging casually. “You pick up on these things in my line of work.” “We can dispel the barrier,” $dname says to answer $xname’s question, looking down at the small, round stone tablet that $dthey was given by the soldier, glowing with a similar green sigil. “I assume this functions the same as the tablets for the doors in the Royal Palace?” “It does.” You hold out your hand. “Allow me?” $dname looks reluctant. “Magic can be unpredictable…” “<<if $loveinterest isnot 'D'>>General<<else>>$dname<</if>>, it’s a corpse,” you point out. “It’s not going to hurt me.” <<if $loveinterest is 'X'>>“I’ll protect $name if something happens,” $xname adds, but there is none of $xtheir usual mischief to be found as $xthey briefly meets your eyes. $cxthey’s entirely serious, stepping a little closer to you near the head of the table. “But I don’t sense anything dangerous. It should be safe.” <<if $res gt $flirt>>A flush of warmth beneath your skin rises to your face, one you ignore; it’s not the appropriate time when you’re standing in front of a stranger’s corpse.<<else>>You feel a glow of warmth in your chest, but choose to ignore it; it’s not the appropriate time when you’re standing in front of a stranger’s corpse.<</if>> Still, you feel better with $xthem near. “See?” you say to $dname. “Even $xname says so.” Reluctantly placated, $dname hands the stone tablet over. “What, no grumbling about me using $their name?” $xname says, a small touch of lighthearted teasing. “It’s not my place, clearly,” $dname replies, giving you a glance you’re not sure how to interpret.<</if>><<if $loveinterest is 'D'>>“If anything happens, you can simply protect your dear Crown, can you not?” $xname says to $dname, a knowing look in $xtheir eyes as $xthey grins at the general. $dname doesn’t rise to $xtheir bait, replying curtly, “Prevention would be preferable.” The blunt retort makes you frown, and you feel disappointed at $dtheir easy dismissal. You realize it’s not the appropriate time for such things, and it is better to separate personal feelings from the task at hand—but is it unreasonable of you to still feel a sting at $dtheir words? Pushing the feeling aside, you try to refocus.<</if>><<if $loveinterest is 'R' or $loveinterest is 'A'>>Finally, $dname hands it over.<</if>> You look at the sigil carved on it, four lines crossed diagonally with a dot in each of its inner corners. Searching for its match along the table, you finally find it carved at the head of the stone table, right beneath where the prisoner’s body has laid its head. Seeing a corpse hasn’t disturbed you as much as you thought it might. Their face is still covered; not having to see their face is making it easier. You can almost pretend it isn’t a person at all. Just a large doll, in the shape of a human but devoid of a spirit. It has already left this body. You press the stone key to its matching sigil, and a flash of purple streaks through the air, briefly illuminating the invisible barrier before it fades away. As you remain standing at the head of the table, peering down at the body, Kaja and $dname stand on your right and $xname walks around the table to stand on your left, the three of them facing the body as well. Now, where to start? <ul class="a"> <li>[[The mask.|9.10b.1]]</li> <li>[[The face.|9.10b.2]]</li> <li>[[The body.|9.10b.3]]</li> </ul><<set $mask to true>>You look down at the prisoner’s mask, removed from their face now that they’ve died. It seems unremarkable at first glance: it is an oddly smooth, pure black surface, molded to fit their features. There are only two small holes for the eyes, and nothing else. “Is it safe to touch?” you ask Kaja. “Not with your bare hands, Your Imperial Majesty.” She picks up the mask with her gloved fingers, turning it over to reveal the inside. It is silver, every inch of it carved with many rows of sigils patterned in a whirlpool that glow a very faint white light, its center-point seeming to be the spot between where the prisoner’s eyebrows would be. “The touch of skin could be dangerous, in case your magic connects to the mental ward.” You certainly wouldn’t want <em>that</em> to happen. “What else can you tell me about how this mental ward functions?” “As we discussed in the palace earlier, the mental ward is located in the prisoner’s mask,” Kaja explains, pointing to the swirl of sigils glowing an ominous pale light. “When you put the mask on, the mental ward within the mask will connect to your mind. The ward itself is the kind of ward that can store things within it.” She looks up to meet your eyes. “<<if $intel gt $intu>>If what you suggested during our discussion in the palace is true, Your Imperial Majesty, then there are<<else>>Based on our guesses about how the ward works so far, there must be<</if>> commands already stored within the mental ward. These were then transferred to the prisoner’s mind when certain conditions were met.” You have to admit, you’re impressed with Kaja’s display of knowledge so far. While you knew $aname wouldn’t recruit anyone incompetent, due to her and Ezo’s playful antics part of you might have underestimated them both. “So, to summarize,” $xname says, gaze trailing over the prisoner’s cloth-covered face, “the mental ward in the prisoner’s mask was triggered. It likely commanded the prisoner to take their mask off, break out of the prison cell, and… attack anyone in the way?” $cxtheir sentence ends in a tentative question, and $xthey looks at you. “Do you think it was a purposeful attack?” “Yes.” At least on this, you don’t have to hesitate. “On the eve of my coronation? It'd be the perfect opportunity to cause chaos, though I'm not sure for what purpose. Perhaps merely to discredit me.” $dname lets out a deep exhale, crossing $dtheir arms as $dthey peers down at the mask. “While I don’t understand much about magic, the implication here is that anyone who wears such a mask becomes a puppet, controlled from afar without even a direct connection to their puppeteer. How do we trace this kind of magic back to its source?” “It would be difficult, but not impossible,” Kaja responds, a thoughtful look on her face. “There is still magic stored within this mask. A skilled enough specialist in magical signatures could identify the signature that created this mask—the provincial Schools of Magic keep records of their students and their magical affinities and signatures. There is a high chance that whoever created this mental ward graduated from a school like that.” “But we don’t know which school,” $dname points out. “It could be any single one of the five provinces, even as far away as Şevan—it could take <em>months</em> before we hear back from them. Not to mention the risk of divulging such sensitive knowledge. For all we know, the magus responsible for this could be attending or teaching at one of these schools.” “If nothing else, it’s an option,” you consider. <<if $body is true and $face is true>>You’ve found out all you can; it’s time to figure out your next move. [[Continue|9.11b]]<</if>><<if $body is false and $face is true>>With both the mask and the prisoner’s face examined, all there is left now is the body. [[Continue|9.10b.3]]<</if>><<if $body is true and $face is false>>With both the mask and the prisoner’s body examined, all there is left now is the face. [[Continue|9.10b.2]]<</if>><<if $body is false and $face is false>>There are still the prisoner’s face and body to examine; perhaps those can offer you more clues and avenues of investigation. <ul class="a"> <li>[[Examine the body next.|9.10b.3]]</li> <li>[[Examine the face next.|9.10b.2]]</li> </ul><</if>><<set $face to true>><<if $loveinterest isnot 'A'>>This will probably be the least pleasant part of the examination; you can still very much recall the scent of burned flesh when you saw the mask activate on the other assassin that chased you down in the tunnels. The sounds of the muffled screaming as they clawed at the mask, burning the flesh from their face, the trail of thin smoke rising from beneath together with the <em>stench</em>— You close your eyes, willing the memories away before you start feeling nauseous. “$name?” $xname asks as you breathe through it. “Feeling alright?” <<if $blunt gt $charm>>“Fine.” You open your eyes again, staring down at the white cloth draped over the prisoner’s face. “Remove it.”<<else>>“No, but you already knew that,” you say as you open your eyes again, managing a wry smile. Your then gaze falls on the white cloth covering the prisoner’s head. “Can I see their face?”<</if>><<else>>You consider the prisoner's face, hidden behind a simple white sheet. It looks unassuming enough, probably put there out of a customary respect for the dead. “Can we lift the veil so I can see their face?”<</if>> “Are you sure?” $dname asks, exchanging a glance with $xname. “There might not be anything to learn here. From what we could tell, removing the mask was a painful process: it seemed to have been glued to the prisoner’s face.” Your eyes flit to the mask. <<if $mask is true>>The inside of it looked pristine, but from what $dname is describing…<<else>>From what $dname is describing…<</if>> “You mean their skin was…?” “Ripped off, yes.” That certainly doesn’t help your lingering nausea. “That’s… going to make identifying them difficult. But you’re right, it’s not something I need to see.” Mostly because you’re not certain if you could keep the contents of your stomach from rising up to your throat—best not to think of it, even. “There could be other ways to identify them,” $dname says, eyes trailing over the corpse in consideration. “We have their body, even if their mind <<if $body is true>>and spirit are<<else>>is<</if>> destroyed; there are magi who are adept at tracking the places an object, or in this case, a body has been.” “Even if we do find out where the body has been,” $xname remarks, “that doesn’t necessarily mean that we’ll be lead back to whoever put this mask on them. A magus who is <em>this</em> skilled in crafting a mental ward wouldn’t recklessly leave traces of themselves behind.” “Still, it’s a possible path to take,” you say, considering it. It is not a method of magic you’ve heard of before. “What kind of discipline does this kind of magic fall under?” When you look at $dname, $dthey appears exasperated. “Please don’t ask me. I’ve memorized any useful theory purely for practical reasons;,I don’t know the specifics of how it all works.” “I believe it falls under divination, Your Imperial Majesty,” Kaja answers helpfully. That explains your lack of knowledge on it; your father was never very fond of divination. He often called it superstitious, as much of divination relies on the diviner’s interpretation. There is no one who can predict the future with complete certainty, no matter how skilled a magus they are. The future was to be considered the realm of the Major Spirits, in your father’s opinion. He was always far more interested in puzzling out the divine, rather than mortal minds. Even so, there are still some basics he taught you about the discipline, enough that you are aware of its fundamentals. “Isn’t divination mainly used to foretell future events?” you ask, remembering your visit to the Sky Temple earlier and seeing its artificial sky spread out above you. Divining the stars is one of the oldest and well-known methods, one often reserved for royalty, but you can’t imagine it helping you trace the tracks of a single body. “Yes,” Kaja agrees, “but by knowing someone’s future, it is possible to retrace their steps in order to divine their past.” One’s future certainly doesn’t get any clearer than when they’re a corpse. “Well, I’m glad at least one of us is educated,” $xname quips, drawing a glare from $dname. “I <em>was</em> educated, just not in magic.” “Ask a magus and they’d say there isn’t a difference.” $dname rolls $dtheir eyes but doesn’t contradict $xname, returning $dtheir attention to the body. “In any case, this reinforces our findings that whoever this person was, there wasn’t anything left of their mind<<if $body is true>> and spirit<</if>> when the mental ward was placed on them. I cannot think of anyone who could so easily rip their own skin off their body, let alone be able to attack another afterwards.” You look over at Kaja, whose gaze has turned distant. Being targeted by masked assailants is one thing; someone with their face torn from them, attacking you as if they’re possessed? You can’t imagine it. <<if $kind gt $calc>>Your brows furrow with concern as you continue to watch Kaja. “It must’ve been a horrible sight.” Kaja looks up at you, <<if $yekbun is 'dead'>>a pained look passing over expression as she averts her eyes from you again<<else>>managing a slight smile meant to be reassuring<</if>>. “I’ve seen worse, Your Imperial Majesty. I’ll be alright.”<<else>>Still, Kaja used to be a soldier, even if she did end up pushed into the Imperial Guard. You don’t believe she would crumble that easily, though you <em>do</em> need her to be focused. “Do you need some time off after this?” you ask her, and she looks up at you with surprise. “No!” Determination hardens in her expression. “I want to- I <em>have</em> to help you catch whoever did this. I can handle myself.”<</if>> While you’re not entirely convinced, it’s not the time and place to get into it. You return your gaze to the body lying in front of you. <<if $body is true and $mask is true>>You’ve found out all you can; it’s time to figure out your next move. [[Continue|9.11b]]<</if>><<if $body is false and $mask is true>>With both the mask and the prisoner’s face examined, all there is left now is their body. [[Continue|9.10b.3]]<</if>><<if $body is true and $mask is false>>With both the face and the prisoner’s body examined, all there is left now is the mask. [[Continue|9.10b.1]]<</if>><<if $body is false and $mask is false>>There are still the prisoner’s mask and body to examine; perhaps those can offer you more clues and avenues of investigation. <ul class=”a”> <li>[[Examine the body next.|9.10b.3]]</li> <li>[[Examine the mask next.|9.10b.1]]</li> </ul><</if>><<set $body to true>>“Is it safe to examine their body?” you ask, looking between $xname and Kaja as they’re the most adept magic users present. “The mental ward seems to have been neutralized after the attack,” Kaja answers. She points to the mask. “It is still present in the mask, but with it now removed, there are no further commands embedded inside the prisoner, as far as I could tell.” “Even if there were,” $xname says, “they’re now dead. So, unless death magic is involved, I don’t see anything posing a risk.” “If I may, Your Imperial Majesty.” Kaja looks down at the prisoner’s arm, seeming fixated on something. “There’s something I noticed when they attacked us. I’d like to roll up their sleeve.” Curiosity piqued, you nod. “Go ahead.” Kaja reaches out, hesitating a moment as her hands hover over the prisoner’s wrist. A scowl deepens on her face, and without further delay, she rolls up the fabric of the prisoner’s sleeve. The skin revealed beneath is nothing like what you expected. Veins of white streak over their forearm like lightning branded on their body. Kaja’s eyes widen in surprise as she slowly tugs the prisoner’s glove off as well while the rest of you lean in to look more closely. The marks of lightning continue here as well. When Kaja turns their hand over, you see a large, white dot on the center of their palm, as well as similar dots on all of their fingertips. “Their magic pathways are marked,” Kaja says with a start. “Or… scarred? Pale Sword, can you—” “Already looking,” $xname says, rolling up the sleeve of the prisoner’s other arm and pulling the glove off their hand. It is the same here as well, the same irregular patterns that lead into the dots on their palm and fingertips. “What does this mean?” $dname asks, looking among the three of you. “Why would their magic pathways be made visible?” $cdtheir confusion is understandable, and equal to yours; using magic ordinarily should never leave marks on your skin like this. Magic pathways are unique to each individual, differing in size and length and position depending on the way it is used. The only consistency among <em>some</em> magi are the common exit-points for magic on the body: the hands. You struggle to understand what this means, reasoning out loud: “Inner magic types who often push the magic within their body outwards are sometimes known to have marks like these dots. My mother had them on her dominant hand, but they’re usually very faint. I’ve also never heard of magic showing up in these veins. This is…” Frowning deeply, you reach out with your fingers—not touching the prisoner’s skin, but hovering over it. There’s nothing left, no trace of heat, not even a spark of magic; it’s as if the body was drained completely. You look at $xname, who is doing the same thing across the table, ghosting $xtheir fingers over the scars, toward the prisoner’s hand. A grave expression darkens $xtheir gaze. “There is nothing,” $xname says, meeting your gaze. “No magic. Their pathways weren’t just marked, they were destroyed.” This person was made someone else’s puppet in much more horrifying ways than you first assumed. Their mind was erased, their body moving to another’s commands, and their magic pathways destroyed—it is a violation in every possible aspect. You feel sick just thinking about it. “There can’t be <em>no magic</em>,” $dname says incredulously. “Even corpses still have magic. There must be traces of their spirit to be found.” “But it would explain how they would’ve been able to pass through the barrier, wouldn’t it?” Kaja points out, arms folding in a gesture of discomfort. “If they had no magic.” A troubled silence stretches out among the four of you, each of your gazes aimed at the body lying on the stone table like an omen of things to come. It seems an impossibility, yet there is no other way to explain how the prisoner could’ve possibly escaped, but the implications of there being something in existence—especially a human body, one that was <em>alive</em>—without any magic within it are too great to fully wrap your mind around it. “There is one way to find out,” $xname says quietly, breaking the silence. <<if $loveinterest is 'X'>><<if $xpoints lte 14>><<set $xrelationship to 'low'>><<set $xlowcount to 1>>“No.” The word leaves your mouth before you even consider $xtheir proposition: $xthey wants to study the body $xthemselves, to try and sense for any magic. “It’s too dangerous. We can have magi look at the body instead.” $xname meets your eyes with a deep frown. “You would trust magi from the school to keep their mouths shut about such a finding?” “They’re better equipped than you are,” you argue, and now $xname looks annoyed, $xtheir gaze sharpening with warning. “Don’t underestimate me, and <em>don’t</em> tell me what to do.” You know you shouldn’t have phrased it that way, and it would be better to tell $xname that you’re concerned for $xtheir safety, but why does $xthey insist on defying you like this to begin with? You are not Crown Piruz, you should get some benefit of the doubt, yet $xthey refuses to give it to you. It was the same during $xtheir fight with Mîr Behram. $cxthey does what $xthey wants, consequences be damned. $cxthey has always had $xtheir own motivations, after all. Your jaw clenches. “Are you forgetting who you’re talking to?” The tension between you is palpable, almost jarring considering the unexpectedly intimate moment you shared in the sitting room before. It seems that as soon as you are reminded of your respective positions, things get more complicated than they should. $dname cuts in, looking between you and $xname, $dtheir tone one that is neutral yet also matter-of-fact: “$xname’s suggestion has merit, Your Imperial Majesty. Merely sensing for traces of magic shouldn’t be as dangerous as trying to connect to it, which is what $aname attempted to do.”<<else>><<set $xrelationship to 'high'>><<set $xhighcount to 1>>You hate the suggestion before $xname can even fully voice it, the reluctance in your words reflecting as much: “You want to try and sense magic from the body?” “It’ll be a challenge, but I know how to be cautious.” $xname’s eyes lower, trailing over the veins of lightning on the body’s still exposed arms. “I won’t try to connect to anything, like $aname did last time. Besides which, my mental defenses are better than most.” “It would be wiser than entrusting the body to magi from the school,” $dname considers, though $dthey looks uncertain as well as $dthey addresses $xname, “Are you confident that you can do so safely?” $xname appears thoughtful, considering $dname’s question. “There’s danger, of course. There <em>could</em> still be residual commands from the mental ward left in the body, but it seems unlikely that merely trying to sense the presence of magic could trigger anything. If you ask me, the risk is worth it.” $cxthey meets your eyes, no doubt being able to sense your hesitance. “You hired me to keep you safe, didn’t you? This is one way for me to do that. Let me help.” With $xname, there are always questions in the back of your mind about $xtheir motivations. $cxthey has told you about $xtheir family’s history with Crowns and Mîrs in the past, though $xthey hasn’t yet illuminated the role the Followers of Vidarna played in that. Still, if the Followers are connected to this, as you all suspect, then there’s no doubt $xname is motivated by a personal grudge. The decision that lies in front of you now is whether you are still willing to give $xthem your trust, even while so much about $xthem is a mystery to you. “Alright.” It feels like a leap of faith you’re taking, in more ways than one, but despite $xname’s own motivations you don’t believe $xthem to be malicious, or self-centered. This will benefit you both, if $xthey succeeds. “Try it, but be careful.” A flicker of surprise flits by on $xname’s face, before $xthey grins, $xtheir typical nonchalance returning. “Your Imperial Majesty, I am <em>always</em> careful.” You snort. “Of course.”<</if>><<else>>You consider $xname’s suggestion. “You want to try and sense magic from the body?” “I won’t try to connect to anything, like $aname did.” $xname’s eyes lower, trailing over the veins of lightning on the body’s still exposed arms. “Besides which, my mental defenses are better than most.” “It would be wiser than entrusting the body to magi from the school,” $dname considers, though $dthey looks uncertain as well as $dthey addresses $xname. “Are you confident that you can do so safely?” $xname appears thoughtful, considering $dname’s question. “There’s danger, of course. There could still be residual commands from the mental ward left in the body, but it seems unlikely that merely trying to sense the presence of magic could trigger anything dangerous. If you ask me, the risk is worth it.” If $xname is that confident in being able to do it, then you see no reason to decline. The quicker you can confirm what’s going on with this body, the better. “Alright, give it a try.” $xname smiles wryly, though the humor of it doesn’t quite reach $xtheir eyes. “If anything happens to me, tell Heval that I was the one that stole their whetstone.” “Nothing is going to happen to you,” $dname replies with exasperated irritation, but the way $dthey says it, $dtheir words sound almost like a reassurance—either to $dthemselves or to $xname—more than simply a statement of fact.<</if>> Turning to the corpse, the rest of you watch as $xname redirects $xtheir attention to the body. The tension rises into the air, the silence of anticipation giving it a heavy weight. There are as many things that could go wrong as they could go right. You hope it’ll be the latter. $xname takes a quiet, steady breath, the shine of focus glazing over $xtheir eyes as $xthey reaches out a hand. $cxtheir palm curls around the body’s wrist, where the pale white scars of their magic pathways crisscross over the green-tinged veins still visible beneath their skin. Nothing happens, at first. [[Continue|9.10b.3.b]]<<if $xfriend is false>>[ <b>[[Romantic relationship|Relationships]] updated</b> ] <</if>>The four of you fall silent now that the examination has been completed, no doubt each of you pondering all that you’ve discovered so far. Whatever is going on with the body was certainly the most illuminating—and most troubling—finding so far. Unfortunately, it doesn’t offer much in terms of finding out who is behind this. Whoever it is, they’re even more powerful than you first assumed. How did they manage to put the Void itself into someone’s body? Trigger it on command to consume the assassin’s spirit? Terrifying implications aside, to uncover the culprit behind all this, you could use divination on the body to try and uncover where the prisoner has been before they were caught trying to assassinate you. With some luck, it could help identify the prisoner. It’s unlikely it’ll lead directly to the magus responsible, but it would be a start. There’s also the mask to consider. While identifying the magic signature that forms the mental ward could lead directly to its creator, it could be a longer process, and one that would be difficult to keep quiet. There’s the risk that the magus could be tipped off to your investigation. “Any thoughts?” $xname asks, the first to break the silence. “Only unpleasant ones,” $dname replies, then sighs. “We should get $rtitle $rname and $aname’s opinions as well, but as far as I can see it, we have two options: identify the body, or identify the magic signature. I’m certain they would agree as well.” Much the same as what you thought. “Won’t the…” You pause, trying to find the right phrasing for what happened to $xname, “…lack of magic in the body form a problem, if we’re going to try divination?” You look to Kaja, who appears uncertain. “I must admit, I’m not sure, Your Imperial Majesty. If the body lacks magic… but then again, divination is the realm of past and future, not the present.” “We should prioritize whichever approach you think is wise, Your Imperial Majesty,” $dname adds as you consider your next course of action. “The other option can function as an alternative if the first doesn’t work. If we inquire about the magic signature, it will take many people to get it done, not to mention keep it hidden. If we divine the body’s past instead, results could be more immediate, but also unpredictable; we need to be prepared for anything.” You nod, taking out the stone tablet to reactivate the barrier around the body again as you think. What would be wisest? <ul class="a"> <li>[[Use divination to reveal the body’s past.|9.12b][$divination to true]]</li> <li>[[Search the schools for the magical signature that created the mask.|9.12b][$divination to false]]</li> </ul> You exchange a glance with $dname who seems to share your uncertainty; $dthey looks uncomfortable, shifting in place and folding $dtheir hands around $dtheir back as if to stop from fidgeting. In matters of magic, $dname can’t do anything to help, and you imagine doubly so for inner magic like this. $xname doesn’t so much as move for what feels like hours. The look of concentration remains on $xtheir face, which you assume is a sign of it going well, until cracks start to show in $xtheir expression. It comes slowly, gradually. Brows drawing together into a wrinkle, a small twitch that lifts them, a long pause, and then a scowl. $cxtheir lips thin into a tense line, the skin around the corner of $xtheir jaw shifting with the flex of muscle clenching it tightly, held there for what feels like an eternity, until something breaks. $cxtheir eyes go wide, the blacks of them swallowing up the green, lips parting into a slit and nostrils flaring as $xtheir breaths become shallower, quicker— In a single moment, all the air is sucked out of the room. You double over against the table in shock, gasping but finding nothing for your lungs to inhale. It is not even comparable to being underwater, because even then there is water to swallow down—here and now, there is <em>nothing</em>. Suffocating emptiness. Beside you, Kaja grasps at her throat in an instinctive panic, and $dname is wild-eyed, reaching for the handle of $dtheir sword strapped to $dtheir hip as if $dthey could physically fight whatever is causing this. $cdthey stares at $xname in alarm, opening $dtheir mouth to speak or to call out to $xthem, but no sound comes out. $xname looks frozen, hand still pressed against the body’s wrist. You reach across the table and snatch $xtheir arm, yanking $xthem towards you with all your might. $xname offers no resistance, pulled violently in your direction, $xtheir hand ripped from the body’s wrist. It is as if the room itself breathes a sigh, and just as suddenly as it disappeared, the air returns. $xname collides into you<<if $height is 'short' or $height is 'very short'>> and with your short stature you’re unable to carry $xtheir weight. You topple over to the floor onto your behind with $xname falling sideways onto you, knocking the newly recovered air from your lungs. $dname and Kaja rush to your side. You grit your teeth through the fall; it was harsh, but not particularly painful, and you wave a hand to Kaja to let her know as much. Rather, your attention is on $xname, who quickly rolls off you with $dname’s help, but hasn’t moved off the floor. $cxthey’s leaning a hand against the stone tiles, head bent low, panting like $xthey just ran a circle around the outer walls of Marabad. That was the first time you’ve seen $xname look scared. Kaja extends a hand, helping you up to your feet. “$xname,” you say, still a little out of breath from whatever that was. “Are you alright?” $xname lifts $xtheir head to look at you, eyes still wide with shock, but less horrified now than $xthey appeared before as $dname hovers around $xthem. $cxthey doesn’t immediately answer, taking $dname’s offered arm and lifting $xthemselves up to $xtheir feet. It seems $xthey needs a moment to collect $xthemselves.<</if>><<if $height is 'average'>> and you barely manage to keep standing to catch $xthem. The two of you stumble a few steps; $xname feels like a sack of stones in your arms, $xtheir weight almost too heavy to carry. Your back hits the wall behind you, nearly knocking your newly recovered air out of your lungs again, but somehow you keep standing. $dname and Kaja rush to your side. You would use a hand to wave them off and let them know you’re alright, but both your straining limbs are occupied with carrying $xname’s weight at the moment. You manage to squeeze out an, “I’m fine,” through your lips. Thankfully, $xname seems to recover again, pushing off from you. $dname grabs $xtheir arm, supporting $xthem as $xthey leans face-first against the wall instead. $cxtheir head is bent low, panting like $xthey just ran a circle around the outer walls of Marabad. “$xname,” you say, still a little out of breath from whatever that was. “Are you alright?” $xname lifts $xtheir head to look at you, eyes still wide with shock, but less horrified now than $xthey appeared before. $cxthey doesn’t immediately answer, pushing $xthemselves off the wall and straightening out. It seems $xthey needs a moment to collect $xthemselves.<</if>><<if $height is 'tall' or $height is 'very tall'>>. You plant a foot behind you, managing to keep standing in place as you catch $xthem, your stature thankfully tall enough that you don’t get toppled over. $xname sags, feeling like a sack of stones in your arms as you brace to keep holding $xthem up. In the interest of not breaking your back, however, you quickly help $xname shift $xtheir weight against the table instead, while also making sure $xthey doesn’t touch the body again. “Is $xthey alright?” $dname asks, still sounding slightly out of breath as $dthey and Kaja circle around the table to join the two of you. “I don’t know.” You frown deeply as you watch $xname, $xtheir head bent low and panting like $xthey just ran a circle around the outer walls of Marabad. “$xname?” Eventually, $xname lifts $xtheir head to look at you, eyes still wide with shock but less horrified now than $xthey appeared before. $cxthey doesn’t immediately answer, pushing $xthemselves off the table and straightening out. It seems $xthey needs a moment to collect $xthemselves.<</if>> <<if $xgender is 'female'>>She runs a hand over the top of her hair, resting it atop her head right in front of her messy bun, looking more disheveled than usual.<<else>>He runs his fingers through his disheveled hair from front to back, making it look even messier than usual as some of the locks flop back in front of his eyes.<</if>> “What happened?” $dname asks, looking $xname over from head to toe, before $dthey glances at the body on the table. “Did you trigger the mental ward?” “No.” $xname’s gaze takes on a glare of what you can only describe as pure hatred as $xthey follows $dname’s look to the corpse. “It wasn’t magic. That body- I don’t know how, but someone put the forsaken <em>Void itself</em> into that body.” “The Void?” $dname repeats, uncomprehending. “What are you talking about?” While $dname and Kaja appear confused, a sense of growing horror twists in your innards as you address $xname. “What did you feel when you connected to it?” $xname, almost instinctively, seems to take a step back from the body as $xthey recalls it. “Nothing. Not a damn thing.” $cxthey meets your eyes, the graveness in $xtheir features expanding the dread in your gut to your chest, squeezing around your heart. “At first, it was just a lack of sensation, like the body wasn’t even there. When I tried to sense more, dig deeper, I…” $cxthey halts, averting $xtheir eyes. “Something… it was like something swallowed me up. I couldn’t think. Couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. My thoughts went blank, my senses were gone—my vision, my hearing, my sense of touch. I was still aware, awake to some extent, but even that started fading. When I came to again, I was suddenly <<if $height is 'short' or $height is 'very short'>>on the floor<</if>><<if $height is 'average'>>leaning against the wall<</if>><<if $height is 'tall' or $height is 'very tall'>>leaning against the table<</if>>.” The Void. The nothingness, the endless black of night. Eating stars, eating light, eating existence. Held back only by the Sky, shielding Arsur from its abyss. <em>Protect it.</em> “Seal the body away.” Everyone turns to look at you. “Your Imperial Majesty?” $dname asks, frowning deeply. You thought it was merely part of the coronation, a message to keep Arsur safe—but what if the spirits of the Sky were trying to <em>warn you</em>? “No one touches that body without my say so,” you state. “Not until we have a way to deal with- whatever it is that $xname sensed. It’s too dangerous otherwise.” “I agree.” $xname says, seeming a little calmer now. “Though I have to wonder when this happened. When $aname connected to the prisoner’s mind, $athey didn’t mention sensing anything like this.” “It must’ve happened later on,” $dname proposes. “If it’s true what you said, that there was nothing to be sensed in the body, then perhaps that is how the prisoner circumvented the barriers. There wouldn’t have been magic either.” “Do you suppose that’s also what destroyed their magic pathways?” Kaja asks uncertainly. “Which would mean… it also destroyed their spirit?” The four of you look at the scars scattered over the body’s arms. Like the evidence of the final sparks of ember before the fire goes out; the spirit rebelling against its antithesis in vain, struggling in its death throes before it is finally extinguished. It’s a horrifying thought. <<if $mask is true and $face is true>>For the moment, though, you’ve found out all you can, as disturbing as it was; it’s time to figure out your next move. [[Continue|9.11b]]<</if>><<if $mask is false and $face is true>>With both the body and the prisoner’s face examined, all there is left now is their mask. [[Continue|9.10b.1]]<</if>><<if $mask is true and $face is false>>With both the mask and the prisoner’s body examined, all there is left now is the face. [[Continue|9.10b.2]]<</if>><<if $mask is false and $face is false>>There are still the prisoner’s mask and face to examine; perhaps those can offer you more clues and avenues of investigation. <ul class="a"> <li>[[Examine the mask next.|9.10b.1]]</li> <li>[[Examine the face next.|9.10b.2]]</li> </ul><</if>><<unset $face>><<unset $mask>><<unset $body>><<if $divination is true>>“Focus on finding traces of the body’s past for now,” you decide, feeling more confident with the approach as your initial lead. “If any problems come up, we can always shift our focus to the magic signature instead. I assume we have ways to preserve the body while we do that?”<<else>>“Search the schools for the magic signature,” you decide, feeling more confident with the approach as your initial lead. “If any problems come up, we can always try divination instead. I assume we can preserve the body, in the meantime?”<</if>> Kaja nods at your question. “There are wards and other methods of magic to delay decomposition, yes. Not indefinitely, but for a month at least.” Hopefully, a month will be enough time. $dname inclines $dtheir head at your decision. “I’ll inform $rtitle $rname as soon as possible, and we’ll make sure the body stays sealed away in the meantime.” <<if $innocents is 'dead'>>“What about the people that were killed during the attack?” Kaja asks, and your expression falls for a moment at the painful reminder of your failure. “I-I don’t mean to distress you, Your Imperial Majesty, it’s just that their families—” “No, it’s fine.” You take a deep breath, ignoring the creep of shame crawling up your shoulders, refusing to bend your back and hang your head. It’s not the time for such self-pity. “You’re right, their families will want an explanation.” “What do we tell them?” You hesitate, but only for a moment: “We tell them that the prisoner was a lone actor.” $dname frowns at you. “Do you think they will be satisfied with that?” <<if $calc gt $kind>>“Of course not,” you say, pushing aside your emotion. “But we cannot let them know that there was someone controlling the prisoner. It would spread panic, and it would let the one truly behind the attack know that we’re onto them.” In which case, it would make finding them even more difficult. That, ultimately, would harm the families as well; you’d rather tell a lie now for their own good if it means you can avenge their loved ones for them sooner, with less potential bloodshed in the future. $dname nods at your reasoning, and you think you see a hint of approval in $dtheir steady gaze. “A wise precaution.” “Albeit not a pleasant one,” $xname mutters, though $xthey doesn’t seem opposed to the idea. “The best we can do for them is to find out why this happened, and who is behind it. We can always tell them the truth afterward.”<<else>>“No,” you say, frowning deeply. “Nothing I can say would satisfy someone who lost a loved one. I would like to tell them the truth of what happened, but… we don’t have many clues of who is behind this attack yet, and I don’t want to cause them unnecessary distress. The best thing to do is to keep it quiet until we capture whoever is truly responsible.” Not to mention that spreading word of there being a mastermind behind the prisoner that orchestrated all this would let said mastermind know that you’re onto their trail. In which case, it would make finding them even more difficult. $dname regards you quietly for a moment, seeming sympathetic as $dthey says, “It is unfortunate, but necessary.” “It is good of you to think of them,” $xname remarks, for once no mocking to $xtheir tone. “They deserve justice.”<</if>><</if>><<if $innocents is 'injured'>>“What about the people that were injured during the attack?” Kaja asks, appearing troubled. “They’ve been asking questions. What do we tell them?” You don’t have to think long about it: “We tell them that the prisoner was a lone actor.” $dname gives you a thoughtful look. “Will they be satisfied with that?” <<if $calc gt $kind>>“Likely not,” you say, pushing aside your emotion. “But we cannot let them know that there was someone controlling the prisoner. It would spread panic, and it would let the one truly behind the attack know that we’re onto them.”<<else>>“Perhaps not,” you say, frowning slightly. “I would like to tell them the truth of what happened, but… we don’t have many clues of who is behind this attack yet, and I don’t want to cause them unnecessary distress. The best thing to do is to keep it quiet until we capture whoever is truly responsible.”<</if>> $dname nods at your reasoning. “Thankfully, there were no severe injuries; so long as we offer adequate compensation, this incident will soon be forgotten.” “Coin does go a long way,” $xname mutters, though $xthey doesn’t seem opposed to the idea. “Add an apology from the Crown $themselves, and most will probably be satisfied with that.”<</if>><<if $innocents is 'fine'>>Another thought occurs to you. “What about the guards that were injured during the attack?” “The city guards?” $dname looks almost surprised you asked, but you had forgotten to inquire earlier due to the hectic situation at the palace. “They’re fine; there were only minor injuries.” “Good.” That’s one less thing you have to worry about. “And the citizens who witnessed the escape? Have they been asking questions?” “There have been rumors spreading, but most seem to consider it a blunder from the city guards.” $xname snorts. “Well, they’re not entirely wrong.”<</if>> You turn to address $xname, “What about you, $xname? Will you be alright after what happened?” “Don’t worry about me.” $xname dismisses your concern with practiced nonchalance. “It was disturbing, sure, but I’ve seen worse.” “I highly doubt that,” $dname says, watching $xthem with narrowed eyes. “What’s one more nightmare to add to the list?” $xname quips, though it falls a little flat as you recall the look of terror on $xtheir face when $xthey connected to the body. “$xname—” <<if $xfriend is true or $xrelationship is 'low'>>“I’ll be fine,” $xname insists, $xtheir tone a little bit more curt this time; walls pulling up. It seems you’ve pushed $xthem enough<<if $xrelationship is 'low'>>—it has a sting to it, especially after the way $xthey snapped at you earlier, but there’s not much else you can say.<<else>>.<</if>><</if>><<if $xrelationship is 'high'>>“You should be more concerned with your own health, $name,” $xname says, though $xtheir tone is not a harsh one. “I’ll be fine; I’ve been through worse.” You scowl. “You realize that’s not comforting to hear?” $xname gives you a half-hearted smirk. “It is what it is. Now, instead of wasting time pitying me, take care of yourself instead—for Arsur’s sake, if nothing else.” $cxthey knows just the way to dodge the subject, giving you a knowing look that makes you feel bare; no doubt $xthey knows exactly how this whole night has weighed on you. You let out a sigh, realizing $xname won’t hear anything else on this matter.<</if>> [[Continue|9.13b]]$dname clears $dtheir throat. “If you are ready, Your Imperial Majesty, shall we return to the palace? You must be tired by now.” The moment $dname mentions it, you finally notice the bleariness in your eyes, and the heaviness of your limbs. Now that you’ve finished what you set out to do, your body craves a long night—or morning, as it were—of sleep. “Yes,” you say, rubbing at one of your eyes. “Let’s return.” Tûjo rejoins your group as you emerge back out into the corridor, his eyes lingering on $xname who pointedly ignores Tûjo’s gaze. “You look pale, <<if $xgender is 'female'>>sister<<else>>brother<</if>>,” Tûjo says, but $xname quickly brushes him off. “It’s the lighting in here.” Tûjo looks unconvinced, but doesn’t press further. He must be able to tell that something happened to $xname during the examination, judging from the way he hovers near as you leave the prison again.<<if $loveinterest is 'X'>> It’s reassuring to know that $xname has companions who can look out for $xthem; it spares you from having to worry <em>too</em> much.<</if>> As you walk through the large hall of the prison’s entrance building, back towards the doors from which you entered, $dname casts you a brief look from over $dtheir shoulder. “I realize this is not my place to say,” $dthey starts as $dthey faces forward again, “but might I suggest that you ask $rname to move all your appointments to the afternoon?” You almost sigh from exhaustion as you remember: tomorrow will be your first official day as the Crown, as well as your first proper court session. “I should,” you reply to $dname, watching them push the first door open. “Thank you for reminding me.” It’ll be impossible for you to wake up at a reasonable time, seeing as you’ve stayed up until morning. As $dname pushes the final set of doors open, a sudden burst of light falls through the steadily widening gap between metal. It isn’t sunlight, not yet, but the sky looks like a much brighter blue than before as you follow $dname outside. When you look east, you see the heralding glow of orange slowly radiating from the horizon as it meets the sky in a sea of gold, burning away into white before it embraces the blue. Stars still linger high above, but soon, they too will fade. A new day has already arrived, and you’ve yet to catch your breath from the last one. Ever since your parents died, you’ve counted your days by each sunrise you managed to see as a testament to your survival, but this one feels different. While you walk through Marabad’s streets, returning to the palace as the sun begins to rise, it is no longer a sense of relief that accompanies it. When you finally make it back to your chambers, as you close the curtains to sleep, you catch a glimpse of the sun. Moving forever slowly, but steadily, as it carries the day upon its shoulders. It must feel unbearably heavy. [[Continue|9.14b]]<<set $day to 22>><<set $holiday to false>>Your mother waits for you. It is a dream, and you know as much the moment you see her. She stands in front of your childhood home, just as the Earth showed her to you during your coronation. An impossibly endless meadow of green stretches around her and the farmhouse, a vast blue sky glaringly bright as it blankets the horizon. <<if $magicaffinity is 'eclipse'>>The sun is nowhere to be seen; in its place is a black hole, hovering above you like a horrible crown.<<else>>The sun is impossibly big, hovering above you like a horrible crown.<</if>> Nazire spreads her arms out to you. “My dearest.” On weak legs, you take a step towards her. An impulse causes you to cast your gaze down to your unsteady feet, and you suddenly notice the ground is much closer to you than it should be. Your legs and arms are much shorter, your hands and feet much smaller; when you look back up to your mother, she and your old home tower over you. It is a dream, and you are a child again. Your body moves on its own, taking you along with it as if an observer to a performance. Tears spring to your eyes. Somewhere, a basket of handpicked fruit drops to the ground, berries scattering over the grass. You run towards your mother, the sound of hooves beating over the earth thundering in your ears. “Dayê!” You reach out your hands to her, a breathless sob wracking your tiny body. “Dayê, I’m scared!” She crouches down and catches you in her arms, like she used to whenever you were frightened by something you saw in the forest, or when you hurt yourself trying to climb something. Just like then, she is here, enveloping you in her warm embrace. <<if $cs lte 0>>“I made a mistake!” You cling to the fabric of her tunic, as if afraid of falling should you let go. “Dayê, I m-made a mistake, I didn’t mean to- I didn’t know—” You feel her hands stroke your head as you hide your face against her shoulder. “Hush now,” she says softly, trying to soothe you, but you cannot be comforted. “I c-can’t wash it off,” you wail, your hands shaking as you show her the thick ash staining your hands, leaving dark traces over her tunic. “Take a deep breath, $name,” your mother says, wiping the tears from your cheek with a thumb. “Tell me what happened.” “Th-there was a f-fire.” You try to breathe through your sobbing, feeling your hands sting. “It burned down- it burned everything down!” “What did it burn down, my dear?” “The t-temple, and then, o-our house, and—” You look over your mother’s shoulder and witness your childhood home erupt into flames without a sound. The glow of its fire reflects coldly in your eyes as its wood begins to collapse, yet your mother doesn’t react, stroking your back in hollow comfort. Your lips continue to move on their own, stealing your voice. “—and you, you and father—” Screaming. <<if $prisoner is 'prison'>>“—and the city—” People are screaming.<<else>>“—and Yekbûn—” Yekbûn is screaming.<</if>> “—and the earth, and the sky, and the rivers, and the sea—” The mountains are screaming. [[It ends.|9.15a]]<</if>><<if $cs gt 0 and $cs lte 3>>“I made a mistake!” You cling to the fabric of her tunic, as if afraid of falling should you let go. “Dayê, I m-made a mistake, I didn’t mean to- I didn’t know—” You feel her hands stroke your head as you hide your face against her shoulder. “Hush now,” she says softly, trying to soothe you, but you cannot be comforted. “It g-got hurt” you wail, your hands shaking as you show her the torn snake’s tail you hold in your hands. It squirms on your palm in agony, its bloodied stump dripping over your fingers. “It got hurt be-because of me!” “Take a deep breath, $name,” your mother says, wiping the tears from your cheek with a thumb. She takes the snake’s tail from your hand, placing it on the grass. “It still lives, see?” From the torn stump of the dark tail, a snake’s head appears, crawling out from inside it as the blood streaks across its scales. Impossibly, as the snake stretches out from inside its own tail, the animal becomes whole again. “How did it lose its tail, $name?” your mother asks. Your lips move on their own, stealing your voice. “I tore it off.” The snake crawls up your legs. “I grabbed it and pulled.” It wraps around your stomach, sliding up your chest. “I pulled, and pulled, and pulled.” It wraps around your neck. “It started screaming.” It squeezes. “I kept pulling,” you gasp, “until it- tore- off—” Your neck snaps. [[Continue|9.15]]<</if>><<if $cs gt 3>>“I’m scared!” You cling to the fabric of her tunic, as if afraid of falling should you let go. “Dayê, I’m s-so scared!” You feel her hands stroke your head as you hide your face against her shoulder. “Hush now,” she says softly, trying to soothe you, but you cannot be comforted. “Something is ch-chasing me,” you wail, your hands shaking as they cling to her. Above you, the sun darkens. “Something really, really big!” “Take a deep breath, $name,” your mother says, wiping the tears from your cheek with a thumb. “What is chasing you?” “I d-don’t know.” A shadow looms over you. You don’t want to look at it. Looking at it would be bad, you know. “Make it go away, dayê!” Your mother pulls away from you, giving you a sad smile. “I can’t.” “Why not?” She puts her hands on your shoulders. “You have to face it.” Panic grips you. “Don’t make me turn around.” Her grip tightens. You can feel the presence of the shadow standing right behind you, breathing down your neck. “Dayê, please, please don’t make me turn around, don’t make me turn around, please, dayê, PLEASE, PLEASE DON’T MAKE ME TURN AROUND.” She turns you around. [[Continue|9.15]]<</if>><<if $magicaffinity is 'eclipse'>>You kneel in darkness.<<else>>You kneel in a white void.<</if>> Arsur is ash in your hands. Ashadūna’s blade presses against your neck, her radiant gaze a cold light upon your face. It is what you deserve. Your executioner is a goddess of gold rendering divine judgment upon you for your failures. For the lives that were taken, blood that was spilled. They demand justice. You close your eyes, resigned to your death even as your spirit trembles. “Forgive me.” The blade cuts into your skin. [[Continue|9.15]]“Crown $name?” From the shadows of your room, you make out Ishrah’s face above you, peering down at you in concern, and the scent of something burnt fills your nostrils. You blink up at her blearily, feeling as if you haven’t slept at all as you sit up straight. The curtains of your room are still drawn, blocking the daylight. There are holes in your sheets where your hands were grasping at it, the edges of it burnt. You feel the cool touch of your water spirits’ magic against your palms, as if trying to soothe a burn. “Did I…” You know the answer before you fully voice the question. This time, it appears you have used your own magic, rather than that from the water spirits. It must be because your magic affinity has now settled itself. The dream sits in your stomach like a heavy stone. Ishrah gives you a smile, attempting to cheer you. “Don’t worry, we can replace the sheets! I noticed some very bright flashes of light from underneath your door when I came to wake you, and found you like this. It’s almost preferable to the chambers being flooded, if I’m honest.” You keep silent, and stare down at your hands. [[Continue|9.16]]“Will you allow me to pour you some tea, $rnickname?” You blink, your gaze refocusing on your empty cup sitting in a stream of <<if $prisoner is 'palace'>>morning<<else>>afternoon<</if>> sunlight. Its ceramic is finely carved with thin lines of a tree branch, flowering blooms shaped on its hardened clay. Looking up, you meet $rname’s gaze from across the dining table in your chambers. $crthey levitates a pot of freshly brewed tea in the air with a casual pose of $rtheir palm below it. $crthey attempts a smile when $rthey sees you looking, but the friendliness in the gesture is overshadowed with the concern evident in $rtheir eyes. It’s understandable, considering how exhausted you must look; you certainly feel it, in any case. While eating breakfast earlier you barely had any appetite, and $rname kept putting more food onto your plate until you finally forced yourself to finish it out of worry $rthey would make you eat the whole table’s worth of breakfast dishes by yourself. <<if $prisoner is 'prison'>>Even though it’s late in the afternoon, you only managed to get out of bed an hour ago. Despite your insistence to visit Ezo<<if $cs gt 0>> and Yekbûn<</if>> first thing after waking last night, your schedule didn’t allow for it; the court was summoned to the palace the moment $rname heard you’d awoken. Your visit will have to wait until after the court meeting.<<else>>Even though the morning is almost nearing its end, you only managed to get out of bed an hour ago.<</if>> For the day’s events you’ve already been dressed in smooth fabrics of deep purple, white and gold accents threading in carefully embroidered patterns that remind you of the mountains. Ishrah has already applied your facepaint as well; you did not want to delay it after you woke up and risk running late. “Yes, thank you,” you reply, and $rname levitates the teapot toward your cup, tilting it with a slight movement of $rtheir fingers as it tips over and pours it in a delicate stream. The smell accompanying the steam feels warming as well as refreshing, carrying a strong but pleasant scent of mint. “May I pour you a cup, $rtitle $rname?” Ishrah asks, sitting beside $rname; Siham sits on Ishrah’s other side at the far end of the table. He was too nervous to sit down beside $rname, quickly pulling down Ishrah to sit between them. Usually, $aname would’ve joined you as well, but as you will be holding your first court session in little over an hour $athey is in charge of arranging security for it. You’ll see $athem again when you greet the Imperial Court<<if $afriend is false>>, <<if $arelationship is 'high'>>though you wish $athey could’ve joined you<<else>>though your parting last night was less than friendly; you hope you can find a way to move past it<</if>><</if>>. “Don’t trouble yourself,” $rname replies to Ishrah, sending the teapot to pour her and Siham’s cups as well. Siham nearly snatches their own cup out of range in scandal. “$rtitle Sorcerer, I could not possibly—” “You set and cleaned up the whole table, the least I can do is pour you some tea,” $rname says, tugging Siham’s cup out of their grip with a flick of $rtheir little finger, both the cup and the teapot floating in midair as the tea pours. Siham bows his head deeply, the tips of his ears burning a dark red. “Thank you ever so much, $rtitle $rname!” Ishrah raises her cup to $rthem with cheer. “I will cherish this cup dearly.” $rname laughs. “It’s only a cup of tea! One might think I poured you a cup of gold.” It is a simple, innocent exchange, but watching it makes you feel a little lighter. Even among all the things weighing you down, there are still moments like these, spent in kindness and friendship. But it can't keep going for long. [[Continue|9.17]]“$rname,” you say, taking care in choosing your words with the presence of the servants. “Have you been informed of the events from last night?” <<if $calc gt $kind>>It’s not that you believe Siham and Ishrah would leak sensitive information, since it would be easy to trace it back to them, but there also isn’t a guarantee that they wouldn’t. You don’t know them well enough to judge their loyalty to you yet, and you imagine it is the same for them; what guarantee do they have that you won’t turn out to be a cruel master later down the line? It is better to be cautious of others, <<if $adven gt $caut>>even if that is not usually in your nature<<else>>for the time being<</if>>.<<else>>It’s not that you do not trust Siham and Ishrah, but they could easily be used by someone cunning enough to trick information out of them, or even persuaded to by other means. Considering last night’s events, it’s better for them as well if they remain ignorant. Though you don’t like keeping secrets, <<if $adven gt $caut>>and it goes against your nature,<<else>>as secrets can burn you,<</if>> it is a necessity to keep everyone safe.<</if>> “I have,” $rname says as $rthey finally pours $rthemselves a cup of tea as well. $crtheir expression shows nothing save for a composed, neutral gaze, letting nothing slip as $rthey has understood your intent for secrecy. “I did not have the opportunity to make my own visit, but I trust that what the Pale Sword described was accurate?” The teapot gently settles down onto the table again, and $rname takes $rtheir cup in hand, blowing softly onto $rtheir tea. “It is.” You ignore the curious look Ishrah casts openly at the two of you. It’s not the right time to go through the details, so you change the topic. “How was the banquet in my absence?” <<if $rfriend is false>><<if $rrelationship is 'high'>>$rname takes a sip from $rtheir tea, replying gracefully, “I hated every moment of it, but there were no incidents requiring your attention.” You chuckle, and $rname smiles with satisfaction at you over the rim of $rtheir cup, as if pleased to see that you’re still capable of making the sound. “Master Zîn stayed as well,” $rthey continues. “She made it more bearable—did you know Mîr Mêrxas is scared of her?” You arch your brows. “<<if $charm gt $blunt>>She can be intimidating, I suppose, but Mêrxas seems to have a forceful personality. Why would he be scared of her<<else>>Mêrxas seems brazen enough to take on a man-eater barehanded. Why is he scared of Master Zîn<</if>>?” Eyes brightening with mischief, $rname leans in a little over the table, as if $rthey’s about to divulge a secret. “Apparently, they used to attend the School of Zeratun together and would always compete for the highest rankings. During a debate in a theoretical class, she humiliated him so thoroughly that he has refused to speak with her ever since.” “What was the debate about?” you ask curiously, drawn in by $rname as you lean an elbow onto the table, forgetting about table manners. “The merits of outer magic users.” $rname grins, seeming to forget all about $rtheir teacup still held in $rtheir hand. “It was a childish argument, but Mîr Mêrxas instigated it. He claimed the ability of outer magic users, such as himself, to manipulate the environment made them masters of nature.” Arrogant is certainly the right word for that. “What did Master Zîn say?” “Nothing but the obvious,” $rname replies. “Humans belong to nature themselves, it is a fallacy born of arrogance to suggest they could master it. As ridiculous as claiming that a wave has mastered the sea.” “I take it he didn’t take kindly to that.” “Oh, he was furious—and shocked—to be challenged on it.” The mirth in $rname’s smile dims a little. “It’s a common thought among many magi, depending on what side of the coin they fall on. Inner magic users often consider themselves superior in mind and composure, judging others, especially non-magi, to be unrestrained and uncivilized.” <<if $blunt gt $charm>>You frown with distaste. “How absurd.”<<else>>“Of course,” you scoff. “What better way to feel superior than to belittle others?”<</if>> “They argued the point back and forth, but he could not overcome her logic and went on a tirade after that.” $rname waves a hand around. “You’ve seen yesterday how worked up he gets, it was apparently even worse when he was younger. He accused her of all sorts of things: insulting his honor, thereby insulting his family, insulting their teachers, offending the dignity of their institution, and so forth. It was obvious he was embarrassed. “Master Zîn ignored his ranting and asked if he had no further arguments to make in return, and he retorted that he would no longer demean himself by entertaining the debate.” “What an idiot.” You shake your head. “Clearly, he was bested. What did she say in return?” “She simply replied…” $rname lowers $rtheir voice with eager amusement. “<em>A light mind is a heavy burden.</em>” The two of you share a laugh; you would pay to see the face Mîr Mêrxas must have made after hearing that. $rname continues to regale you with various stories about the banquet guests from last night as you drink tea together, and time passes by without your notice. It is only when there is a brief lull in the conversation, as $rname has another sip of tea and you wipe away a tear of laughter from the corner of your eye that you take a glance around the room and realize Ishrah and Siham aren’t seated at the table anymore. They must have left at some point, but you were so taken in with talking to $rname that you hardly even noticed. You meet $rname’s eyes from across the table, realizing you haven’t felt this at ease in days. “Thank you, $rname.” The words are spoken before you think, and $rname looks just as surprised to receive them as you are about saying them. “Talking to you always makes me feel better,” you continue, trying to do your best to put your feelings into words. You remember last night, when $rthey was there to comfort you after your conversation with Scholar Yekbûn, <<if $comfortbyr is true>>when $rthey was there for you during the coronation ritual, and when $rthey was there when you had your nightmare the first time you slept in the palace.<<else>>and when $rthey was there for you during the coronation ritual.<</if>> “You’re always there when I need you.” $rname glances away for a moment as $rthey puts $rtheir teacup down, brushing a lock of hair back behind $rtheir ear. “Well… we’re friends, aren’t we?” <<if $ass gt $pass>>You smile, leaning your chin on your palm as you watch $rthem. “Mm.” $rname smiles back slightly, almost a little unsure by your gazing. “Is there a reason you’re staring like that?” “Should I not?” You ask, your smile fading. “Does it make you uncomfortable?” “No, it’s fine, I was just wondering…” $rname blinks, raising a hand to $rtheir lips. “Do I have something between my teeth? We did eat breakfast earlier—” You chuckle. “No, nothing like that. I just like looking at you.” $rname looks befuddled. “Why?” <<if $flirt gt $res>>You take a moment to consider why, but the answer comes to you easily. “Seeing you pleases me.” $rname stares at you in flustered silence, and you take the opportunity to add, “But even if we were strangers, I would still admire you from afar. You’re lovely, $rname. You would make roses wither in envy.” “I didn’t think…” $rname presses $rtheir fingers over $rtheir lips, painted rose-red today, and your eyes fixate on the sight as $rthey’s avoiding your eyes now. “That is to say… thank you, but you are just as lovely.” You laugh. “It wasn’t a competition!” “I mean it,” $rname insists, appearing embarrassed now as $rthey grips $rtheir teacup with both hands. “Even without your golden eyes you would look resplendent, $name. You have a glow that <<if $magicaffinity is 'sun'>>no one could look away from, a warmth that is inviting and draws you in.<<else>>is alluring, a presence that overshadows any other.<</if>>” “Keep going,” you say with an encouraging grin when $rname pauses, wishing suddenly but deeply that you were sitting beside $rthem instead of having this table in the way. “<<if $magicaffinity is 'sun'>>Tell me more about how drawn in you were by me<<else>>Tell me more about how alluring you find me<</if>>.” $rname frowns at you, turning $rtheir face away, though you catch a smile in the corner of $rtheir mouth that delights you. “Now you’re just teasing me!” “Only a little.”<<else>>The question makes you pause, as well as making you aware of a feeling you hadn’t even noticed until now. “I’m not sure. There’s just something about you…” $rname waits with a curious look as you try to put words to it, but as you gather them you realize how suggestive they might be if you said them. Still, it’s natural to express affection between friends, isn’t it? “Seeing you pleases me,” you admit, averting your eyes from $rname right after you say it, feeling almost embarrassed to have done so. When you glance back at $rname, you see $rthem staring at you in flustered silence, and you hurry to add, “As friends. I’m just- pleased to see my friend.” $rname blinks and glances away, clearing $rtheir throat. “Yes, of course, I… that makes sense.” $crthey peeks at you, hesitating for a moment before adding, “Seeing you pleases me, too. As a friend, and… because you look resplendent. You have a glow that <<if $magicaffinity is 'sun'>>no one could look away from, a warmth that is inviting and draws you in.<<else>>is alluring, a presence that overshadows any other.<</if>>” Your whole body feels flush with heat, head spinning and heart pounding as you try to detangle $rtheir meaning. $crthey said $rthey means it as a friend, but do friends speak so poetically about each other like this? “You’re just as beautiful, $rname,” you insist, the words flowing from your mouth in reflex, your restraint gone with how exhilarated you feel. “Even if we were strangers, I would still admire you from afar. You would make roses wither in envy.” “That’s…” $rname presses $rtheir fingers over $rtheir lips, painted rose-red today, and your eyes fixate on the sight as $rthey’s avoiding your eyes now. If the table weren’t in the way, you would’ve liked to hold $rtheir hand. “That is to say… thank you.”<</if>><<else>>“Of course,” you reply, not having to think about the answer. There were few opportunities in the past for you to make lasting friends, but $rname is doubtlessly one of them, even in the short period of time you’ve had together; it’s so comfortable being around $rthem and talking to $rthem that you feel as if you’ve known $rthem for years. “And I’m glad for it.” $rname makes a humming noise, averting $rtheir eyes down to the table again for a brief moment. Then, $rthey lifts $rtheir gaze up to you once more, and it appears to linger on your face. There’s something curious in $rtheir eyes, gleaming a quiet silvery gray in the sunlight falling through the windows. “What is it?” you ask, which appears to startle $rthem out of $rtheir staring; $rthey looks away again. “Nothing, really.” $crthey peeks at you once from beneath $rtheir dark lashes, hands neatly resting on $rtheir lap. It’s a look of shyness, and it is charming on $rthem. “I suppose I was just thinking… I’m glad that you’re the Crown.” As flattering as it is, it surprises you a little, as you wouldn’t have guessed it; it isn’t as if you’ve done anything in particular yet to earn such praise. “Why is that?” “I mean, personally speaking—” $rname starts to stammer, and you realize $rthey rather meant <em>you</em>, $name, and not Crown $name. “Because we became friends so quickly, and we get along, and- well, it is important for the Crown’s Sorcerer and the Crown to have a certain amount of compatibility—” <<if $flirt gt $res>>You laugh, charmed by $rtheir flustered reasoning. “$rname, I understand! I’m glad that you’re my Sorcerer, too.” $rname takes a breath. “You are?” “I wouldn’t lie to you about that,” you promise, wishing suddenly but deeply that you were sitting beside $rthem instead of having this table in the way. “We’re the same, you and I. Both inexperienced, though you know a lot more than I do. It’s good to have someone who understands, and beyond that, I enjoy spending time with you.” “Me too,” $rname admits quietly, causing you to grin. “I enjoy spending time with you very much, $name. You have a glow about you, <<if $magicaffinity is 'sun'>>a warmth that is inviting and pleasant to be near<<else>>a presence that distinguishes you from others, something admirable<</if>>.” You didn’t expect such high praise, your neck warming with an almost embarrassed but pleased flush. “Thank you, $rname. You’re truly lovely.” $rname smiles at you, delighted and sincere, and your heart thumps oddly in your chest.<<else>>You feel your face warm from the flustered compliments even as you smile. “$rname, it’s alright, I understand.” As $rname stops stammering, you glance away, clearing your throat as you murmur, “I’m glad, too. That you’re my Sorcerer, that is.” $rname remains silent, and when you look at $rthem again you notice $rthey’s staring once more, though $rthey recovers more quickly. $crthey averts $rtheir gaze, looking down at $rtheir lap and smoothing $rtheir hands over it. “That’s a relief to hear.” “Did you doubt that I would feel the same?” you ask, frowning slightly as you lean in a little over the table, elbow pressed to the wood. “I enjoy spending time with you, $rname. As- as friends, that is.” Now you’re the one stammering. “Me too,” $rname admits quietly, meeting your gaze from beneath $rtheir dark lashes, peeking at you shyly. “I enjoy spending time with you very much, $name. You have a glow about you, <<if $magicaffinity is 'sun'>>a warmth that is inviting and pleasant to be near<<else>>a presence that distinguishes you from others, something admirable<</if>>.” You didn’t expect such high praise, your neck warming with an almost embarrassed but pleased flush. It takes you a moment to regain your composure enough to speak without fear of embarrassing yourself, managing to avoid stuttering this time. “Thank you, $rname. That’s…” You take a breath. “You’re truly lovely.” $rname smiles at you, delighted and sincere, and your heart thumps oddly in your chest.<</if>><</if>> A knock on the door interrupts, startling both you and $rname out of the small world you created between the two of you; everything else melted away during your exchange, all your thoughts and attention going solely to $rname. “Come in,” you call out after a brief pause, $rname shifting a little in $rtheir seat to sit up straighter as $rthey regains $rtheir composure.<<else>> $rname hesitates, lingering in silence as $rthey schools $rtheir expression before offering a simple, “It went well.” $crthey lifts their cup to $rtheir lips, taking a sip and avoiding your gaze. Doubt starts to set in with you. “No issues came up?” $rname lowers $rtheir cup again, remarking in an oddly calm voice, “You almost sound disappointed.” You frown at $rthem for that. “Why would I be disappointed? I only wanted to make sure that none of the nobles gave you any trouble.” “They didn’t.” $rname averts $rtheir gaze. “But I thank you for your concern.” The conversation falls silent after that. At the table, Ishrah and Siham shoot each other a look, before they both ask to be excused as they apparently have other duties to attend to that morning. You wave them off easily, too fixated on $rname’s demeanor to pay them any mind. This is new. While you’ve only known $rname for little less than a week, you’ve never seen $rthem act this closed off—or rather, not towards <em>you</em>. $crthey is not as icy as $rthey was with the nobles, and $rthey’s certainly still polite, but there’s a decided distance in the way $rthey addresses you now. You don’t like it. The awkward, almost tense silence lasts a while as the two of you wait for the members of court to arrive; you, unsure how to break it, and $rname seeming disinclined to as $rthey doesn’t look at you at all. Eventually, a knock on the door thankfully interrupts it. “Come in,” you call out, trying not to sound too relieved. <</if>><<else>>$rname takes a sip from $rtheir tea, replying gracefully, “I hated every moment of it, but there were no incidents requiring your attention.” You chuckle, and $rname smiles with satisfaction at you over the rim of $rtheir cup, as if pleased to see that you’re still capable of making the sound. “Master Zîn stayed as well,” $rthey continues, and you’re surprised to hear about the presence of the teahouse owner. “She made it more bearable—” $rname halts suddenly, as if remembering something, and whatever it is that $rthey recalls wipes the smile from $rtheir face. You frown at $rthem in concern. “$rname?” $crthey startles, blinking up at you. “Oh, pardon me! I became… lost in thought, for a moment. Master Zîn and I had a long conversation last night.” “I didn’t know that the two of you were acquainted,” you remark, and $rname’s mood seems to lift a little again, though $rtheir smile seems a little more strained as $rthey responds. “She is—was—an old friend of Lady Zerya’s.” $rname’s gaze turns distant in reminiscing. “One of the magi that Lady Zerya would go to for advice, and she in turn would visit the palace often. She even taught me in magic a few times, when Lady Zerya was too busy.” “Then you two have known each other for a long time,” you surmise, and $rname nods, $rtheir smile almost somber. “I don’t see her as often as I would like.” $rname falls silent, looking like $rthey wants to say more, but appearing conflicted; clearly whatever discussion $rthey had with Master Zîn weighs on $rthem. “Did you know that $xname and Master Zîn also seem closely acquainted?” you ask instead, deciding to change the subject. While $rname’s gloomy mood lightens, it’s traded in with exasperation instead as $rthey rolls $rtheir eyes heavenward. “Don’t remind me, and <em>don’t</em> remind $xname. The last thing I need is $xthem deciding to tag along whenever I visit Master Zîn.” “$cxthey’s not that bad, is $xthey?” <<if $xfriend is false>>$rname gives you a knowing look. “Of course <em>you</em> would think so, $rnickname.” <<if $xrelationship is 'high'>><<if $flirt gt $res>>You fail to suppress a grin at that, trying not to look too caught.<<else>>You avert your gaze, trying not to look too self-conscious.<</if>><<else>>You smile a little at first, but then it becomes strained on your face when you remember last night; you and $xname hadn't exactly parted on a pleasant note.<</if>><<else>>“No,” $rname admits, in a put-upon kind of way. “Just annoying.”<</if>> A knock on the door interrupts the conversation. “Come in,” you call out.<</if>> One of the double doors opens to reveal Master Keko, who bows deeply at the sight of you. “Yes?” “The Imperial Court has gathered, Your Imperial Majesty,” Keko informs you, and you tense up. “They await your arrival.” You knew the peaceful <<if $prisoner is 'palace'>>morning<<else>>afternoon<</if>> could not last. [[Continue|9.18]]<<set $dappointed to false>><<set $law to true>><<set $courtcodex to true>>[ <b>Royal Codex updated | <em>[[Lessons in the Crown's Domain]]</em> unlocked</b> ] In between all the chaos and pressure of organizing the coronation ritual, $rname and Master Keko still found the time to teach you about the workings of the Crown’s governing domain. You’ve memorized the most important court positions as best as you possibly could, but there was one obstacle that became immediately apparent. The vast majority of the highest ranking positions in the Imperial Court are vacant. Various offices that manage different sections of government are operating without direction, its lower ranked officials doing the minimum to keep everything functioning. Remarkably, the Office of Law is the most intact of them all; imperial judges are appointed for a lifetime, unlike positions in other offices that may change more easily, so it appears not many people have left their posts. <<if $elitefavored gte $publicfavored>>If nothing else, it’s one less office you have to worry about as you cobble together a court of your own. The other, vacant offices deserve your attention first; you can always evaluate the Office of Law’s functioning afterwards.<<else>>At first glance this might sound beneficial for you, but you’re wary of the judges who have served without oversight for the past decade. Something tells you it will be difficult to remove them from their positions, should you have a mind to do so.<</if>> $rname, Master Keko and $aname as well have spent time collecting a list of possible candidates for the highest ranking positions, the most important of which you’ll have to evaluate yourself. After appointing the ministers for each office, you can let them worry about appointing more officials to their own offices, after all. The most important task for today is your first official court session, even with most of the court missing. “Shall we, Your Imperial Majesty?” $rname suggests, pulling you from your thoughts. <<if $rrelationship is 'high' or $rfriendship gte 2>>$crthey gives you a reassuring look, adding softly, “I’ll be right behind you.” The reminder is a welcome one.<</if>> You nod, getting up from the pillow and $rname follows your example. The two of you follow Master Keko out to the hallway, and even though you’ve prepared for this as much as you were able to in the past days, you still feel tense with nerves. While no one is in charge of the Office of Imperial Decrees, its royal historians will still be present to record everything you do and say into the official records. They don’t need direction to transcribe the first court session of your rule, after all, but knowing that only serves to make you feel greater pressure. You cannot afford to make a mistake. As Master Keko guides you through the palace corridors, you remain silent, focused on trying to calm your racing heartbeat and appear as composed as possible. You have nothing to fear from the court, you remind yourself; you are their master. If you want to do well as a Crown, you must be able to not only wield but project your authority as well. Unexpectedly, as you’re lost in thought, Master Keko comes to a halt before two regular, albeit decorated, wooden double doors. Two guards stand on either side, bowing at the sight of you. “We’ve arrived, Your Imperial Majesty,” Master Keko informs you, and you arch your brows. “This isn’t the throne room.” “No, it is not.” Master Keko gives you a smile. “The throne room isn’t very practical to discuss matters of the Imperial Court; these chambers are smaller, and more comfortable.” Remembering how high up you were seated and how difficult it was to <em>see</em> anything, you’re thankful Arsur’s rulers had the sense to arrange a separate room. The throne room must be used for more ceremonial purposes. You take a breath, and then order the guards, “Open the doors.” They incline their heads, and one of the guards knocks subtly on one of the doors. From within the chambers, you hear someone announce: “$ctheir Imperial Majesty has arrived!” [[Continue|9.19]]<<if $hidenobleskham is true and $hidepublic is false and $patricide is true and $publicfavored lt 4>><<if visited ("9.19") is 1>><<set $publicfavored += 2>><</if>><</if>>The guards each grab hold of a handle and open both doors at the exact same time, revealing the inside of the chambers where you’ll be holding your first court session. Exactly as Keko described, this throne room looks much more comfortable. It is still grand in size, easily able to fit more than a hundred people, but the throne across the room is on platform that is only elevated a few feet, easy to climb within ten steps. There is also no light falling down from the ceiling; the windows on the left and right side of the room offer glimpses into hallways with views of small gardens, likely inner courtyards. There is still so much of this palace you haven’t seen yet. Most of all, though, you’re thankful that you’ll have a reasonable view of the room instead of squinting down at everyone from an unreasonably high and overly lit perch. Speaking of which, the people within the room awaiting your arrival are not nearly enough to fill it up. As expected, the Imperial Court is lacking in numbers. Officials in green robes—a darker, richer green than you’ve seen the tax officials wear, detailed with gold instead of brown—are lined up in an orderly, rectangular formation on the left side of the room as you walk in. On the right side of the room, in similar position, you recognize $dname in $dtheir ceremonial golden armor accompanied by several other officials beside and behind $dthem who are dressed in red robes. These must be military officials. Behind $dname and $dtheir group, Steward Welat and a few others stand dressed in dark brown robes. The two groups are separated by a few feet, leaving a center path from the entrance of the room to your chair. While most stewards wouldn’t be invited for court meetings such as these, as they hold no official position within the court, being that he <em>is</em> the steward of the capital city where you currently reside it is customary to invite him. As much as that displeases you. Beside your chair, you see $aname standing in wait. <<if $afriend is false>><<if $arelationship is 'high'>>An immediate sense of relief washes of you, already feeling some of your tension melting away. If anyone in your court thinks to cause you trouble that you don’t know how to handle, you know you can rely on $athem to call the officials to order.<<else>>Your initial sense of relief is tainted by the memory of how you parted last night. $aname wasn’t pleased with your judgment then, and you become even more tense as you wonder if $athey’ll question it again today.<</if>><<else>>You feel your tension ease a little seeing a familiar face, especially one that won’t have any qualms calling the officials to order should they try to cause trouble.<</if>> You walk through the room, trying to ignore the dozens of eyes aimed at your back; it is nothing new anymore, at this point. Even though you still feel nervous, it is already less than the first time you faced the nobility in the throne room. On either side of the stairs leading up to your chair, you notice there are people seated at a low table, holding a reed pen in one hand with open pages of what appears to be a blank book in front of them. They are dressed in similar robes to the court officials, but colored in a deep blue; these must be the Imperial Court’s royal historians, tasked with transcribing every court session into official record. Everything you do and say will be submitted to Arsur’s history. The pressure on you is considerable, but you elect to ignore them as much as possible for the moment. $rname follows behind you as you reach the small set of stairs and walk up to your chair. <<if $height is 'very short' or $height is 'very tall'>>Already you are pleased to see this chair seems to have been adjusted to suit your stature better than your official throne. <<if $height is 'very tall'>>It is wider in size and higher off the ground, giving you comfortable room to settle down in.<<else>>It is smaller in size, bringing the arms of the chair in reach, and lower to the ground so you don’t feel as if your feet are barely reaching the ground.<</if>> The chair is similar to the one in the throne room, with similar carved sun decorations along its back and comfortable pillows placed on its seat.<</if>> As you take a seat, $rname stands directly to your right; $aname is on your left, a few steps behind your chair. You feel a little bad that they’ll have to stand the entire time, but they aren’t the only ones. Unlike your official throne room, there are no pillows laid out on the ground here to make visitors comfortable. If anyone is forced to kneel, they will have to do so on the cold, stone tiled floor. The moment you sit down and face the remnants of the Imperial Court, all the officials in the room bow to you: “Your humble servants greet you, Your Imperial Majesty.” You gesture with your hand for them to raise their heads again. “Be at ease.” As they straighten up, you glance toward $rname, who gives you a small, encouraging nod. Facing the Imperial Court, you continue to speak, “As you all know, there are many court positions that are vacant. For the time being, $rtitle $rname will fulfill the role as Voice of the Crown and dictate the agenda for the court meetings, until someone can be appointed. Are there any objections?” The room remains silent, not that you expected any; there aren’t any other people suited to the position. You meet $rname’s gaze, giving $rthem a nod. $crthey takes a breath, and you notice the way $rthey folds $rtheir hands in front of $rthem; $rtheir face shows no sign of nerves, but sitting near $rthem you can see the tension $rthey holds in $rtheir body. <<if $rfriendship gt 0 or $rrelationship is 'high'>> As $rname steps forward, you catch $rtheir gaze again and, covering your lips from view with a casually bent hand, you silently mouth your encouragement: <em>You will do fine</em>. It brings a smile to $rname’s face, and when $rthey faces the Imperial Court $rthey appears more at ease.<<else>>Despite $rtheir nerves $rname steps forward, facing the Imperial Court.<</if>> “The first point of discussion regards the vacant court positions. $ctheir Imperial Majesty already has a list of candidates who will be evaluated and appointed starting from today, however…” $rname pauses for a moment, as if it takes $rthem great pains to say whatever comes next. “We will also allow the current members of the Imperial Court to make recommendations.” $rname’s smile could cut through stone. Ah, that’s why $rthey didn’t want to say it. One of the officials belonging to Steward Welat’s group steps forward and bows. $rname’s smile doesn’t flinch. “Official Sewedi.” “$rtitle Sorcerer, if I may make an inquiry?” “If you must.” “Should the current members of the Imperial Court not first be introduced to the Crown in their official capacity, before we discuss such matters?” You narrow your eyes at the official while $rname freezes up. Not noticeably, but you can see the stiffness in $rtheir arms from where you’re sitting. On your other side, $aname appears perfectly composed, save for the hands $athey casually drops to the hilt of one of $atheir daggers in the middle of $atheir waistband, coolly staring down at the official. Steward Welat, standing beside the official, is silently facing forward as if obediently listening, but you would bet your life that the official is attempting to undermine $rname upon his orders. <ul class ="a"> <li>[[Intervene.|9.20a]]</li> <li><<if $rgender is 'male'>>[[Let Rêzan handle it.|9.20b]]<<else>>[[Let Rozerîn handle it.|9.20b]]<</if>></li> </ul><<if visited("9.20a") is 1>><<if $rfriend is true>><<set $rfriendship -= 1>><<else>><<set $rpoints -= 2>><</if>><</if>>At such a critical moment in time, you’re not certain you trust $rname enough to let $rthem handle the court. $crthey was easily riled up by Lady Naza last time<<if $rfriend is false>>, and even last night, when you expressed your concern it had a visible impact on $rtheir confidence<<else>>, causing for a rather embarrassing altercation<</if>>. $crthey’s rattled too quickly. Before the situation escalates, you decide the best thing to do for all involved is to intervene. “Official Sewedi,” you interject, and the official looks downright startled as their gaze shifts to you instead—almost as startled as $rname. You glance at $rthem, briefly enough to note the way $rtheir brows have furrowed, pulling together in a look of doubt. It is not the reaction you expected, and it quickly disappears again before you can give it another look, smoothed over by a neutral expression as $rname faces forward instead, turning $rtheir head away from you. “Yes, Your Imperial Majesty?” Official Sewedi speaks, redirecting your attention before you can make anything of it. <<if $charm gt $blunt>>“Do you bother introducing yourself to every sheep you intend to slaughter for a meal?” “I, uh…” The official looks unnerved. “I’m not certain what Your Imperial Majesty means.”<<else>>“How long have you been an official?” The official looks uncertain at the question, but answers it. “About seven years now, Your Imperial Majesty.” “Seven years.” You hum, considering it. “That seems about long enough.” Now, the official appears lost entirely, bowing as they ask, “Your Imperial Majesty, I humbly beg for clarification. This faithful servant is not entirely certain of your meaning.” <</if>> “It means that the entirety of this court may be replaced.” You arch your brows at the official. “Do you expect me to listen to the introductions of people who may not be here in a month?” Official Sewedi looks dumbstruck, much like their fellows in the court, but bows once more. “Not at all, Your Imperial Majesty. We serve at your pleasure, please forgive our momentary surprise.” $rname isn’t even looking at the official anymore, or following along with the conversation. You frown a little at that, but decide to move on. [[Continue|9.21]]<<if visited("9.20b") is 1>><<if $rfriend is true>><<set $rfriendship += 2>><<else>><<set $rpoints += 4>><</if>><</if>><<if $rfriend is false>><<if $rrelationship is 'low'>>You remember the way $rname deflated last night, when $rthey asked for your trust in letting $rthem handle the nobles and you weren’t willing to give it to $rthem. Even this morning, $rname seemed closed off to you because of it. It makes you feel regretful; you didn’t even give $rthem a chance to prove $rthemselves to you. Now, however, you have the opportunity to rectify that. When $rname glances uncertainly in your direction, you smile at $rthem, giving them another, subtle nod in reassurance. Part of you is still concerned about how $rname will handle this, but to openly doubt $rthem will only indicate to the nobles that you don’t trust your own Sorcerer. $rname faces forward again, though $rthey doesn’t address the official immediately. $crtheir eyes glance from the official to Steward Welat and back again, before $rthey finally says,<<else>>You trusted $rname to handle the nobles at the banquet last night, and $rthey managed to do so without issue. While this sort of setting might be more challenging for $rname, especially considering $rthey lost $rtheir temper the last time, you know that $rthey would have learned from $rtheir encounter with Lady Naza. $rname, similarly, doesn’t look at you again for reassurance. Instead, $rthey takes control of the situation at once, staring down the official and addressing them calmly:<</if>><</if>><<if $rfriend is true>>While you have some reservations about $rname handling this sort of thing, $rthey managed the banquet in your absence without issues last night. You’re certain $rthey would’ve learned from $rtheir encounter with Lady Naza. $rname glances toward you for a moment, though $rthey doesn’t seem to need much reassurance. You briefly meet $rtheir eyes during that small glimpse, which appears to be enough. $rname faces forward again, though $rthey doesn’t address the official immediately. $crtheir eyes glance from the official to Steward Welat and back again, before $rthey finally says,<</if>> “That is assuming the current members of the court will retain their positions, Official Sewedi.” The official flinches, the others in the Imperial Court staring up at $rtitle $rname in shock, as if the possibility hadn’t even crossed their minds. <<if $rrelationship is 'high'>>$rname <em>does</em> glance in your direction this time, but only briefly, and you have to hide a smile behind your sleeve. Is $rthey looking at you to make sure you’re watching while $rthey shows off?<</if>> “I beg for clarification, $rtitle Sorcerer,” the official asks, bowing again. $dname and the military officers are the only ones who appear unperturbed by $rname’s statement, likely because they already anticipated as much. Besides which, $dname is in no danger of being replaced, unlike the rest of the court. You note that Steward Welat is calm as well. Did he also anticipate this, or is he keeping up a front? “It is as I said.” $rname’s gaze travels the chambers, looking at every member of court. “There is a new Crown who has ascended the throne. If $they <<if $pronouns is 'theythem'>>wish<<else>>wishes<</if>>, $ctheir Imperial Majesty may replace the entire court. Does anyone wish to raise objections?” Official Sewedi looks dumbstruck, much like their fellows in the court, but bows once more. “Not at all, $rtitle Sorcerer. We serve at the pleasure of the Crown, please forgive our momentary surprise.” [[Continue|9.21]] Just as you think the matter has been handled, yet another member of court steps forward. This time, however, it appears to be a high-ranking one judging by the golden details adorning their deep green robes. They bow deeply. “Minister Besna Piran,” $rname names, one of the ones you’ve memorized. She’s the Minister of Law, the head of the imperial judges. Several of them, namely from Şevan, haven’t made it in time to attend the first court meeting—not that it matters. “$rtitle Sorcerer, if this humble servant may make another inquiry?” “Speak.” Minister Besna bows again, displaying the streaks of gray threading through her short dark hair at the top of her head. Her face looks remarkably youthful in contrast. “Does $ctheir Imperial Majesty intend to replace the Office of Law, as well?” $rname looks at you. This is a decision only you can make, after all. <<if $blunt gt $charm>>Turning to address the minister, you reply, “I have yet to fully evaluate the functioning of the Office of Law.” You pause for a moment, letting the statement sink in as the minister gazes up at you, starting to appear a little anxious. “But as $rtitle $rname said, it is very possible.” You don’t let a single emotion slip from your face, appearing as stoic as possible as the minister tries to read you, her eyes searching, before she finally gives up and bows her head.<<else>>You don’t reply immediately, instead placing your elbow on the arm of your chair and resting a cheek against your knuckles as you gaze down at the minister. She avoids your eyes, bowing her head. “I have no intentions of any kind yet, minister,” you reply nonchalantly. “Perhaps I might, perhaps I might not. It all depends on whether you’ve been doing satisfactory work these past ten years.”<</if>> “Your Imperial Majesty,” Minister Besna speaks, “replacing the Office of Law during such a tumultuous period may jeopardize pending cases currently in court. It may negatively affect those seeking justice; I beg of Your Imperial Majesty to preserve the Office of Law for another year, in the interest of the public.” She goes as far as to kneel upon the floor, bowing on her hands. The rest of her office follows, pleading with their foreheads all but pressed to the white and gold tiles, “Please preserve the Office of Law, Your Imperial Majesty!” So that’s the intent behind this whole song and dance. It appears the minister wishes to preserve her office and her position as much as possible. “Minister, is this response not a bit much?” $rname speaks, the coldness in $rtheir voice a telltale sign that the display is wearing on $rtheir patience. “$ctheir Imperial Majesty has not even made a decision yet.” “That is the reason why I must implore $ctheir Imperial Majesty now, before $they <<if $pronouns is 'theythem'>>decide<<else>>decides<</if>> on a course of action,” Minister Besna replies while still facing the floor. “An upheaval of order such as this so soon after the Crown’s coronation will only lead to chaos. Please preserve the office, Your Imperial Majesty!” Then, as if planned beforehand, Steward Welat and his group join them, the entire room prostrating in excessive subservience. By this point, $dname and the other military officials are the only ones still standing, $dname casting a scowl at the rest of the court begging you to listen to Minister Besna’s request. The minister in question raises her head momentarily to speak to you again: “Your Imperial Majesty, if you dismiss the entire judicial office, there will be no one left to judge matters of law. If you wish to dismiss me, it is only right to do so in your judgment as a ruler, but I beg of you to keep the rest of the office intact.” “Please preserve the office, Your Imperial Majesty!” the entire court repeats now, badgering you with their wailing. From over your shoulder, you hear $aname scoff, “Jackals.” Your eyes flit to the royal historians quickly penning the events upon papyrus. Whatever you do next will not only be recorded in history but recorded for the public as well, which these officials no doubt are very much aware of. This will be your first official act as ruler of Arsur’s citizens; whatever you do will directly affect them. <ul class="a"> <li>[[Find a compromise.|9.22a][$law to 'compromise']]</li> <li>[[Reject their request and rebuke them.|9.22b][$law to 'rejected']]</li> <li><<if $publicfavored gte 3>>[[Turn down their request and dismiss the law officials on the spot.|9.22c][$law to 'outwitted']]<<else>><b>Turn down their request and dismiss the law officials on the spot. </b>[ <em>You have not prioritized the public enough to unlock this option.</em> ]<</if>></li> </ul><<if visited("9.22c") is 1>><<set $noblepoints += 2>><<set $publicpoints -= 1>><<set $elitefavored += 1>><</if>>You don’t want to come across as weak, but you don’t want to fall into their trap either. It will be a difficult balancing act, but it seems the better option than to dismiss the minister out of hand; she wields her supposed concern for the public like a cudgel, and going against it will be essentially the same as stating you don’t care about the citizens. The minister has maneuvered you into a corner that you’re not sure how to escape from, at least not unscathed. The most reasonable thing to do, then, is to strike a bargain. “Please preserve—” You take a breath, pushing your frustration down as you interrupt, calmly but firmly. “That’s quite enough.” The insufferable chanting finally stops, the officials remaining poised into their bows while Minister of Law looks up at you expectantly. <<if $blunt gt $charm>>“I understand your misgivings.” You stare down at the minister, who lowers her head, as do the rest of the court officials who hadn’t already been bowing.<<else>>“You wish for me to preserve the office, fine, but there’s no need to repeat it ten times over,” you say with exasperation. You stare down at the minister, who lowers her head, as do the rest of the court officials who hadn’t already been bowing.<</if>> “I cannot give you a guarantee for a year, but in the interest of the public, I will allow the current Office of Law to function for the time being. New appointments will be instated gradually, to avoid causing chaos or disorder in the office. That is fair, is it not, minister?” Minister Besna bows, together with the rest of the court. “That is more than fair, Your Imperial Majesty.” While her tone remains even, you’re certain the minister is pleased with this turn of events; even if replacements will still be made, it’ll be easier for her to control the situation when it’s done gradually. You plan on getting rid of her first, but no doubt she’ll still have her own people in the office. You get the sense that you could’ve handled this situation better. You were trying to avoid causing a commotion, but in terms of your reputation… Frankly, the public hasn’t been on your mind at all while the coronation was being prepared. It simply hasn’t been a priority as you were preoccupied about how to survive the coronation and court meeting, yet now the minister has you on record stating that you will preserve the Office of Law for the near future. There’s nothing to be done for it now, though. You lean against your seat, though you keep your back straight as you look down your court. “Now that we’ve resolved this issue, I suggest we move on. $rtitle $rname?” [[Continue|9.23]]<<if visited("9.22b") is 1>><<set $noblepoints -= 2>><<set $nazapoints += 2>><</if>>You feel your anger throb in your head. They’re holding the court cases of the public hostage. While the Minister of Law’s request may seem reasonable and unselfish, you are clever enough to read between the lines of what she’s saying: Either let my appointment stand or the public will suffer for it. They want to make you seem a tyrant? Very well. “Please preserve—” You take a breath, restraining the urge to shout, and instead focus on keeping your voice as calm but as authoritative as possible as you raise it only enough to cut through the begging. “Enough.” Silence falls in the room, the bowed officials freezing in place on the floor as the Minister of Law stares at up at you expectantly. <<if $blunt gt $charm>>“I will not be pressured into making a decision by the inane bleating of this court, which seems to feel no shame at its conduct.” You cast a glare down at the minister, who quickly lowers her head, as do the rest of the court officials.<<else>>“Perhaps you’d like to change your professions to become actors instead of court officials?” you sneer with sharp sarcasm, casting a glare down at the minister and the rest of the officials who quickly lower their heads.<</if>> “The Crown orders the court, minister, not the other way around. I will make my decision in due time, and you <em>will</em> accept it, no matter the consequences. That is final.” Minister Besna bows, together with the rest of the court. “We will abide by your decision, Your Imperial Majesty.” She does not sound nearly as disappointed as you expected. While you don’t regret rebuking her and the other officials, you get the sense that you could’ve handled this situation better. It’s your right to exercise your authority, of course, but in terms of your reputation… Frankly, the issue of how you would be perceived by the public hasn’t been on your mind at all while the coronation was being prepared. It simply hasn’t been a priority as you were preoccupied about how to survive the coronation and court meeting. Perhaps that was shortsighted on your part. There’s nothing to be done for it now, though. You lean back against your seat, though you keep your back straight as you stare down your court and let your ire slowly ebb away from your features. “Now that we’ve resolved this issue, I suggest we move on. $rtitle $rname?” [[Continue|9.23]] <<if visited("9.22c") is 1>><<set $publicpoints += 2>><<set $publicfavored += 1>><</if>>Perhaps if Minister Besna had not been willing to relinquish her position so easily, and if Steward Welat and his group had not bowed to join her in her request, you might have even considered it. A year is not a hugely long time to get affairs in order, and replacing the entire office <em>will</em> be difficult. However, for her to willingly sacrifice herself, and for Steward Welat to support her tells you that Steward Welat must have even more connections than you previously considered, to have the Minister of Law as an ally. It is also possible Minister Besna has ways to remain influential even if she resigns the position, perhaps in some sort of agreement with Steward Welat or perhaps not. Their interests could also happen to align on this matter by circumstance. Whatever connection those two have, you make a note to unearth it later. As much as part of you wants to rebuke them for this, the average citizen doesn’t have the context you do. All they’ll hear will be gossip from the nobles, strengthened by the court records, depicting you as stubborn and conceited. However, if you give into their request, you’ll come across as clueless and inexperienced at best, spineless and easily influenced at worst. The only way to get out of this is to use their own tactics against them. Admittedly, it was a sound strategy on their part, but it’s only a pity that they underestimated you. If they want to play this game, you can play it just as well; you didn’t spend the past week sitting around doing nothing while the coronation was being prepared. In your desire to fulfill your role as best as possible, in the public’s interest, <<if $intel gt $intu>>you’ve started researching the reigns of Crowns past, and how they handled their courts when first appointed. That knowledge will be useful here in exposing the minister’s feigned concerns.<<else>>you’ve been paying close attention to the unspoken rules of the social games played by the nobility, the way they wield words and reputation like weapons to be used. You’re confident that you can participate, at least for a short while, and that will no doubt be useful here.<</if>> <<if $intel gt $intu>><<if $charm gt $blunt>>“Many Crowns in ages past appointed new officials after succeeding the throne,” you state, taking pleasure in seeing the surprise on the minister’s face. “Are you saying they were all wrong to do so, Minister Besna?” Evidently, she did not expect you to have knowledge of the past. A foolish assumption on her part; in between all the preparations for the coronation you made sure to read about the coronations of your predecessors, in order to know what to expect. Save for a few, the vast majority of Crowns removed at least part if not <em>all</em> of the Imperial Court to appoint their own officials. Crown Ferzan, in particular, was ruthless; many of the officials he removed were subsequently stripped of their noble titles and banished from the capital. To think she has the audacity to argue with you on this—these nobles have been in charge for far too long without any oversight. “Not at all, Your Imperial Majesty,” she says quickly, a hasty rush of words, but you interject before she can continue. “Then it is only I who should submit to my court’s judgment, unlike my predecessors?” you infer with a smile, lacking any warmth. “How strange to be singled out. Or should I be flattered?”<<else>>“Crown Ferzan replaced the Imperial Court left to him by Crown Piruz in its entirety due to mismanagement,” you state, taking pleasure in seeing the surprise on the minister’s face. “Seeing the state that the Empire is in now, can you truly stand there with a clear conscience and argue that you, collectively, did not mismanage?” Evidently, she did not expect you to have knowledge of your predecessor’s reign. A foolish assumption on her part; in between all the preparations for the coronation you made sure to read about the coronations of as many of your predecessors as you could find, in order to know what to expect. Save for a few, the vast majority of Crowns removed at least part if not <em>all</em> of the Imperial Court to appoint their own officials. Crown Ferzan, in particular, was ruthless; many of the officials he removed were subsequently stripped of their noble titles and banished from the capital. To think she has the audacity to argue with you on this—these nobles have been in charge for far too long without any oversight. “Not at all, Your Imperial Majesty,” she says quickly, a hasty rush of words, but you interject before she can continue. “Then you concede that it is within my purview to appoint and remove anyone as I see fit?” you conclude coolly, eyes narrowing a fraction as your gaze dares her to object.<</if>><<else>><<if $charm gt $blunt>>“Minister, the citizens have waited for a decade to see a new Crown,” you speak, purposefully furrowing your brows in an act of well-intentioned confusion and disappointment. “Yet, you refuse to heed my first judgment. Do you demand to see me abandon my dignity first?” The minister isn’t the only one who can act pitifully to gain sympathy. From the bewildered look on her face, however, she clearly did not expect you to use her own tactics against her. “Your Imperial Majesty, I-I could never dare—” You continue. “Must I beg you on my knees before you listen?” “Your Imperial Majesty!” the minister exclaims in shock, becoming flustered as the other officials shoot her uncertain looks; she’s being cast as the villain, now. “I would never wish for you to degrade yourself!” “Is that so?” You tilt your head at her, letting your honesty filter through now. “From the way you behaved, one would think you are intentionally trying to weaken me as the Crown, but doing so weakens me also in the eyes of our enemies. Surely, as an official serving in the best interest of the Empire, that is not your intent. Why not allow me to make my decision as I see fit?” <<else>>“Do you mean to say,” you speak, purposefully furrowing your brows in an act of well-intentioned confusion and disappointment, “that things must remain the same, minister? Despite the state that the nation is in?” The minister isn’t the only one who can act pitifully to gain sympathy. From the bewildered look on her face, however, she clearly did not expect you to use her own tactics against her. “Your Imperial Majesty, that was certainly not my meaning—” “Will you truly refuse to change, in such dire circumstances?” You continue. “I suppose you must be satisfied with the way things are now.” “That is not at all the case, Your Imperial Majesty!” the minister exclaims in shock, becoming flustered as the other officials shoot her uncertain looks; she’s being cast as the villain, now. “It… it is my fault for causing this misunderstanding, I assure you that I am very much concerned with the state of the Empire.” “Is that so?” You tilt your head at her, letting your honesty filter through now. “Yet, it appears to me that you feel no shame putting up this pitiful act in your silk robes and gem-encrusted shoes, when war and famine are threatening to devastate entire provinces. Does your pride matter more than the lives of our fellow citizens?”<</if>> When a look of panic crosses the minister’s face, you know you have the better of her.<</if>> “I…” Minister Besna clears her throat, the officials around her exchanging nervous glances. “You must admit, Your Imperial Majesty, that this is a unique situation.” “I <em>must</em> admit?” you repeat softly, and it is almost fascinating to watch the stillness that falls over the Imperial Court. Minister Besna is frozen in place, appearing bewildered and confused by these turn of events. She looks around, but none of the other officials dare to meet her gaze. Their heads all lower, either as a sign of respect or as a way to hide, to avoid your building anger. This is the power you hold, one you will not hesitate to use on behalf of those who have none, even if it makes you a tyrant to the likes of the minister and the court. As much as they might try to obstruct you, in the end, you have the final say. <<if $ass gt $pass>>“Do not presume to think you can tell me what I <em>must</em> do, minister,” you speak, a threatening edge to your voice even you did not know you were capable of until this very moment. “The Imperial Court advises the Crown, yet have you acted like an advisor? You did not hesitate to throw yourself to the floor before I even made a decision, hoping your tempter tantrum would persuade me. As you wish, then: I’ll announce my judgment here and now.”<<else>>“Would you like to correct yourself, minister?” you speak in a pleasant tone, even while your stare is unflinching. “I was…” Minister Besna speaks haltingly, flustered as she averts her gaze to the floor, her neck bending under the weight of your gaze. “Your Imperial Majesty, please forgive my arrogance. I would never presume to think I could- it was a disgraceful mistake on my part, I severely misspoke. I shall not dare to repeat it.” It might almost seem kind, allowing the minister to correct herself, yet it also bears the force of your authority down on her that much more heavily.<</if>> Your gaze trails over the rest of the court, and you note with faint amusement that $dname and the military officials are the only ones who appear at ease as they still hold their heads up, facing forward and quietly listening as before. Steward Welat also still has his head raised and, you note, he’s frowning as he casts a glance toward the minister. Returning your attention to the minister and her group, you continue: “The ranking officials currently serving within the Office of Law shall be summarily dismissed by the end of the day. That is my final say on the matter.” In a way, the minister’s display worked in your favor. If it were not for her protest, you would’ve had to find a palatable way to dismiss the office as you intended from the start. By badgering you so publicly, however, it gave you enough reason to dismiss the office outright. Minister Besna bows her head, all her previous energy drained from her voice. “We will abide by your decision, Your Imperial Majesty.” She knows she can say nothing else; you’ve outplayed her. The records will show the minister humiliated, and a Crown who has reasserted $ctheir authority. “Good.” You lean back against your seat, though you keep your back straight as you stare down your court. “Now that we’ve resolved this issue, I suggest we move on. $rtitle $rname?” [[Continue|9.23]]$rname takes your signal without missing a beat, turning to the court. “As discussed earlier, we will be giving the current members of the court each a list of the proposed candidates so far, so that you may add suggestions during tomorrow’s court session.” Several officials bring up concerns about the given period to examine the list. “$rtitle Sorcerer, with all due respect to the Crown,” one of them speaks on behalf of the others, belonging to the Office of Law, “that is not enough time for us to assess the candidates.” You feel your patience fraying. Every topic, every point of discussion, has been a verbal battleground so far. No matter what you decide, they don’t seem content to accept your judgment, arguing even if only for the sake of it. <<if $charm gt $blunt>>“Why, exactly, would your assessment matter to me?” you speak before $rname can, startling the official who flinches at being suddenly addressed. It gives you a small measure of satisfaction. They quickly bend into a bow, holding it there as they reply. “Your Imperial Majesty, it was not my intention to imply—” “Your intentions mean very little.” Leaning back into the seat, you take a disinterested posture, letting your gaze wander the room in apparent boredom. “It seems the court has misunderstood something: you are not <em>entitled</em> to a say in the court’s appointments. This is a courtesy extended from me, to you.” Your gaze flits back to the official again, sharpening in warning. “I could always retract the privilege, if you are displeased with it.” The official glances up at you from their bow, before quickly lowering their head again, seeming to hover uncertainly in place. Finally, they say, “You are merciful, Your Imperial Majesty. Please forgive my arrogance.” You look over at $rname. “Continue.”<<else>>“Your assessment means nothing to me,” you speak before $rname can, startling the official who flinches at being suddenly addressed. It gives you a small measure of satisfaction. “Does the Crown rule the court, or does the court rule itself?” They quickly bend into a bow, holding it there as they reply. “Your Imperial Majesty, it was not my intention to imply—” “Yet imply you did.” Your gaze is unflinching, bearing down on the official. You wonder what it must look like from their position, to see two glowing golden eyes focused upon them like the gleaming tips of arrows. “This matter is not up for debate. $rtitle $rname, continue.” The official glances up at you from their bow, before quickly lowering their head again in silent acknowledgment.<</if>> $rname can hardly hide the smile playing in the corner of $rtheir mouth, though it disappears again as $rthey faces the court once more. “If there are no further questions, we will end the matter of the court appointments here.” Unexpectedly, $rthey then turns to face you. “The next topic concerns your coronation, Your Imperial Majesty.” $crthey glances toward the court, before $rtheir gaze unexpectedly shifts to one of the royal historians. “I received a request from the Office of Imperial Decrees, such as it is. Historian?” One of the historians rises to their feet from behind their table, turning towards you and bowing deeply. “As you know, $rtitle $rname, it is customary for the Crown to issue a declaration about their intended reign to the public. Seeing the state the Empire is in at the moment, the Office of Imperial Decrees understands it likely will not be a priority, but we request that $ctheir Imperial Majesty considers issuing one sooner rather than later.” You recognize what this is. Many declarations of Crowns in the past are famous in history as they are contrasted to the ruler’s reign. Crown Keybanû, the predecessor of Piruz, had one of the more well known declarations because it almost seemed to shirk the idea of rulership altogether: <em>‘I dream not of empires and crowns, but of free lands with free people.’</em> In all the commotion around organizing the coronation, the custom had completely slipped your mind. It’s something you will have to think on. $rname looks your way, and when you nod, $rthey turns to the historian. “We’ve made note of it.” “Thank you, Your Imperial Majesty, $rtitle $rname.” As the historian sits back down, unexpectedly, Steward Welat steps forward. “Steward.” $rtitle $rname’s eyes narrow with distaste. “You have something to say?” “A humble suggestion for $ctheir Imperial Majesty,” Welat replies, and as much as you’d rather not hear it, you can hardly forbid him from speaking without looking worse for it. Begrudgingly, you say, “You may speak.” [[Continue|9.24]] Steward Welat bows deeply toward you, but when he stands upright again you’re certain that nothing he has to say will be good. “If Your Imperial Majesty recalls, I asked once before whether you would clarify your intentions as a ruler.” “This again?” you hear $aname mutter irritably. “Now that your coronation has come and gone, would it not be suitable to say a few words to soothe the public’s mind?” Steward Welat proposes. “I am not asking for a declaration on the spot, of course, but I believe both the public and the court would like some reassurance in these times of chaos.” <<if $prisoner is 'prison'>>His eyes do not waver as they meet your gaze, calm and sharp. “Take the festivities in the city from last night, for instance. There was quite a bit of commotion at the prison—an escape attempt, I believe?” You tense, fingers squeezing around the armrests of your chair. How much does he know? <<if $cs gt 3>>To your surprise, another official dressed in dark blue robe steps forward to deliver a retort against Steward Welat. “One that was handled quickly and efficiently, steward. That is a poor excuse to pressure $ctheir Imperial Majesty.” Judging from their robe, another official who works at the Office of Imperial Decrees. That office certainly seems friendlier to you than the Office of Law. There are far fewer of them compared to the other groups, standing near the Law officials. “Even so,” Steward Welat says, and it seems a good sign that even he cannot argue the point. <<if $hidenobles is true>>“The prison escape was not the only conflict; there were reports of city guards getting into scuffles with citizens.<<if $hidepublic is false>> Not to mention the unrest due to the announcement of wanted criminals roaming the streets, done by the Crown’s orders.<</if>>” He turns to you again. “Your Imperial Majesty, is it not imperative to address the public in these circumstances?”<<else>> Unfortunately, he has another avenue of attack: “Was it not Your Imperial Majesty who, mere days ago, informed us of the attempt on your life?” “What does that have to do with this, steward?” $aname interrupts bluntly, the first words $athey’s spoken during this entire court session. “I am simply pointing out that there is precedent in such matters, and that questions may arise the longer $ctheir Imperial Majesty remains silent,” Steward Welat responds, unruffled by $aname’s apparent irritation as he turns back to face you. “<<if $hidepublic is false>>Not to mention the unrest due to the announcement of wanted criminals roaming the streets, done by your orders, Your Imperial Majesty. <</if>>It would be in everyone’s best interest for you to clarify your intentions as the Crown of the Empire.”<</if>> “Do not bother addressing him, Your Imperial Majesty,” the Imperial Decree official speaks, bowing toward you. “The coronation was organized almost flawlessly. The court should be praising your judgment, not questioning your intentions.” “Does the rest of the court agree?” Steward Welat responds coolly, arching a single brow toward the other official. He looks toward the Minister of Law. She appears somewhat uncomfortable, avoiding his gaze. “I will abstain from this discussion, Your Imperial Majesty.” It seems this move was too risky for her to support, and it also tells you that whatever their relationship, it doesn’t seem to be so strong that she would follow his lead on every matter. Your gaze, as well as Steward Welat’s, shifts to $dname and $dtheir group, who has been mostly silent.<</if>><<if $cs gt 0 and $cs lte 3>>To your surprise, another official dressed in dark blue robe steps forward to deliver a retort against Steward Welat. “One that was handled, steward. That is a poor excuse to pressure $ctheir Imperial Majesty.” Judging from their robe, another official who works at the Office of Imperial Decrees. That office certainly seems friendlier to you than the Office of Law. There are far fewer of them compared to the other groups, standing near the Law officials. “It was handled, certainly,” Steward Welat says, and you can hear the <em>but</em> in his words before he even speaks it. “But what of the citizens that were injured?” You clench your jaw. “They will be compensated,” $rtitle $rname replies stiffly, though the damage has already been done. No doubt hearing that citizens were wounded during the coronation festivities was of great benefit to Steward Welat, who is now holding it over your head. “I’m sure they will,” Steward Welat replies dismissively. <<if $hidenobles is true>>“However, the prison escape was not the only conflict; there were reports of city guards getting into scuffles with citizens as well.<<if $hidepublic is false>> Not to mention the unrest due to the announcement of wanted criminals roaming the streets, done by the Crown’s orders.<</if>>” He turns to you again. “Your Imperial Majesty, is it not imperative to address the public in these circumstances?”<<else>> On top of that, he has yet another avenue of attack: “Was it not Your Imperial Majesty who, mere days ago, informed us of the attempt on your life?” “What does that have to do with this, steward?” $aname interrupts bluntly, the first words $athey’s spoken during this entire court session. “I am simply pointing out that there is precedent in such matters, and that questions may arise the longer $ctheir Imperial Majesty remains silent,” Steward Welat responds, unruffled by $aname’s apparent irritation as he turns back to face you. “<<if $hidepublic is false>>Not to mention the unrest due to the announcement of wanted criminals roaming the streets, done by your orders, Your Imperial Majesty. <</if>>It would be in everyone’s best interest for you to clarify your intentions as the Crown of the Empire.”<</if>> The Imperial Decree official who defended you before remains silent now, frowning at Steward Welat, but they have no argument to make in return; the prison escape, and the people that were injured in the process, are your responsibility. You’re only grateful that Welat doesn’t know you were the one who sent the prisoner there in the first place, or he might actually try to dethrone you on the spot. “I agree with Steward Welat, Your Imperial Majesty,” the Minister of Law says as she steps forward with a bow once more, opportunistic as she is. “For the good of the Empire, please clarify your intentions as our ruler.” Two groups in favor, one against. Your gaze, as well as Steward Welat’s, shifts to $dname and $dtheir group, who has been mostly silent.<</if>><<if $cs lte 0>>“How is this relevant, steward?” $aname interrupts bluntly, the first words $athey’s spoken during this entire court session.<<if $arelationship is 'low'>> You notice $athey’s avoiding your eyes, however.<<else>>$cathey glances in your direction, briefly meeting your gaze as if to reassure you.<</if>> “The escape attempt was handled.” “It was handled, certainly,” Steward Welat says, and you can hear the <em>but</em> in his words before he even speaks it. “But what of the citizens that died?” Your throat suddenly feels tighter, dread coiling in the pit of your stomach. A heavy silence settles upon the court. “That is not something the Crown has to answer to <em>you</em> for,” $rtitle $rname snaps, though the damage has already been done. No doubt hearing that citizens were killed during the coronation festivities was of great benefit to Steward Welat, who is now holding it over your head. “Is it not?” Steward Welat replies coolly. “I am Marabad’s steward.” “Then do you not share responsibility, as the steward?” $rname argues, digging $rtheir heels in. “Was it not also your city guards who failed to protect the citizens?” “I left the organization of the city guards directly under the Crown’s control,” Welat replies dismissively. <<if $hidenobles is true>>“However, the prison escape was not the only conflict; there were reports of city guards getting into scuffles with citizens as well.<<if $hidepublic is false>> Not to mention the unrest due to the announcement of wanted criminals roaming the streets, done by the Crown’s orders.<</if>>” He turns to you again. “Your Imperial Majesty, is it not imperative to address the public in these circumstances?”<<else>> On top of that, he has yet another avenue of attack: “Was it not Your Imperial Majesty who, mere days ago, informed us of the attempt on your life?” “What does that have to do with this, steward?” $aname interjects once more, the scowl on $atheir face and the glare in $atheir eyes no longer hiding $atheir anger. “I am simply pointing out that there is precedent in such matters, and that questions may arise the longer $ctheir Imperial Majesty remains silent,” Steward Welat responds, unruffled by $aname’s apparent irritation as he turns back to face you. “<<if $hidepublic is false>>Not to mention the unrest due to the announcement of wanted criminals roaming the streets, done by your orders, Your Imperial Majesty. <</if>>It would be in everyone’s best interest for you to clarify your intentions as the Crown of the Empire.”<</if>> How convenient that the steward apparently has to accept no blame or share any responsibility whatsoever in the situation. Still, in your position it is difficult to argue against him; in the end the prison escape, and the people that were killed during the attempt, are your responsibility. You’re only grateful that Welat doesn’t know you were the one who sent the prisoner there in the first place, or he might actually try to dethrone you on the spot. “I agree with Steward Welat, Your Imperial Majesty,” the Minister of Law says as she steps forward with a bow once more, opportunistic as she is. “For the good of the Empire, please clarify your intentions as our ruler.” Another official, from a small group of ones robed with dark blue, also voices their opinion: “We will abstain from the discussion, Your Imperial Majesty.” They look to belong to the Office of Imperial Decrees, together with the royal historians. It seems, if nothing else, that this office does not intend to antagonize you like the others. Two groups in favor, one abstained. Your gaze, as well as Steward Welat’s, shifts to $dname and $dtheir group, who has been mostly silent.<</if>><</if>><<if $prisoner is 'palace'>>His eyes do not waver as they meet your gaze, calm and sharp. “Take the banquet from last night, for instance. There was quite a bit of commotion at the palace. A few nobles have informed me they saw Imperial Guards running around in a bit of a panic, blocking off corridors.” You tense, fingers squeezing around the armrests of your chair. How much does he know? “The guests at the banquet were quite concerned,” Welat continues. “Surely there wasn’t an emergency happening that we weren’t informed of?” You relax; he knows nothing. <<if $cs gt 3>>To your surprise, another official dressed in dark blue robe steps forward to deliver a retort against Steward Welat. “You heard <em>rumors</em> of a commotion in the palace? That is a poor excuse to pressure $ctheir Imperial Majesty.” Judging from their robe, another official who works at the Office of Imperial Decrees. That office certainly seems friendlier to you than the Office of Law. There are far fewer of them compared to the other groups, standing near the Law officials. “Even so,” Steward Welat says, and it seems a good sign that even he cannot argue the point. <<if $hidenobles is true>>“The commotion at the palace was not the only conflict; there were reports of city guards getting into scuffles with citizens.<<if $hidepublic is false>> Not to mention the unrest due to the announcement of wanted criminals roaming the streets, done by the Crown’s orders.<</if>>” He turns to you again. “Your Imperial Majesty, is it not imperative to address the public in these circumstances?”<<else>> Unfortunately, he has another avenue of attack: “Was it not Your Imperial Majesty who, mere days ago, informed us of the attempt on your life?” “What does that have to do with this, steward?” $aname interrupts bluntly, the first words $athey’s spoken during this entire court session. “I am simply pointing out that there is precedent in such matters, and that questions may arise the longer $ctheir Imperial Majesty remains silent,” Steward Welat responds, unruffled by $aname’s apparent irritation as he turns back to face you. “<<if $hidepublic is false>>Not to mention the unrest due to the announcement of wanted criminals roaming the streets, done by your orders, Your Imperial Majesty. <</if>>It would be in everyone’s best interest for you to clarify your intentions as the Crown of the Empire.”<</if>> “Do not bother addressing him, Your Imperial Majesty,” the Imperial Decree official speaks, bowing toward you. “The coronation was organized almost flawlessly. The court should be praising your judgment, not questioning your intentions.” “Does the rest of the court agree?” Steward Welat responds coolly, arching a single brow toward the other official. He looks toward the Minister of Law. She appears somewhat uncomfortable, avoiding his gaze. “I will abstain from this discussion, Your Imperial Majesty.” It seems this move was too risky for her to support, and it also tells you that whatever their relationship, it doesn’t seem to be so strong that she would follow his lead on every matter. Your gaze, as well as Steward Welat’s, shifts to $dname and $dtheir group, who has been mostly silent.<</if>><<if $cs gt 0 and $cs lte 3>>To your surprise, another official dressed in dark blue robe steps forward to deliver a retort against Steward Welat. “You heard <em>rumors</em> of a commotion in the palace? That is a poor excuse to pressure $ctheir Imperial Majesty.” Judging from their robe, another official who works at the Office of Imperial Decrees. That office certainly seems friendlier to you than the Office of Law. There are far fewer of them compared to the other groups, standing near the Law officials. “They were rumors, certainly,” Steward Welat says, and you can hear the <em>but</em> in his words before he even speaks it. “But what of the guest that was injured?” You clench your jaw. “Did you witness this yourself, steward, or is this another rumor you heard?” $rtitle $rname says stiffly, though the damage has already been done. No doubt hearing that a guest was wounded during the banquet was of great benefit to Steward Welat, who is now holding it over your head. “I did indeed witness it myself, yet I received no answer as to what might have happened.” “There was an accident with a servant who ran into the guest,” $aname interjects bluntly, the first words $athey’s spoken during this entire court session. “The servant was carrying some pottery at the time; it is of no consequence.” “Even so,” Steward Welat replies dismissively. <<if $hidenobles is true>>“The injured guest was not the only issue; there were reports of city guards getting into scuffles with citizens as well.<<if $hidepublic is false>> Not to mention the unrest due to the announcement of wanted criminals roaming the streets, done by the Crown’s orders.<</if>>” He turns to you again. “Your Imperial Majesty, is it not imperative to address the public in these circumstances?”<<else>> On top of that, he has yet another avenue of attack: “Was it not Your Imperial Majesty who, mere days ago, informed us of the attempt on your life?” “What does that have to do with this, steward?” $aname says impatiently, $atheir scowl and $atheir glare no longer hiding $atheir irritation. “I am simply pointing out that there is precedent in such matters, and that questions may arise the longer $ctheir Imperial Majesty remains silent,” Steward Welat responds, unruffled by $aname’s apparent irritation as he turns back to face you. “<<if $hidepublic is false>>Not to mention the unrest due to the announcement of wanted criminals roaming the streets, done by your orders, Your Imperial Majesty. <</if>>It would be in everyone’s best interest for you to clarify your intentions as the Crown of the Empire.”<</if>> The Imperial Decree official who defended you before remains silent now, frowning at Steward Welat, but they have no argument to make in return. In fact, they even glance your way with some uncertainty, likely wondering how much of those rumors about the injured guest are true. You’re only grateful that Welat doesn’t know about the prisoner, or he might actually try to dethrone you on the spot. “I agree with Steward Welat, Your Imperial Majesty,” the Minister of Law says as she steps forward with a bow once more, opportunistic as she is. “For the good of the Empire, please clarify your intentions as our ruler.” Two groups in favor, one against. Your gaze, as well as Steward Welat’s, shifts to $dname and $dtheir group, who has been mostly silent.<</if>><<if $cs lte 0>>“How is this relevant, steward?” $aname interrupts bluntly, the first words $athey’s spoken during this entire court session.<<if $arelationship is 'low'>> You notice $athey’s avoiding your eyes, however.<<else>> $cathey glances in your direction, briefly meeting your gaze as if to reassure you.<</if>> “These are mere rumors.” “They were rumors, certainly,” Steward Welat says, and you can hear the <em>but</em> in his words before he even speaks it. “But what of the guest that died?” Your throat suddenly feels tighter, dread coiling in the pit of your stomach. A heavy silence settles upon the court. “Did you witness this yourself, steward, or is this another rumor you heard?” $rtitle $rname says stiffly, though the damage has already been done. No doubt hearing that a guest was killed during the banquet was of great benefit to Steward Welat, who is now holding it over your head. “I did indeed witness the body being carried out myself, yet I received no answer as to what might have happened.” “The guest was already of a frail constitution,” $aname responds coldly. “The excitement must have been too much for her, as she died of a sudden heart attack.” <<if $kind gt $calc>> You <em>hate</em> that you have to lie about this. It’s not fair to Yekbûn.<</if>> Welat looks distinctly unconvinced. “Did she?” “You may badger her family for answers, if you wish,” $aname sneers with venom in $atheir voice, “but that seems cruel even for you, steward.” Steward Welat narrows his eyes, but does not address $aname’s retort. <<if $hidenobles is true>>“The death of the banquet guest was not the only issue; there were reports of city guards getting into scuffles with citizens as well.<<if $hidepublic is false>> Not to mention the unrest due to the announcement of wanted criminals roaming the streets, done by the Crown’s orders.<</if>>” He turns to you again. “Your Imperial Majesty, is it not imperative to address the public in these circumstances?”<<else>> On top of that, he has yet another avenue of attack: “Then that unfortunate death aside, was it not Your Imperial Majesty who, mere days ago, informed us of the attempt on your life?” “What does that have to do with this, steward?” $aname says impatiently, $atheir scowl and $atheir glare no longer hiding $atheir anger. “I am simply pointing out that there is precedent in such matters, and that questions may arise the longer $ctheir Imperial Majesty remains silent,” Steward Welat responds, unruffled by $aname’s apparent irritation as he turns back to face you. “<<if $hidepublic is false>>Not to mention the unrest due to the announcement of wanted criminals roaming the streets, done by your orders, Your Imperial Majesty. <</if>>It would be in everyone’s best interest for you to clarify your intentions as the Crown of the Empire.”<</if>> As if Yekbûn being killed was not enough, now you have to deal with the steward using it to drive you into a corner. You’re only grateful that Welat doesn’t know it was an escape attempt from the prisoner you kept in the dungeons, or he might actually try to dethrone you on the spot. “I agree with Steward Welat, Your Imperial Majesty,” the Minister of Law says as she steps forward with a bow once more, opportunistic as she is. “For the good of the Empire, please clarify your intentions as our ruler.” Another official, from a small group of ones robed with dark blue, also voices their opinion: “We will abstain from the discussion, Your Imperial Majesty.” They look to belong to the Office of Imperial Decrees, together with the royal historians. It seems, if nothing else, that this office does not intend to antagonize you like the others. Two groups in favor, one abstained. Your gaze, as well as Steward Welat’s, shifts to $dname and $dtheir group, who has been mostly silent.<</if>><</if>> <<if $dfriend is false>><<if $dpoints gt 14>><<set $drelationship to 'high'>><<set $dhighcount to 1>>You feel a semblance of reassurance begin to settle as all eyes turn to look at $dname’s faction, confident with the knowledge that $dthey’s on your side. As you wait for $dthem to answer, you can’t read anything from $dtheir face. The only thing you see clearly is the steadiness of $dtheir gaze, the distance between you erasing any depth of dark brown tones you would sometimes catch in $dtheir eyes from up close. Now, they appear black, as black as when you first met $dthem in the forest, and as black as they were in the shadows of the tunnels as $dthey saved your life. $dname parts $dtheir lips and speaks. “We will abstain, Your Imperial Majesty.” <em>Abstain</em>? Your eyes widen; you cannot hide the surprise that overtakes you, having expected an outright vote against. It throws you off balance, your footing suddenly lost. $rname glances toward you, though $rthey doesn’t seem as startled as you are. If anything, it seems $rthey’s taking in your reaction before facing the court again—did even $rname expect this more than you did? But more importantly, why would $dname abstain instead of vote against it? In the end it still means you have enough leverage to refuse Steward Welat’s proposal, so one could say it’s the same as a vote against while remaining politically neutral. Yet, you assumed that $dname would openly display $dtheir support for you—maybe you shouldn’t have. Were you taking $dname’s loyalty for granted this entire time? “It seems the court is divided,” $rname speaks while you remain silent, fixing your expression into something more neutral as you avert your gaze from $dname and try to resettle your composure. “In which case, we will address this topic on a later date, when the Crown feels the need to do so.”<</if>><<if $dpoints lte 14>><<set $drelationship to 'low'>><<set $dlowcount to 1>>All eyes turn to look at $dname’s faction, confident with the knowledge that $dthey’s on your side. You are—mostly—certain $dthey will vote against Steward Welat’s proposal as well, though part of you can’t help but feel unsure. There’s so much about $dname you still don’t know, after all. To your great relief, however, $dthey doesn’t take long to answer. “We are against Steward Welat’s suggestion.” You start to relax, until $dname follows up with, “There are more important matters requiring the Crown’s attention. The citizens themselves, I’m sure, would prefer action over promises.” It’s not a wholehearted defense of you as you expected. $dname’s gaze is on $rname, not even looking in your direction; you get the sense this decision had less to do with you as a person, and more to do with you as the Crown. Of course $dname wouldn’t want the Crown’s time wasted on these matters when there is more good to be done for the Empire in other, more direct ways. As always, $dtheir priority is Arsur, not you. Still, it’s hard to complain about it when this decision ultimately benefits you, and you yourself should put Arsur first as well. You decide to dismiss the uneasy thoughts about $dname’s motivations as $rname closes off the matter. “It seems the court is divided,” $rname speaks while you remain silent, averting your gaze from $dname, even while your discomfort lingers. “In which case, we will address this topic on a later date, when the Crown feels the need to do so.”<</if>><<else>>All eyes turn to look at $dname’s faction, and you're confident with the knowledge that $dthey’s on your side. You are—mostly—certain $dthey will vote against Steward Welat’s proposal as well, though part of you can’t help but feel unsure. There’s so much about $dname you still don’t know, after all. To your great relief, however, $dthey doesn’t take long to answer. “We are against Steward Welat’s suggestion.” You relax as $dname continues to explain, “There are more important matters requiring the Crown’s attention. The citizens themselves, I’m sure, would prefer action over promises.” It’s a more than fair point, one no one else can argue against judging by the way the other two factions remain silent. You almost wish you’d said it yourself, but arguing that in your own favor would’ve made it seem as if you were using Arsur as a means to escape scrutiny. No, it is much better that $dname said it instead. “It seems the court is divided,” $rname speaks while you give $dname a slight smile, one $dthey answers with the inclining of $dtheir head. “In which case, we will address this topic on a later date, when the Crown feels the need to do so.”<</if>> [[Continue|9.25]]<<if $dfriend is false>>[ <b>[[Romantic relationship|Relationships]] updated</b> ] <</if>>The court session continues for a while longer, though not as long as you expected, likely because the current court is so small in number. You feel the beginnings of a headache coming on when you imagine what it will be like to navigate these political matters in a room filled with a dozen different factions, each with their own agendas; today was but a small taste of what the rest of your life will look like. You can hardly complain, though, considering it is a much better position to be in than where you were before, roaming the province as an aimless wanderer. When $rname finally announces the court meeting to be over, you resist the urge to sigh in relief as you rise from your chair. The entire court bows to you as you head down the steps, back towards the open doors of the hall with $rname and $aname on your heels; apparently, the Crown must always be the last to arrive and the first to leave in these situations. Another one of those rules of etiquette and hierarchy that you don’t quite understand. Once outside the hall, $rname guides you through the corridors, into a small sitting area for some privacy. “How are you doing, $rnickname?” $rname asks as you walk around the room a bit, stretching your legs, and you wave a hand. You settle in front of the only window in the room, overlooking an inner courtyard with a pool at its center, built around a statue of a person with an eagle on their arm. It’s impossible to tell who it is at first glance, though you suppose whoever it is, they were known for falconry. Or perhaps it is symbolic? “It could be worse.” $aname lingers behind you, following your gaze to the statue outside though $athey does not comment on it. “You did well, all things considered.” <<if $afriend is false>><<if $arelationship is 'low'>>The unexpected praise makes you frown up at $athem, though it is a light furrow of your brow, mostly in confusion. “Thank you, $aname.” You’re not certain where you stand with $athem, at the moment, though it seems $aname isn’t holding the brief argument you had with them last night against you. Then again, tensions were high yesterday.<<else>>$catheir praise is both somewhat unexpected as well as welcoming. You’re certain there were some moments there where you were flailing a bit, inexperienced as you are, but $aname doesn’t seem the type to offer empty compliments. It must mean you did better than you thought. “Thank you, $aname,” you reply, giving $athem an appreciative smile. “That’s nice of you to say.” Your smile turns amused when $aname looks away, toward the pool at the inner courtyard where its water is calm and still, the decorated blue tiles beneath it giving it an azure hue. “It was merely an observation.”<</if>><<else>>“Thank you, $aname.” Your eyes return to the pool at the inner courtyard, its water calm and still, the decorated blue tiles beneath it giving it an azure hue. “Still, I hope I’ll be able to do better next time.”<</if>> “If nothing else, I’d count evading Steward Welat’s attempt to corner you as a victory,” $rname adds, peering back toward the door of the sitting room you just entered. “He seems determined to pressure you, but to what end?” “The Crown is completely unknown to him, with a background he cannot unravel,” $aname points out, then smirks in a very self-satisfied way. “Not to mention, aided by people he doesn’t much care for. It must drive him insane not to know what our goals are.” $rname grins back at $aname. “That <em>does</em> make me feel better.” It makes sense; Welat has been poking and prodding every time you’ve met, looking for a reaction that can tell him more about you. You wonder what his conclusions are, so far. “On another note, $xname actually asked to see you,” $aname says to you, the humor fading from $atheir face again. “$cxthey had something important to tell you, I gathered.” “Something important?” You wonder if it’s related to last night. “Go on ahead,” $rname says to you. “$dname and I will meet up with you shortly, but first we have another matter to discuss.” When you give $rthem a questioning look, $rthey reassures you, “It’s nothing requiring your attention at the moment. A small organizational issue regarding the city’s guard barracks—we’ll be right behind you.” That doesn’t sound very exciting. “Alright. Let’s go then, $aname.” $aname leads the way out of the sitting room, as you leave $rname behind. [[Continue|9.26]] <<if $afriend is false>><<if $arelationship is 'low'>>The two of you remain silent. It is awkward and unnatural, most of all because you want to break it but you're not sure how to. Instead, you end up staring at $aname's profile as you walk beside $athem to wherever the meeting place is that $xname requested to see you at. $aname was mostly quiet during the court meeting, you remember, especially contrasting the way $athey silenced and chased the nobles out during your first meeting with them. Was it an unwillingness to defend you this time, or because this was a more formal setting? Your rationality points toward the latter; if $aname were to have intervened without cause, it would've been written down by the royal historians in the records and only reflected poorly on the both of you. Your heart, however, is ill at ease. "You're staring."<<else>>The two of you walk in companionable silence. After all the tension and constant chatter of the court meeting, you're relieved to have some quiet time to gather your thoughts. Though, your thoughts seem more interested in $aname than they are in evaluating the court meeting. You end up staring at $aname's profile as you walk beside $athem to wherever the meeting place is that $xname requested to see you at. $aname was mostly quiet during the court meeting, you remember, especially contrasting the way $athey silenced and chased the nobles out during your first meeting with them. It must be due to the royal historians being present; if $aname were to have intervened without cause, it would've been written down in the records and only reflected poorly on the both of you. Are you already getting into the habit of relying too much on $athem? The notion makes you frown. The last thing you want is to put such a burden on your relationship. $aname can't be there to save you from such matters—from an arrow, yes, but the realm of politics is your domain now. "What are you frowning about?"<</if>><<else>>The two of you walk in companionable silence. After all the tension and constant chatter of the court meeting, you're relieved to have some quiet time to gather your thoughts. Your gaze drifts toward $aname, recalling that $athey was rather quiet during the court meeting compared to the first time you met the nobility. Likely because it was a more formal setting; $athey can't be expected to chase the Imperial Court out as easily. "What is it?"<</if>> $aname's words are so sudden they startle you, $atheir eyes still aimed straight ahead. Now that you look more attentively at $atheir face, rather than become preoccupied with your pondering, you notice the whites of $atheir eyes seem redder than usual. "Did you sleep last night?" you ask, and $aname glances over at you briefly, a flash of golden brown that appears almost sickly in its amber hues with the thin, red veins webbed along the whites. $aname's pause lasts far too long before $athey finally states, "I am awake enough." So $athey didn't sleep at all. You suppose it can't be helped, as you had little more than a few hours of sleep yourself. $aname insisted on checking the security in there rest of the city, and considering how huge Marabad is it must have taken $athem a long time. Yet, $athey's still here, guarding you. A sudden flash of cold against the back of your neck makes you flinch; your water spirits ask for your attention, communicating in a single word. <em>Help?</em> Ignoring $aname’s curious look, you frown in thought. Water spirits tend to be associated with healing qualities, though you’re not sure how much that extends to sleep deprivation. Still, it’s better than nothing, and clearly they <em>want</em> to help in some way. <ul class="a"> <li><<if $agender is 'male'>><<if $arelationship is 'low'>>[[Offer Azad the water spirits for the day.|9.27a]]<<else>>[[Offer Azad the water spirits, as well as your own help.|9.27a]]<</if>><<else>><<if $arelationship is 'low'>>[[Offer Ashti the water spirits for the day.|9.27a]]<<else>>[[Offer Ashti the water spirits, as well as your own help.|9.27a]]<</if>><</if>></li> <li>[[Let the water spirits offer their help themselves.|9.27b]]</li> </ul><<if visited("9.27a") gte 1>><<if $afriend is true>><<set $afriendship += 2>><<else>><<set $apoints += 4>><</if>><</if>><<if $afriend is false>><<if $arelationship is 'high'>>“The water spirits attached to me would like to be passed onto you,” you say, which seems to surprise $aname so much that $athey stops walking. “They said they want to help.” The corridor you’re in now appears empty, windows viewing the royal gardens again, and the sound of birdsong filtering in with the sunlight gives a sense of peace to the quiet between your gazes. $aname glances up at the air right above your head, where the water spirits reflect flickers of sunlight in a shimmering trail. “If that’s what they want.” <<if $flirt gt $res>>”You surprise me, $aname.” Playfulness settles in the corner of your mouth as it pulls into a grin. “Do you always obey spirits without question?” “It seems a harmless request.” $aname extends $atheir hand to you. “Besides, you said they wanted to help. It’s for my own benefit.” <<if $pass gt $ass>>You’re silent for a moment, eying $aname’s hand before you in consideration—should you tease $athem a little more?<<else>>Oh, you couldn’t possibly resist an opportunity to tease such as this one.<</if>> As you take hold of $aname’s hand, fingers gently wrapping around theirs as you feel the roughness of $atheir calluses brush against your own, you say, “What if I asked you?” You feel the water spirits connect with $atheir magic, like a tug of another string wrapped around your own. That calming, soothing rhythm—a heart beating with the steadiness of waves rolling gently upon the shore. $aname arches $atheir brows. “Pardon?” “Would you accept my help?” You enjoy watching the realization settle into $atheir face, spreading across $atheir features like a ripple as $atheir mouth parts slightly, $atheir hazel eyes now fixated on you. “I’m not sure if I can measure up to the water spirits, but…” You very much like $atheir attention on you. “What would that entail?” $aname asks, attempting to keep $atheir voice even, though $atheir expression tells a different tale. “I can show you.” You release $atheir hand again, and the connection snaps. It’s an odd feeling; your head feels lighter without the water spirits present, but you’re too focused on $aname to truly miss their presence. You lift both your hands to either side of $aname’s face, and $athey glances at them with hesitation. “May I?” From the way $aname looks at you, seeming almost bemused, you half-expect a rejection. After a long moment, however, $athey nods. Your heart drums with a sudden excitement, and you all but hold your breath as you carefully frame $aname’s face with your palms, trying to keep steady. $catheir skin is soft and smooth, <<if $agender is 'male'>>the tops of $atheir beard and its curly hairs tickling against your palms<<else>>feeling warm against your palms—almost heated<</if>>. The pads of your fingers settle against $atheir temples, and you exert a cautious pressure, testing $aname’s reaction as you begin to massage. Understanding dawns on $aname’s face as any tension $athey held before eases out of $athem, and you continue to rub circles, shifting your hands to massage $atheir forehead as well. To your delight, $aname’s eyes slowly flutter shut. $catheir face is all you see, the glow of sunlight on $atheir skin, the way $atheir lashes rest upon the tops of $atheir cheeks, the slow shift of $atheir brows as $athey relaxes. As you continue, $aname lean into your touch, and it fills you with a giddy, almost restless energy, taking you by surprise in how intense it feels. It was truly your intent to help $aname, so you hadn’t expected this to feel so thrilling. With how reserved $athey usually is, though, seeing $athem willing to be so vulnerable in front of you now is immensely gratifying. “Feels good?” you ask quietly, and when $aname gives you a sleepy hum, you have to bite down on your lip so you don’t laugh. A short moment later, though, $athey opens $atheir eyes again, and you take that as an indication $athey’s had $atheir fill. As you pull your hands away, your water spirits now settled with $aname, $athey blinks several times and straightens up, appearing almost flustered. You notice $atheir eyes flitting through the corridor. “Oh, that’s right.” You realize what this must be about: Imperial Guards always accompany you, invisibly. “We had a bit of an audience, didn’t we?” $aname takes an entire step back from you, and you can’t suppress a snort as $atheir obvious embarrassment as $athey rolls $atheir shoulders, trying to find a dignified posture again. “Thank you, for the…” $aname halts, clearing $atheir throat. “In any case, let’s move on.” You take pity on $athem, gesturing for $athem to pass you. “You go first.” $aname seems rather eager to take the lead, and you follow behind $athem, mirth dancing in your eyes.<<else>>“You accepted that rather easily.” You give $aname a curious look. “Do you always obey spirits without question?” “It seems a harmless request.” $aname extends $atheir hand to you. “Besides, you said they wanted to help. It’s for my own benefit.” <<if $pass gt $ass>>You’re silent, eying $aname’s hand before you in consideration—should you offer some help of your own? As you contemplate this, unsure of how to bring it up, $aname prompts you. “What are you thinking about?” “Only…” You hesitate briefly, then say, “I know it’s not as useful as the water spirits, but I can give you a massage, if that would help?”<<else>>You’re silent for a moment, eying $aname’s hand before you in consideration—should you offer some help of your own? Before you can think too long about it, you decide to go for it. “$aname, would you like a massage?”<</if>> $aname arches $atheir brows, seeming taken aback by your suggestion. “A massage?” “A face massage,” you clarify quickly, feeling the need to explain yourself now. “I learned how to give my mother one whenever she was tired. It isn’t much, but it helped. According to her, anyway.” You feel your neck flush with heat under $aname’s gaze, which is why you’re especially shocked when $athey says, “Alright.” “Really?” You stare at $athem, not quite having expected $athem to agree so easily. Yet, as $athey looks at you, you notice the way the gaze in $atheir eyes softens, and then $athey smiles at you. “I can’t possibly refuse, can I? Go ahead.” $cathey very well could even if you’re the Crown, which means $athey’s just using it as an excuse to accept. Your heart drums with a sudden excitement as you lift your hands to either side of $atheir head, all but holding your breath as you carefully frame $aname’s face with your palms and trying to keep your fingers from shaking. $catheir skin is soft and smooth, <<if $agender is 'male'>>the tops of $atheir beard and its curly hairs tickling against your palms<<else>>feeling warm against your palms—almost heated<</if>>. The pads of your fingers settle against $atheir temples, and you exert a cautious pressure, testing $aname’s reaction as you begin to massage. Any tension $aname held before eases out of $athem, and you continue to rub circles, shifting your hands to massage $atheir forehead as well. You feel the water spirits connect with $atheir magic, like a tug of another string wrapped around your own. That calming, soothing rhythm—a heart beating with the steadiness of waves rolling gently upon the shore. To your delight, $aname’s eyes slowly flutter shut. $catheir face is all you see, the glow of sunlight on $atheir skin, the way $atheir lashes rest upon the tops of $atheir cheeks, the slow shift of $atheir brows as $athey relaxes. As you continue, $aname lean into your touch, and it fills you with a giddy, almost restless energy, taking you by surprise in how intense it feels. It was truly your intent to help $aname, so you hadn’t expected this to feel so thrilling. With how reserved $athey usually is, though, seeing $athem willing to be so vulnerable in front of you now is immensely gratifying. “Feels good,” $aname murmurs drowsily, as if $athey could fall asleep standing, and you bite down on your lip to try and keep the grin on your face in check. You can’t help it, though; you can’t stop smiling. “Good,” you reply quietly, receiving a soft hum in return. A short moment later, $athey opens $atheir eyes again, and you take it as an indication that $athey’s had $atheir fill. As you pull your hands away, the magic connection snaps, your water spirits now settled with $aname. Your head feels lighter without the water spirits present, but you’re too focused on $aname to truly miss their presence. $cathey blinks several times and straightens up, appearing almost flustered. You notice $atheir eyes flitting through the corridor. Oh. The Imperial Guards. You had an invisible audience for that entire exchange, and forgot all about it. If your blood wasn’t already rushing to your head before, it certainly is now. $aname looks back at you, and <em>laughs</em>. You rear back, giving $athem an affronted look. “What? Are you laughing at me?” “I wouldn’t dare!” $aname’s smirk says otherwise. “Thank you for the help, $name. Shall we continue?” You nod, following along as $aname takes the lead, still chuckling quietly to $athemselves.<</if>><<else>>“The water spirits attached to me would like to be passed onto you,” you say, which seems to surprise $aname so much that $athey stops walking. The corridor you’re in now appears empty, windows viewing the royal gardens again, and the sound of birdsong filtering in with the sunlight gives a sense of peace to the quiet between your gazes. “They said they want to help.” $aname glances up at the air right above your head, where the water spirits reflect flickers of sunlight in a shimmering trail. “If that’s what they want.” “Just like that?” you say, surprised $aname accepted so easily. $aname shrugs. “Clearly, it’s for my own benefit.” Another uncomfortable silence settles between the two of you as you wonder how to go about this without making things between you even more tense. Eventually, $aname sighs and makes the first move, extending $atheir hand to you. Relieved, you take it eagerly, until you feel the rough calluses on $aname’s palm against yours which nearly grinds all your thoughts to a sudden halt. $catheir fingers feel warm, $atheir grip gentle, almost careful. The water spirits connect with $aname's magic, like a tug of another string wrapped around your own. A calming, soothing rhythm—a heart beating with the steadiness of waves rolling gently upon the shore. “Thank you,” $aname says to you, unexpectedly. “I won’t keep them long.” “It’s not a problem.” You hesitate, wondering if you should bring this up as your gaze is settled on your linked hands. “$aname, about last night...” “I may have been a little harsh.” $cathey surprises you again, and you look up to meet $atheir eyes. “I don’t regret my decision, but I could have explained myself more patiently.” “You weren’t harsh,” you reply, frowning. “Just straightforward, and it wasn’t as if we had time to waste. You did the right thing, prioritizing the safety of the city.” A tension you hadn’t even noticed in $atheir shoulders before seems to ease a little. “I’m… glad you feel that way.” You release $aname’s hands again, the connection of magic between you snapping while your water spirits settle safely with $aname. “We’re alright, then?” “We are.” $aname says it easily, a faint smile tugging at $atheir lips that reassures you instantly. “I wouldn’t turn on you over a single disagreement.” $cathey gestures to the corridor ahead. “Shall we?” You nod, and as $aname takes the lead, you follow behind, your heart feeling a little lighter.<</if>><<else>>“The water spirits attached to me would like to be passed onto you,” you say, which seems to surprise $aname so much $athey stops walking. The corridor you’re in now appears empty, windows viewing the royal gardens again, and the sound of birdsong filtering in with the sunlight gives a sense of peace to the quiet between your gazes. “They said they want to help.” $aname glances up at the air right above your head, where the water spirits reflect flickers of sunlight in a shimmering trail. “If that’s what they want.” “Just like that?” you say, surprise $aname accepted so easily. $aname shrugs. “Clearly, it’s for my own benefit.” $cathey extends $atheir hand to you. You take it, noting the calluses on $aname's palm that match yours, but feel even more pronounced. From all $atheir experience fighting and training with weapons, no doubt. The water spirits connect with $aname's magic, like a tug of another string wrapped around your own. A calming, soothing rhythm—a heart beating with the steadiness of waves rolling gently upon the shore. $aname's magic feels unexpectedly comforting. “Thank you,” $aname says to you, unexpectedly. “I won’t keep them long.” “It’s not a problem.” You smile at $athem. “The spirits certainly seem to like you, in any case.” $aname avoids your gaze. “I wouldn't know why.” “Really?” you tease. "It doesn't take an oracle to figure it out. Water spirits like water." ”I wouldn't have accepted their help if I didn't feel exhausted," $aname admits, rolling $atheir shoulders. "They're too intrusive." You snort, remembering the flooding of your bedchambers after you woke up from your nightmare. ”<em>Intrusive</em> is putting it mildly." You release $aname’s hands again, the connection of magic between you snapping while your water spirits settle safely with $aname. “Are they bothering you?" “Not yet.” $aname says it easily, a faint smile tugging at $atheir lips. “I'm sure it'll come.” $cathey gestures to the corridor ahead. “Shall we?” You nod, and as $aname takes the lead, you follow behind.<</if>> [[Continue|9.28]]<<if visited("9.27b") gte 1>><<if $afriend is true>><<set $afriendship -= 1>><<else>><<set $apoints -= 2>><</if>><</if>><<set $aspirits to false>>You’re uncertain that passing on your water spirits to $aname would be so easily accepted; the process would create a temporary connection between the two of you. It might be too vulnerable for either of you to feel comfortable with. Instead, you turn your attention to your water spirits. “Ask $athem, if you want.” $aname watches you partly with confusion as you talk to your water spirits, then looking up at the spirits as they flit over to $athem, shimmering in the air where they flicker in the sunlight. Hesitantly, $athey reaches out a hand to them. You can’t hear whatever words the spirits pass onto $aname, but clearly it takes $athem by surprise. $cathey glances your way, but says nothing more as a soft blue glow falls over $atheir head like a veil, glowing softly. $catheir eyes flutter shut as the water spirits begin to heal, a soft sigh passing $atheir lips as $athey lowers $atheir hand again. $cathey must have been truly tired. “Is it helping?” you ask, and after a moment $aname opens $atheir eyes again to look at you. “It is.” $cathey rubs the back of $atheir neck, tilting $atheir head to the side. “I feel less fatigued now, anyway.” $cathey looks up at the water spirits. “Thank you.” You feel the vibration of satisfaction ripple out from your water spirits as they return to your side, feeling almost giddy to have been able to help. $aname must have felt the same, because a smile plays on $atheir lips as $athey watches them with fondness. When $athey meets your eyes again, however, $atheir smile fades. “Let’s continue,” $athey says, and you nod<<if $afriend is false>>, though you feel a little disappointed. As $aname takes the lead and you follow behind, your thoughts begin to spiral. Is that all? Is $athey not going to thank you as well? You suppose it wasn’t really <em>you</em> who helped $athem, but… Well, you expected something more.<<else>>, following behind $athem.<</if>> [[Continue|9.28]] You expected to be guided into another room, but instead, the door $aname opens to you when you arrive at your destination reveals an amount of greenery you did not expect. The scent of warm earth and something grassy and green hits your nose, as if you were taking a walk through a meadow in the afternoon. Every wall, top to bottom, is covered with shelves of plants and flowers in various colors, shapes and sizes. There are flowerbeds planted in circular patterns in the ground, carefully cultivated, broken up by stone tile, and some potted plants float in midair, gently bobbing up and down as they’re levitated by the runes in their pots. When you look up, you notice the ceiling above is high, almost as high as the one in the throne room, and what appears to be a ball of light mimicking the sun shines down from its center. Somehow, the room still feels pleasantly cool in spite of it. Down below, at the center of the ground surrounded by the flowerbeds, is a low table. At the table, leisurely drinking tea, sits $xname on a velvet pillow. $cxthey looks up as you and $aname enter, quickly putting down $xtheir cup. “There you are! How did your first court meeting go?” Compared to when you saw $xname last, $xthey looks better now. Yesterday, after examining the body, $xname seemed to have a difficult time coping with the aftermath. <<if $xrelationship is 'low'>>$cxtheir demeanor towards you appears to be back to normal as well, despite the way $xthey snapped at you; is $xthey pretending like nothing happened? You frown, considering whether you should say something about it, but then decide not to. $aname is present as well, and it could make things awkward.<</if>> $xname continues to talk as you walk into the room. “Pretty, isn’t it?” $cxthey gestures to the plants around you. “An interior garden that used to belong to a previous Crown, I’m told. I thought it would make for a nice meeting room.” “$xname,” you greet as $aname closes the door behind you. You walk the small path that breaks up the flowerbeds to the table, sitting down on a pillow across from $xname. “It went… well enough, I suppose. $aname told me you wanted to see me?” If $xname notices your reluctance to discuss the court meeting, $xthey doesn’t comment on it. “I did.” $aname takes a seat beside you, and $xname lets the silence linger as $xthey lifts $xtheir cup again, taking a long sip. You notice the steam rising from it as $xname sets it down again, the cup still mostly full. $cxthey can’t have been sitting here for long, then. “The Crescent Blades are leaving Marabad tomorrow.” Your gaze snaps back up to $xname’s face, brows lifting in shock. This was the very <em>last</em> thing you expected $xname to tell you, though as you consider it, you don’t know why you didn’t expect it. <<if $xfriend is false>>Did you not want to consider the possibility, or rather, the inevitability of it? $xname leads a band of mercenaries, one which is famous for traveling all over Arsur. Of course $xthey would move on eventually. You rein in your surprise, at least what is visible of it on your face, and ask with as much composure as you can, “When did you decide this?” <<if $xrelationship is 'low'>>“Does it matter?” $xname replies dismissively. “We’ve completed the job you gave us, so there’s no more reason to linger—unless you have another job conveniently lined up?” You frown, the words leaving you on impulse, “What if I did?” $xname gives you a long look, eyes narrowing slightly, then takes another sip of $xtheir tea. When $xthey puts it down, $xthey says, “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were looking for an excuse to keep me around, Your Imperial Majesty.” You’re more confused and frustrated with $xname’s behavior by the second. Is $xthey cautioning you, or mocking you?<<else>>$xname gives you a long look, taking in your masked expression, before $xthey finally admits, “Yesterday morning.” “I see.” Your gaze lowers to $xname’s teacup, frustrated with yourself; you feel disheartened, knowing that $xname will leave so soon, but you shouldn’t. Yet, part of you has started to become used to and rely on $xtheir presence without you even noticing. “It’s what the majority decided,” $xname offers suddenly, and when you look up to meet $xtheir eyes, you find $xthem avoiding yours. “I might be their leader, but I can’t act selfishly.” Your heart skips a beat. Does $xthey mean $xthey would have chosen to stay, had it been up to $xthem?<</if>><<else>>It seems obvious; $xthey leads a band of mercenaries, and to feed them all, they need to go where there is coin. While they were useful for the coronation, you have your Imperial Guards as well as Marabad’s city guards at your disposal. It doesn’t make sense to hire mercenaries for no real reason. “I admit, I wasn’t expecting that,” you say, and $xname offers an apologetic look. “It was a majority decision.”<</if>> At that point, $aname chimes in. “Where are you headed this time?” $cathey must be used to $xname coming and going, considering how many years they’ve known each other. “We’re thinking Zerat,” $xname replies, aiming a playful grin $aname’s way. “This time, don’t use that eagle of yours when you want to send me a letter. It keeps trying to attack our messenger pigeon.” “It isn’t <em>my</em> eagle, it’s $rname’s,” $aname replies swiftly. “$crthey’s the one who trained it; I take no responsibility for how vicious it is.” “You two exchange letters?” you ask, though you’re not entirely surprised. They seem like close friends, after all. “Occasionally.” $aname casts $xname a glance. “$xname is horrible at writing them, though.” $xname scowls at $aname. “I am not.” “Your handwriting is barely legible.” $xname scoffs. “I’m camping out in a tent most of the time! Do you know how difficult it is to write properly without a flat surface and proper lighting?” “Then write them when you’re in a village or a city.” “I’m trying to get them to you as fast as possible!” $xname exclaims, though $xtheir indignation is clearly feigned. “You should be thanking me instead of complaining!” <<if $xfriend is false>>Despite the news of $xname’s imminent departure, your mood lightens a bit as you watch the back-and-forth, though part of you also thinks you’ll miss this. No one but $xname has a way of brightening the atmosphere like this, distracting you from matters that would otherwise be weighing on you. “$xname,” you interject, not wanting to but needing to ask, while you still can. $xname’s gaze returns to you. “Do you think—”<<else>>You watch the back-and-forth with amusement, until a question occurs to you that you almost forgot to ask. “$xname,” you interject, $xname’s gaze returning to you. “When do you suppose—”<</if>> A knock on the door interrupts your question, having wanted to ask if $xname intended to return to Marabad at all eventually. <<if $xfriend is false>>Perhaps it is better that you were cut off.<</if>> “Come in,” you call out, and as expected, the door opens to reveal $rname and $dname. [[Continue|9.29]] <<if $dfriend is false>><<if $drelationship is 'low'>>You meet $dname’s eyes first, but only for a moment before $dthey looks away to $aname and then $xname. The reaction seems a little odd, but you’re sure it’s fine.<<else>>You meet $dname’s eyes first, who nods at you in greeting as you already saw each other during the court meeting earlier. You don’t know why, but even this simple gesture makes you smile a little.<</if>><<else>>You look over at $dname, who nods in greeting, then to $rname who leads the way.<</if>> “I see you’ve already settled,” $rname says, greeting you with a smile as $rthey and $dname approach the table. $rname takes the seat on your other side, and amusingly, $dname stops and frowns when $dthey notices the only seats left are on either side of $xname. $xname leans forward with an elbow on the table, patting the pillow beside $xthem with a grin. “Don’t be shy, $dname, I don’t bite.” $dname narrows $dtheir eyes at $xname with what you can only describe as incredulous annoyance, before silently making $dtheir way over to sit beside $xthem, ignoring $xname’s pleased smirk. <<if $dfriend is false>><<if $drelationship is 'high'>>As you look at $dname from across the table the urge to ask why $dthey abstained earlier burns on your tongue, but it isn’t the right time. Instead, you broach another subject, as you realize this is the best opportunity to discuss all that happened last night with everyone present.<<else>>With everyone here now, you realize this is the best opportunity to discuss all that happened last night.<</if>><<else>>With everyone here now, you realize this is the best opportunity to discuss all that happened last night.<</if>> <em>All</em> that happened last night. “Before we get into the…” You pause, searching for the right word, “…incident from last night, there’s something else we need to discuss. Or rather, that I need to tell you.” You look over at $xname. “Is the room secure?” “Who do you take me for?” $xname idly traces the rim of $xtheir teacup with a finger. “I activated the silencing wards when I came in.” “Good.” This next part of the conversation won’t be as pleasant. <<if $prisoner is 'palace'>>“Last night, the scholar that was <<if $cs lte 0>>killed<</if>><<if $cs gt 0 and $cs lte 3>>injured<</if>><<if $cs gt 3>>attacked<</if>>—perhaps you’ll remember I mentioned that she knew my parents.” <<if $cs lte 0>>You meet $rname’s eyes, and $rthey nods, $rtheir brows furrowed with sympathy. “$aname informed me. I’m sorry, $name.” “It’s alright.” You take a breath, averting your eyes to the table, not sure of what to say. “I’m sad, of course, but I didn’t really know her. I didn’t get a chance to.” Now is not the time to become lost in melancholy, however; you refocus, lifting your eyes again to meet the others’. “In any case, before she was killed, she told me something about my parents that explains perfectly why she was made a target.”<</if>><<if $cs gt 0 and $cs lte 3>>You meet $rname’s eyes, and $rthey nods. “I spoke to her this morning, actually. She’s doing well and would like to see you, if you’d wish to visit her later.” You should; it’s partly your fault that she was injured. “I’ll do that.” Now is not the time to become lost in guilt, however. You refocus. “In any case, she told me something about my parents that explains perfectly why she was made a target.” <</if>><<if $cs gt 3>>You meet $rname’s eyes, and $rthey nods. “I spoke to her this morning, actually. She would like to see you, if you’d wish to visit her later.” “I’ll do that.” It’d be good to check in with her, especially as she is the only person you can talk to about your parents. “In any case, she told me something about my parents that explains perfectly why she was made a target.”<</if>><<else>>“Last night, before the attack on the city, a magus scholar asked to speak to me in private. It could very well explain the assassination attempt on me in the tunnels. She knew my parents, and she knows why they were targeted by the Followers of Vidarna.” The others look at you in surprise, though $rname is the only one who voices it. “Scholar Yekbûn? I was wondering why you’d asked her to stay in the palace… so that’s why.” Suspicion quickly follows. “So your father <em>did</em> attend the School of Marabad,” $aname states. “That is good to know. What did she tell you?”<</if>> If you repeated what Yekbûn told to you in full, it would make for a lengthy story, perhaps too lengthy. Besides which, the memories of your parents meeting each other and falling in love during happier times… those aren’t ones you want to bring up right now. “It’s about the Crown’s succession,” you state, figuring it as good a place as any to start, and the atmosphere that felt warm and serene before now feels weighted with tension, and anticipation. “Somehow, my parents figured it out. My father knew how to predict the next Crown.” The other four present give you their undivided attention as you tell them what Yekbûn told you: your father’s ambitions, his planned expedition with your mother joining on, the financing of it by the Followers of Vidarna, and the subsequent disaster in the mountains. <<if $prisoner is 'prison'>>No wonder the Followers were so determined to assassinate you, if their goal was to prevent you from uncovering this.<</if>> $rname looks the most openly shocked out of everyone, brows drawn together in heavy concern; the implications of this are far-reaching, after all. $aname appears similarly troubled, frowning down at the table, seeming deep in thought. $xname and $dname, funnily enough, for once seem similar in their reactions, their gazes turning distant with calculation after you finish speaking. It’s a lot to take in, you know firsthand. [[Continue|9.30]]$dname is the first to break the silence. “We should start with considering the worst possibility,” $dthey says gravely, moving on straight into planning and you’re grateful for it. It’s relieving, you find, not to have your unsteady emotions become the focus of attention but rather what the next step should be. “Assuming the Followers know the secret behind how the Crown’s succession works, what would we do next?” “Find out the same thing they know,” $rname answers, following $dname’s lead. “Either through capturing a Follower, which would be unlikely, or by retracing Harun and Nazire’s expedition to the mountains.” You nod in agreement; it seems $rthey thought of the same thing you did, after you heard Yekbûn speak. $dname, however, appears to have reservations about it. “Retracing the expedition has its own dangers,” $dthey replies to $rname, though $dtheir tone is not argumentative, and a look of contemplation forms on $rname’s face as $rthey listens. “If the Followers of Vidarna don’t know the secret behind the succession and we try to find out about it ourselves, we could end up leading them right to it.” “Still, doing nothing is surely not an option?” you say. “Of course it is.” You and $rname both give $dname questioning looks, at which $dname continues to explain, “Your opponent’s movements can indicate their true intent. Waiting them out to see what they do next could be a viable strategy instead of acting first and giving away what we know.<<if $prisoner is 'prison'>> Merely having the scholar visit the palace might have already been enough to spook the Followers, if they suspect that the two of you spoke.<</if>>” Admittedly, you can see the logic in this as well. It’s a more cautious approach<<if $caut gt $adven>>, one that suits you better than what you thought of in the heat of the moment<<else>>, though, and not how you usually plan things out<</if>>. “I see.” $rname’s eyes light up in understanding. “Let them take the lead. If they do know something we don’t, we could benefit from it instead.” $dname nods. “That being said, I’m not entirely confident in our ability to keep track of their movements.” “Why not?” you ask. “You seemed very aware of what the spies in the Imperial Guard were up to, and I remember $rname saying you infiltrated the Followers as well.” “Rooting out spies one allowed to be planted in known locations is one thing,” $dname answers. “Our own infiltration, however, is a different matter.” “The Followers of Vidarna are not a cohesive group,” $aname speaks up, continuing where $dname leaves off. “There are different factions within their circles that don’t always see eye to eye, at times acting independently. There are even some cases of unaffiliated criminals using their name for their own purposes. To this day we still don’t have a full count of the Followers.” That makes sense. A group like that couldn’t survive for so long if they were all centralized to a single line of command; that would make the members easy to link to each other and root out one by one. Not to mention the impostors $aname mentioned might make it even more difficult to figure out who is a true Follower as part of the cult and who isn’t. “We don’t have to truly retrace the expedition to bait them,” $xname says suddenly, “we only need to <em>pretend</em> to do it.” The rest of you stare at $xname, not sure what $xthey’s getting at. “Think about it.” $xname proceeds to clarify, in a very $xname-like way: “You’re the mastermind behind the masked assassins, trying to prevent the Crown from uncovering what $their parents knew about the Crown’s succession. Not a day after <<if $prisoner is 'palace'>>Yekbûn’s assassination<<if $cs gt 0>> attempt<</if>><<else>>failing to break one of your assassins out<</if>>, an infamous mercenary group—with a <<if $xgender is 'male'>>handsome<<else>>beautiful<</if>> and charming leader might I add—leaves Marabad bragging about an expedition to the mountains. Wouldn’t you want to keep an eye on them?” “That makes sense,” $dname speaks slowly, seriously considering it. “Even if there are no movements from the Followers, that would be additional information to consider. Either way, we’ll uncover something without risking too much.” “Exactly.” $xname looks back at you. “Besides, the Crescent Blades are leaving tomorrow regardless. Might as well pick up this job while we’re at it.” <<if $xfriend is true>>You arch your brows. “How much is that going to cost?” “For you?” $xname pretends to think about it. “I’ll lower the price by half for being such a loyal client. What do you think?” You’re surprised at that. “Will you really?” $xname laughs. “No.” You roll your eyes. You should’ve known better.<<else>>You’re already beginning to hate being reminded of $xname’s departure tomorrow.<</if>> “Speaking of,” $dname interjects, $dtheir gaze refocusing on you, “I have something to ask of you, Your Imperial Majesty. It’s related to the situation in Şevan.” A foreboding feeling settles in your gut even as you reply, “What is it?” “As your General, I’d like your permission to depart to Zerat immediately.” [[Continue|9.31]] <<if $dfriend is true>>You frown deeply, bemused by this turn of events. First $xname, now $dname? “With the Imperial Army, I take it?” you say, and $dname inclines $dtheir head. “Why?”<<else>>It takes a moment for the words to fully sink in, as if the earth had suddenly shifted beneath your feet. $cdthey’s leaving? $xname was one thing, but didn’t $dname say that, at the very least, $dthey planned to stay by your side for the time being? You try to rein in your surprise, smooth your expression, knowing this isn’t the time to be worried about such trivial concerns. <<if $drelationship is 'high'>>Still, the way $dname behaved earlier still lingers on your mind, and you can’t help but feel concerned that $dthey’s distancing $dthemselves from you on purpose.<</if>> “Can I ask why?”<</if>> “The situation in Şevan is devolving rapidly.” $dname looks grim, and you wonder if this has anything to do with why Bazo couldn’t make it to the coronation. “Trade routes from and to southern Zerat are hampered by the fighting; I fear Zerat’s provincial army will have its hands full at the border, which leaves the rest of the province unprotected. The bulk of the Imperial Army is already in Zerat, but there’s only so much they’re allowed to do without my presence there.” “It’s not as if any neighboring lands could possibly attack, could they?” $rname says; Zerat is landlocked, after all, with Avdin and Penawar at the west and east coasts. A foreign army would have to get through those first to get to Zerat, assuming they come by sea. “They’re not what I’m worried about.” $xname seems to understand $dname’s concern. “It’s those nobles again. What are they doing this time? Setting Sacred Sites on fire for amusement? Holding children hostage to exploit their villages?” Despite the heavy sarcasm in $xtheir tone, you suspect $xthey has had encounters with Zerat’s nobility in the past, judging by $xtheir words. $dname doesn’t confirm or deny it, which speaks badly enough of the situation as is. “It will get worse quickly, in any case.” $cdthey looks to you again, and you remember $dthey asked for your permission. <<if $dfriend is false>>In this situation, there’s not much you can do but to give it, trusting $dname’s judgment that this will be for the better as much as it feels as if you just lost your compass.<<else>>Not as if there’s any real choice to make here; you trust $dname’s judgment.<</if>> “Then, of course, you should go,” you answer. $dname inclines $dtheir head. “We’ll be ready to depart by tomorrow evening.” “What a coincidence,” $xname exclaims, nudging $dname in the side with $xtheir elbow. “We can join each other on the road!” $dname rolls $dtheir eyes heavenward. [[Continue|9.32]]<<if $dfriend is false or $xfriend is false>>Eager to distract yourself from <<if $dfriend is false>>$dname’s<<else>>$xname’s<</if>> departure tomorrow, you turn to $rname and $aname on either side of you.<<else>>You turn to $rname and $aname, realizing there are still matters you need to discuss.<</if>> “Were you informed about what happened with the prisoner’s body?” you ask, making sure the two of them are aware of all that occurred, seeing as $rname wasn’t there for most of it and $aname also had to leave again before you could examine the body. “As well as how we decided to search for the one behind it?” “Don’t worry, $name, we were both filled in this morning,” $rname reassures you, almost seeming to take pity on you. It makes you realize, almost suddenly, how exhausted you feel. “I believe we’ve discussed everything we need to for now. $xname will use the Crescent Blades as bait to try and lure out the Followers, while $dname will head to Zerat to help secure the province. I’ll make my own inquiries about the…” $rname hesitates. “The, ah… the bit of… <em>Void</em> you found within the body, so to speak. I’ve never heard of anything like this occurring before, but perhaps a priest or a magi specialized in the elements might know more about it.” You nod, relieved to have it taken off your shoulders. <<if $xfriend is true and $dfriend is true>>“If we’re done,” $xname says, rising from $xtheir seat, “I need to start packing.” “Agreed,” $dname says, following $xtheir example. “I’ll have to get the troops ready.” You look over at $rname and $aname. “You two have anywhere you need to be?” They exchange a look, both leaning out a little over the table as their gazes meet, speaking wordlessly with their eyes until $rname nods. “We haven’t had a chance to look at the body ourselves.” You scowl. “Well, you can definitely do that without me.” You don’t want to revisit it again so soon. $rname and $aname get up from their pillows as well, the latter asking, “Will you stay here, then?” You look around the greenery of the room, taking in the glimmering flowerbeds surrounding your table, the scents of roses and lavender strongest among them. “I think I will, just for a little while.” “I’ll send one of the servants your way, in case you need anything,” $rname says, and you smile as $rthey, $dname and $aname bow at you before leaving. $xname, of course, departs with little more than a casual wave. “See you tomorrow.” As they head off, leaving you alone with the greenery, you sigh and lean both your elbows onto the table to rest your head atop both your knuckles. Your gaze falls on the flowerbed of white orchids most directly surrounding the table, giving off what seems to be thin clouds of glitter that sparkle in the artificial light of the room. For once, your head is emptied of thoughts as you sit there and take a while to simply watch the orchids. A small reprieve, a moment of peaceful solitude, before you have to move on. Life would be so much simpler if you were a flower. [[End Chapter|10.1]]<</if>><<if $xfriend is false>>“If business has finished,” $dname says, rising from $dtheir seat, “I have to prepare the troops for our departure.” “$rname and I need to leave as well,” $aname says, $athey and $rname following $xname’s example and getting up from the pillows. “We still need to examine the prisoner’s body ourselves.” $xname hasn’t yet said anything, and you realize this is the perfect moment to have a private conversation with $xthem. Catching $xtheir gaze, you ask, “$xname, could you stay behind for a moment?” $xname appears briefly surprised by your request, but agrees easily. “Sure.” You bid the other three goodbye for now, who each bow before heading for the exit. Once the door closes, it leaves you alone with $xname, sitting across from you. [[Continue|9.33x]]<</if>><<if $dfriend is false>>“If we’re done,” $xname says, rising from $xtheir seat, “I need to start packing.” “$rname and I need to leave as well,” $aname says, $athey and $rname following $xname’s example and getting up from the pillows. “We still need to examine the prisoner’s body ourselves.” $dname hasn’t yet said anything, and you realize this is the perfect moment to have a private conversation with $dthem. Catching $dtheir gaze, you ask, “$dname, could you stay behind for a moment?” $dname appears briefly surprised by your request, but agrees easily. “As you wish.” You bid the other three goodbye for now, $aname and $rname leaving after bowing shortly while $xname heads off with a casual wave, not that you expected anything different. Once the door closes, it leaves you alone with $dname, who has shifted to take $xname’s seat and is now directly across from you. [[Continue|9.33d]]<</if>>“What’s this about, $name?” $xname asks casually, seeming to have remembered that $xthey still has a cup of tea on the table, which was forgotten during your discussion earlier. Picking it up, $xthey takes a sip, but then makes face. “Eugh. Lukewarm.” Where do you even start? To begin with, it would help if you’d had any plan in mind before you suddenly asked $xthem to stay behind for you, but it was a spur of the moment decision. <<if $caut gt $adven>>Very unlike you, usually, but you find $xname has a way of drawing out more daring impulses within you that you didn’t even know you possessed.<<else>>It’s not exactly new for you, considering you tend to be a spontaneous person, but this was even more impulsive than usual.<</if>> Under the weight of $xname’s stare, you say the first thing that comes to mind: “How are you feeling?” Realizing this is a little bit vague, to say the least, you clarify, “I only ask because of what happened yesterday.” $xname looks at you with a smile playing on $xtheir lips, but the longer $xtheir stare lasts, the more it strains, until $xthey finally says, “I think you favor me too much, Your Imperial Majesty.” <<if $xrelationship is 'low'>>From $xtheir mouth, it may as well be an accusation. One that hits you more deeply than you expected, an arrow loosed with the utmost precision. “You’re evading the question,” you point out, but then like the fool you are, you willingly fall for it anyway. “Are you blaming me for favoring you?” “No, of course not.” $xname looks away, avoiding the weight of your gaze. “I’m cautioning you.” <<if $blunt gt $charm>>“Speak plainly.” The words come out harsher than you intended. $xname’s apologetic smile is too deprecating to be sincere, though you get the sense you are not the one $xthey’s mocking. “You’re the straightforward sort. I like that about you, yet at the same time, it reminds me…”<<else>>“It’s never too late to change,” you reply, reflecting $xname’s distant demeanor back at $xthem with the coldness of a mirror, the airy tone to your words belying the frustration beneath. “It starts with taking responsibility, rather than running from your mistakes.” $xname lets a soft laugh slip, one that only adds to $xtheir self-deprecating reply, “Whenever I dance around with my words, you always match me without missing a step. I like that about you, yet at the same time, it’s so different from…”<</if>> $cxthey shakes $xtheir head, as if snapping $xthemselves out of wherever $xtheir thoughts wandered. “What I mean to say, Your Imperial Majesty, is that I’ve enjoyed our time together, and like all things it must now come to an end.” <em>Your Imperial Majesty</em>. That’s the second time in this conversation that $xthey has called you that, and you’ve never hated it more.<<else>>The knowing look in $xtheir eyes makes you feel uncomfortably bare. This is the closest that either of you have gotten to admitting your interest in each other—at least, you assume it to be mutual—and of course, $xname being $xname, $xthey had to do it the day before $xthey pisses off to the Sky knows where somewhere in Zerat. You take a deep breath, rubbing your temples with your fingers as you try not to let the tension and frustration that has been building up inside you ruin this conversation. “Headache?” You open your eyes, faced with $xname’s infuriatingly insincere grin. “Yes,” you reply coolly. “In fact, I’m staring right at it.” $xname winces. “Must be quite the headache, then.” “$xname.” You look $xthem right in the face, as you have a feeling it’s the only way to keep $xthem from hiding behind $xtheir little quips, and you ask the questions that have been plaguing you for a while: “Be honest, what am I to you? Where do we stand?” $xname’s mouth opens, then closes. $cxthey averts $xtheir gaze, looking uncharacteristically uncomfortable as $xthey says, “I don’t know, $name. I really don’t, and that’s not your fault, but I do think it’s better if… if we said goodbye for now.”<</if>> You close your eyes, taking a deep breath to try to calm yourself, to temper the sudden painful squeezing in your chest. It is a selfish feeling. Not pain caused by fondness or devotion, but fears born from your own mind, for yourself. The Pale Sword was the one you found, who offered you protection even while using you as bait. $cxthey treated you as any other person, always making light of your new title, which somehow made you more at ease. Even over the short span of these few days, you’ve quickly become accustomed to having $xthem within reach, or perhaps it’s more accurate to say that you’ve attached yourself to $xthem. $cxtheir leaving is an anxiety at yet another change in your life when you haven’t yet found your footing. Yesterday evening, during the banquet, it felt as if you caught your first glimpse of $xname’s true self. It made you realize how alike you are. Even now, as $xname decides to cut it all loose, beneath your frustration and hurt you understand why. It’s innate, an instinct you know well. When your hand wanders too close to the flame, you pull it back before you get burned, even if it’s your only source of warmth. If $xname had not done this now, you would’ve done the same to $xthem later down the road. You suspect, however, that $xname’s reasons aren’t entirely the same as yours. $cxthey hasn’t been on the run $xtheir entire life, and $xthey has many people that are close to $xthem, so it can’t be discomfort at intimacy. Unlike you. <<if $calc gt $kind>>You only truly know how to use people. It is what you are accustomed to, in order to survive. Everyone is someone who can either hurt you, help you, or who can mean nothing for you either way. This is how you’ve gone through life, placing every person you’ve ever met into one of these three categories. A necessity, to keep yourself safe. Then, you met $xname, and you were at a complete loss on where to place $xthem. It is a potential that threatens your entire way of living, and that realization has thrilled you as much as it has frightened you.<<else>>Getting close to people meant putting either them or yourself and your family in danger. For everyone’s sake, it was better to keep to yourself, to make as little of an impression as possible, and to ensure no one ever truly kept you in their heart just as you would keep no one in yours. Until $xname. $cxthey has started to find a way in, and that realization has thrilled you as much as it has frightened you.<</if>> Yet before it has a chance to grow into anything, $xthey has made the decision for both of you. A familiar one, painfully so. A lonely one, but it is the same one you must now make as well. <ul class="a"> <<if $xgender is 'male'>><li>[[Ask for a promise that you will see him again.|9.34x1][$xpoints -= 2]]</li> <li>[[Let him go.|9.34x2][$xpoints += 4]]</li><<else>><li>[[Ask for a promise that you will see her again.|9.34x1][$xpoints -= 2]]</li> <li>[[Let her go.|9.34x2][$xpoints += 4]]</li><</if>> </ul>“What did you want to talk about?” $dname asks seriously, tackling this as if it were another strategy meeting, which is the last thing you want if this is going to be one of the last times you’ll speak to $dname in a while. But where do you even start? To begin with, it would've helped if you had any plan in mind before you suddenly asked $dthem to stay behind for you, but it was a spur of the moment decision. <<if $caut gt $adven>>Very unlike you, usually, but you find $dname has a way of drawing out more daring impulses within you that you didn’t even know you possessed.<<else>>It’s not exactly new for you, considering you tend to be a spontaneous person, but this was even more impulsive than usual.<</if>> Under the weight of $dname’s stare, you say the first thing that comes to mind: <<if $drelationship is 'high'>>“Why did you abstain?” It seems to take $dname aback as much as it surprises you for blurting it out like that; you could’ve done with a smoother transition. The question has been asked, however, and it’s left for $dname to answer. “I understand you might be wondering why I didn’t vote against Steward Welat’s suggestion outright,” $dname surmises with accuracy, but then $dtheir brows draw together, betraying $dtheir own uncertainty. “Politically, it is the wiser choice. It’s already apparent that I’ve been aiding you since you first appeared, so if…” $cdthey trails off, as if unwilling to speak the words. “If?” you prompt, feeling your heart beating unsteadily in your chest. $cdthey glances up at you before looking away again—not out of embarrassment, but rather, $dthey looks regretful. “It wouldn’t do for us to be too friendly with each other, Your Imperial Majesty.” Your mouth feels dry. “What does that mean?”<<else>>“You asked to leave rather suddenly.” It seems to take $dname aback as much as it surprises you for blurting it out like that; you could’ve done with a smoother transition. The statement has been made, however, and it’s left for $dname to respond to it. “I wouldn’t have if I didn’t think the situation was becoming dire, Your Imperial Majesty,” $dname responds, brushing $dtheir surprise aside for something more formal; you don’t like it, being able to feel the growing distance. “Situations like these will occur every now and then, it’s unavoidable. It is better you have the chance to become accustomed to it sooner rather than later, and besides…” $dname trails off, uncertainty flickering across $dtheir face. “Besides… what?” you prompt, curious to know what made $dname quiet. “It would be better if we weren’t perceived as being too close to each other,” $dname admits, and your mouth goes dry. “What does that mean?”<</if>> $dname sighs, closing $dtheir eyes and rubbing $dtheir forehead in apparent frustration—at who, you couldn’t guess. “If the rest of the court believes that I am biased in your favor, it could cause issues.” $dname looks at you again, appearing genuinely troubled by the possibility. “Should that be the case, it’d be difficult for me to give you any meaningful support. Anything I say in favor of you would be questioned and undermined, based on the fact that I am too close to you and therefore unable to use proper judgment.” What $dthey’s saying makes sense; while it is within your power to simply overrule anything the court says, the invisible restraint upon your authority was made crystal clear today. Whatever you decide, anything you say, will be recorded by the historians and judged by the rest of Arsur. Perhaps the idea you had of the Crown as an all-powerful ruler was somewhat naive. The Imperial Court keeps the Crown from acting freely and without consequence, which includes the Crown’s allies. All this political maneuvering is an even greater burden than you first assumed. <em>That</em> part of $dname’s concerns you certainly understand. What your attention is truly fixated on, however, is perhaps the as of yet unspoken part: the closeness between the two of you. “And are we?” you ask, <<if $res gt $flirt>>boldness taking hold of you for a rare moment as your heart thumps even louder in your chest; you need to know<<else>>feeling an urgent need to know<</if>>. “Close, that is?” $dname tenses, eyes widening a fracture as $dthey stares at you, seeming caught off-guard by the question. You wonder if you’re both thinking of the same thing as your mind takes you to before the whole mess last night happened, in that sitting room where you rested your head against $dthem and listened to $dtheir heartbeat. Unexpectedly, $dname’s composure seems to crumble, breathing another deep exhale as $dthey presses both hands to $dtheir face, rubbing over it as if overcome with a sudden exhaustion. “I cannot…” $dname lowers $dtheir hands, though $dthey does not meet your eyes, saying wearily, “I should not answer that.” It was unfair of you to ask, and selfish on top. You know as much. Still, part of you wishes for a truthful answer. Perhaps it’s that gaping hole inside of you that has been echoing in emptiness for a year, or perhaps it’s a foolishness brought on from all the tense situations you’ve found yourself in this past week. But you know you should be more considerate of $dname’s position. The last thing you want is to put $dthem in an awkward spot. “I’m sorry, you can forget I asked.” “It’s fine.” $dname dismisses the matter as soon as you give $dthem an opening, redirecting the conversation to safer waters. “I only meant to caution you. It’s paramount to keep up appearances in front of the court, even if you end up appointing most of them. It doesn’t guarantee their loyalty to you.” $dname has a point there. $cdtheir insight, however, only reminds you of how it will be sorely missed once $dthey departs tomorrow. <ul class="a"> <<if $dgender is 'male'>><li>[[Ask when you will see him again.|9.34d1][$dpoints to $dpoints + 4]]</li> <li>[[Wish him safe travels.|9.34d2][$dpoints to $dpoints - 2]]</li><<else>><li>[[Ask when you will see her again.|9.34d1][$dpoints to $dpoints + 4]]</li> <li>[[Wish her safe travels.|9.34d2][$dpoints to $dpoints - 2]]</li><</if>> </ul>@@.titleblack;Beta Reader Variable Options@@ <b>You do not need to set all variables; you can choose to change only a few of these, or change all of them at once to compare different playthroughs! For your first playthrough, I recommend skipping these choices and continuing onto the chapter.</b> @@.titleblacksmall;CROWN CUSTOMIZATION@@ Set whether your Crown is an inner magic type or an outer magic type: <label><<radiobutton "$magicpref" "inner">> Inner</label> <label><<radiobutton "$magicpref" "outer">> Outer</label> Set your Crown's magic affinity: <label><<radiobutton "$magicaffinity" "sun">> Sun's Blessing</label> <label><<radiobutton "$magicaffinity" "eclipse">> Death of the Sun</label> @@.titleblacksmall;PLOT DECISIONS@@ Set where your Crown sent the prisoner to: <label><<radiobutton "$prisoner" "palace">> The palace dungeons</label> <label><<radiobutton "$prisoner" "prison">> Marabad's prison</label> Set the amount of points for the Crown's security: <label><<radiobutton "$cs" "0">> 0 points, worst outcome, Yekbûn/civilians dead and Ezo severely injured</label> <label><<radiobutton "$cs" "3">> 3 points, mixed outcome, Yekbûn/civilians/Ezo injured</label> <label><<radiobutton "$cs" "4">> 4 points, best outcome, very minor injuries and everyone is safe</label> Match the variables below with what you chose above. For example, if you set the Crown's security to 3 points, set Yekbûn (if the prisoner is in the palace) OR the civilians (if prisoner was sent to the city) as 'injured' <label><<radiobutton "$yekbun" "dead">> Yekbûn is dead (0 security points)</label> <label><<radiobutton "$yekbun" "injured">> Yekbûn is injured (3 security points)</label> <label><<radiobutton "$yekbun" "fine">> Yekbûn is safe (4 security points)</label> <label><<radiobutton "$innocents" "dead">> Civilians are dead (0 security points)</label> <label><<radiobutton "$innocents" "injured">> Civilians are injured (3 security points)</label> <label><<radiobutton "$innocents" "fine">> Civilians are safe (4 security points)</label> Set the amount of points for how much your Crown prioritizes the public: <label><<radiobutton "$publicfavored" "2">> Does not prioritize them</label> <label><<radiobutton "$publicfavored" "3">> Prioritizes them</label> Set how your Crown handled the Office of Law: <label><<radiobutton "$law" "rejected">> Scolded the Minister of Law</label> <label><<radiobutton "$law" "compromise">> Compromised with the Minister of Law</label> <label><<radiobutton "$law" "outwitted">> Fired the entire Office of Law (ONLY select if your Crown is set as prioritizing the public in the previous choice)</label> Set the amount of points for how much your Crown prioritizes the elite: <label><<radiobutton "$elitefavored" "1">> Does not prioritize them</label> <label><<radiobutton "$elitefavored" "2">> Prioritizes them</label> Set the amount of relationship points between your Crown and Kham: <label><<radiobutton "$khampoints" "0">> 0 points, neutral</label> <label><<radiobutton "$khampoints" "1">> 1 point, growing</label> Set the amount of trust your Crown has for Kham: <label><<radiobutton "$khamtrust" "no">> Does not trust Kham</label> <label><<radiobutton "$khamtrust" "undecided">> Isn't sure whether they trust Kham yet</label> <label><<radiobutton "$khamtrust" "yes">> Trusts Kham</label> Set how your Crown decided to ask Kham about the singing flower in CH6: <label><<radiobutton "$khamproach" "secret">> Kept their interest secret and tried to guide her onto the topic</label> <label><<radiobutton "$khamtrust" "test">> Tried to trick Kham by mentioning the flower casually</label> <label><<radiobutton "$khamtrust" "honest">> Asked Kham outright about the flower</label> Set the amount of relationship points between your Crown and Lady Naza. <label><<radiobutton "$nazapoints" "0">> 0 points, neutral relationship</label> <label><<radiobutton "$nazapoints" "2">> 2 points, growing relationship</label> <label><<radiobutton "$nazapoints" "4">> 4 points, positive relationship </label> <label><<radiobutton "$nazapoints" "6">> 6 points, max relationship (requires that your Crown has told every faction about the assassination attempt, select that option below)</label> <label><<radiobutton "$hidenone" "true">> Crown has told all factions about the assassination in CH5 </label> @@.titleblacksmall;RELATIONSHIPS@@ Set the amount of romance points the Crown has with their main LI (only check the LI whose route you're on in the current save you're using): <label><<radiobutton "$apoints" "14">> 14 points with A, low relationship</label> <label><<radiobutton "$apoints" "15">> 15 points with A, high relationship</label> <label><<radiobutton "$dpoints" "14">> 14 points with D, low relationship</label> <label><<radiobutton "$dpoints" "15">> 15 points with D, high relationship</label> <label><<radiobutton "$rpoints" "14">> 14 points with R, low relationship</label> <label><<radiobutton "$rpoints" "15">> 15 points with R, high relationship</label> <label><<radiobutton "$xpoints" "14">> 14 points with X, low relationship</label> <label><<radiobutton "$xpoints" "15">> 15 points with X, high relationship</label> <b>IMPORTANT</b>: if you edit your save files with these options, <em>do not</em> use your edited saves in CH11. Some of these options are not supposed to be fully compatible, I only allowed them for beta testing purposes, so they could break coding for you in future chapters if you use them as a regular save. <<if visited("9.34x1") is 1>><<if $xpoints gte 15>><<set $xrelationship to 'high'>><<set $xhighcount += 1>><<else>><<set $xrelationship to 'low'>><<set $xlowcount += 1>><</if>><</if>>The question leaves your lips before you can help yourself: “Will I see you again?” $xname’s brows furrow, $xtheir gaze lowering to $xtheir teacup. $cxthey picks it up, sipping from the lukewarm—now, probably cold—tea, before setting it down again, though $xtheir fingers remain curved around the cup. “I don’t know.” You knew this would be $xtheir answer, because it’s the only one $xthey can truly give. Whatever thoughts go through $xtheir mind, however, $xthey seems to shake them off soon after. “If you do, it won’t be for a while,” $xthey admits, which hardly makes you happy to hear, but it’s better to know now than to be disappointed later. “We’ll have to lay low after spreading rumors about going to the mountains, and after that, depending on where we go in Zerat… it would easily take a month.” It could be far worse, you tell yourself. A month is nothing, really, in the grand scheme of things. But what if it’s longer than that? “I like you, $name.” Your eyes snap up to meet $xname’s, caught completely unaware by $xtheir sudden admission, a very genuine one. The look in $xtheir eyes is too soft for it not to be. “We’ve had a good time together, haven’t we?” You feel an end coming. “We did.” “I’ll remember it,” $xname says, and it is a kind thing to say, a way to reassure you. Maybe $xthey came to know you better than you thought, even in these short few days. Everything else between you goes unspoken. The lives you both lead and how there will always be some distance between, the responsibilities you both have, the feelings you both struggle with, all coming together at once. It’s not wholly unfamiliar, you suppose. Sometimes that’s what life is; people coming and people going. “Just answer me one thing,” you finally say. $xname nods. “What is it?” “If I send you a letter, will you answer?” $xname smiles at you. “I couldn't deny the Crown, could I?” [[End Chapter|10.x1]]<<if visited("9.34x2") is 1>><<if $xpoints gte 15>><<set $xrelationship to 'high'>><<set $xhighcount += 1>><<else>><<set $xrelationship to 'low'>><<set $xlowcount += 1>><</if>><</if>>“I understand.” You meet $xtheir gaze, for what could be the final time. “Then I won’t keep you here any longer.” <<if $xrelationship is 'low'>>$xname’s eyes widen and $xtheir brows arch, lips parting in shock. It seems that this was the response $xthey expected the least from you. The thought is almost amusing enough to bring a smile to your face. “Did you think I would make you stay, against your will?” you say, a tease that falls a little flat when you can’t muster up any true humor in your tone. $xname blinks, then regains $xtheir composure, folding $xtheir arms across $xtheir chest. “No, but I at least expected….” “What?” “I don’t know.” $cxthey looks entirely taken aback by this development. “It seems there are a lot of things I don’t know anymore.” Silence falls between the two of you, both at a loss on what to do with this. Your relationship is undefined, made tense by something $xname struggles with that $xthey refuses to share with you—and, of course, $xname chooses that exact moment to make it all even more complicated.<<else>>$xname’s looks as if $xthey already knew you would say as much, a fondness in $xtheir gaze <<if $flirt gt $res>>that you want to treasure<<else>>that almost makes you shy<</if>>. “What?” you say, not sure what you have said to deserve such a look, though you’re far from unappreciative. “Did you think I would make you stay, against your will?” “I knew you wouldn’t,” $xname says as if $xthey knows you, <em>truly</em> knows you, and it pulls on your heart with a sudden yearning; what would it be like, if $xthey really did? Knew you from the inside out? But there’s not enough time. You know as much, but you can’t bring yourself to say it.<</if>> “I like you, $name.” Your eyes snap up to meet $xtheirs, caught completely unaware by $xtheir sudden admission, a very genuine one. The look in $xtheir eyes is too soft for it not to be. “I like you a lot, but beyond that…” Everything else goes unspoken. The lives you both lead and how there will always be some distance between, the responsibilities you both have, the feelings you both struggle with, all coming together at once. It’s not wholly unfamiliar, you suppose. Sometimes that’s what life is; people coming and people going. “Just answer me one thing,” you finally say. $xname leans in over the table. “Whatever you need.” “If I send you a letter, will you answer?” <<if $xrelationship is 'high'>>The smile $xname gives you then, a radiant one born from your unexpected request, warms you from the inside out. “Always.”<<else>>$xname smiles at you with warmth. “I couldn't deny the Crown, could I?”<</if>> [[End Chapter|10.x1]]<<if visited("9.34d1") is 1>><<if $dpoints gte 15>><<set $drelationship to 'high'>><<set $dhighcount += 1>><<else>><<set $drelationship to 'low'>><<set $dlowcount += 1>><</if>><</if>>When the question first occurs to you, you nearly discard it, not wanting to make the situation between you and $dname too tense. Yet, it doesn’t feel right to pretend as if you won’t miss $dtheir presence by your side, because you will. It is a sudden, but perfectly natural realization as you consider it. You’ll miss $dname, probably more than you should. So you ask the question, “When will I see you again?” <<if $drelationship is 'low'>>If $dname is taken aback by it, $dthey certainly doesn’t show it. Instead, $dthey gazes at you quietly, the hints of deep brown in $dtheir eyes that you couldn’t make out before during the court meeting now highlighted by the artificial light. Yet, even with the lightened specks of $dtheir eyes, you still feel as if you cannot read $dthem. “Depending on how long it takes for the situation to stabilize,” $dthey says, “It will take a month, at the very least.” A month. You should’ve expected it. While it only takes a day to get from Marabad to Zeratun on horseback, to secure the whole of Zerat will take much longer than that. Of course $dname wouldn’t be able to take care of it and come back in a week; the situation sounds too volatile for that. Still, your disappointment weighs heavily.<<else>>If $dname is taken aback by it, $dthey certainly doesn’t show it. Instead, $dthey gazes at you quietly, the hints of deep brown in $dtheir eyes that you couldn’t make out before during the court meeting now highlighted by the artificial light. With the lightened specks of $dtheir eyes, $dtheir gaze on you feels warm—or perhaps, a wishful part of you thinks, it’s the emotion there that makes you feel that way. $dname parts $dtheir lips, seeming to almost hesitate answering, before $dthey plainly states, “A month.” “That long?” You try, and fail, to hide your disappointment. Truthfully, you should’ve expected it. While it only takes half a day to get from Marabad to Zeratun on horseback, to secure the whole of Zerat will take much longer than that. Of course $dname wouldn’t be able to take care of it and come back in a week; the situation sounds too volatile for that. It doesn’t make it any easier to swallow, however.<</if>> “How early will you leave tomorrow?” you ask instead, leaning your elbows on the table and letting your arms rest there as $dname remains quiet. You notice $dtheir gaze settles on one of your hands, <<if $ass gt $pass>>and you resist the urge to reach it out to $dthem.<<else>>and you pretend not to see it even as the urge to move your hand wells up in your arm.<</if>> “Do you wish to see me off?” $dname asks, almost seeming to study your face, $dtheir eyes slowly taking in your features in a way that <<if $flirt gt $res>>might even make <em>you</em> feel self-conscious<<else>>makes you feel self-conscious<</if>>, wondering what $dthey’s memorizing—or what $dthey’s admiring. “Can I?” That actually cracks a smile on $dname’s face, and you drink in the sight of it, not knowing when you’ll see it again. “You’re the Crown, you can do whatever you want.” “Not everything, it seems,” you murmur. Silence falls between the two of you again, and $dname looks almost regretful. This isn’t how you want the conversation to go. “$dname.” You speak $dtheir name softly. “Will you humor me for a moment?” “Of course,” $dname responds without hesitation. “If I sent you a letter to call you back,” you say, “would you come, even if it meant abandoning your post?” You both know what $dtheir true answer would be, yet $dname does as you asked and plays along. $cdthey gives you a knowing look, a faint spark of amusement reflected in $dtheir eyes, fondness curled in the faintness of $dtheir smile. You feel seen, but you don’t mind at all. <<if $drelationship is 'high'>>“I’ll be there whenever you need me, $name.” $dname promises it with such sincerity, with such earnest reassurance, that you could never do anything other than believe $dthem.<<else>>"I would." $cdthey promises it.<</if>> [[End Chapter|10.d1]]<<if visited("9.34.d2") is 1>><<if $dpoints gte 15>><<set $drelationship to 'high'>><<set $dhighcount += 1>><<else>><<set $drelationship to 'low'>><<set $dlowcount += 1>><</if>><</if>>The urge to ask when you will see $dthem again hangs on the tip of your tongue, but you swallow it down; you don’t want to create an even more tense situation between the two of you, especially not with $dname leaving tomorrow. Instead you say, “Thank you for looking out for me, $dname. I wish you a safe journey to Zerat.” Unlike what you expected, this doesn’t seem to entirely please $dname as you thought it should. $cdthey even frowns at you, which only confuses you further; <em>$dthey</em> was the one who insisted on keeping a formal distance between the two of you, so why does $dthey look displeased now? “Yes.” $dname nods, redirecting $dtheir frown at the table instead. “Of course. Thank you.” You hesitate, but only for a moment, whether to say something. “Is something wrong?” “No, why would there be?” $dname crosses $dtheir arms, which makes your brows arch. “Are you…” You tilt your head at $dthem in question. “$dname, are you disappointed? Did you want me to say something more?” $dname avoids your stare. “What else is there to say?” “I don’t know.” You give $dthem a knowing look. “Should I say that I’ll miss you, as well?” You almost regret the words leaving your mouth as soon as you speak them, $dname giving you a wide-eyed look before it is hidden again, behind that same unreadable wall that you couldn’t penetrate earlier. “We have become friendly with each other over the past week,” $dname says, and you take an immediate disliking to the way $dthey says that word. <em>Friendly</em>, like you’re a casual acquaintance. “Friendly, right.” You look away, moving to stand up. “Well, that was all I wanted to say. I shouldn’t take up anymore of your time.” Your sudden move startles $dname, who half-rises onto a knee as $dthey says, “Wait.” Already on your feet, you halt, having been about to turn your back on $dthem. Yet, even as you look down at $dname now, $dthey seems at a loss for what to say. Maybe $dthey’s right. Maybe it is better that $dthey leaves sooner rather than later, so you can both sort out your thoughts and focus on what really matters. “$dname.” You speak $dtheir name softly. “Will you humor me for a moment?” “Of course,” $dname responds without hesitation. “If I sent you a letter to call you back,” you say, almost as a peace offering, “would you come?” $dname gives you a knowing look, an emotion you can’t name intense within $dtheir eyes, accompanied by the subtlest hesitance. You feel seen, but you don’t mind at all. "I would." $cdthey promises it. [[End Chapter|10.d1]]@@.chaptertitle;LESSONS IN THE DIVINE@@<<if $rfriend is true>><<set $rbirthdaypassed to true>><</if>><<set $day to 5>><<set $month to 'Falling'>><<set $progress to "10">><<if visited("10.1") is 1>><<if $apoints gte 15>><<set $arelationship to 'high'>><<set $ahighcount += 1>><<else>><<set $arelationship to 'low'>><<set $alowcount += 1>><</if>><<if $rpoints gte 15>><<set $rrelationship to 'high'>><<set $rhighcount += 1>><<else>><<set $rrelationship to 'low'>><<set $rlowcount += 1>><</if>><</if>><<if $afriend is false or $rfriend is false>><div id="10.1">@@.chaptertitleact1;CHAPTER TEN@@</div>@@.titleblack;A Moment's Reprieve@@ <</if>><<if $xfriend is false or $dfriend is false>><b>IN MARABAD'S ROYAL PALACE</b> <</if>>The month of Falling begins in late summer rain. “Once more, Your Imperial Majesty!” <<if $magicpref is 'outer'>>It pours down in torrents, scattering chaotically whenever the wind picks up into a roar. Harsh gusts blow the rain through the open window where you stand, barely shielded; your clothes may repel water, but your head and your hands are exposed. You keep your eyes closed, palms still spread to the sky as your arms hang out the window. Ignoring the cold in your fingers, you focus on the exercise, even as you feel the fatigue in your core. Your magic strains thin inside of you, like threads splitting apart. One last time, you feel the rain. Strong weather like this carries with it natural currents of magic that are more easily manipulated, especially in the city where the magic originating from people is so dense in the air. Over the past few weeks, you’ve become more adept at separating the two, increasing your control over natural magic. Perjin thought this rainstorm was an especially good opportunity to practice. You’ve also become used to the feeling of water’s magic with the water spirits that were attached to you, making rain a fitting target to practice with. You regulate your breaths, keeping a steady rhythm just as your father taught you. The scent of rain meeting the earth, the sound of drops thundering across the grass, the restless air—you feel the currents of magic within it, from the air, water and earth. Reaching for a thread of water, your own magic extends from your palms, plucking it like a string, then pulling it away. The rain that was pattering across your skin curves, bending away from you, until you can no longer feel it on your fingers. At first, you tried to influence each individual drop of rain, until you realized that would be an exercise in futility. Nature is greater than that, its magic interwoven, larger. Pulling one thread helps move the others; you only need to ensure that you pull the right one. [[Continue|10.1a]]<<else>>It pours down in torrents, scattering chaotically whenever the wind picks up into a roar, beating against your body. You keep your eyes closed, standing with a straight posture in the garden and focusing on your breaths as the rain pours down on you. Ignoring the cold on your skin, you continue to inhale and exhale slowly and and with intent, even as you feel the fatigue in your core. Your magic strains thin inside of you, like threads splitting apart. One last time, you feel the magic inside of you. Strong weather like this carries with it natural currents of magic that feel much lighter and are less likely to influence your core, especially in the city where the magic originating from people is so dense in the air. It allows you to focus on your inner magic without being distracted. The rain feels almost soothing in its familiarity. As such, Perjin thought this rainstorm was an especially good opportunity to practice. While it feels cold against your head and hands, your clothes are warded to keep the rest of your body both dry and warm. An odd contrast, but one you’ve grown accustomed to as you spend the early morning outside and soaked in rain. You regulate your breaths, keeping a steady rhythm just as your father taught you. Attention turning inward, you feel the air travel through your lungs, the beat of your heart thumping steadily against your chest, the magic pathways humming with dormant power. Those pathways, spread through your body like veins, all lead back to your core deep inside your chest. A <<if $magicaffinity is 'eclipse'>>black<<else>>golden<</if>> sun. At first, you tried to force the magic out of you, but all that accomplished was random bursts of magic erupting from your skin. Inner magic may be innate to the individual and intuitive to some level, but like all magic, it still needs control and direction. For that, your mind and your spirit must be at ease. You need to let it come naturally, and guide it to where you want it. Not force it, not fight it. Your magic <em>is</em> you. [[Continue|10.1b]]<</if>> Feeling as if you have the right thread in your grasp, you continue to push it further and further away. “Extend it,” you hear Perjin instruct from over your shoulder. “Not only a shield, but a wall.” You need another thread. One more, to move the rain away and protect the windows entirely. Shifting your hands, you face your palms toward the rain. But manipulating multiple threads of magic is not as easy as it seems. Your brows furrow with both concentration and tension as you try to grasp another thread, while keeping the one already in hand within your control. The current of rain falling down around your hands wobbles, drops of it splashing against your skin. You try to steady it, tightening your grip. It’s like holding several threads squeezed between your fingers, having to be careful not to let one slip accidentally. You grasp it, envisioning your goal, willing it into existence; your desire imposes on the rain, giving it direction, binding the threads together into a single braid. Firmly, but carefully, you pull the threads away until you can no longer feel the rain anywhere near you. Taking a deep breath, you hold your magic there, and open your eyes. The rain arcs away from the walls of your bedroom entirely, as if they were shielded by an invisible barrier. Or rather, repelled, by <em>your</em> magic guiding it into a different direction. <<if $magicaffinity is 'eclipse'>>A golden light forms the outlines of your hands<<else>>A golden light engulfs your hands<</if>>, your magic interacting with that of the rain. “Very good!” Perjin pats you on the shoulder, pleased with your progress. “A very capable display of control. You may release, carefu—” The threads snap from your hands, your magic exhausted, and the rain swings back towards you with a wet splash against your face. From further in the room, you hear $rname<<if $yekbun isnot 'dead'>> and Scholar Yekbûn<</if>> smother a laugh. You don’t even have the energy to be exasperated. “Well,” Perjin says, trying to hide an amused smile when you face her, no doubt looking like a drenched cat. “We’ll work on your release another time.” [[Continue|10.2]] Feeling as if you have a good handle on your magic, you gradually guide it outward, coaxing it to the surface of your skin. Your aura begins to emerge, warming you. “Fan the flames,” you hear Perjin instruct from nearby, standing at your side. “Increase its intensity, with control.” You need to make your aura bigger, more powerful, but do so carefully. Pulling your aura out isn’t yet an exercise you have fully mastered, though you have grown more accustomed to it these past few weeks. Taking another breath, you keep your emotions steady. Perjin likened it to the surface of a calm lake; the state of mind necessary to perform inner magic, especially aura magic. With the water spirits having been attached to you, it has helped you get a feeling for it. Don’t fight it. Guide it. You are one and the same. Envisioning your goal, you imagine your aura glowing out of you like a halo of light. A protective barrier, keeping you sheltered from the rain. The warmth on your skin increases as you gradually but steadily pour more magic outwards, hotter and hotter, <em>denser</em>, until you can’t feel a single drop of rain on your face anymore. You can see the light start to glow through your eyelids, and it’s as if the clouds have cleared away, revealing the sun. Taking a deep breath, you hold your magic there, and open your eyes. Just as you envisioned, your aura is radiating out of you in a ring of dazzling light. Your magic protects you from the rain, keeping your head and hands dry. <<if $magicaffinity is 'eclipse'>>Surprisingly, you’re still able to see clearly, the light of your aura an outline of your body rather than making it glow entirely<<else>>Though admittedly, it’s making it rather difficult to see, as you have to squint your eyes from how blinding your aura is, engulfing your whole body<</if>>. “Very good!” Perjin <<if $magicaffinity is 'eclipse'>>looks<<else>>sounds<</if>> pleased with your progress. “A very capable display of control. You may release, carefu—” The excitement of accomplishment running through you disturbs your focus, and before you know it, your grasp on your magic slips. Your aura erupts in a flash, fizzling out and leaving you feeling out of breath, as well as soaked in rain once again. From behind you, you hear $rname<<if $yekbun isnot 'dead'>> and Scholar Yekbûn<</if>> smother a laugh, sitting inside your chambers and having watched you practice from the windows. You don’t even have the energy to be exasperated. “Well,” Perjin says, trying to hide an amused smile when you face her, no doubt looking like a drenched cat. Meanwhile, <em>she</em> is holding the rain at bay with a single hand above her, the drops parting in arcs to avoid hitting her. “We’ll work on your release another time.” [[Continue|10.2]]“Let me dry you off, $rnickname.” $rname rises from $rtheir seat<<if $magicpref is 'outer'>>, having been watching your lesson from the low dining table in your chambers<<if $yekbun isnot 'dead'>> together with Yekbûn<</if>><<else>> <<if $yekbun isnot 'dead'>>across from Scholar Yekbûn <</if>>as you walk back into your chambers with Perjin in tow, using a door that connects it to the gardens<</if>>.<<if $rfriend is false and $rrelationship is 'low' and $rlowcount is 2>> While the days after the coronation were a little strained between the two of you for reasons you still don't fully understand, $rname seems to have warmed up to you again after seeing the effort you've been putting into your classes. It seems you're back to becoming friends again, which is a relief.<</if>><<if $rfriend is false and $rrelationship is 'high'>> <<if $rhighcount is 2>>Even over this short period<<else>>Even though things were a little strained between the two of you after the assassin's escape attempt<</if>>, you've felt as if you have become true friends with $rname. The two of you have relied on each other, $rname encouraging you with your classes while you've reassured $rname of $rtheir ability to be a good Sorcerer, the both of you supporting each other in front of the nobility. It has helped you feel much less alone, like you feared you might be after becoming the Crown.<</if>><<if $rfriend is false and $rrelationship is 'low' and $rlowcount is 1>>Even over this short period you've felt as if you have become true friends with $rname. The two of you have relied on each other, $rname encouraging you with your classes while you've reassured $rname of $rtheir ability to be a good Sorcerer, the both of you supporting each other in front of the nobility. It has helped you feel much less alone, like you feared you might be after becoming the Crown.<</if>> “I can do it,” you reply, not wanting $rname to waste $rtheir energy for something so simple. <<if $magicpref is 'outer'>>You hover your palm down your face and neck, pulling the rainwater toward your hand, and as it gathers in the air you chuck it out the window with a snap of your wrist.<<else>>You pull your magic up to your skin again, though to a lesser extent this time. As it surfaces, your aura glows gold over your hands and face; the heat of the sun warms your body, the rainwater instantly evaporating and leaving you dry. <</if>> <<if $yekbun isnot 'dead'>>“You’ve improved quickly over such a short period,” Yekbûn comments, and despite your little mishap at the end—you always struggle with the release—you do feel appreciative of the praise. These past few days, you have become more acquainted with the scholar, and have taken to inviting her to attend to your magic lessons. “Better control and more stamina.”<<else>>“You’ve shown much improvement,” $rname comments, and despite your little mishap at the end—you always struggle with the release—you do feel appreciative of the praise. “An increase in stamina as well as control.”<</if>> It feels good to see your skills develop as you learn, improving and growing with every lesson, every practice session. “I have gotten better, haven’t I?” you say with a hint of pride, brightening up a little despite your fatigue as you appraise the rain that has now evened out again. “More confident, too.” <<if $loveinterest is 'R'>>$rname gives you a playful smile when you meet $rtheir eyes again. “It looks good on you.” <<if $ass gt $pass>><<if $res gt $flirt>>You blink at the compliment, unsure how to interpret its meaning at first, but $rname doesn’t look self-conscious. Just a little teasing, in a friendly way. $crthey’s not the sort to flirt so directly; you’re probably thinking too much of it. Though that makes you feel a bit disappointed. “Thank you,” you reply in an attempt to keep your composure, finding it difficult not to stare at the way $rname looks at you, as if you’re the only one $rthey sees. “I feel more confident, too.” Is that really just friendly admiration? You smile at each other, surroundings momentarily forgotten, until Perjin clears her throat, an amused look on her face.<<else>>You arch your brows, returning $rname’s smile with a teasing one of your own. “Does it, now? Should I take that to mean you enjoy looking at me?” $rname’s expression blanks as $rthey realizes how $rtheir words sounded to you, at which point $rthey averts $rtheir gaze. $crthey glances at Perjin, $rtheir mentor's presence seeming to make $rthem shy. “No- I mean, yes, but I meant… confidence in general looks flattering on people, regardless of… so, ah, yes.” You should probably take mercy on $rthem, even though $rthey looks <em>so</em> pretty when $rthey’s flustered. Besides, $rthey admitted that $rthey likes looking at you, even if $rthey probably didn’t fully realize it. That’s more than enough for you. “Well, thank you,” you say, pulling back to a more friendly tone, pretending not to see the way $rname fidgets with the coins on $rtheir belt. Perjin interrupts, though she glances between the two of you with amusement. <</if>><<else>><<if $res gt $flirt>>Usually a compliment like that would make you feel self-conscious, but there’s something comfortable about the way $rname smiles at you. Genuine, saying it because $rthey means it, not because $rthey’s expecting something in return. “Thank you,” you reply after a beat, the familiar heat in your face not one of embarrassment, but rather of something pleased. Delighted, even. “I feel more confident, too.” You smile at each other, surroundings momentarily forgotten, until Perjin clears her throat, an amused look on her face.<<else>>The compliment is unexpected, but it piques your interest; is $rthey saying that only to encourage you? It wouldn’t surprise you if $rthey did. $rname has been supportive of you every step of the way during these past few weeks, so it could merely be a friendly remark to praise you for your progress. Though that assumption leaves you a little disappointed, and that disappointment causes you to say something you probably shouldn’t. “Should I take that to mean you enjoy looking at me?” $rname’s expression blanks, before becoming flustered as $rthey quickly averts $rtheir gaze. $crthey glances at <<if $yekbun is 'dead'>>Perjin, $rtheir mentor's presence seeming to make $rthem shy<<else>>Perjin and Yekbûn, their presence seeming to make $rthem shy<</if>>. “No- I mean, yes, but I meant… confidence in general looks flattering on people, regardless of… so, ah, yes.” Now, you feel a little less disappointed. Time to pull back. “Well, thank you,” you say, pulling back to a more friendly tone, pretending not to see the way $rname fidgets with the coins on $rtheir belt. Perjin interrupts, though she glances between the two of you with amusement.<</if>><</if>><<else>> $rname looks genuinely happy for you, and you meet $rtheir smile with your own. “At this rate, you'll catch up to the average magus in no time.” Perjin appears to agree with $rthem<<if $yekbun isnot 'dead'>> and Yekbûn<</if>>. <</if>>“You should be pleased by your progress,” she says, giving you a thoughtful look. “Perhaps it’s time to build up your endurance further.” “I’ve been practicing every morning,” you begin to say, but your tutor shakes her head. “Not in magic,” she corrects, “but your physical endurance.” Ah, there’s that to consider as well. It almost slipped your mind. Perjin gives you an appraising look. “I take it you can sense it?” “Yes.” Your answer is accompanied by a sigh. “I’ll hit a wall soon if I don’t increase my fitness.” [[Continue|10.3]] One’s magic and one’s body are tightly intertwined. Everyone has a natural core of magic they were born with, which allows them to use a certain amount depending on their natural talent or training. In terms of size, most people have comparable magical cores; individuals like $rname, who innately possess very large amounts, are rare. However, there is also physical limit. The weaker one’s body, the less magic someone will be able to handle before exhausting themselves. It’s like using a muscle, you’ve learned. Inversely, the stronger one’s body, the more magic they will be able to expend, casting stronger spells for longer periods. Many tend to think of magi as delicate academics, but you know firsthand from your father that it is a misconception. He kept fit as much as he could, and your mother would often describe him as being built like an ox. It’s not a requirement for magi—there are scholars who are more interested in theory than in the practice of magic—but it certainly helps. Your own fitness wasn’t exactly in the best shape when you arrived at the palace. You were fatigued, stressed, and bordering on malnourished. Only in these past weeks have you started to recover. Taking regular meals, getting enough sleep, and some scheduled rejuvenating tonics have helped you feel stronger, healthier, more energized throughout the day. With that, you’ve also started doing light exercises to keep fit. Going on morning runs, you’ve realized your stamina is actually quite good. You’re able to keep up with the palace guards without much effort. Though you can’t run as quickly, in terms of endurance you can outlast many of the recruits quite easily. At least in this area, together with your lessons in practical magic, it seems you have an advantage compared to your other classes. Speaking of which— $rname prompts you before you can mention it, saying to Perjin, “This was a most productive session, teacher, but I’m afraid <<if $rfriendship gt 1 or $loveinterest is 'R'>>$name<<else>>$ctheir Imperial Majesty<</if>> has to move on.” $crthey looks at you. “Almost time for your next class, remember?” “I remember,” you say, amused that $rname is still keeping track of your schedule, despite the fact that you now have an official Royal Secretary to do it for the both of you. <<if $rfriendship gt 1 or $loveinterest is 'R'>>Perjin glances between the two of you, asking, “Are you using chosen names with each other already?” <<if $yekbun isnot 'dead'>> Scholar Yekbûn's brows arch to her hairline, but she says nothing, averting her gaze while quietly sipping tea.<</if>> <<if $loveinterest is 'R'>>You pause; you hadn’t even noticed that $rname called you by name. Feeling warmed by the realization, you glance at $rname, who is much less able to hide $rtheir reaction. “Well, $name was—” $rname halts, flustered, then tries again. “$ctheir Imperial Majesty <<if $rnickname is 'my Crown'>>never specified if $they wished to be addressed formally, so I assumed… unless you do mind?” That last part is directed at you, sounding slightly worried, as if by merely using your name $rname might have committed a grave trespass. “It isn’t the first time you’ve used my name,” you point out, slightly puzzled, but also appreciative that $rthey’s so mindful of your boundaries. “I’ve never minded before. Besides, you tend to call me <em>my Crown</em> more than anything else.” “Your Crown, <<if $pronouns is 'theythem'>>are<<else>>is<</if>> $they?” Perjin remarks with exaggerated nonchalance that hardly hides the playful twist of her lips, and $rname’s eyes widen slightly. “Yes, <em>my</em> Crown,” $rname almost snaps, defensive from the teasing. “As $they <<if $pronouns is 'theythem'>>are<<else>>is<</if>> <em>your</em> Crown as well. It’s perfectly polite. Ishrah also uses it!” Seeing $rname so affected by a little teasing, your own heart flutters in your chest as you wonder if there’s anything more to it. “Ishrah calls me Crown $name, actually,” you point out, trying to state it plainly so you don’t betray the restless feeling in your hands, folding them in front of you. $rname blinks, then looks away. “Oh.” Perjin chuckles, patting $rthem on the shoulder. “There’s no need to get so worked up, my dear. I’m glad you two have grown so close.”<<else>>requested for me to address $them by name when we first met, so I assumed… unless you’ve changed your mind, now that you’ve had your coronation? I would understand, if so.” That last part is directed at you, sounding slightly worried, as if by merely using your name $rthey might have committed a grave trespass. “Why would I have changed my mind?” you reply, slightly puzzled, but also appreciative that $rthey’s so mindful of your boundaries. “I prefer you to use it; even if in public, if you wanted to, but I understand that wouldn’t be strictly proper.” “I couldn’t do so in front of the court,” $rname says, looking conflicted. “Though I do appreciate that you feel comfortable enough to offer, $name. I hope we can…” $crthey trails off when $rthey glances at Perjin<<if $yekbun isnot 'dead'>> and Yekbûn<</if>>, as if suddenly remembering that <<if $yekbun isnot 'dead'>>they’re<<else>>she’s<</if>> still there, then quickly averts $rtheir gaze with an embarrassed smile. “Ah, never mind.” “What?” Perjin says with exaggerated cluelessness that hardly hides the playful twist of her lips<<if $yekbun isnot 'dead'>>, while Yekbûn merely feigns as if she doesn't hear the conversation at all<</if>>. “Just pretend <<if $yekbun isnot 'dead'>>we’re<<else>>I’m<</if>> not here! It’s perfectly normal to share affectionate words…” As $rname’s eyes widen, Perjin slowly adds, “…among friends.” There’s a moment of tensed silence as $rname and you glance at each other at the same time, <<if $res gt $flirt>>then quickly look away<<else>>and $rname quickly looks away from you again, seeming flustered<</if>>. Perjin chuckles, taking mercy upon both her former and current student. “Enough teasing for today, then!”<</if>> $rname is avoiding your gaze, and not being very subtle about it. $crtheir deep brown skin looks warmer along $rtheir cheeks and neck; the faintest hint of a blush. You clear your throat. <<else>>$rname looks surprised, as if $rthey hadn’t even realized $rthey’d been doing it. You did notice it, but didn’t think it anything worth pointing out. You and $rname exchange a look. <<if $rnickname is 'my Crown'>>“I never really specified how $rname should address me,” you consider, “but I don’t mind it. Friends call each other by their chosen name all the time, don’t they?”<<else>>“Well, I did ask $rname to call me such when we first met,” you answer, “and besides, friends call each other by their chosen names all the time, don’t they?”<</if>> $rname smiles at you, replying with pleased agreement, “That they do.” You turn back to Perjin<<if $yekbun isnot 'dead'>> and Yekbûn<</if>>. <</if>><<else>>You turn to Perjin<<if $yekbun isnot 'dead'>> and Yekbûn<</if>>. <</if>>“I should go before I end up late<<if $charm gt $blunt>> and get scolded by my other tutors<</if>>. Thank you for the lesson, Perjin<<if $yekbun isnot 'dead'>>, and for keeping $rname company, Yekbûn<</if>>.” <<if $yekbun is 'dead'>>She bows. “As always, it was my pleasure.”<<else>>Perjin bows. “As always, it was my pleasure.” Meanwhile, Yekbûn smiles at you, casting it briefly to $rname as well. “You need not thank me, Your Imperial Majesty; I always enjoy chatting with $rtitle $rname.” “You're too kind, scholar,” $rname replies, smiling back at her. The two of them have gotten along very well these past weeks; perhaps it’s due to Yekbûn’s more subdued, calm demeanor. She’s not an arrogant magus who lords her status over others, and she enjoys speaking of magic theory, which suits $rname's interests perfectly. Having her around has been pleasant for more than only $rname, however. Originally she seemed reluctant to stay at the palace, but once she realized she would be guarded by the Imperial Guards around the clock, she was finally able to relax. You often share dinners with her in the evenings, where she regales you of stories about your parents—it has been unexpectedly comforting, despite the lingering and conflicted feelings you still hold. Despite everything, they were still your parents.<</if>> [[Continue|10.4]]<<set $revealed to true>>[ [[The True Order of Events So Far]] <b>unlocked</b> ] <<if $yekbun isnot 'dead'>>Taking your leave, you refocus your attention on the day ahead. <</if>><<if $cs gt 0>>Since the coronation a short two weeks ago, your entire schedule has rotated between lessons with your tutors and court meetings. You’re still getting used to having so much to do on a single day, but in a way, having a steady routine for the first time in your life has felt oddly liberating. No more insecurity about what the next day will bring, no more anxiety about having to find food and shelter. Entire weeks have been planned in advance for you, every minute of every hour accounted for. Compared to the court meetings, however, your classes have easily been your favorite part so far. There is so much to learn; beyond your initial humility, knowing how inexperienced you are, you realize what a privilege it is to have access to all this knowledge. The world is infinitely vaster than you ever imagined, with entire areas of study that have been completely unfamiliar to you until now. Later that same morning you sit in on a class regarding exactly one such area, in domestic politics. Specifically, trade.<<else>>Since the disaster that was the coronation a short two weeks ago, your entire schedule has rotated between lessons with your tutors and court meetings, and you’ve been throwing yourself at it headfirst. It’s not a pace you can maintain for an extended period, but now especially, it’s crucial that you learn as quickly as possible. You’ve already failed as the Crown once. <<if $yekbun is 'dead'>>Scholar Yekbûn’s funeral was days ago. You did not have to face her family yourself as $aname covertly went to inform them instead, a fact you feel lingering guilt for, but there was no other choice. To receive them or to go to them to apologize in person would be all but admitting that you had something to do with her death, a fact that cannot be revealed to the public. In your ignorance and inexperience, you failed her.<<else>>The citizens and prison guards that were killed during the prisoner’s escape attempt all had very public funeral rites performed for them. The mourners in the streets numbered in the hundreds; it is still the talk of the city, though your concern is not how it casts a shadow upon your coronation. It’s that you are responsible for the deaths of others, two prison guards and five citizens, one of them a child. In your ignorance and inexperience, you failed them.<</if>> You <em>must</em> do better in the future, you <em>must</em> prevent something like this from happening again. It is all the motivation you need to study as much as possible, attending your lessons with strict rigor, even when some of the subjects are easier to grasp than others. Such as trade.<</if>> “As the Crown, you may find yourself responsible for trade with various monarchies and empires on behalf of Arsur,” your trade tutor explains, an older man with a hunched back and surprisingly quick feet, prone to pacing up and down the room. In two weeks, with all the classes you’re taking, you haven’t been able to memorize many names yet. “As such, it is vital that you understand the worth of Arsur’s natural resources.” Unlike with Perjin, most of your other tutors teach you in sitting rooms especially assigned for these classes. Typically, you are seated at a low table while your teacher is on their feet or seated across from you, giving a lecture as you take notes. A few in your Imperial Court suggested that you should be seated in a throne instead, to maintain your dignity as their ruler, but you dismissed the idea. These tutors are your teachers. What point is there to lord your authority over them? “It’s the merchants that trade, isn’t it?” you say, not understanding what role it is that you should play here. You’ve never spared a single thought on Arsur’s trade with foreign lands before. “Surely I’m not going to be the one negotiating these things?” “Not in detail, of course,” your tutor says, “but who do the roads belong to that these merchants travel on? Who protects the borders that these merchants must cross? Who decides whether these merchants are allowed to sell their wares?” You see his point. A ruler might not control the flow of trade directly, they still have the power to shape it the way they see fit. Maintaining such trade routes is another one of the Crown’s responsibilities. Once that thought occurs to you, it reminds you of $dname’s reason for leaving. “The High General mentioned that trade routes in southern Zerat were being hampered by the fighting in Şevan.” “Indeed.” Your tutor gives you an appraising look. “What consequences do you think that has had?” You take a moment to think. <<if $intu gt $intel>>Practically speaking, if there is no trade happening… “The people who live in Zerat may see shortages on the markets,” you say carefully, wondering if you’re reasoning this out correctly. You tend to think with your gut rather than with your head, so verbalizing logic like this is rather new to you. “Luxury goods, I think? Since Şevan doesn’t really grow much in the way of food, but… oh! In reverse, the people in Şevan would suffer more. Şevan heavily relies on Zerat for grain and livestock.”<<else>>What do you remember of the climates of Zerat and Şevan, and what are their most important resources? “There would be a shortage of luxury goods on the markets of Zerat,” you reason as you continue to ponder the question. Doing so out loud is new to you, but you find that explaining it to someone else helps you to clarify your thoughts further. “Şevan, meanwhile, is heavily dependent on Zerat for grain and livestock, so the impact would have been grave.”<</if>> “That is all mostly true,” your tutor agrees. “However, do you know what kinds of goods Şevan primarily exports?” <<if $intu gt $intel>>“Fabrics?” you guess blindly, going off instinct, and your tutor smiles. “An accurate prediction.”<<else>>“I could not say,” you admit, and your tutor smiles. “It is the quality of a wise person to admit to what they do not know.”<</if>> He goes on to clarify it for you. “Şevan’s most important goods relate to linen fabrics inscribed with sigils to protect from harm or damage, or even to regulate the body’s temperature. Their magi are famed for it; many of your own robes were inscribed by them. But much of the linen itself, Your Imperial Majesty, originates from Qathesh.” You’re starting to understand: trade has not only been hampered in southern Zerat or Şevan. “Of course, Arsur has multiple trade routes from and to Qathesh,” your tutor continues, “but the most direct ones flow through the Silent Desert. The High General was correct in $dtheir assessment that the situation is becoming dire, especially for Şevan. If this continues, the province will become isolated, which will affect the entire Empire.” Seeing the concern on your face, your tutor reassures you: “With the High General mobilizing the Imperial Army, Zerat’s own provincial soldiers will be able to assist Şevan more freely in stabilizing the trade routes. The necessary action has already been taken in this case, Your Imperial Majesty.” You didn’t realize it at the time, but all of this is what $dname must have already considered when $dthey told you of $dtheir departure to Zerat. $cdthey took action on $dtheir own because $dthey knew you were not ready to do so, in order to prevent what would’ve surely become a crisis. <<if $loveinterest is 'D'>> It makes you wonder how $dthey’s doing, and if $dthey’s safe. You received a letter from $dthem a week ago, reporting no conflicts so far, but you can’t help but worry. Once $dname returns, you would like to take your burden back from $dthem and carry it yourself. In truth, it’s even part of the reason why you’ve been trying so hard during your classes. You want to support $dthem as $dthey’s been supporting you. Perhaps you’re being too hard on yourself, but you can’t help the guilt you feel. In your ignorance and inexperience, you ended up increasing $dname’s burden, forcing $dthem to act as your general. You <em>must</em> do better in the future, to prevent this from happening again. $dname and Arsur both deserve that much.<<else>><<if $dfriendship gt 0>>It makes you wonder how $dthey’s doing, and if $dthey’s safe. You received a letter from $dthem a week ago, reporting no conflicts so far, so there’s no real reason to be worried. Still, you don’t want to rely so much on $dname in the future. $cdthey already has $dtheir hands full; you have to be able to stand on your own as the Crown, especially when it comes to making decisions like these.<</if>><</if>> “Thank you, teacher,” you say to your tutor, feeling a little more enlightened. While you learn much during classes such as these, at the same time, you feel the weight of duty upon your shoulders becoming heavier by the day. Especially since trade isn’t the only theoretical subject you have to take into account. [[Continue|10.5]]<<set $day to 23>><<set $progress to "10">><div id="10.1">@@.chaptertitleact1;CHAPTER TEN@@</div>@@.titleblack;A Moment's Reprieve@@ The flames of torches glint dully across the gray scales of $dname’s armor as $dthey descends the stairs, leaving the light of dawn behind $dthem. This chest plate, unlike the gold and silver ones $dthey’s worn in days past, is not ceremonial. It weighs heavier on $dtheir shoulders, enough to feel distinct, pressed lightly against $dtheir chest with every breath. Once $dname reaches the bottom of the stairs, the warm light of fire shining into $dtheir eyes becomes suffused with the faint blue glow of the barriers lining the cells. $cdthey passes each of them by, not bothering to look whether they are occupied or not. The corridor takes $dthem through twists and turns, every bit the maze as the Royal Palace and Marabad itself. The one $dthey searches for is at its very center. A single solitary cell guarded by two visible soldiers, two invisible ones. A request $dname made $dthemselves. Out of caution, $dthey reasoned at the time, not wanting to risk a situation like what ended up happening with the Crown’s would-be assassin. As $dname peers into the cell at the figure leaning back against the wall, seated on the floor across from $dthem, $dthey knows that’s not the only reason $dthey made that request. $dname feels foolish for it, but $dthey can’t erase the past five years so easily. Even $dtheir heart is not made of stone, regardless of what Nima deserves. $dname steps closer to the barrier, staring through its light blue hue at someone $dthey once called a student, a <em>friend</em>, and feels nothing but painful, regretful shame. The light of the barrier isn’t bright enough to fully clarify Nima’s face, the torches of the hallway giving a dim illumination to her passive features. Only enough to make out that her eyes are closed. There are many things $dname both wants and doesn’t want to say, words filling $dtheir head. Thinking, considering each one, $dthey pushes them all down into $dtheir chest, where there is a hollow space carved out just for them. Only one leaves $dtheir mouth. “When?” [[Continue|10.d2]] Nima’s eyes slowly slide open, staring at the ceiling with her head angled back against the wall. She breathes, not audibly but visibly, shoulders building up, then crumbling down again. Her voice is hoarse, strained into a croak when she responds. “When what?” She does not look at $dname. “When did you become one of them?” Nima lingers in silence, and $dname’s armor feels heavier by the moment. When finally an answer comes, it is far from satisfactory: “I don’t know.” “Then tell me why.” $dname’s hand presses against the cold stone column of the wall beside the cell, $dtheir pulse throbbing through the limb. “Let me hear it, Nima, from <em>your</em> mouth.” “What do you want me to say, General?” Nima moves her head off the wall, meeting $dname’s eyes for the first time with a glassy, unseeing gaze. “I came from poverty and resented those with their boots on my neck, grinding me into the dirt; I had no family, no friends, isolated from my peers even in the army; I always hated the Empire, hated the Crown, hated myself. Which of these sound like the truth to you?” It’s not good enough. It doesn’t explain it, doesn’t offer $dname anything that $dthey could hold onto, make sense of. It’s the exhausted answer of someone that has wandered down an endless path, so far gone that she can’t find her way back anymore. Can’t even remember why she did it in the first place, leaving $dname equally lost. $cdthey grits $dtheir teeth, fingers digging into stone. “We were making a difference. You saw firsthand—” A sudden movement, an involuntary jerk as Nima leans forward, facing $dname with rage in her voice so visceral that it tears through the very walls: “I saw the guts spill out of my comrades onto my own hands! What difference did that make?” $dname sucks in a sharp breath and snaps $dtheir mouth shut, jaw clenching tight. An ache pounds between $dtheir ears. This is the one truth that $dname can’t deny Nima, because $dname has come to realize it $dthemselves: the army is not and can never be the only solution, and neither can its general. $cdthey is a tool to wield, one of many, but $dthey cannot resolve the cause of all the violence and unrest in the past decade on $dtheir own. For as many people as they have protected, it was always going to be a temporary measure. The Imperial Army in particular has weakened over the years, stretched thin, worn and exhausted. Blood trails behind them, soaking into the soil. Arsur’s earth, defended but barren. How can a sword heal anything? Grow anything? What point is there in guarding ashes? [[Continue|10.d3]]“We protected innocents.” $dname’s voice is cold, without affect, not wanting to betray the thoughts whirling through $dtheir mind. “Each of us sacrificed, willingly and knowingly, to that end.” “That’s all it is to you, isn’t it?” Nima scoffs, eyes narrowing. “Calculus. Enough of us to die so that more can live. But what were you, really? A powerless general, roaming the wilderness in search of purpose, looking for your <em>lost honor</em>. Are you happy now that your master has arrived, grateful for a proper leash around your neck?” There’s no more point to be made. Nima is looking for places to hurt, now. Words that will wound, either $dname’s pride or $dtheir conscience. “Enough, Nima.” “How many more must die for you to be satisfied?” Nima sneers. “Will you come to heel when the Crown tells you to, so long as that gives you redemption? Will you kill whoever $they order<<if $pronouns isnot 'theythem'>>s<</if>> you to, if it will absolve your dear mother?” $dname’s fist strikes the stone, knuckles pounding against the brick, and the sound echoes through the corridor as the walls shake. Dust crumbles softly from the ceiling, settling on the edge of $dname’s shoulder-plate, staining its gray metal. In the aftermath, Nima is quiet once more, and blood drips from the tears in $dname’s skin. $dname speaks in a low murmur, a tightly controlled voice. “I thought you understood. I thought you knew me well enough to see that I act for Arsur, not for myself. My mother's sin was not that she disgraced our family's reputation; her disgrace symbolizes the harm she caused, throwing the Empire into chaos for years after. <em>That</em> is what I've tried... what I'm still trying to make right.” “Twist it however you want," Nima hisses, spitting like she were recoiling physically against the words. "It's all self-serving in the end, General.” She won't listen, but even now, $dname feels compelled to appeal to her one last time. For the sake of the friendship they once shared. ”The only thing I ever asked from you was your trust, Nima.” “No.” Her voice trembles on the word. “You asked me to sacrifice and gain nothing in return.” It is no longer there for her, $dname realizes with a pang of sorrow, piercing deeply through $dtheir heart. Nima can’t hear it anymore. The roaring of its rivers, the echoes of its mountains, the whispers of its marshes, the cries of its abandoned battlefields that mourn the forgotten corpses still buried within it. Not even the songs of the lives that inhabit it. Arsur no longer speaks to her. [[Continue|10.d4]]$dname’s head lowers in a bow, letting the realization settle, as painful as it is. There is nothing more $dthey can do, no words $dthey can speak that will reach Nima anymore. When they discovered the mental wards used on the assassins, $dthey had the faintest hope. Perhaps, $dthey thought, it wasn’t a true betrayal. Perhaps Nima was forced to do it through some strange magic possessing her, someone else’s will that was imposed on her. Some kind of explanation that would save her life. That hope is dashed. This was all her, a will of her own, thought of her own. Intent to <em>kill</em> <<if $drelationship is 'low'>>Crown <</if>>$name, entirely of her own volition. $dname no longer recognizes her. They have both become strangers to each other. $cdthey takes the deepest breath, inhaling $dtheir regret and locking it in $dtheir lungs, before $dtheir hand slips from the cold wall and $dthey pulls away from the barrier. Back into the torchlights of the corridors. “The Crown will judge your actions,” $dthey says to the barrier, “and decide your punishment.” Nima is still for a moment, then slowly reclines against the wall again, like a delicate antique gently tilted back to return to its rightful place among the dust. Her eyes slide shut once more. “So be it.” The words are tired. $dname averts $dtheir gaze and $dthey turns and walks away, back to the entrance. Retracing twists and turns out of the maze, toward clarity, toward the light falling into the dungeons from the top of the stairs. It feels so far away. [[Continue|10.1]] Geography, military strategy and the history of warfare. “Explain Crown Humati’s strategy in splitting the Arsurian fleet during the Battle of Artioch’s Pass,” your military tutor says, based on the assigned reading that you’ve been poring over for the past week. “What did she do correctly, what was her logic based on, what could she have done better? Make sure to include the geography of Thallos in your reasoning.” Literature, poetry and philosophy. “Arsurian ethics dictate a threefold path: good thoughts, good words and good deeds,” your philosophy tutors lectures, preparing you for the books you will have to study later that day. “Those who welcome good thoughts will speak good words and will do good deeds. It is an extension of the principle practiced in priesthood: a priest needs the right intentions, the right words, and the right rituals in order to perform an act of worship effectively. But what does it mean to think, say and do ‘good’?” Foreign politics, languages and diplomacy. “The current Pharaoh of Qathesh, Maatkare Asetemakhbit, moved the capital from Nebru to Ambehdet a short while before your coronation, Your Imperial Majesty,” your diplomacy tutor explains while you try to keep up with the foreign names being rattled off. “She will be expecting Arsurian diplomats to visit the new palaces there. You will have to consider the gifts you offer her, to make a good first impression now that our Empire has a new ruler.” And, of course, magical theory to complement the practice of magic that you do with Perjin nearly every day. “We have seen evidence of spirits having a sense of self-preservation,” one of your magic tutors explains. “They cannot heal a human's wounds on their own, as they are made of magic and would be absorbed in the process, so they refrain from doing so unless guided by a competent magic user. Spirits can only interact with the magic <em>inside</em> elements, not the elements themselves. Take the water spirits that were attached to you as an example: they were attached to your magic, not your body.” By the time the morning ends, your head is filled to the brim with new knowledge, and you are in desperate need to give your mind a rest. Thankfully, your afternoon classes offer some reprieve. [[Continue|10.6]] Your feet beat across the stone path in a steady pace, a notable but not entirely unpleasant burning in your legs, breaths quick but controlled. The exertion of the run feels good, working off the tension of being seated inside listening to lectures and reading all day. Your usual garments have been swapped for a plain, short-sleeved tunic and a pair of lightweight pants, comfortable to run and train in. <<if $adven gt $caut>>“Please slow down, Your Imperial Majesty!” Ziryan calls as you run along the edge of the Royal Gardens. The rain has cleared, the stone paths dried enough to safely run across in your estimation, but your guards seem to disagree. “We would not want you to slip and fall!” <<if $blunt gt $charm>>You roll your eyes, continuing your run without slowing down for them. “How am I supposed to beat my personal record by hobbling along like an elderly person, Ziryan?” “Your personal record isn’t going anywhere, Your Imperial Majesty!” “Says you.”<<else>>You snort, continuing your run at the same pace. “It’s fine, Ziryan! If I slip and fall, just take me to the healers. They’ll snap my leg right back into place.” “Your Imperial Majesty, spirits forbid- do not even speak of such things!” You snicker, feeling a little bad, but not enough to slow down for them.<</if>><<else>>“Please slow down some more, Your Imperial Majesty!” Ziryan calls as you run along the edge of the Royal Gardens. The rain has cleared, the stone paths dried enough to safely run across in your estimation, but your guards seem to disagree. “We would not want you to slip and fall!” <<if $blunt gt $charm>>You sigh, rolling your eyes as you continue your run, but slow down a little. “I already slowed down earlier, Ziryan, how slowly do you want me to run? I might as well take a walk at this rate!” Coming from you, as cautious as you already are, that says a lot—this is too much, even for you. “It is for your own safety, Your Imperial Majesty!” “What are you, my parent?” you mutter beneath your breath.<<else>>You snort, amused to have found someone who’s even more cautious than you are. “It’s fine, Ziryan! If I slip and fall, just take me to the healers. They’ll snap my leg right back into place.” “Your Imperial Majesty, spirits forbid- do not even speak of such things!” You snicker, though you still slow down your pace a little more.<</if>><</if>> After the past few weeks you’ve had some time to become more acquainted with your guards, seeing as they follow you everywhere constantly, but you undeniably have a few favorites among them. Ezo pulls up beside you, easily keeping pace as she shoots you a smirk, glancing over her shoulder at Ziryan. “Don’t complain so much, kid. You should be embarrassed that the Crown is out-pacing you!” Ziryan sputters in a mix of indignation and embarrassment. “$cthey <<if $pronouns is 'theythem'>>are<<else>>is<</if>> not- I am simply- I am slowed down on purpose!” You turn around the corner, and take some amusement in nearly barreling over a group of nobility in your path. They have to jump aside to avoid you, exclaiming with indignation and shock. “How dare—!” “Wait a moment, was that the <em>Crown</em>?” Ezo laughs as you leave them behind, running along the long flower beds that gradually transition from red into gold. Even as you rush by them, they seem to glow like small lanterns in the dim light of the still clouded sky, brightening the gardens. “Careful, Your Imperial Majesty,” Ezo teases you. “The nobles might file a complaint with the Imperial Court if you keep doing that every time you go on a run.” <<if $calc gt $kind>>You scoff. “These are my gardens, they should be thanking me for letting them step foot into them at all.”<<else>>“I’m not doing it on purpose,” you say, though it is half-hearted at best. “It’s just… simpler to keep running than to change direction.”<</if>> <<if $prisoner is 'palace'>>Glancing down at Ezo’s once-injured arm, <<if $cs lte 3>>you’re still amazed at how quickly it healed. She was in great pain when you went to visit her in the first days after the prisoner’s escape attempt, a fact you still feel guilty for, but apparently that was all part of the healing process. Mending a broken arm can be done quickly, but will also be painful; Ezo opted for the quick option rather than have her arm out of commission for the next several weeks.<</if>><<if $cs gt 3>>remembering the ordeal she went through together with Kaja to protect Scholar Yekbûn. She was almost offended when you went to visit her directly after, insisting she was fine and that you had better things to do, but you could tell she appreciated it all the same.<</if>> <<if $cs gt 0>>“Must I reassure you of my health once more, Your Imperial Majesty?” she says with exasperation when she sees you staring, though it is softened by an amused smile. “Let me prove it to you. A race?”<</if>><<if $cs lte 0>>“If you are feeling so energetic today, Your Imperial Majesty, how about a race?” Ezo suggests, bringing your gaze back up to her face. “Against one of the guards, perhaps?” You notice she doesn’t suggest herself, which almost makes you wince. While Ezo’s arm was mended, she also took damage to her head that can’t be healed so easily. In the first week, she wasn’t able to join you on runs like this without feeling nausea, dizziness, and suffering from intense headaches. Even now, as much as the royal physicians have helped her, they have forbidden her from sparring or doing anything more intense than a light run. Trying to distract yourself from the guilt you feel, you cast a glance at the other guards behind you—a few of them visible, like Ziryan, but most are cloaked as ever. “That sounds fun, if any of you are up for it?” “I’ll do it!” Ziryan insists, pulling up to run beside you, most of their features obscured by their helmet. Singing a very different tune now that Ezo slighted their pride earlier.<</if>><<else>>“Well, if you are in the mood for excitement,” Ezo says, a mischievous curl to her smile, “how about a race?” You narrow your eyes at her, trying to assess your chances of beating her. You can certainly go faster than your current pace, still being able to talk as you run without getting too winded. “You want to race me?” Ezo shrugs. “Consider it a test of your current fitness! Let’s say, to the end of the walls over there?”<</if>> You look ahead of you: it’s a straight path to the end of the eastern wing of the palace. No nobles or servants in the way, either. “Alright.” <<if $prisoner is 'palace' and $cs lte 0>>You look over at Ezo.<<else>>You look over your shoulder to the visible Imperial Guards.<</if>> “Give the signal.” <<if $prisoner is 'palace' and $cs lte 0>>Ezo begins the countdown.<<else>>Ziryan begins the countdown.<</if>> “Three, two, one… begin!” The two of you are off, leaving the other Imperial Guards behind as you sprint across the path. <<if $prisoner is 'palace' and $cs lte 0>>Ziryan<<else>>Ezo<</if>> keeps pace with you, gaze focused ahead, starting to leave you behind. <ul class="a"> <li><<if $magicpref is 'inner'>>[[Use your magic to run faster.|10.7a]]<<else>><<if $prisoner is 'palace' and $cs lte 0>>[[Use your magic to trip Ziryan up|10.7a]]<<else>>[[You use your magic to trip Ezo up.|10.7a]]<</if>> <</if>></li> <li>[[Rely on your muscles.|10.7b]]</li> </ul> If there’s one benefit to your morning classes, it’s that they give you time to recuperate from your practical magic training. That way, when it’s time for physical training in the afternoon, you feel recharged enough to use your magic again. <<if $magicpref is 'inner'>>As you realize you’re starting to fall behind <<if $prisoner is 'palace' and $cs lte 0>>Ziryan<<else>>Ezo<</if>>, you channel your magic to your legs as you run. This isn’t a technique you were taught, but something more instinctual. In times of physical stress, your body reacts more quickly; it knows what it needs to survive. Or, in this case, what it needs to try and win a sprint. It feels like molten heat is glowing inside your chest, spreading down from your core to your thighs, calves and feet. The rest of your body maintains a proper form as you sprint faster—it’s a gradual but steady increase, allowing you to gain more and more speed until you’re easily sailing past <<if $prisoner is 'palace' and $cs lte 0>>Ziryan<<else>>Ezo<</if>>. You hear <<if $prisoner is 'palace' and $cs lte 0>>them<<else>>her<</if>> shout after you as you run: <<if $prisoner is 'palace' and $cs lte 0>>“That’s cheating!” <<else>>“Oh, well played!”<</if>> Ignoring <<if $prisoner is 'palace' and $cs lte 0>>them<<else>>her<</if>>, you raise your arms in victory as you pass the point where the palace’s walls end several seconds before <<if $prisoner is 'palace' and $cs lte 0>>Ziryan<<else>>Ezo<</if>>. And then your legs give out. “Your Imperial Majesty!” You already expected it, dropping into a controlled fall onto the grass to avoid scuffing your knees. It’s the result of straining your magic beyond your limits. For inner magic users, when they exhaust themselves to much, they tend to feel it in their body whereas outer magic users tend to feel it in their mind. A muscle ache compared to a headache.<<else>>As you realize that you’re starting to fall behind, you turn your attention outward, to the currents of magic in the air. In a way, it is a good form of practice for outer magic; doing an activity while also performing magic is not unlike trying to balance multiple threads of magic at once. You have to instantly switch back and forth between your running form and your magic to ensure you don’t lose grip on one or the other, balancing both. With the nature of your magic being based in light, you can’t do what Tûjo did and use tree roots to trip <<if $prisoner is 'palace' and $cs lte 0>>Ziryan<<else>>Ezo<</if>> up and gain an edge. Perhaps if you had more practice with elemental magic, it would have been possible, but all you have at your disposal now is your own affinity. So you have to get creative. You seek out the magic currents surrounding <<if $prisoner is 'palace' and $cs lte 0>>Ziryan<<else>>Ezo<</if>>, grasping them in a matter of seconds, and channel your own magic to them with force. The air errupts. Flashes of light appear around <<if $prisoner is 'palace' and $cs lte 0>>Ziryan<<else>>Ezo<</if>>’s head. <<if $prisoner is 'palace' and $cs lte 0>>They lose <<else>>She loses<</if>> speed, startled by the lights and squinting, unable to see the path ahead. It allows you to overtake. You hear <<if $prisoner is 'palace' and $cs lte 0>>them<<else>>her<</if>> shout after you as you run: <<if $prisoner is 'palace' and $cs lte 0>>“That’s cheating!” <<else>>“Oh, well played!”<</if>> Ignoring <<if $prisoner is 'palace' and $cs lte 0>>them<<else>>her<</if>>, you raise your arms in victory as you pass the point where the palace’s walls end several seconds before <<if $prisoner is 'palace' and $cs lte 0>>Ziryan<<else>>Ezo<</if>>. And then your vision spins. “Your Imperial Majesty!” You already expected it, dropping into a controlled fall onto the grass to avoid scuffing your knees and closing your eyes, focusing on catching your breath. It’s the result of splitting your attention like this and straining your magic beyond your limits. For an outer magic user, when they exhaust themselves too much, they tend to feel it in their mind whereas an inner magic user tends to feel it in their body. A headache compared to a muscle ache.<</if>> The Imperial Guards rush to your side, but you placate them as you catch your breath, wiping the sweat from your brow. “It’s fine, I’m alright.” You’ve exhausted your magic for the day, you feel. Your body is also not yet accustomed to such an intense use of magic, unable to maintain it beyond short bursts—but still enough to win in a race from a trained Imperial Guard, even though <<if $prisoner is 'palace' and $cs lte 0>>they were<<else>>she was<</if>> clearly holding back. That fact makes you smile. “Have you had your fill of fun, Majesty?” You crane your head to look behind you at the sound of $aname’s voice, spotting $athem heading over from another garden path. $cathey approaches with an amused look on $atheir face as $athey takes in the situation. [[Continue|10.8]] Though you know that your magic would give you an advantage in this contest, you decide not to use it. What is the point of measuring your body’s capabilities if you’re going to equalize it with magic in the end? Besides, in order to improve your body, you have to let it feel the strain of your physical training. That, in time, will help you perform greater feats of magic as well. Admittedly, it’s not like a single race will make or break your training, but on this occasion you decide to forgo the potential victory to get an accurate measure instead. So even as <<if $prisoner is 'palace' and $cs lte 0>>Ziryan<<else>>Ezo<</if>> starts pulling away from you, you focus on maintaining your running form instead. It’s different from the way you’re used to holding your body as you run for distance and endurance, calling for greater force—unfortunately, it’s also not a movement you’re accustomed to yet. For a few seconds, as you push yourself to your absolute limit, you almost catch up with <<if $prisoner is 'palace' and $cs lte 0>>Ziryan<<else>>Ezo<</if>>. <<if $prisoner is 'palace' and $cs lte 0>>They glance<<else>>She glances<</if>> over <<if $prisoner is 'palace' and $cs lte 0>>their<<else>>her<</if>> shoulder at you with surprise when noticing your approach, but then quickly refocuses on <<if $prisoner is 'palace' and $cs lte 0>>their<<else>>her<</if>> own sprint. If you had any assumptions that <<if $prisoner is 'palace' and $cs lte 0>>they were<<else>>she was<</if>> taking it easy on you before, those are confirmed now when <<if $prisoner is 'palace' and $cs lte 0>>Ziryan<<else>>Ezo<</if>> pulls away from you with a sudden burst of speed and crosses your self-appointed finish line with ease. <<if $prisoner is 'palace' and $cs lte 0>>“Yes!” Ziryan exclaims victoriously, slowing to a jog, before remembering decorum and turning back around to you just as you finish. “I mean- an admirable effort, Your Imperial Majesty!”<<else>>She raises her arms in victory with a shout, slowing to a jog and turning around to face you with a grin as you finish. “Well done, Your Imperial Majesty! You gave me a good challenge.”<</if>> You slow to a walk, gasping for air and wiping the sweat off your brow; your chest burns, your legs even more so, feeling wobbly and unsteady at the same time. Giving in to the weakness, you sit down on the grass to give your body a break as you recover. Beating a trained Imperial Guard at a race was always going to be a long shot. Frankly, you should be pleased that you forced one to put in any serious effort at all; sprints are not your specialty. <<if $kind gt $calc>>Managing to smile about your defeat, you breathe, “Enjoy… your victory… as temporary as it is.”<<else>>Still, that doesn’t mean you have to like being defeated, though you manage to smile about it. “Next time… I’ll beat you, but until then… enjoy your victory while it lasts.”<</if>> “Have you had your fill of fun, Majesty?” You crane your head to look behind you at the sound of $aname’s voice, spotting $athem heading over from another garden path. $cathey approaches with an amused look on $atheir face as $athey takes in the situation. [[Continue|10.8]]“$aname,” you greet, <<if $loveinterest is 'A'>>taking $atheir offered hand to help you back up to your feet<</if>><<if $loveinterest isnot 'A' and $afriendship gt 0>>taking $atheir outstretched arm to help you back up to your feet<</if>><<if $loveinterest isnot 'A' and $afriendship lte 0>>taking Ezo’s outstretched arm when she offers it to help you back up to your feet<</if>>. “Is it time for my weapon training?” <<if $afriend is false and $arelationship is 'low' and $alowcount is 2>> Things were a bit tense between the two of you after the coronation, mainly due to the disagreement you had about whose protection $aname should prioritize. You were a bit worried that disagreement would extend into other areas, but so far, it hasn’t. $aname seems to have become more comfortable with you again after seeing the effort you’ve been putting into your classes, gradually acting friendlier towards you again. As long as that disagreement doesn’t repeat, you think you’re back to becoming friends again.<</if>><<if $afriend is false and $arelationship is 'high'>><<if $ahighcount is 2>>Even over this short period<<else>>Even though things were a little strained between the two of you after the assassin's escape attempt, since then<</if>> you have gradually grown closer to $aname. Being your Royal Protector, $athey’s the person you spend the most time with, even if it is by being in the same room together without any conversation. $catheir presence has become a familiar comfort, an anchor to keep you steady whenever you feel alone.<</if>><<if $afriend is false and $arelationship is 'low' and $alowcount is 1>>Even over this short period you have gradually grown closer to $aname. Being your Royal Protector, $athey’s the person you spend the most time with, even if it is by being in the same room together without any conversation. $catheir presence has become a familiar comfort, an anchor to keep you steady whenever you feel alone.<</if>> “It is.” $aname gives you an assessing glance from head to toe. “While I admire your competitive spirit, I hope you haven’t already exhausted yourself?” You wave a dismissive hand, eager to move on to the last bit of training for the day. “I’ll be fine after a short break.” “Good.” $aname looks over to a couple of servants who are peering curiously out the nearby windows, no doubt to see what the commotion was all about. “You two, fetch the Crown some water and meet us in the training yard!” The servants bow and quickly hurry off, $aname turning to Ezo, Ziryan, and the rest of the Imperial Guards. “Your shifts are almost at an end. Rotate with the others while I take care of the Crown’s training.” You wave a goodbye to the guards, but as you do so, can’t stop yourself from asking $aname, “Will I actually get to spar with someone this time?” <<if $loveinterest isnot 'A' and $afriendship gt 0 or $loveinterest is 'A'>>“I see you have an appetite for eating dirt today,” $aname taunts you, in a way that you’ve learned is meant to be a friendly tease. $aname has a mischievous streak a mile wide, and bantering with people is one of the ways you’ve come to understand $athey acts with those $athey likes. It’s nice to know that $aname has begun to like you enough to do so with you as well. <<if $afriend is false>>You hope you can grow even closer to $athem from now on.<<else>>You feel as if you’re becoming fast friends—as fast as $aname is willing to go, in any case.<</if>> Naturally, you repay $athem in kind as $athey guides you around the corner of the palace towards some doors leading back inside. <<if $loveinterest isnot 'A'>>“Are you threatening the Crown? That’s treason, $aname.” “Oh, <em>now</em> you’re comfortable using your title?” $aname retorts, a laugh in $atheir words as you navigate the palace’s pristine hallways together. “I’ve made no threats, Majesty, I’m merely foretelling your future should you get overeager. Stairs are climbed step by step.” Your answering grin is equally playful. “We’ll see about that.”<<else>>“You wouldn’t let that happen to me, would you?” $aname glances at you with arched brows, the rest of $atheir expression veiled with neutrality as $athey faces forward again. “I hope you’re not expecting special treatment in your training merely because you’re the Crown.” <<if $ass gt $pass>><<if $flirt gt $res>>“Not because I’m the Crown,” you agree, a mischievous smile touching your lips, “but because you like me.” The way $aname’s eyes snap back to you again, you know you’ve caught $athem off-guard. You hold $atheir gaze with your own, leveling $athem with a challenging look. Friendly banter is one thing; is $athey willing to go further than that? Something about $athem makes you want to be bold, enticing you to push the boundaries between the two of you. You haven’t had the time to truly examine your feelings towards $aname yet, but in the moment, you’re sure of one thing: you want $aname to like you. $aname averts $atheir eyes, and you think you have your answer until $athey says, “You sound rather sure of that.” “Am I wrong?” “I prefer to reserve judgment, Majesty,” $aname replies, $atheir demeanor seeming outwardly passive, but $atheir voice is lowered in a way only meant for your ears. “You’ll have to try harder than that to get me to admit it.” You can’t stop smiling. “I will.”<<else>>“Of course not,” you reply immediately, reverting back to a more serious demeanor. “You should treat me the same as you would any other soldier you were training.” Banter aside, you don’t want to be spoiled because of your title. Thinking of $aname in particular treating you differently merely because you’re the Crown makes you want to wince. $aname’s eyes flit back to you again, this time lingering as something in the corners of $atheir mouth softens its tension, giving way to a small smile. “Well, I wouldn’t go that far.” “Oh?” Maybe you’re imagining it, the way $athey’s looking at you, but your heart beats faster for a reason you can’t name. $catheir voice lowers in a way only meant for your ears. “I might like you more than that.” Once you start smiling, you can’t stop. “That’s… good to know.”<</if>><<else>><<if $flirt gt $res>>“Not because I’m the Crown,” you agree, but then hesitate a moment, not sure if you should take it a step further. “But…” $aname’s eyes flirt back to you again, this time lingering with expectation. “But?” It’s only banter, you decide. It doesn’t have to mean anything more than that, though you realize very well that you’re not usually so forward. There’s just something about $aname that keeps drawing you in. You haven’t had the time to truly examine your feelings towards $athem yet, but in the moment, you’re sure of one thing: you want $athem to like you. “But because you like me,” you finally finish, trying to keep your tone light even as your heart pounds in your chest. “Right?” $aname averts $atheir eyes, humming noncommittally. “Is that a no?” “I prefer to reserve judgment, Majesty,” $aname replies, $atheir demeanor seeming outwardly passive, but $atheir voice then lowers in a way only meant for your ears. “You’ll have to try harder than that to get me to admit it.” Once you start smiling, you can’t stop. “I will.”<<else>>“Of course not,” you reply, reverting back to a more serious demeanor. “You should… treat me the same as you would any other soldier you were training.” The slight pause in your words is one you regret immediately, nervous it might betray your true thoughts. You <em>don’t</em> want to be treated the same as everyone else, and not because you’re the Crown. You want $aname to like you as more than that. What that means, exactly, is something you haven’t had the time to examine yet, but you’re sure of what you feel in the moment at least. $aname’s eyes flit back to you again, this time lingering as something in the corners of $atheir mouth softens its tension, giving way to a small smile. “Well, I wouldn’t go that far.” “No?” Maybe you’re imagining it, the way $athey’s looking at you, but your heart beats faster all the same. $catheir voice lowers in a way only meant for your ears. “I might like you more than that.” Once you start smiling, you can’t stop. “That’s… good to know.”<</if>><</if>><</if>><</if>><<if $loveinterest isnot 'A' and $afriendship lte 0>>“We'll see,” $aname replies vaguely, clearly not wanting to make promises $athey can't keep. The conversation between you falls silent as $athey guides you around the corner of the palace towards some doors leading back inside. You consider whether to try for small talk as you walk, but decide against it. $aname doesn't seem the sort to enjoy it, and the two of you aren't close enough to risk annoying $athem with meaningless chatter. At this point, you're acquaintances at most.<</if>> Thanks to the ever-shifting corridors of the palace, you quickly arrive on the other side of the complex, cutting off further conversation as you step outside again into the training yard for the palace guards. The servants $aname ordered to fetch you water arrive at the same time, offering you a tall, refreshing cup that you gulp down in a matter of seconds. You use some of the water from the pitcher to wipe the sweat off the back of your neck. As you look around, you see several dozens of groups already training, spread out across the dirt terrain. Archers refine their aim at the shooting range, while spear and sword wielders are practicing drills in separate groups. A few of them spar in duos, while others warm up along the edges of the yard. Instructors oversee each group, whether they are correcting posture, grip, motion, or judging the ones mock-fighting. “There’s quite a lot of people training today,” you remark, standing beside $aname as you look over the palace guards. “You can thank the new stream of recruits for that.” $aname’s gaze is critical, brows furrowed as $athey observes together with you. “Since your coronation, the Royal Palace has become a much more attractive prospect for work, but they all need training first.” $cathey turns back to look at you. “Ready for yours?” You nod. When you first started training, $aname gave you a choice of which basic weapon to start with. In close quarters, you’re also being taught self-defense with a dagger, but if it comes to a fight, ideally you would know how to wield another weapon to start with. After thinking about it, you chose… <ul class="a"> <li>[[The sword.|10.9][$weapon to 'sword']]</li> <li>[[The spear.|10.9][$weapon to 'spear']]</li> <li>[[The bow and arrow.|10.9][$weapon to 'bow']]</li> </ul><<if $weapon is 'bow'>>You decided that to start with a bow would be easiest to learn, since it wouldn’t be your first time using one. When you were younger, you would accompany your mother when she would go out to hunt. She taught you the basics of proper posture, so you already have knowledge in how to shoot. Besides which, being able to take your enemies out from long range will always be preferable to letting them get close. There might be times where long range won’t be possible, such as if you are ambushed or attacked from up close, but in that case you will have your dagger as a secondary weapon. The composite recurve bow you use is the same as used by Arsur’s soldiers, who rely on powerful volleys of many light arrows to distract and weaken enemy formations in war, rather than deal accurate damage. Archers, the way $aname spoke of it, seem to be one of the most vital soldiers to the Imperial Army for that reason, often serving as a first line of attack. For your situation, though, accuracy takes precedence against the tactics of assassins. “Let’s start,” you tell $aname, and together you head for the section of the training yard where various palace guards are firing arrows on the shooting range.<</if>><<if $weapon is 'spear'>>You decided that to start with a spear would be the best choice. Spears are the primary weapon of most soldiers in the Imperial Army, both on foot as well as horseback, and preferred as a front-line weapon. Easy to produce, easy to leverage with greater force, and with a clear advantage to armored enemies compared to a sword. Being able to injure enemies without letting them get too close is also appealing to you. Besides which, the training is also relatively simple compared to other weapons. Learning to thrust effectively has been a matter of maintaining posture, endurance and repetition. Your biggest challenge is getting used to the weight of such a long weapon and improving your reflexes with it. It’s undeniable that it <em>is</em> a rather unwieldy thing to carry around, and if an enemy were to get within close range you would be at a disadvantage. But that’s what your mandatory dagger training is for, to ensure you still have a secondary weapon to rely on when your spear is rendered ineffective. “Let’s start,” you tell $aname, and together you head for the section of the training yard where various palace guards are training with their own spears.<</if>><<if $weapon is 'sword'>>You decided that to start with a sword would be the most logical choice. Since your training centers on being able to defend yourself rather than to become an accomplished warrior, $aname recommended you to learn to wield a basic double-edged straight sword first. The curved swords you’ve seen used before, like $xname’s shamshir, are primarily meant for slashing and cutting—ideally on horseback—which requires different movements. Ones that might not always be feasible, especially if your opponent is heavily armored. Having the option to stab an opponent with force in that case, aiming for weak points, was something you and $aname both judged would be more useful to you. Swords are also easier and less conspicuous to carry with you, compared to something large like a spear or a bow and a whole quiver of arrows. “Let’s start,” you tell $aname, and together you head for the section of the training yard where various palace guards are training with their own swords.<</if>> <<if $weapon is 'sword' or $weapon is 'spear'>>A group of them are still being instructed on proper posture, you notice, while others have moved onto drills of repeated movements, or multiple movements in sequence. You notice two separate groups where sparring is happening. In the first group guards spar against each other, while in the second group guards spars against phantom soldiers. The first time you entered the training yard and saw the ghostly blue apparitions, you almost thought you were looking at the spirits of the dead. As $aname explained, however—with no small amount of amusement at your expense—they are nothing more than illusions, cast by the instructor. Having a moving opponent instead of a motionless straw dummy helps with being able to practice a range of various scenarios, and without risk of injuring or being injured by your sparring partner. The instructors don’t have endless reserves of magic, however, so not everyone can practice with these phantoms at the same time. “When do I get to practice against a phantom?” you ask as $aname picks up a $weapon from the nearby rack and hands it to you. Its weight is gradually starting to become familiar, a sign of progress. It’s hard-won, considering the callouses building on your palms. “Not until you learn how to hold your stance properly,” $aname replies, plainly ignoring the stares of the guards aimed in your direction. You sigh, <<if $weapon is 'sword'>>gripping your straight sword with one hand<<else>>gripping your spear with both hands<</if>> as you prepare to practice your drills. “I’m working on it.” Starting with the first drill you learned, you enter into a proper stance and <<if $weapon is 'sword'>>lift your sword, practicing a basic slashing motion as you step forward,<<else>>lift your spear, practicing a basic thrusting motion,<</if>> then begin to repeat it. $aname remains silent as $athey observes, which you take as a good sign that you’ve made no mistakes so far. You’re starting to get into the rhythm when you suddenly feel a foot shove against the side of your hip, and you go stumbling sideways. “Damn—!” Recovering your balance, you turn to glare at $aname. “What did you do wrong?” $aname asks, unfazed. <<if $blunt gt $charm>>You close your eyes and rub your forehead in frustration, knowing $athey’s right. “My feet were too close together.” “Told you.” “Shut up.”<<else>>“Other than minding my business and practicing my drills, you mean?” you retort, and $aname gives you an exasperated look until you finally admit your fault. “My feet were too close together—do <em>not</em> say I told you so.” $aname, whose lips were already parted to say exactly that, closes $atheir mouth again with a small smile.<</if>><</if>><<if $weapon is 'bow'>>A group of them are still being instructed on proper posture, you notice, but the majority is at the shooting range. You notice two separate groups, practicing in different ways. In the first group, guards shoot arrows at stationary straw dummies, while in the second group, guards shoot at phantom soldiers. The first time you entered the training yard and saw the ghostly blue apparitions, you almost thought you were looking at the spirits of the dead. As $aname explained, however—with no small amount of amusement at your expense—they are nothing more than illusions, cast by the instructors. Having an opponent that moves realistically instead of a motionless straw dummy helps with being able to practice aiming more realistically. The instructors don’t have endless reserves of magic, however, so not everyone can practice with these phantoms at the same time. “When do I get to practice against multiple phantoms?” you ask as $aname picks up a bow from the nearby rack and hands it to you. Its weight is gradually starting to become familiar, a sign of progress. It’s hard-won, considering the callouses building on your palms. “Once you learn how to take one out consistently, without messing up your grip,” $aname replies, plainly ignoring the stares of the guards aimed in your direction while you take an empty quiver and fill it with arrows from one of the buckets spread around. As you get your quiver sorted, $aname motions one of the instructors to approach. “Help cast a phantom for $ctheir Imperial Majesty’s training.” The instructor bows, aiming the gemstone they use for the spell toward the shooting range in front of you. In a flash of blue, a phantom appears in the distance. You take an arrow from your quiver and line it up, remembering not to let your bow arm’s elbow point downwards and to relax your shoulder. The phantom on the shooting range is already running towards you with a spear in hand. When you shoot your first arrow, letting it fly from your fingers, its aim is flawless—but the phantom dodges. You can’t let that distract you, used to it by now; you quickly draw and aim a second arrow, letting it fly in quick succession. It strikes true, the phantom disappearing in a cloud of blue smoke. “Shorten the distance,” $aname tells the instructor. With each consecutive hit, the phantom spawns a little closer, giving you less time to take it out. Sure enough, on your fourth run, the tension gets to you and your arrows miss twice in a row. The phantom closes the gap, holding its spear to your throat. “What did you do wrong?” $aname asks as you lower your bow to take a breath and the phantom disappears. <<if $blunt gt $charm>>You close your eyes and rub your forehead in frustration. “I tensed up, which messed with my grip.” “Told you.” “Shut up.”<<else>>“Other than being fake-killed, you mean?” you retort, and $aname gives you an exasperated look until you finally admit your fault. “I tensed up, which messed with my grip—do <em>not</em> say I told you so.” $aname, whose lips were already parted to say exactly that, closes $atheir mouth again with a small smile.<</if>><</if>> [[Continue|10.10]] Your <<if $weapon is 'bow'>>archery<<else>>$weapon<</if>> training continues for a short hour, until you feel it in your arms and shoulders. The sun has already passed its highest arc in the air by the time $aname tells you to wrap up. “You’re improving quicker than I expected,” $aname comments, and you take pride in it. $cathey’s not one for empty praise. “Let’s move on to your dagger training.” Moving to a different area in the training yard, where soldiers train with short swords and daggers, you begin the last leg of your physical training. <<if $weapon is 'bow' or $weapon is 'spear'>>It’s a rather stark contrast compared to the movements required from <<if $weapon is 'bow'>>archery<<else>>a spear<</if>>, but its lighter weight makes it easier to handle. The stabbing motions and quick slices are gradually becoming easier to maintain over longer periods.<<else>>While quicker and lighter than a sword, the movements required in wielding a dagger aren’t completely dissimilar. The stabbing motions and quick slices are familiar to you by now.<</if>> Your mother also taught you the fundamentals, in case you ever needed it, though you were trained with a knife back then which was smaller in size compared to a dagger. It also helps that your dagger training doesn’t last as long. For the purposes of self-defense, it doesn’t require many complex techniques. Near the end of your lessons for the day, the fatigue has also built up both mentally and physically. There’s only so many times you can stab the air before the fun wears off. “You’ve improved your form,” $aname observes once you pause to take a breather, eyes assessing your posture thoughtfully. “I think it might be time for a spar after all.” You pull your foot back to stand straight again, giving $athem a look of surprise. “Against you?” $aname grins at you. “I’m afraid it’s far too early for that.” $cathey looks around to a few of the nearby palace guards with short swords. They’ve stopped by now, and you realize they’ve been watching you for a while. “You there, in blue,” $aname points out, the furthest guard from the left. “Come here.” The guard remains still for a moment, their head shifting in your direction, and even from a distance you can see the whites of their eyes as they grow larger. Their approach is reluctant at best, sword uncertain in their hand. “Your Imperial Majesty.” They bow towards you, then turn to $aname. “Royal Protector.” $aname crosses $atheir arms. “Introduce yourself.” “Trainee Evdal, I go by he, and I belong to the House of Balyan.” The guard starts to sputter when $aname gives no visible reaction. “I am Lord Farrukh Balyan's youngest son. Perhaps you have heard—” That first name rings a bell, and not a pleasant one. The same Lord Farrukh who insulted both $aname and $atheir mother all those weeks ago, condescending to $athem about being a “mere fisher's child from Avdin”? $aname cuts him off, and you nearly wince at the steely tone. “I know of him.” “Yes, of course.” Evdal quickly bows his head. “How may I be of service?” [[Continue|10.11]] He looks young, you note. Quite young, visibly years younger than you, and his nervous affect only emphasizes as much. You remember $aname mentioning to you before that palace guards, very different from Arsur’s standing armies or the Imperial Guards, tend to be the children of high-ranking nobility, often the youngest ones from among their siblings. Guarding the palace is a task with enough prestige and enough safety to be appealing to them. In essence, palace guards have little to no actual combat experience, a fact that seemed to annoy $aname when $athey spoke of it. The exact words $athey used to describe them was “overpaid decorations”. This might be as much a lesson to you as it is a point to prove—as well as personal amusement—for $athem. “How long have you been training with a short sword?” $aname asks, gesturing to his weapon. “Only a few weeks, Royal Protector.” The trainee glances at you again, reluctance growing into anxiety on his face. “Since the palace needed more guards, after $ctheir Imperial Majesty’s coronation.” “Good.” $aname takes a longer straight sword from one of the weapon racks, one made of wood, and throws it to the bemused trainee. “Your skill levels should be comparable, then.” “He gets a sword while I only have a dagger?” you question, glancing at his wooden straight sword as you exchange your own dagger for a wooden copy as well. “In life, you won’t always face your enemy on equal footing,” $aname replies bluntly. “If someone <<if $weapon is 'bow'>>comes into range and <</if>>disarms you of your $weapon, with your magic exhausted, what will you do then? Complain that it’s not a fair match?” You frown, remembering all the times you were barehanded with an assassin aiming for your neck. “Point taken.” $cathey moves on. “Does your opponent suit you, Your Imperial Majesty?” <<if $blunt gt $charm>>“Aside from the fact that the boy looks like he’s about to shit himself, you mean?” you reply dryly. “Yes, suits me fine.” $aname snorts, smothering it before it can turn into a laugh. “Don’t worry, it’s only nerves. Isn’t that right, trainee?” “Yes!” Evdal says hastily, though his ears are turning red. “As the best recruit in my class, I will most certainly perform well so as to not cause you shame, Your Imperial Majesty, and I’m most certainly not shitting- I mean- defecating—”<<else>>You turn a skeptical eye on the boy. “How old are you?” “Eighteen, Your Imperial Majesty.” That’s about the last thing you wanted to hear. “Sky above, he’s a child.” You sigh, rubbing fingers across your forehead. “I’m going to spar with a <em>child</em>. This is embarrassing.” “You’d better not lose, then,” $aname remarks wryly, seeming remorseless, and you shoot $athem a glare. “I may be young, Your Imperial Majesty, but I assure you I’m the best of my class!” Evdal insists, and you arch your brows at him. “Didn’t you say you’ve only been training a few weeks?” “Ah…” The boy looks away, ears turning red. “Yes, but a month is not an inconsiderable amount of time, if one considers—”<</if>> “Trainee.” $aname looks amused, though $atheir voice is stern. “That’s enough.” The boy’s shoulder slump. “Yes, Royal Protector.” He stands across from you, shifting into stance, sword at the ready. From the corners of your eyes, you can see multiple guards halt their training, gathering around to watch. $aname meets your eyes. “Don’t hold back.” You’re beginning to suspect this is less of a test for you and more of a lesson for the palace guards. <ul class="a"> <li>[[Go easy on him, he’s just a kid.|10.12a]]</li> <li>[[Take him out, no mercy.|10.12b]]</li> </ul><<if visited('10.12a') is 1>><<if $afriend is true>><<set $afriendship -= 1>><<else>><<set $apoints -= 2>><</if>><</if>>While $aname did tell you not to hold back, you're not so sure that is the right move in this situation. Your opponent is only a boy, what sense is there in humiliating him? Surely there are better ways to teach the palace guards a lesson, if that's what $aname is intending on. Besides, he can't possibly be that bad. Once the match starts, you realize how wrong you are. Evdal begins with circling you, twitchy fingers and flighty gaze betraying his nerves. He looks like he's staring down a lion, only barely resisting the urge to run away. <<if $adven gt $caut>>Your fingers burn with the urge to put an end to this dance and attack, but you hold off; better to see what the kid is made of first. “What’s wrong, trainee?” you taunt instead, hoping to goad him into making the first move. “Scared already?” It works. Evdal grits his teeth and bursts forward, launching into an attack with a battle cry.<<else>>Despite Evdal’s nervous looks and the twitching of his fingers, you hold off on attacking; better to see what the kid is made of first. Seeming unable to take the weight of your stare anymore, Evdal bursts forward, launching into an attack with a battle cry.<</if>> It’s poorly conceived, but even more poorly executed. He telegraphs his movements with the grace of an ox. The both of you have been training for about the same amount of time, so you expected that he would be able to match you, but the boy clearly hasn't ever been in a real fight before. And he is supposed to be the best of his class? You sidestep his sword swing easily, his back left exposed to you, but you don't go in for the kill. Instead, you back away again, allowing Evdal to regain his composure. The little of it that he possesses, that is, because as soon as he straightens and turns to face you again it's the exact same routine. He makes a brash attack, you sidestep and dodge, then back away. As this goes on, $aname's frown deepens while $athey watches from the sidelines. The more you dodge Evdal's attacks and allow him to recover, the more you sense that Evdal's humiliation is growing. His sword arm becomes shaky, and you notice he keeps glancing towards the growing crowd of spectators. Perhaps $aname's suggestion to take him out quickly was truthfully the merciful choice. Finally taking pity on him, the next time you sidestep an attack, you kick him in the back and send him sprawling onto the dirt. “I yield!” Evdal squeaks, dropping his sword before you can even move to pin him down. You look over at $aname, who appears entirely unimpressed with the whole ordeal. “Forgive me, Your Imperial Majesty, but could I request you go again?” $athey says, then narrows $atheir eyes at you slightly. “While facing him seriously, this time. It's not polite to toy with one's food.” “Right.” You shoot Evdal an apologetic look. “Sure, let's do that.” [[Continue|10.13]]<<if visited('10.12b') is 1>><<if $afriend is true>><<set $afriendship += 1>><<else>><<set $apoints += 2>><</if>><</if>>With $aname telling you not to hold back, you have all the motivation you need. You don’t know what $aname’s reasons are for it, but they don’t matter; you agree with $athem regardless. Are you really supposed to entrust your safety, as well as the safety of everyone else in the palace, to some boy still wet behind the ears? The sooner he and the other trainees grow a spine, the better for everyone involved. You observe as Evdal shifts to the left, causing you to move to the right, the two of you circling each other. <<if $adven gt $caut>>Your fingers twitch in anticipation, but you hold off on attacking; better to see what the kid is made of first. “What’s wrong, trainee?” you taunt instead, hoping to goad him into making the first move. “Scared already?” It works. Evdal grits his teeth and bursts forward, launching into an attack with a battle cry.<<else>>Despite Evdal’s nervous looks and the twitching of his fingers, you hold off on attacking; better to see what the kid is made of first. Seeming unable to take the weight of your stare anymore, Evdal bursts forward, launching into an attack with a battle cry.<</if>> It’s poorly conceived, but even more poorly executed. He telegraphs his movements with the grace of an ox. The both of you have been training for about the same amount of time, so you expected that he would be able to match you, but the boy clearly hasn't ever been in a real fight before. And he is supposed to be the best of his class? You sidestep his sword swing easily, his back left exposed to you. One kick and he tumbles down, all but tripping over his own feet. You place your knee on his back and the edge of your wooden dagger to the side of his neck before he can scramble up. “I yield!” Evdal squeaks, dropping his sword. Moving off him, you look over at $aname, who appears entirely unimpressed with Evdal’s performance. “Forgive me, Your Imperial Majesty,” $athey says to you while frowning at the trainee, “but could I request you go again?” “I don’t see why not.” You roll your shoulders and square them once more as Evdal gets up to his feet. Winning a sparring match does feel good. At least you can be confident in knowing you’re better than a mere recruit. Compared to facing down the trained arrow of an assassin, or having one chasing you down a tunnel, a sparring match is child’s play. You have none of the nerves that are flustering your opponent, though he’s also no doubt intimidated by your title. It occurs to you that $aname might be doing this on purpose, to lift your confidence. [[Continue|10.13]] So, as $athey suggested, you go again, and even though Evdal’s wounded pride makes him more cautious, it doesn’t increase his skill whatsoever, even with his advantage of having a sword giving him more reach than you. By the third round, the other palace guards start to jeer. “Evdal is a poor opponent, Royal Protector, allow me to take his place!” “This is a disgrace, Balyan, have some respect for $ctheir Imperial Majesty!” “You’re bringing shame upon the whole guard!” After you trounce Evdal a fourth time, $aname turns to the shouting guards, cutting through the commotion with chastising words: “Do you all believe yourselves so superior?” The guards fall silent. “Not a single person among you has ever been in battle before.” $aname continues to speak as $athey offers a hand to where Evdal sits on the ground, after you tripped him. “Do you think your pretty little techniques will save you when faced with someone who wants to take your life? Do any of you have the spine to look hatred and bloodlust in the eye, and hold your ground?” $cathey pulls Evdal up, whose gaze is averted in visible shame. “Half of the reason I’m training $ctheir Imperial Majesty is because I know I cannot rely on any of <em>you</em> to keep $them safe,” $aname states, ice in $atheir gaze as it passes on each and every watching guard. “Aside from the Imperial Guards, $they will not find any protectors in you, not the way you are now. Get back to your training and stop embarrassing yourselves by picking on the youngest among you.” <<if $afriend is false>> As you watch $aname scold the guards, the sudden thought that $athey looks good doing it occurs to you from nowhere. There’s something mesmerizing in the way $athey wields authority… Or perhaps you’ve been training too long; all the blood rushing through your head must be muddling your mind.<<else>> Harsh words, but you agree that they’re ones the guards need to hear.<</if>> Another voice interrupts: “You are rather ruthless today, $aname!” [[Continue|10.14]] As Evdal quietly dismisses himself and the guards disperse, you both turn to $rname who has just arrived in the training yard. $crthey’s flanked by Siham and Ishrah, the latter of which waves cheerfully at you. $rname approaches you with a smile, casting a glance at $aname. “How did the training go?” You put your practice dagger back onto the weapons rack, taking the towel that Siham offers you with a murmur of thanks and wiping some of your sweat away. “It went well, at least for my feeling.” “No need to be humble,” $aname says, turning to $rname. “$ctheir Majesty is already picking up on $their training better than most of the palace trainees.” <<if $charm gt $blunt>>“Well, if you insist on praising me, who am I to say otherwise?” you reply with a grin. “That’s good to hear.” $rname gives you a pleased smile. “I hope you’ll retain your good humor during court later.”<<else>>“That is true,” you note, casting a glance around the training yard. “They haven’t been very impressive.” “Already a critic.” $rname gives you an amused smile. “I hope you’ll retain your sharpness during court later.”<</if>> At the mention of court, $aname exhales a deep, weary sigh. “Oh, quit it,” $rname says in reaction, though $rtheir tone is playful. “If anything, $name and I should be the ones sighing; all you have to do is stand there and <<if $afriend is false>>look pretty<<else>>glare at the nobles<</if>>!”<<if $afriend is false>> You don't miss the way $rname gives you a mischievous look as $rthey calls $aname pretty, and you wonder <<if $res gt $flirt>>with embarrassment if you truly have been that obvious about it. How many others have picked up on it, aside from $rname?<<else>>with surprise how you haven't noticed how blatant you were being. You must have been staring at $aname even more than you realized.<</if>><</if>> “<<if $afriend is true>>Don’t underestimate how much strength it takes to maintain that level of vitriol over several hours<<else>>It’s harder than it seems when my beauty is wasted on those vultures<</if>>.” $aname shrugs $atheir shoulders as if to shake the stiffness out of $athem, then gives $rname a thoughtful look. “Are you up for a spar, $rname?” Before $rname can even reply, Ishrah gasps with excitement. “That’s such a wonderful idea!” $rname arches $rtheir brows at her. “Is it, now?” “I’ve never seen magic used in battle before,” Ishrah enthuses, ignoring Siham’s urgent stare trying to silently signal her to stop talking. “I’m sure it would be helpful to the Crown to see it as well!” “That’s not a bad idea,” you agree, glancing between $aname and $rname. You’ve been curious about both of their abilities for a while now, so a spar between them would be fun to watch. “Are you up for it, $rname?” To your surprise, $rname smirks in response, an unadulterated confidence to $rtheir posture as $rthey flicks $rtheir long hair over $rtheir shoulder. “But of course! I’d be happy to give you a demonstration. Shall we, $aname?” <<if $rfriend is false>> Where magic is concerned, $rname has a boldness and certainty about $rthem that suits $rthem wonderfully. It’s almost a glimpse of the future, of the potential $rthey already possesses to grow into $rtheir role as the Crown’s Sorcerer and become a force to be reckoned with. Whenever $rtheir confidence comes to life like this, you find yourself entranced by it, by <em>$rthem</em>. As you stare, you notice $aname’s gaze on you, and when you meet $atheir eyes you find a knowing smile on $atheir face. <<if $res gt $flirt>>You quickly look away again, your neck and cheeks warming<<else>>You shoot a small smile back; you see no reason to hide how much you admire $rname<</if>>.<</if>> $aname moves to the sparring square you used to fight Evdal earlier, giving $rname a challenging look as $athey remains barehanded—does $athey not intend on using $atheir daggers? “You realize it’ll be over once I catch you?” “<em>If</em> you catch me,” $rname replies as $rthey takes $rtheir place across from $aname, though they're both quite a distance further apart compared to you and Evdal. $rname's smile is like the curve of a bow, aiming at $aname in challenge. “Try your best, Royal Protector; the Crown is watching.” $aname huffs a laugh as $athey rolls $atheir shoulders, the stance of $atheir feet widening with one a step behind the other, knees bent, as if $athey’s intending on rushing $rname as soon as the sparring begins. “The same to you, $rtitle Sorcerer.” “I’m not concerned.” While $rname holds $aname’s gaze, $rtheir right hand moves conspicuously to hover near a small pouch tied to a slim chain around $rtheir waist. “In fact, I look forward to showing the Crown exactly why I am $their Sorcerer. You’ll have to forgive me for using your imminent humiliation to demonstrate.” “The only thing you’re demonstrating is how much you like the sound of your own voice,” $aname drawls, $atheir tone unimpressed, though the smile on $atheir face betrays $atheir enjoyment. “Even $xname doesn’t talk this much before a fight!” “At a loss for words already, $aname?” $rname fires back. “Defeated in the mind before we’ve even begun, I see.” You interrupt before $aname can retort. As amusing as this is to watch, you <em>do</em> have a schedule to maintain. “Are you two going to banter all day or will I get to see some fighting before the sun goes down?” you call out, a teasing remark that makes $aname grin. “We await your signal, Majesty.” $rname meanwhile has fallen silent, a look of concentration replacing the humor on $rtheir face as $rthey and $aname watch each other like hawks. You pause for a moment, before declaring: “Begin!” [[Continue|10.15]]$aname and $rname’s eyes remain locked to each other—a moment of silence passes—and then they both move. Faster than you can blink, $aname disappears. At the same time, $rname snatches something from $rtheir pouch and throws it to the ground in front of $rtheir feet, so quick that $rtheir hand is nothing more than a blur. The sound of a collision reaches your ears before you can see it, the force of thunder ringing out across the training yard, followed by a flash of bright blue light. Once your eyes catch up, you see $rname still standing unmoved, but this time $aname is only a few steps away. $catheir hand is outstretched, stopped by a translucent blue barrier separating $athem from $rname, palm pressed to its surface and creating a ripple in the air. The barrier originates from a blue gemstone lying on the ground, which $rname had thrown moments before. You thought $aname turned invisible, but you realize that’s not the case: $athey simply moved too quickly for your eyes to follow. <<if $afriend is false>>You’d known how skilled $aname is weaponry and with $atheir mind-reading ability, but you had no idea $athey was capable of <em>this</em>. Was $athey holding back against the assassin—or rather, did it take so little effort for $athem to deal with it?<</if>> “Well played,” $aname says to $rname, a grin twisted in $atheir lips, “but I hope you have a contingency plan.” Right before your eyes, you watch $aname’s hand freeze over. Ice spreads from $atheir fingers to the barrier, spreading across its surface, and when $aname digs $atheir hand in, it starts to crack. “More than one,” $rname retorts, seeming unbothered by the fact that $aname is in the process of shattering $rtheir ward. Ishrah leans over to you. “I know $rtitle $rname is a great sorcerer, but will $rthey be alright against the Royal Protector? Captain $aname is a trained warrior, after all.” Siham frowns at Ishrah from your other side. “You mustn’t underestimate $rtitle $rname’s mastery of magic, Ishrah.” “I’m not!” You have your own thoughts on the matter, though you keep them to yourself. <ul class="a"><<if $rfriend is false>> <li><<if $agender is 'male'>>[[Azad should win this handily.|10.16b][$rpoints -= 2]]<<else>>[[Ashti should win this handily.|10.16b][$rpoints -= 2]]<</if>></li> <li><<if $rgender is 'male'>>[[Rêzan will be able to hold his own.|10.16b][$rpoints += 2]]<<else>>[[Rozerîn will be able to hold her own.|10.16b][$rpoints += 2]]<</if>></li><<else>> <li><<if $agender is 'male'>>[[Azad should win this handily.|10.16b][$rfriendship -= 1]]<<else>>[[Ashti should win this handily.|10.16b][$rfriendship -= 1]]<</if>></li> <li><<if $rgender is 'male'>>[[Rêzan will be able to hold his own.|10.16b][$rfriendship += 1]]<<else>>[[Rozerîn will be able to hold her own.|10.16b][$rfriendship += 1]]<</if>></li><</if>> </ul> There is a temple in the royal gardens, on the eastern side of the palace complex, that Keko told you about when you first arrived. You didn’t have much opportunity to visit while the coronation was being prepared, but afterwards, there was finally the time to arrange it as you saw fit. Considering the water spirits attached to you, you decided it would be most fitting to use it as a water temple like <<if $afriend is false>>Crown Piruz<<else>>the Nineteenth Crown, Piruz,<</if>> did. <<if $afriend is false>>You almost hesitated to bring your idea up to $aname, but $athey was surprisingly open to the arrangement once you asked for $atheir opinion. “I remember spending a lot of time at my father’s personal temples as a child,” $athey reminisced. “It offered me peace. I hope it will for you, too.” The water spirits seem happy with their new home as well, and this way, you won’t have to worry about your nightmares causing damage to your chambers anymore.<<else>>The water spirits were certainly happy with the new arrangement, and this way, you won’t have to worry about your nightmares causing damage to your chambers anymore.<</if>> Now, you can go visit them whenever you wish. Their temple is well-cared for by the servants compared to the one you found them in, and it makes for a nicely secluded place for private conversations. It has been warded in ten different ways to prevent eavesdropping, making it one of the more secure places in the palace. The temple’s inner chamber is not as impressive architecturally as the one in the city. It has only one large pool of water at its center and some windows to let sunlight in, with a low table and some pillows for seating. As a personal temple, however, it does its job; you never needed much extravagance. Siham and Ishrah accompany you to the doors of the temple, but wait outside as you, $rname and $aname head in. The discussions you’re about to have aren’t meant for the ears of servants, even ones you like. As the three of you enter the temple, Siham and Ishrah shutting the doors behind you, your gaze falls on the pool of water at its center. Ripples across its surface indicate the usual greeting given by your water spirits. Their presence is a familiar and comfortable weight in the air. “They’ve missed you,” $aname notes, glancing at you from the corner of $atheir eyes. “You still haven’t formed a concord with them?” <<if $spirits is 'somber'>>“No.” The word leaves your mouth reflexively, and more strongly than you intended. Both $aname and $rname stare at you, the former arching $atheir brows where the latter furrows them in mild concern. <<if $blunt gt $charm>>You avert your gaze. “There’s no need for it.”<<else>>You force a smile that feels hollow, even to your own lips. “I’m quite fine without their help.”<</if>> It has barely been half a month since your coronation, and you have finally started to find your footing as the Crown. The last thing you need, the last thing anyone needs from <em>you</em>, is for you to falter and undo any progress you’ve made so far. There will be time for it later, you tell yourself, just as you told yourself before the coronation. The presence of the water spirits attached to you made the grief more present, drawing your awareness to it, but now that you’ve disconnected from them it’s easier to put it all aside. <<if $mood is 'rage'>>Your anger has dimmed, relegated to the back of your mind. The urge to scream is repressed, the sound buried in the depth of your chest.<<else>>Your sorrow has quieted, relegated to the back of your mind. There’s a certain numbness that accompanies it, blanketing the space in your chest where your pain lives.<</if>> You feel its weight at times, at night, but it’s easier to ignore now. You must be and you <em>are</em> the Crown, first and foremost. Everything else comes second to that. “If you’re sure,” $aname says after a short pause, glancing at $rname; they both seem doubtful, but not enough to discuss the topic against your wishes.<</if>><<if $spirits is 'sympathetic'>>“I haven’t,” you admit, averting your gaze. “Why not?” “I only…” You’re hesitant—not about your answer, but about your own feelings on the matter. Over the past year since your parents were killed, you have become used to repressing your grief, your pain. The water spirits attaching themselves to you disturbed that routine for a brief moment, but now that you’re disconnected from them, you’ve returned to your habits. You know it is unhealthy, you don’t need a healer to tell you that. The truth of the matter is that you’re scared. Afraid of what might happen should you try to change. It’s so much easier now that you don’t have to think about it anymore, and as the Crown, isn’t it better that you aren’t crippled by grief? <<if $mood is 'rage'>>Your anger has dimmed, relegated to the back of your mind. The urge to scream is repressed, the sound buried in the depth of your chest.<<else>>Your sorrow has quieted, relegated to the back of your mind. There’s a certain numbness that accompanies it, blanketing the space in your chest where your pain lives.<</if>> You feel its weight at times, at night, but it’s easier to ignore now. “There’s no time for it now,” you finally say, though you know it is an excuse. “I’ll consider it once I have the Imperial Court sorted out.” “If you’re sure,” $aname says after a short pause, glancing at $rname; they both seem doubtful, but not enough to discuss the topic against your wishes.<</if>><<if $spirits is 'admiring'>>“I haven’t,” you admit, turning your eyes to the water spirits. “I might, in the future, but I would like to be on my own for now.” It isn’t that you don’t appreciate their willingness to help, but you don’t want to rely on them more than you have to. You know that many people turn to spirits to help them with their past hurts, their traumas, their grief, but you want to try to deal with it on your own first. Perhaps it’s prideful, and it might backfire on you, but you can’t keep the water spirits with you forever. You can’t risk becoming dependent on them, as your ability to deal with or even understand your own emotions could become stunted. It happens sometimes, with people who carry such spirits with them for too long. As a result, they fall apart as soon as they are separated from their spirits. Admittedly, the timing is also not optimal. The Imperial Court is still disorganized, and it’s the first month of your reign. You cannot afford to go through a personal crisis at this point in time. <<if $mood is 'rage'>>Your anger has dimmed, relegated to the back of your mind. The urge to scream is repressed, the sound buried in the depth of your chest.<<else>>Your sorrow has quieted, relegated to the back of your mind. There’s a certain numbness that accompanies it, blanketing the space in your chest where your pain lives.<</if>> You feel its weight at times, at night, but it’s easier to ignore now. The water spirits will be here for you if you need them, should you be unable to overcome this on your own. It is a reassuring thought.<</if>> [[Continue|10.16c]]<<if $calc gt $kind>>Now <em>that</em> is an intriguing idea, and from the way $aname leans forward onto the table, $athey seems to agree.<<else>>The suggestions has you arching your brows, though $aname seems immediately taken by it.<</if>> “We approach the trader in disguise,” $athey surmises, rubbing a thumb over $atheir chin. “That could work, provided we can keep Kham from becoming suspicious.” “She’s planning on returning home soon, near the end of the month.” $rname seems to have already thought it all through, laying out the alternative plan. “During that time I, or someone else, could approach the trader while glamored to appear as a noble, looking for rare flowers in exchange for information.” “You would need to take some Imperial Guards with you,” $aname adds, which raises another question for you. “Could I come with you?” <<if $rfriend is false>> <<if $rrelationship is 'low'>><<if visited('10.17') is 1>><<set $afriendship -= 1>><</if>>$rname frowns deeply, then smooths over $rtheir expression just as quickly, as if trying to hide $rtheir reluctance from you. “I can handle the trader, Your Imperial Majesty.” Something about $rtheir tone irks you. “Can you? You’re not the best at dealing with people, $rname.” $rname opens $rtheir mouth to speak, but looks uncertain, remaining silent instead. $aname, however, doesn’t. “$rname can handle this fine,” $athey says coolly, tone bordering on a reprimand and $atheir gaze on you sharp in warning. “Frankly, your presence would be more of a hindrance than anything else.” “A hindrance?” you repeat, irritated that you’re being addressed in this way when you stated nothing more than an observation. $rname can hardly keep $rtheir composure when handling the nobility in court, how is $rthey supposed to handle something as delicate as the peri trader? You’re only trying to look out for $rthem. “We would have to increase the presence of Imperial Guards,” $aname points out, “which would raise the risk of the peri trader becoming suspicious.” “You wouldn’t have to do that,” you argue in return. “There’s no reason to suspect the peri trader is involved in anything nefarious, is there? We’re merely looking for information, and I would like to hear it firsthand.”<</if>><<else>> $rname and $aname look at you in surprise, then at each other, equally reluctant expressions on their faces. You frown, though you can understand why they would rather keep you in the palace. “I know it’s a risk and it’s not as if I don’t trust you to handle this, $rname, but I would like to hear it firsthand. The assassins used the blue siren to make an attempt on <em>my</em> life. I want to be involved.” “It might not be that big of a risk,” $rname considers, looking back to $aname again since $athey’s the most important person to convince. “We have no reason to believe approaching the peri trader would be dangerous, do we?”<</if>><<if $afriend is false>><<if $arelationship is 'low'>> $aname remains silent, though from the way $athey’s scowling you can tell this was a less than ideal proposal. $cathey meets your eyes. “So long as you understand that there’s more at stake than a personal vendetta. If you choose to go this route, the consequences will be yours to deal with.” “I understand that,” you reply curtly, feeling irritated at not being given at least a little trust. “If you’re that against it, then you should come with us. Would that satisfy you?”<<else>>$aname remains silent, though from the way $athey’s scowling you can tell this was a less than ideal proposal. When $athey meets your eyes, however, $atheir scowl eases into something less sharp, softened by the look of concern in $atheir gaze. “Even if approaching the peri trader would be without much risk, there are still many things that could go wrong while you’re out in the city.” After a slight pause, $athey quietly adds, “I could not guarantee your safety, $name.” You almost thought $aname was doubting your intentions or your competence, but it’s something else entirely: $athey only wants to protect you. “It’ll be alright, $aname,” you promise, smiling at $athem in a reassurance that is tinged with the swell of affection you feel in the corners of your mouth. “If you’re that worried, then you should come with us.”<</if>><<else>> $aname remains silent, though from the way $athey’s scowling you can tell this was a less than ideal proposal. $cathey meets your eyes, $atheir scowl smoothing over somewhat. “Even if approaching the peri trader is safe, being out and about in the city is a risk itself.” “Then why don’t you come along with us?” you suggest, figuring that would be the easiest way to ensure $aname can do $atheir duty as the Royal Protector effectively.<</if>> $rname seems open to the idea. “Not a bad suggestion. We can glamor some of the Imperial Guards to look like us and have them show their faces around the palace as a cover.” Breathing in deep, $aname sighs in resignation. “Very well, but that’s assuming this is how you want to approach the trader, $name. There’s also the option of asking Kham to arrange a meeting.” You’ll have to decide the approach on this one, while also taking into account the relationship you’ve had with Kham thus far. <<if $khamproach is 'honest'>>When trying to discover more about the blue siren previously, you asked her about the flower outright. If you request for her to arrange a meeting with the peri trader, she will no doubt be able to connect the dots. She doesn’t know about the flower being involved in <<if $hidekham is true>>an<<else>>the<</if>> assassination attempt on you, however. That much, at least, is still secret, but making this request will no doubt let her know your interest in the blue siren is not merely a casual one. <<if $khamtrust is 'no'>>If you trusted her, the decision might not be so difficult… but you don’t.<</if>><<if $khamtrust is 'undecided'>>If you trusted her, the decision might not be so difficult… but you’re still undecided.<</if>><<if $khamtrust is 'yes'>>Still, you did tell $dname before that you see no reason to distrust her. Even if you let her know your interest in the flower, would that be so bad? What could she possibly do with that knowledge?<</if>><</if>><<if $khamproach is 'secret' or $khamproach is 'test'>>When trying to discover more about the blue siren previously, you tried to trick her into telling you about it without asking outright. If you request for her to arrange a meeting with the peri trader, she <em>might</em> be able to connect the dots, if she even still remembers that conversation. Regardless of whether she remembers talking about the blue siren or not, she doesn’t know about the flower being involved in <<if $hidekham is true>>an<<else>>the<</if>> assassination attempt on you. That much, at least, is still secret, but making this request will no doubt let her know of your interest in the blue siren. An interest that isn’t merely a casual one. <<if $khamtrust is 'no'>>If you trusted her, the decision might not be such a difficult one… but you don’t, so it is.<</if>><<if $khamtrust is 'undecided'>>If you trusted her, the decision might not be such a difficult one… but you’re still undecided about her.<</if>><<if $khamtrust is 'yes'>>Still, you did tell $dname before that you see no reason to distrust her. Even if you let her know your interest in the flower, would that be so bad? What could she possibly do with that knowledge?<</if>><</if>> <ul class="a"> <li>[[Ask Kham to arrange a meeting with the peri trader.|10.18a][$peritrader to true]]</li> <li>[[Approach the peri trader in disguise.|10.18b][$peritrader to false]]</li> </ul>“Trying to trick the peri trader could be dangerous,” you decide, uncertain how safe it would be to deal with the trader directly, and not willing to risk anything going wrong if it isn’t. “Asking Kham and being transparent with Anshan seems the better choice.” “If that’s how you want to handle it,” $aname agrees easily enough. “Will you tell Kham about the blue siren?” <<if $khamtrust is 'no' or 'undecided'>>“I would rather keep her from finding out about it,” you reason, “but I might not have a choice if she insists on being told. In this situation, she will have all the leverage.”<<else>>“I’ll try to keep it a secret,” you decide. Even though you do trust Kham more than $aname and $rname do, it’s better to prevent the leaking of information as much as possible. “But if she insists, I will have to tell her.”<</if>> “Let’s hope she won’t insist, then,” $rname comments quietly, hands folded on the edge of the table as $rthey stares at the woodwork. When $rthey looks up, $rthey changes the subject. “There is one more matter I wanted to bring up: <<if $divination is true>>the divination you ordered for the body of the assassin.” You perk up. “Any progress?” “Not yet.” $rname sighs. “With how the Void reacted to your examination, the body is being purified to ensure it doesn’t happen again. Once that’s done, the diviners will begin their work.” “How long until they can begin?” “A few weeks.” $rname’s fingers tap against the table thoughtfully. “The Festival of Cleansing begins in a few days. While it’s the busiest time of the year for the diviners, it will allow the magi to purify the body much more quickly.”<<else>>the search you ordered for the magical signature connected to the mask.” You perk up. “Any progress?” “Not yet.” $rname sighs. “I’ve sent a few trusted servants to handle this matter personally, but traveling all across the nation will take them time. In fact, it’ll even be difficult for them to go through the archives of Marabad’s school.” “The school here?” You give $rname a confused look. “Why would that be difficult?” $rname’s fingers tap against the table with impatience. “The Festival of Cleansing begins in a few days. The School of Marabad will be closed during that time, and many of the magi will be at the temples instead to aid the priests.”<</if>> The Festival of Cleansing, also known as the Half Year Festival as it occurs halfway through the year. It’s guided by the Major Spirit, Sraoša, presiding over conscience and obedience; it is a period where committing any misdeeds, especially violence, is strictly forbidden. You’d almost forgotten about it. Ritual cleansing in temples is customary during this time of year, and any forms of battle or aggression are forbidden. Studies in magic are halted, many shops closed down; citizens congregate in various temples as diviners and priests conduct religious ceremonies for communities instead. You never spared much of a thought for it before, beyond planning to avoid temples during this time of year. Now, however, it’s turning out to be a thorn in your side. “I suppose we’ll just have to wait,” you say with a sigh. “Was there anything else we needed to discuss?” “One last thing, yes,” $aname replies, to your surprise. $cathey’s not usually one to bring any political matters to your attention, which means this must be serious. “I’ve been trying to handle this matter privately, but the situation is becoming dire.” [[Continue|10.19]]“Telling Kham about this matter is too risky,” you decide, uncertain that you would want to give her any leverage over you this early in your reign. “Dealing with the peri trader directly seems the better choice.” <<if $khamtrust is 'no' or 'undecided'>>You don’t trust Kham enough to give away your interest in the blue siren so easily. It could be something for her to hang over your head, and that’s the last position you want to be in.<<else>>Even though you do trust Kham more than $aname and $rname do, it’s better to prevent the leaking of information as much as possible. Besides, you still can’t be <em>completely</em> certain she won’t use the knowledge to hang it over your head in the future.<</if>> “If that’s how you want to handle it,” $aname agrees tentatively, no doubt already thinking of all the security measures $athey will have to put into place. “Let’s hope the trader will be forthcoming,” $rname comments quietly, hands folded on the edge of the table as $rthey stares at the woodwork. When $rthey looks up, $rthey changes the subject. “There is one more matter I wanted to bring up: <<if $divination is true>>the divination you ordered for the body of the assassin.” You perk up. “Any progress?” “Not yet.” $rname sighs. “With how the Void reacted to your examination, the body is being purified to ensure it doesn’t happen again. Once that’s done, the diviners will begin their work.” “How long until they can begin?” “A few weeks.” $rname’s fingers tap against the table thoughtfully. “The Festival of Cleansing begins in a few days. While it’s the busiest time of the year for the diviners, it will allow the magi to purify the body much more quickly.”<<else>>the search you ordered for the magical signature connected to the mask.” You perk up. “Any progress?” “Not yet.” $rname sighs. “I’ve sent a few trusted servants to handle this matter personally, but traveling all across the nation will take them time. In fact, it’ll even be difficult for them to go through the archives of Marabad’s school.” “The school here?” You give $rname a confused look. “Why would that be difficult?” $rname’s fingers tap against the table with impatience. “The Festival of Cleansing begins in a few days. The School of Marabad will be closed during that time, and many of the magi will be at the temples instead to aid the priests.”<</if>> The Festival of Cleansing, also known as the Half Year Festival as it occurs halfway through the year. It’s guided by the Major Spirit, Sraoša, presiding over conscience and obedience; it is a period where committing any misdeeds, especially violence, is strictly forbidden. You’d almost forgotten about it. Ritual cleansing in temples is customary during this time of year, and any forms of battle or aggression are forbidden. Studies in magic are halted, many shops closed down; citizens congregate in various temples as diviners and priests conduct religious ceremonies for communities instead. You never spared much of a thought for it before, beyond planning to avoid temples during this time of year. Now, however, it’s turning out to be a thorn in your side. “I suppose we’ll just have to wait,” you say with a sigh. “Was there anything else we needed to discuss?” “One last thing, yes,” $aname replies, to your surprise. $cathey’s not usually one to bring any political matters to your attention, which means this must be serious. “I’ve been trying to handle this matter privately, but the situation is becoming dire.” [[Continue|10.19]]“What does that mean?” you ask, unsettled by $aname’s grave tone. “The day after you arrived at the palace, I was called to the Sky Temple by one of the head priests,” $aname begins to explain, a feeling of foreboding growing in your gut. “She told me about a concerning rise in people going missing, specifically in Marabad.” People going missing? It must be more than a few if it had the priest concerned. “How many?” “Several hundred in the past year alone, that we know of.” “Hundreds of them?” $rname sounds as shocked as you feel. “How is that possible? They must be getting abducted. Hundreds of people don’t simply disappear out of nowhere!” “That is also what I suspect, but I’ve been unable to find any leads.” $aname’s head lowers, a hand on the back of $atheir neck, rubbing against the top of $atheir spine. “The families and friends of the latest victims haven’t been able to pinpoint when or where it happened, but there are many more cases I have yet to follow up on.” “Does Welat know of this?” you ask, and when $aname looks at you, you can already tell the answer. “If he does, he hasn’t mentioned it.” Silence settles within the temple, weighing heavily between the three of you. “Could he be involved?” $rname speaks at length, voice hushed. $aname nearly winces, grimacing at the notion. “He’s the steward of the city, in command of the city guards. They would be one of the few groups able to accomplish something like this without being discovered. Either Welat hasn’t mentioned it due to negligence, or—” “I know.” $aname briefly closes $atheir eyes. “But this isn’t an accusation we want to make lightly, let alone without proof. Besides which, as much of a problem as the city guard has been, would they really go around abducting people on Welat’s orders? For what purpose, and how?” “Who else could it be?” you say, though the answer occurs to you the next moment. “The Followers?” $rname’s gaze darkens. “Or maybe they’re one and the same?” $aname raises $atheir palms. “Slow down before you jump to conclusions. I’m not saying it isn’t possible, but we have to find out more first.” “How do you propose we do that?” “I don’t know.” $aname narrows $atheir eyes. “Not yet, at least. But the reason why I brought this up now is because I suspect it will come up during one of the court meetings this week. It’ll be your first time addressing public petitions, won’t it, $name?” $aname’s right. As you’ve begun to fill in various positions in the court, the Office of Correspondence has become functional again. One of its duties is to accept petitions submitted to them for the Crown’s judgment and present them in court. “Yes, it’s likely that it will come up,” you agree, frowning deeply at the prospect. “I doubt the petitioners will be pleased to hear that I have no solution for their problem, however.” “Try to reassure them as best you can.” $aname looks back out over the pool, stretching out a hand toward it. A small wave forms as the water spirits drift to the edge of the pool to meet $aname’s fingertips in sparks of blue. “There may be security measures that could help, but as their Crown, they also want to be heard by you.” “They must feel so powerless,” $rname murmurs, watching the water spirits flit around $aname’s hand. Feeling it best not to linger on the heavy-hearted thought, you turn back to $aname. “Have you heard anything from $xname?” <<if $xfriend is false>><<if $xrelationship is 'high'>>$xname has been sending letters both to you as well as to $aname, though $xtheir letters to the latter have been more related to the mission you sent the Crescent Blades on.<<else>>While $xname hasn’t been sending you any letters, you know that $xthey has kept $aname informed of the mission you sent the Crescent Blades on.<</if>><<else>>While $xname hasn’t been sending you any letters, you know that $xthey has kept $aname informed of the mission you sent the Crescent Blades on.<</if>> “The last thing $xthey told me was that it was quiet on all fronts,” $aname replies. “Half of the Blades who went to the Armas Mountains haven’t reported anyone following them, and the other half—that $xname is in charge of—has been lying low in a remote region, as promised.” Either the Followers have called your bluff, or they have judged that it isn’t worth the risk. There’s also the possibility that they have already gotten what they wanted from Şahmaran, but then, why even bother to try and kill you? “$xdnickname also mentioned that the situation in Zerat is stabilizing,” $rname chimes in, having had $rtheir own exchange of letters with the general. “The Imperial Army should be able to return to the palace before the end of the month.” <<if $dfriend is false>>You nod, having read similarly from $dname’s own letters to you. <</if>>Not much progress on $xname’s side, but at least your general will return from $dtheir task soon. As the conversation drifts off, taking a short reprieve, you hear a knock on the doors to your temple. $rname flicks $rtheir fingers, and the doors slide open to reveal Siham, hands folded in front of him. They bow quickly. “Your Imperial Majesty—” “I know.” There is still more to do today. “The candidates are waiting.” <<if $rfriend is false>>$aname rises to $atheir feet. “I should continue my investigation, too. I’ll be in the city if either of you need me.” <<if $charm gt $blunt>>“I’ll see you during dinner,” you reply,<<else>>You nod,<</if>> watching $aname take $atheir leave. When you look at $rname, however, it seems $rthey has more to say. [[Continue|10.20r]]<</if>><<if $afriend is false>>$rname rises to $rtheir feet. “I’ll go meet the candidates in advance, to give you some time.” <<if $charm gt $blunt>>“Don’t work too hard,” you reply,<<else>>You nod,<</if>> watching $rname take $rtheir leave. When you look at $aname, however, it seems $athey has more to say. [[Continue|10.20a]]<</if>><<if $dfriend is false or $xfriend is false>>$rname rises to $rtheir feet. “I’ll go meet the candidates in advance, to give you some time.” $aname follows $rtheir example. “I should continue my investigation, too. I’ll be in the city if either of you need me.” <<if $charm gt $blunt>>“Don’t work too hard, you two,” you reply,<<else>>You nod,<</if>> watching $rname and $aname head out in different directions. Your own chambers are near your temple, so you have some time to refresh yourself before you meet up with $rname to meet the last candidates. You look over at the water spirits who have settled back into the pool now that $aname has left. “Wish me luck?” The surface of the water glimmers cheerfully, bringing a smile to your face. [[Continue|10.20]]<</if>><<set $day to 29>><<set $progress to "10">><div id="10.1">@@.chaptertitleact1;CHAPTER TEN@@</div>@@.titleblack;A Moment's Reprieve@@ The familiar sound of clashing metal echoes in $xname’s ears. An arrow flies, its arc bending toward $xthem. Just before it pierces $xtheir chest, $xname snatches it from the air, then sidesteps the edge of a blade and catches the wrist that wields it. Bone breaks, elbow turned inside out as the bandit screams and stumbles back, clutching at their now useless limb. In the very next breath, $xname's arm strengthened with magic, $xthey throws the caught arrow back to where it came from. It cuts through the crowd of enemies and finds its mark in the archer’s neck. Their bow falls, followed by their body. Before either have hit the ground, a dagger approaches from behind, aimed at $xname's heart. $cxthey grabs the straight sword that slipped out of the other bandit’s hand, twisting it and thrusting it behind $xthem from beneath $xtheir armpit. A surprised groan, the feeling of flesh giving way to the tip of $xtheir blade. Each death is like a step from a dance that comes as naturally to $xname as breathing. It’s memorized in $xtheir muscles, $xtheir bones, in constant motion, not a single movement wasted. “$cxthey’s just one mercenary!” the bandit leader shouts out over the din, infuriated. “Overwhelm $xthem! Attack all at once!” The other Crescent Blades are scattered along the meadow surrounding a lone farmhouse, keeping the bulk of the bandits from swarming the farmers who hide inside. $xname sees only enemies on every side of $xthem, outnumbered one to ten, but $xthey does not need $xtheir eyes; $xthey can hear the heartbeat of every Blade, feel each of their magic signatures like individual flames spread across the field. One of the bandits begins to fold. “We- we can’t even hit $xthem with an arrow! What hope do we have—” “THEN SHOOT ALL THE ARROWS!” Another balks at the order. “Chief, our comrades will be caught in the crossfire—” The protest is overruled as $xname counts $xtheir fourth… fifth… sixth death. The herd is thinning. “<em>SHOOT</em>!” Here comes the hail of arrows. The bandits still surrounding $xname try to dive out of the way, but $xname remains standing. $cxthey closes $xtheir eyes in concentration, calling on the core of $xtheir magic, that restless flame that $xthey always tries to keep controlled—not anymore. It’s time to let it free. Blazing wildfire erupts from $xtheir skin, swallowing $xtheir body whole. Distantly, $xname hears the sound of panicked yelling, but the roar of $xtheir flames is much louder. It’s a living inferno with $xname at its center, its heat and the force of its magic so intense that it tears through the arrows with ease. Restraining it again is more difficult than summoning it, and $xname has to take several deep, meditative breaths before the flames recede. Not extinguished, but pulled back beneath $xtheir skin, resettling inside. A giant scorch-mark on the earth surrounding $xname is its only lasting evidence. The bandits that surrounded $xname before are either dead or are rolling over the grass, having been caught in the edges of $xname’s flames. From across the meadow, $xname meets the bandit leader’s wide-eyed, slack-jawed stare, and grins back at them in amusement. “Done already?” [[Continue|10.x2]]“Can you give us the room for a bit, Siham?” you ask, and Siham nods, bowing once more before pulling the doors closed again to give you and $rname privacy. “There’s one more thing I wanted to suggest,” $rname starts, “but I didn’t want to say it in front of $aname.” This surprises you. In the time you’ve spent with both of them, you got the impression that $aname and $rname get along very well together. “Why not?” “It…” $rname hesitates, tracing the engravings of flowers along the table’s surface with a fingertip. “It may be dangerous.” You stare at $rname. “And you think <em>I</em> would be more likely to go along with that?” <<if $caut gt $adven>>“I think you would understand the necessity better,”<<else>>“I think you would be more willing to take risks,”<</if>> $rname replies evasively, which is doing nothing to make you feel good about this dangerous plan $rthey’s concocting. “What are you proposing, $rname?” $crthey looks at you, the corner of $rtheir lips tugging a bit, weighing $rtheir options until one side finally wins out. “I’d like to examine the room the assassin’s body was in,” $rname states, speaking with a determined furrow in $rtheir brow. “If I can find traces of what occurred when you found the Void, it would help me understand the magic… or the lack of magic, rather. Whoever did this must have some method to capture the Void and apply it.” Using the Void as a weapon. You cannot even imagine the possible damage that could do. Remembering what happened to $xname, though, makes you reluctant to agree with $rname’s plan. $crthey was likely right in $rtheir assumption that $aname would never agree to it. <<if $rrelationship is 'high'>>“Exactly how dangerous will that be?” you ask, and $rname seems to be able to read the worry from your face as $rthey gives you a smile. “Master Zîn and Perjin will accompany me,” $rthey replies. “If anything goes wrong, they’ll be there to help me.” That does make you feel better about it, but it’s still a risk $rname will be taking. “Maybe $aname should go with you as well, just in case? I’m sure we could convince $athem.” “Even if $athey agreed, $aname has $atheir hands full with investigating the missing citizens,” $rname insists, though you see $rtheir resolve faltering somewhat. The determination on $rtheir face dims to something pleading. “I can do this.” <<if $ass gt $pass>>“Of course you can,” you say, so caught up in your urge to reassure $rthem that your hand moves on its own, taking $rname’s in yours. “That was never in doubt, $rname. I only want to ensure your safety.” <<if $res gt $flirt>>Your face warms as you realize what you’ve done, and you have to avoid looking at your hands before your courage fails you.<<else>>Your thumb rubs across the peaks and valleys of smooth brown skin stretched over $rtheir knuckles. $crtheir fingers twitch in your grip, but $rthey doesn’t pull away.<</if>><<else>>“Of course you can,” you say, so caught up in your urge to reassure them that your hand moves on its own, halfway across the table before you catch yourself. “I—” You clear your throat and avert your eyes. “I know how capable you are, $rname. I only want to ensure your safety.” Hand lingering awkwardly on the table between you, you begin to pull it back, until $rname suddenly catches it with $rtheir own. Your heart flutters as $rtheir fingers curl around yours, with a shy slowness, yet firmly, without doubt. <<if $res gt $flirt>>It takes a moment for your mind to catch up with your eyes, your senses, before you work up the courage to squeeze $rname’s hand back.<<else>>Realizing how open $rname is to the affection, you no longer feel any hesitation. You squeeze $rtheir hand, your thumb rubbing across the peaks and valleys of smooth brown skin stretched over $rtheir knuckles.<</if>><</if>> $rname’s hands are soft, but not as soft as you would’ve thought for someone who spent so many years living in palaces. The small callouses on $rtheir hands and fingers are a lingering reminder of $rtheir past, of how hard $rthey has worked to get here. <<if $ass gt $pass>>When you look back up at $rname’s face, $rthey looks a little flustered, looking down at your linked fingers. As $rthey gathers $rthemselves and meets your gaze, $rtheir expression gradually softens with fondness. $crthey squeezes your hand, making your pulse stutter.<<else>>When you look back up at $rname’s face, you find $rthem smiling gently at you, and you would’ve never expected how warm the silver hue of $rtheir eyes could truly be.<</if>> “Before I met you, $name, I suffered from so much doubt,” $rname speaks softly, like a secret to be kept between the two of you. “I feared I would be a failure as the Crown’s Sorcerer, that I would disgrace my mentor’s memory, but then you appeared. Almost like a magic trick.” $crthey chuckles a little, a look of amazement in $rtheir eyes as $rthey looks down at your hands again. Or perhaps it’s shyness, unable to hold your gaze as $rthey continues to speak. “No, you did more than simply appear.” $crthey exhales a quiet sigh, holding your hand tighter. “You give me strength. Whenever I fear I might falter, I think of you, and…” While you hang off $rtheir every word, $rname falls silent. A sudden look of surprise and embarrassment crosses $rtheir face as $rthey turns $rtheir away, as if having realized something that $rthey doesn’t want you to see. “In any case, that’s why…” $crthey brushes $rtheir hair back with a shaky hand, though $rtheir other, steadier one keeps holding yours. “That’s why I want to do this on my own. For you, but also for myself.” $crthey glances back at you. “Will you let me?” [[Continue|10.21rhigh]]<</if>><<if $rrelationship is 'low'>>“Exactly how dangerous will that be?” you ask, and $rname seems to be able to read the worry from your face as $rthey frowns slightly. “Master Zîn and Perjin will accompany me,” $rthey replies. “If anything goes wrong, they’ll be there to help me.” That does make you feel better about it, but it’s still a risk $rname will be taking. “Maybe $aname should go with you as well, just in case? I’m sure we could convince $athem.” “Even if $athey agreed, $aname has $atheir hands full with investigating the missing citizens,” $rname insists, though you see $rtheir resolve deflating somewhat. “I can do this.” <<if $ass gt $pass>>“I only want to ensure your safety, $rname,” you say, so caught up in your urge to reassure $rthem that your hand moves on its own, taking $rname’s in yours. “This is unlike anything anyone has ever dealt with before. Perhaps it’s better to let more experienced magi like Perjin and Master Zîn handle this?” <<if $res gt $flirt>>Your face warms as you realize what you’ve done, and you have to avoid looking at your hands before your courage fails you.<<else>>Your thumb rubs across the peaks and valleys of smooth brown skin stretched over $rtheir knuckles. $crtheir fingers twitch in your grip, but $rthey doesn’t pull away.<</if>><<else>>“I only want to ensure your safety, $rname,” you say, so caught up in your urge to reassure them that your hand moves on its own, halfway across the table before you catch yourself. “This—” You clear your throat and avert your eyes. “This is unlike anything anyone has ever dealt with before. Perhaps it’s better to let more experienced magi like Perjin and Master Zîn handle this?” Hand lingering awkwardly on the table between you, you begin to pull it back, until $rname suddenly catches it with $rtheir own. Your heart flutters as $rtheir fingers curl around yours. <<if $res gt $flirt>>It takes a moment for your mind to catch up with your eyes, your senses, before you work up the courage to squeeze $rname’s hand back.<<else>>Realizing how open $rname is to the affection, you no longer feel any hesitation. You squeeze $rtheir hand, your thumb rubbing across the peaks and valleys of smooth brown skin stretched over $rtheir knuckles.<</if>><</if>> $rname’s hands are soft, but not as soft as you would’ve thought for someone who spent so many years living in palaces. The small callouses on $rtheir hands and fingers are a lingering reminder of $rtheir past, of how hard $rthey has worked to get here. <<if $ass gt $pass>>When you look back up at $rname’s face, $rthey seems a little flustered, looking down at your linked fingers. A small crease forms in $rtheir brows as $rthey gathers $rthemselves.<<else>>When you look back up at $rname’s face, you find $rthem looking more thoughtful than you expected, almost troubled, a small crease between $rtheir brows.<</if>> “$name, I…” $crthey takes a breath, as if working up the courage to speak. “I know that I still have much to learn. I realize that I’ve made mistakes before; I remember vividly the way I embarrassed myself with Lady Naza, the first time I introduced you to the nobility.” Saying all of this seems difficult for $rthem, having to swallow a bit of $rtheir pride to speak of it. You remain silent as $rthey continues. “But I want you to know that you can rely on me,” $rthey says, holding your eyes with $rtheir own. “The last thing I want is to become a burden to you, so give me this chance. I want to prove myself to you as your Sorcerer. Will you let me, just this once?” [[Continue|10.21rlow]]<</if>>“Can you give us the room for a bit, Siham?” you ask, and Siham nods, bowing once more before pulling the doors closed again to give you and $aname privacy. “There’s something else I need to tell you,” $aname starts, “but I didn’t want to speak of it in front of $rname.” This surprises you. In the time you’ve spent with both of them, you got the impression that $aname and $rname get along very well together. “Why not?” The water spirits still circle around $aname’s hand as $athey twists $atheir wrist, streaks of blue in the air trailing around and between $atheir spread fingers. “It’s a personal matter.” You arch your brows at this, staring at the side of $aname’s face as $athey does not meet your eyes. “I don’t understand. You’ve known $rname a lot longer than you’ve known me, $aname.” “I have,” $aname agrees, a rare hint of hesitance in $atheir words as $athey stretches $atheir hand back out to the pool again. “But…” $cathey trails off as the water spirits float back to the pool, $atheir attention shifting back to you. <<if $arelationship is 'low'>>$catheir expression is inscrutable, $atheir eyes calm, tinted a darker brown in the dimness of the temple than you usually see. “It might come up in the future,” $athey answers at length, not entirely the words you were hoping to hear. “Better I tell you now.” “I see.” You compose yourself, pushing aside your disappointment. “You’re probably right. What is it that you need to tell me, then?”<<else>>$catheir face is set in a calm expression, but there’s something in $atheir eyes that gives you pause. They’re tinted a darker brown in the dimness of the temple than you usually see, brows above furrowed with the slightest wrinkle. “I thought you would understand me more,” $athey answers at length, words spoken more quietly than they need to be. You feel as if a hand has been extended to you, cautiously but willingly. $aname is giving you $atheir trust on a matter where $athey has not given it to others before, and you realize at once how important this is. $cathey’s so reserved that you might have easily missed the weight of it before, were this a few weeks ago when you first met, but you know $athem better now. Enough to understand when $aname is baring a vulnerability to you. <<if $charm gt $blunt>>“Thank you, $aname,” you say, smiling at how surprised $aname looks when you say it. “I’m happy that you’re willing to trust me with something like this, whatever it is. You can tell me anything.” “You don’t need to thank me for it,” $aname mutters, seeming unsure what to do with your sincerity—you try to reign in your smile before it grows too wide. Does $athey know how endearing $athey can be sometimes, even if unintentionally?<<else>>“I won’t betray your trust, $aname,” you say, straightforward and genuine, which seems to take $aname aback. “I know you wouldn’t tell me this—whatever it is—lightly.” “You don’t need to be so serious about it,” $aname mutters, seeming unsure what to do with your sincerity, but that’s fine with you. So long as $athey knows that you’re aware of what this means to $athem.<</if>> You decide to move on. “So, what is it?”<</if>> $aname lingers in silence for a bit, taking in a deep breath, as if to muster the strength to speak first. When $athey shifts on $atheir pillow, turning $atheir body to face you and meet your eyes, you realize you may have even underestimated how important this is for $athem. “It’s about my family.” $catheir forearm is stretched out over the edge of the table, fingers twitching into a loose fist. “Things that I haven’t spoken of yet.” “Is it related to your father?” you ask, and $aname frowns. “In a way.” A somber look crosses $atheir gaze, but it’s gone as quickly as it appeared. “You already know how I feel about his reign.” To a point, perhaps. “I know you were opposed to how he acted as the Crown, but you never really went into specifics.” “You’ve had some lessons in history by now,” $aname replies with a wry smile, lacking any true humor. It fades from $atheir face a moment later, replaced by something with an intensity that you can describe as nothing less than sheer loathing. “You know what he did.” You nod, hesitant to speak of it. Crown Piruz sold Ivia to Thalloi city-states and nobles. He suppressed political dissidents, both in Ivia and Arsur, with an iron fist. Entire villages were sometimes razed to the ground if they threatened to revolt, its inhabitants massacred indiscriminately. Yet, to $aname who didn’t know any of this as a child, Piruz was a loving father. One $athey now has discarded, is ashamed of, is trying to make up for. “He took the hand of those who would use him as a tool, hoping they could deliver him the legacy he wanted,” $aname continues, bitterness coloring the words, tugging at the corner of $atheir mouth. “The peace he wished for, the Arsur he dreamed of. He should’ve known better.” Is $athey speaking of the nobility? The Imperial Court? While you know of the decisions that previous Crowns have made in their reigns, you know less about the role that the nobles played. Somehow, the influence of the Imperial Court tends to be understated in historical accounts. Though speaking of Crown Piruz now, you’re reminded of something else. “I think I saw him,” you confess, feeling a little silly for having forgotten all about it. “During the coronation, in my vision of Fire. It was only briefly, but I think it was him. He was among the other Crowns who came before me.” You don’t mention that $aname looks like him. Beneath the frail gauntness of his face, you saw $aname reflected in parts of Piruz. In the shape of his face, the softly narrowed eyes, the slope of his cheekbones. You’re not sure if $aname would appreciate the comparison, or the reminder. [[Continue|10.21a]] Siham accompanies you back to your chambers, where you immediately shed your clothes and head to your private washroom to scrub the sweat and dirt from your skin. You take a short bath after, adding a tonic to the water that helps with the soreness of your muscles after all the exercise. As you stretch in the water, lingering in the bath for as long as you can, your body feels refreshed once more. Once you emerge to get dressed in more luxurious garb again, preparing to meet the court candidates, your gaze falls on your desk. Letters are piled in the corner of it. The most politically notable are from foreign leaders congratulating you on your coronation, expressing interest in further correspondence. The messages were all accompanied with more ostentatious gifts; piles of expensive fabrics, ornamental weapons and armor, handcrafted sculptures of stone and wood, jewels, silver and gold. Things you don’t have much use for personally, sitting in the palace’s vaults instead. You’ve received many more letters than those, of course, but the Royal Secretary has sorted through it all and only given you the most significant ones, the ones that will be expecting a reply and—in some cases—even a gift in return. <<if $dfriend is false>>As you ponder the matter, of all the letters that sit opened on your desk, your gaze falls on the one that has kept your attention the most these past days. Still unanswered, but not for a lack of trying. “Your Imperial Majesty?” Siham questions, and you blink back to awareness, realizing you’ve been staring at the letter for the past several minutes. “Give me some time, Siham.” You make a decision, approaching your desk and settling down, reaching for your ink and writing pen. You take the bottle of ink in hand first, allowing your magic to seep into it, coating it with your signature. “I should answer this letter.” “Of course.” You don’t want to keep $dname waiting for too long. [[Continue|10.21d]]<<else>><<if $xrelationship is 'low'>>As you ponder the matter, of all the letters that sit opened on your desk, your mind drifts to one that is missing. Or rather, a reply that you never received. “Your Imperial Majesty?” Siham questions, and you blink back to awareness, realizing you’ve been staring at your desk for the past several minutes. “Give me some time, Siham.” You make a decision, approaching your desk and settling down, reaching for your ink and writing pen. You take the bottle of ink in hand first, allowing your magic to seep into it, coating it with your signature. “I need to write a letter.” “Of course.” You hope that, this time, $xname will answer. [[Continue|10.23x]]<<else>>As you ponder the matter, of all the letters that sit opened on your desk, your gaze falls on the one that has kept your attention the most these past days. It has been bothering you more than you care to admit. “Your Imperial Majesty?” Siham questions, and you blink back to awareness, realizing you’ve been staring at the letter for the past several minutes. “Give me some time, Siham.” You make a decision, approaching your desk and settling down, reaching for the last letter $xname sent you. “I want to read some letters.” “Of course.” You still can‘t figure out why $xname told you to stop writing to $xthem, even if $xthey said it was necessary. What on earth is $xthey planning that requires $xthem to go completely silent? For what must be the hundredth time, you reread $xtheir—barely legible, but better than before—letter. [[Continue|10.21x]]<</if>><</if>> You’re rendered speechless by $rname’s earnestness. No one has ever said such words to you before, no one has ever wanted to <em>prove</em> themselves to you before. It reminds you of the first time you met, the way $rthey took your hand and smiled at you so beautifully. Yet… After what feels like a century, you finally manage to open your mouth. “Is it because I’m the Crown?” “No.” $rname’s answer comes without hesitation, carried by the softness in $rtheir eyes, in $rtheir hand as $rthey holds yours: “It’s because you are my friend.” Your chest feels tight, but not with an ache. No, this is something else, something deeper than that, something that has been there for years—and with a single exhale, as that tightness disappears, so does it. Loneliness. Your loneliness is gone and your heart is full, overflowing as it chants $rtheir name, senselessly, endlessly. <<if $ass gt $pass>>“Can I kiss your hand, $rname?” The question comes tumbling from your mouth before you can help it. You know what it’s like to be sensitive to touch when you’ve been deprived for so long, but you didn’t know it could be the same for your heart. It’s like a dam has broken, and you can do nothing but be swept away by the flood. <<if $res gt $flirt>>You’ve lost your mind. You’ve lost it, but you can’t stop yourself, even as your face burns with heat at your own audacity.<<else>>You’ve lost your mind. Willingly abandoned it, for even the smallest chance to indulge in this feeling for a little while longer.<</if>> $rname’s eyes widen, lips parted slightly. “I…” “I won’t if you don’t want me to,” you promise <<if $res gt $flirt>> quickly<<else>>reassuringly<</if>>, beginning to pull your hand back, but then $rname tightens $rtheir grip. “No! It’s—” $crthey stammers, unable to meet your gaze. “I would… I do want you to.” <<if $res gt $flirt>>Your heart feels as if it’s going to beat out of your chest, through your throat, out of your mouth.<<else>><em>$crthey wants you to.</em><</if>> How can $rthey say such things? Does $rthey not know what it does to you, how much greedier it makes you? Slowly, savoring every moment, you lift $rtheir hand to your lips. $rname can’t help but look at you now, eyes fixed on you as you press your mouth to $rtheir knuckles. Just as you felt with your hand, $rtheir skin is so soft; sweeter and headier than any wine. The intensity of your own desire almost takes you aback, but you know it’s all because it’s $rname. You’re so comfortable with $rthem, so at ease, that it all comes pouring out of you without any restraint. <<if $flirt gt $res>>Oh, but it’s still not enough. Not nearly.<<else>>Your courage swells together with your want. $rname makes you feel bolder, brave enough to ask for what you yearn for.<</if>> You feel drunk. “Can I kiss it again?” you ask quietly, your breath a feather’s touch against $rthem. $crthey nods mutely, as if hypnotized, and you turn $rtheir hand over. When you kiss $rtheir palm, $rthey sucks in a sharp breath, chest rising with the movement, holding it there. “Again?” you whisper, and $rthey gives another nod, a smaller, shakier one that has you smiling against $rtheir pulse as your lips touch the inner side of $rtheir wrist. You’re still not sated. You can feel $rtheir pulse flutter against your mouth, beating like a rabbit’s heart, and you’re <em>still</em> not sated. “Your fingers,” you say, halfway delirious when you shift $rtheir hand again and $rthey obediently spreads out $rtheir fingers for you. You kiss the tip of each one as you hold $rtheir eyes with your own, the skin lighter there compared to the rest of $rtheir hands; the place where $rthey casts $rtheir magic from. Where you’ve seen lightning pour out of $rtheir body as if it were natural, shaped by those lovely fingers, tugging on it like the strings of an instrument played by a musician that has mastered it. When you press a last, reverent kiss to the tip of $rname’s little finger, something in $rname seems to give. $crthey slips $rtheir hand out of your grasp, instead cupping your face, and rests $rtheir thumb against your mouth. It’s much more daring than you would’ve expected from $rname, and it takes your breath away. $crtheir hand almost seems to burn against your skin, glowing with heat and energy. A star in $rtheir palm, falling along your jaw, landing on your mouth. “Your lips are like silk, $name,” $rthey says, mesmerized as $rtheir thumb caresses your lower lip, either unaware or uncaring of how much it provokes you. You grab $rtheir wrist, spiraling into something needy, something with a burning want to caress, to kiss $rtheir lips instead— There’s another knock on the door. Both you and $rname startle, you releasing $rname’s wrist while $rname snatches $rtheir hand back and shoots up to $rtheir feet. Likely Siham again, reminding you of your waiting schedule. “We… we should…” $rname appears at a loss, looking everywhere but at you as $rthey smooths over the skirt of $rtheir dress. $crtheir complexion has darkened with a deep red undertone, from $rtheir neck up to $rtheir whole face. “I should leave, to examine the body.” You press your hand over your mouth, covering your smile. “Mhm.”<<else>>You know what it’s like to be sensitive to touch when you’ve been deprived for so long, but you didn’t know it could be the same for your heart. It’s like a dam has broken, and you can do nothing but be swept away by the flood. Lips parting to speak, you want to give voice to the need inside of you, but fall short. You want to kiss $rthem—but how do you say it? How <em>can</em> you say it? $rname notices your hesitance. “$name? What is it?” $crthey speaks softly as if not to scare you away, or perhaps even to coax you to come closer. $crtheir gaze promises you safety. You avert your eyes back down to your joined hands, and feel the need tingling on your lips. <<if $res gt $flirt>>“I want to…” $rname is patient, but also inviting: “Tell me.” Swallowing down your nervousness, through the dryness in your mouth, you admit, “I want to kiss your hand.”<<else>>The confession escapes your control entirely: “I want to kiss your hand.”<</if>> When you meet $rname’s eyes once more, you find what you least expected. $crthey almost seems as surprised as you are, staring back at you in amazement, but also in complete, naked affection. <<if $res gt $flirt>>You’ve lost your mind. You’ve lost it, but you couldn’t stop yourself from saying it, even as your face burns with heat at your own audacity.<<else>>You’ve lost your mind. Willingly abandoned it, for even the smallest chance to indulge in this feeling for a little while longer.<</if>> “Then kiss me,” $rname answers, sounding almost breathless with anticipation, voice whisper-soft. $crthey lifts $rtheir hand for you, and your heart feels as if it’s going to beat out of your chest, through your throat, out of your mouth. Slowly, trying to keep your hand from shaking, you bend your head down a little to close the gap. $rname’s eyes are fixed on you as you press your mouth to $rtheir knuckles. Just as you felt with your hand, $rtheir skin is so soft; sweeter and headier than any wine. You’re not sated only with this—you couldn’t be—but you wouldn’t dream of demanding more from $rname. This moment alone is more than you could’ve hoped for, but as you start to let go of $rtheir hand, $rname stops you. “Was that all?” You blink, so taken aback that $rname’s gaze almost doesn’t register. You had no idea the cold hues of $rtheir silver eyes could cut so sharply with want. <<if $flirt gt $res>>“Do you want more?” you ask, your voice hoarse in your throat. “I want anything you’re willing to give,” $rname replies, and you almost lose your breath as $rthey turns $rtheir hand over.<<else>>Leaving you speechless doesn’t seem enough for $rname as $rthey turns $rtheir hand over in your grip, then says, “I want more.”<</if>> You could never, and would never, want to say no to $rthem. So you kiss $rthem again, softly, onto the center of $rtheir palm, your head feeling as weightless as if you were floating in a dream. “More,” $rthey says, almost asks, something pleading to $rtheir voice that contradicts the command of $rtheir words. You obey, your lips touching the inner side of $rtheir wrist, more firmly this time, and the way $rname sucks in a breath engraves itself in your memory as the sweetest thing you’ve ever seen, ever heard. “More,” $rname whispers again and then, as if to <em>kill</em> you, adds a soft, “please.” $crthey spreads out $rtheir fingers for you so temptingly, and you kiss the tip of each one. The skin there is lighter compared to the rest of $rtheir hand; the place where $rthey casts $rtheir magic from. Where you’ve seen lightning pour out of $rtheir body as if it were natural, shaped by those lovely fingers, tugging on it like the strings of an instrument played by a musician that has mastered it. When you press a last kiss to the tip of $rname’s little finger, something in $rname seems to give. $crthey slips $rtheir hand out of your grasp, instead cupping your face along your jaw, and rests $rtheir thumb against your mouth. $crtheir hand almost seems to burn against your skin, glowing with heat and energy. A star in $rtheir palm, falling along your jaw, landing on your mouth. “Your lips are like silk, $name,” $rthey says, mesmerized as $rtheir thumb caresses your lower lip, either unaware or uncaring of how much it captivates you. Your own hand reaches for $rtheir wrist to have something to cling onto. Wishing, wanting for $rthem to pull you closer, to caress you, to <em>kiss you</em>— There’s another knock on the door. Both you and $rname startle, you releasing $rname’s wrist while $rname snatches $rtheir hand back and shoots up to $rtheir feet. Likely Siham again, reminding you of your waiting schedule. “We… we should…” $rname appears at a loss, looking everywhere but at you as $rthey smooths over the skirt of $rtheir dress. $crtheir complexion has darkened with a deep red undertone, from $rtheir neck up to $rtheir whole face. “I should leave, to examine the body.” You hide your mouth behind your hand, the same warm flush burning on your own face as you make a small noise of agreement, unable to say anything else.<</if>> Neither of you are in the right state to discuss what just happened, but even if you were, there’s no moment to spare for it now. You decide to think about it first; whatever is between the two of you is so new that you wouldn’t want to ruin things by acting impulsively. You’ll have to talk about it later, when there’s time. As $rname heads right for the doors, you call for $rthem before $rthey can open them. “$rname?” $rname looks over $rtheir shoulder at you. “Yes?” “Please be careful.” “Don’t worry.” $crthey smiles. “I’ll return to you, safe and sound.” [[Continue|10.22r]]<<set $rbirthdaypassed to true>><<if $prisoner is 'palace'>><b>IN THE PALACE DUNGEONS</b> Lady Zerya’s private study is exactly as $rname left it. Though, it’s the first time in a while since $rthey last visited. Not since before $name arrived at the palace. Before, when Lady Zerya was still alive, $rname would often sit in the main room of her study to read; $rthey knows the placement of every book on the shelves like the back of $rtheir hand. After she died, $rname couldn't bring $rthemselves to change it. Out of love, first, and grief to have lost $rtheir dearest teacher, but now, there's a different kind of ache. Seeing it again, knowing about the secret that Lady Zerya kept from $rthem, is much more painful than $rname expected. Recalling all the times they spoke, all the opportunities Lady Zerya had to tell $rthem the truth, taints $rtheir grief with bitterness, with anger. It’s only due to Master Zîn and Perjin’s accompanying $rthem, following $rthem to the adjacent room where the assassin’s body was, that allows $rname to keep $rtheir composure.<<else>><b>IN MARABAD'S PRISON</b> The city is quiet today. Prison guards give $rname and $rtheir company curious looks as they head for the room where the assassin’s body was kept. Master Zîn and Perjin follow closely behind, the three of them entering with passing glances at the guards standing by.<</if>> “Is it not your birthday today, $rname?” $rname stops walking, turning around to face Perjin with wide eyes. She blinks at the look of shock on $rname’s face, then begins to laugh. “Don’t tell me you forgot, you precious thing!” Master Zîn arches an eyebrow. “I suppose you did not inform the Crown either, then?” $rname quickly turns $rtheir head away, feeling $rtheir cheeks begin to burn as the <<if $rrelationship is 'high'>>kisses<<else>>kiss<</if>> in the temple flits through $rtheir mind. “The... the Crown has larger concerns.” “$cthey’ll be disappointed, you know,” Perjin teases as $rname fixes $rtheir gaze stubbornly on the stone altar, avoiding the two pairs of eyes following $rthem as $rthey walks around it. “You denied $them the opportunity to get you a birthday gift.” <<if $rrelationship is 'low'>>The very <em>last</em> thing $rname wants to think about is $name’s disappointment. It’s the reason why $rthey’s here in this room in the first place, searching for some kind of lead; $rthey can’t risk failing now, not when $name went out of $their way to trust $rname. Turning back to the task at hand,<<else>>$rname can only imagine how $name might react, how $they <<if $charm gt $blunt>>will tease $rname for forgetting<<else>>will no doubt start looking for a birthday gift immediately<</if>>, but truthfully, those kisses were already the perfect gift. $crthey doesn’t know what it means for them, exactly, beyond that $name seems to be fond of $rthem. Perhaps even very fond, and $rname certainly enjoyed the intimate moment they shared together— $crthey shakes $rtheir head, putting the matter out of $rtheir mind. $crthey needs to focus. $name put $their trust in $rname by giving permission for this examination, and $rname is determined to return to $them with results. Ignoring the way Perjin snorts behind $rthem,<</if>> $rname reaches out to touch the stone of the altar. Disappointingly, but as expected, it has been purposefully cleansed; there is only natural magic left as evidence that the body was ever here. Shifting $rtheir focus, $rname looks to the rest of the room. “What are you hoping to find, $rname?” Master Zîn asks, watching $rname scour the area around the stone altar, hands tracing over the surfaces of the walls, the shelves, the table. “A trace of the Void,” $rname replies, focused on $rtheir task. “From $name’s description, it affected the entire room.” Master Zîn and Perjin exchange a look, the latter commenting, “The walls here are reinforced with protective wards, but the Void eats away at whatever it touches. If you can find a weakness somewhere…” “Yes,” Master Zîn agrees, appearing thoughtful. “However, seeing the Void used like this, does it not imply we may have misunderstood its nature?” “What do you mean?” “If it is possible to apply the Void under specific conditions, and limit its effects to a desired outcome,” Master Zîn reasons while $rname continues $rtheir search, “does that not mean that the Void itself <em>is</em> still a kind of magic?” “Until now, we always assumed that the Void itself was nothingness,” Perjin says, adding to Master Zîn’s reasoning. “The opposite of existence. But you’re right, seeing it used like this contradicts that assumption. Perhaps nothingness is merely a function of the Void, rather than its nature?” As $rname bends down, hands trailing along the walls, $rthey feels something. Subtle, but distinct; a spot of emptiness where the protective ward ends, making $rtheir fingers feel numb. “That is what I would presume as well,” Master Zîn agrees, the conversation continuing. “If it were the opposite of existence, then the rules and boundaries of nature would not apply to it. The Void must be another element, one yet unexplored, no different than fire or water. Do you recall Crown Keybanû’s affinity?” “Void of the Stars?” Perjin makes a thoughtful sound as $rname freezes, pausing on a certain section of the wall. “It was a reference to the Void, surely, but her magic signature was one that swallowed light, and could cast and manipulate shadows. It wasn’t anything like what the Pale Sword spoke of.” “$rname, did you find something?” $crthey hears Master Zîn call for $rthem, but cannot tear $rtheir gaze away from the wall as $rthey crouches down, trying to find the focal point of that emptiness. “I think I may have—” [[It eats.|10.r1]] There’s a pleading look in $rtheir eyes, a near-desperation to the way $rthey clings to your hand; this means more to $rthem than you could’ve ever expected. Even though you still feel doubtful about the idea, you can’t deny $rname when $rthey feels so strongly about it. “Alright,” you say, and the way $rtheir whole face lights up almost erases all your hesitance. “I’ll let you handle it, but you have to promise not to take any risks.” “Thank you!” To your shock, $rthey lifts your hand to $rtheir mouth, kissing the back of it—the touch of $rtheir soft lips against your skin makes your heart skip a beat. “Thank you, I promise I—” $crthey freezes, blinking down at your hand as $rthey realizes what $rthey’s done. Slowly, $rtheir complexion darkens with a deep red undertone, from $rtheir neck up to $rtheir whole face. “I’m so sorry.” $crthey looks mortified as $rthey quickly releases your hand again. “I don’t know what I… I’m sorry.” <<if $ass gt $pass>>You reach out to grab $rtheir hand again. “Don’t apologize, $rname. <<if $res gt $flirt>>I…” You clear your throat, averting your gaze. “I liked it.”<<else>>I liked it.”<</if>><<else>>“Don’t apologize, $rname,” you say quickly, still feeling the ghost of $rtheir lips tingling on your skin. <<if $res gt $flirt>>“I…” You clear your throat, averting your gaze. “I liked it.”<<else>>I liked it.”<</if>><</if>> You liked it more than you can express. $rname peers at you from across the table with what you can only describe as dazed disbelief. “You did?” <<if $ass gt $pass>>You squeeze $rtheir hand.<<else>>$crthey slowly reaches for your hand again, and you welcome it eagerly.<</if>> “I did.” $crthey stares down at your linked fingers, then bites $rtheir lower lip, appearing conflicted. Eventually $rthey says, without meeting your eyes. “Could I do it again?” You suck in a deep breath, your head feeling light, almost weightless as if floating in a dream. “Yes. Whenever you want to.” For a hopeful moment, you almost think $rname will kiss your hand again from the way $rthey gazes at it, but then $rthey withdraws. Releasing your hand, $rthey rises to $rtheir feet; it seems $rthey’s not ready to explore whatever this is between you yet. “I should…” $crthey glances toward the doors, seeming restless. “I should leave, to examine the body.” “Go ahead.” You’ll have to talk about it later, then, when there’s more time. As $rname heads right for the doors, you call for $rthem before $rthey can open them. “$rname?” $rname looks over $rtheir shoulder at you. “Yes?” “Please be careful.” $crthey gives you a small smile. “I won’t disappoint you.” [[Continue|10.22r]]“Why didn’t you mention this earlier?” $aname asks after a short pause. $catheir question isn’t accusatory, and you get the sense $athey’s trying to delay responding to it. Sorting out how to feel about it. “After the coronation, there was so much happening,” you reply, frowning as you remember how chaotic it was. “It honestly slipped my mind. As I said, it was only a brief glimpse.” “What did he seem like to you?” You recall the way Piruz clutched the pomegranate seed to his chest. “Afraid.” “Because he was.” $aname looks away, $atheir loose fist on the table curling more tightly. Cowardly Piruz, the epithet people still call him by. $aname breathes out a sigh. “This isn’t what I wanted to talk to you about. Like I said, it’s related to my father, but…” “But?” $aname looks at you as if to take the measure of you one last time, on the brink of something, until $athey finally steps off of it. “It’s about my older sister.” $catheir gaze softens with a grief you haven’t seen so openly in $atheir face before, not even when $athey talked about $atheir mother. The name $athey speaks is one said in mourning: “Axîn.” <<if $aeavesdropping is true>>This is the name that was mentioned when you overheard $atheir conversation with Mîr Lîlan, during the banquet of your coronation. Even with Lîlan, who appeared to know about $aname’s upbringing, $athey refused to speak of it. Of her.<<else>>You never even knew $aname had a sibling, but seeing the depth of the pain in $atheir eyes merely by mentioning her to you, is it any surprise? Whatever happened must be tormenting $athem worse than either of $atheir parents.<</if>> “You haven’t spoken of her before.” “I’ve been avoiding doing so,” $aname confirms, voice lowered to a murmur. “Axîn is… she…” You’ve never seen $aname struggle for words, or lose $atheir composure like this. “$aname, if it’s too difficult to speak of—” “No, I need to talk about this.” $aname takes a moment to gather $athemselves, though $athey doesn’t look at you. “I should start at the beginning, so you understand.” “Take your time.” From the corner of your eyes, you see the water spirits flitting around the edge of the pool near $aname, as if wishing to return to $athem. Perhaps able to sense the pain within $athem, like they did with you. $aname ignores them, and begins to speak. “After father passed away, Crown Ferzan made mother a diplomat. She went to one of the Thalloi city-states, Arsekion, to negotiate a potential peace treaty regarding Ivia. There, she was murdered.” $aname relays it to you with almost cool indifference, but you know well enough that it’s merely a defense. A way to suppress the ache that it evokes, to stay in control. “The following month, Ferzan himself would be murdered the same way in Ivia.” $aname’s hand forcefully relaxes on the table. “When he died… when there was no one left to investigate what happened to Mother, Axîn went to Arsekion herself. To exact retribution upon Mother’s murderer.” “As a child?” You frown. “All alone?” “She was nineteen at the time, but yes, all alone.” $aname’s lips part, but it takes a moment before the words come out: “It’s the last time I saw her.” “The last time you—” Your eyes widen in realization. “$aname, it’s been ten years!” “I know.” <em>Where is she?</em> the Earth said. It all becomes painfully clear now. “You’ve been searching for her all this time.” $aname nods. “When I was old enough, I followed her trail to Arsekion. My sister left notes for me as she searched in case I came looking for her, and from her notes I retraced her steps. The note in Arsekion pointed me to the border of Ivia, and from there, the trail leads to one of Ivia’s ports on the Sea of Igris.” “And?” There’s a long pause, a longer pause than you expected. When $aname finally speaks, you hear an edge of caution in $atheir voice, a wariness in $atheir eyes when they meets yours again. “In her last note, she wrote she was going to meet someone who said they could help her. Someone with connections to a secretive faction that could offer her more information.” A secretive faction? “The note mentions that the meeting would take place in Arsur, at Vidarna’s Tower.” [[Continue|10.22a]]<<unset $aeavesdropping>>A relic of architecture, a remnant of a palace Vidarna once built. Now abandoned along the cliffs of Rojan’s shores, said to be haunted; no one approaches it for fear of being cursed by Vidarna’s spirit. An obvious superstition, but more importantly, asking Axîn to meet at Vidarna’s Tower… A familiar dread returns, one you haven’t sensed in a while. It is as unwelcome a companion as ever. “The Followers of Vidarna?” Your body tenses even as you try to keep your composure for $aname’s benefit. Now you see why $athey struggled to speak of it. “You think they tricked her, or…” “She might have joined them.” You almost wince. “Willingly?” “Why wouldn’t she?” It must be something $aname has thought about many times, has feared for an even longer time, the way $athey turns $atheir face away from you. “It was Crown Ferzan who sent Mother to her death. If Axîn didn’t join them willingly, then unwillingly.” With a mental ward. The possibilities get worse and worse with each one $aname brings up. Has this been on $atheir mind all this time? Even more than what $atheir father did, more than $atheir mother’s murder, it’s the sister that was lost who pains $athem the most. “If they took her, whether she volunteered or not…” $aname closes $atheir eyes and rubs over them with $atheir fingers, weariness in the way $atheir shoulders slump. “What would they need her a decade for? Would they bide their time this long, waiting for an opportune moment? Admittedly, I wasn’t much of a threat to anyone until I became the Royal Protector. Or is she already…” Dead. If you were in $aname’s shoes, what would you fear most? What would hurt you most? What would haunt you the most, for ten long years? “Those are all the options: she’s either dead, taken, or joined them voluntarily.” For the first time since you’ve known $aname, as $athey talks, something falls from $atheir eyes like a mask slipping, or a wall crumbling, and you glimpse something that makes your chest hurt for $athem. Despair. “I have to find out which one it is.” $aname sucks in a quiet breath. “I <em>have</em> to know<<if $arelationship is 'high'>>—” <<if $ass gt $pass>>You reach over and take $aname’s hand in yours, even though it is such little comfort you can offer $athem compared to the pain $athey must feel. It speaks to $aname’s own state of mind that $athey doesn’t even look surprised, or flustered. Instead $athey returns your grip, and clings onto your hand just as tightly.<<else>>Your hand extends like a reflex, acting before you can think, but you catch your impulse halfway before you can take $aname’s hand. Still, you want to offer $athem comfort, so you ask. “Can I—” $aname answers before you finish, grabbing your hand. It speaks to $atheir state of mind that $athey doesn’t tease you about it, grip tight around yours as $athey clings to you.<</if>><<else>>…” As $aname trails off, your fingers twitch, an impulse to hold $atheir hand running through your arm. $aname’s gaze falls on your restless limb, so you know that $athey noticed the movement, but $athey doesn’t reach out. You keep your hand on your lap, changing the subject instead and asking something else that’s on your mind.<</if>> “Is that why you insisted on seeing the memories of those assassins?” you say, recalling your first meeting, when $aname eliminated the assassins hiding among the Imperial Guards. “You were hoping they might know something about Axîn.” It’s the reason why $athey must have been upset about $dname and $rname’s ploy. Allowing the Followers to infiltrate the Imperial Guards on purpose without telling $aname, denying another possibility of gathering information, as well as letting the enemy close without $aname even knowing. Though that raises another question. “$aname, do $rname and $dname not know about your sister?” “No.” $aname’s jaw tenses briefly. “$rname knows I hold a personal grudge against the Followers, but nothing more than that. $crthey has enough to worry about. As for $xdnickname, $dthey would not be willing to help me.” “What?” You can’t believe that. “But $dname is—” “$xdnickname would assume my sister joined them, if she’s alive at all, which would make her an enemy.” $aname gives you a half-smile, hollow at best. “$xdnickname is not as soft as you think, $name. $cdthey would kill Axîn without hesitation if it turned out that she truly became part of the Followers. The High General of Arsur will never mistake an enemy for a friend.” “Then what do you plan on doing?” <<if $arelationship is 'high'>>You squeeze $atheir hand a little, almost unintentionally, as you consider where this path might lead $aname.<<else>>You give $aname a searching look, one heavy with concern.<</if>> “Supposing you find her. What if she joined the Followers willingly?” “I can’t turn a blind eye.” <<if $arelationship is 'high'>>$aname’s voice lowers, $atheir response a reluctant one even as you feel $athem squeeze your hand back.<<else>>$aname stares back at you, uncertainty to $atheir gaze.<</if>> “She would be part of the same faction that killed your parents, $name. Could <em>you</em> look away from that, even if she’s my sister?” Even so, $aname told you about it while knowing how you might react, that your interests might conflict down the line should Axîn be found. Yet, you notice $aname avoided answering your question. Perhaps even $athey doesn’t know what $athey would do yet. “In any case, that’s all I had to tell you.” $aname’s eyes look weary, as if the conversation took all $atheir energy. “There’s a possibility that nothing might come of it, but I thought that you should know all the same.” That nothing might come of it—that $athey will never find Axîn. Is this why $athey took it upon $athemselves to investigate the matter of the citizens going missing as well? $aname would understand better than anyone how it feels. <<if $arelationship is 'low'>>“Thank you for telling me, $aname,” you start, but $aname shakes $atheir head. “You don’t need to thank me for it.” $cathey looks toward the temple doors. “It’s better you found out now, instead of later.” Despite your better judgment, you can’t help but to ask: “Is that the only reason you told me?” $aname glances back at you, lingering in silence for a moment. “You’ve shared your own pain with me,” $athey finally says. “Even when I intruded on your vision during the coronation ceremony, you didn’t push me away, though you had every right to. I suppose… I thought you would understand.” It’s more trust than you expected form $athem, even though there is still something cautious in $atheir demeanor. It’s fine, you can be patient. There’ll be time to get to know each other better. At that moment, there’s another knock on the door. Likely Siham again, reminding you of your waiting schedule. $aname rises to $atheir feet with a sigh. “I should get going, there are still more leads to follow up on regarding the missing citizens. You should, too; you wouldn’t want to keep the candidates waiting.” $cathey hesitates for a moment, but then offers you $atheir hand. You take it, letting $athem pull you up to your feet. “Don’t stay out too late,” you say as a lighthearted tease, and to your satisfaction, $aname replies with a playful smile. “I wouldn’t dare, Your Imperial Majesty.” [[Continue|10.28]]<<else>>[[Continue|10.23a]]<</if>>“Thank you for trusting me, $aname,” you start, but then become distracted by the way $athey smiles at you. There’s something sad about it. <<if $charm gt $blunt>>“You keep thanking me,” $athey notes,<<else>>“You don’t need to thank me for something like that,” $athey says,<</if>> glancing down at your hands. “I’m merely returning the trust that you’ve shown me.” It’s true that you do trust $aname, but you’re not entirely sure what $athey means. A specific instance, or a general feeling? Seeing the somewhat puzzled look on your face, $athey explains, “You spoke of your own family, even when it was painful to do so. When I intruded on your vision during the coronation ceremony, you didn’t push me away, though you had every right to. As the Crown, you…” $cathey halts, and you wonder what’s going through $atheir mind. If $athey’s comparing you to $atheir father, and how you measure up. “You are different from what I thought you’d be,” $athey finally says<<if $ass gt $pass>>, causing you to arch your brows. You look down at the way $athey still holds your hand, your fingers pressed warmly together. “I take it that’s a good thing, considering the way you’re holding onto me.” As if only now realizing $athey has yet to release you, $aname starts to pull back. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable—” <<if $flirt gt $res>>“Are you letting me go already?” $aname pauses at your bold question, eyes seeming caught in your gaze, composure faltering for a rare moment. You squeeze $atheir hand again. “I don’t want you to. What about you, $aname? Do you?” The temple is dark, even more deeply in the twilight hour; the sun must have set a short while ago. The warm light of your eyes contrasts the blue tones of shadow as evening fades in, reflected like a glow in $aname’s. When $athey finally answers, $athey does it softly: “No, not yet.”<<else>>“I know, $aname,” you say quickly, gently tugging $atheir hand back toward you, and $athey stops pulling away. For a long moment, you hesitate, wondering if you’ve misjudged. “I’m not uncomfortable. Are you?” $aname pauses at your tentative question, eyes seeming caught in your gaze, composure faltering for a rare moment. You squeeze $atheir hand. “Do you dislike it?” The temple is dark, even more deeply in the twilight hour; the sun must have set a while ago. The warm light of your eyes contrasts the blue tones of shadow as night fades in, reflected like a glow in $aname’s. When $athey finally answers, $athey does it softly: “No. I like it.”<</if>><<else>>, and you feel your heart react, thumping loudly in your chest. You look down at the way $athey still holds your hand, your fingers pressed warmly together. “I’m glad you think so. I was worried you’d end up disliking me.” “Because of my father?” $aname assumes correctly, <<if $res gt $flirt>>but you can’t bring yourself to meet $atheir eyes. Maybe you’re still worried, just a little. $aname seems to sense it as $athey squeezes your hand. “You’re not anymore my father than I am, $name. I wouldn’t judge you based on that.” $cathey pauses, and then $atheir voice lowers to a teasing tone. “I certainly wouldn’t be holding your hand if I disliked you.” The unexpected words causes you to look up at $athem before you can help it. Even in the increasing darkness of the temple, as the twilight hour begins to fade, you can make out $aname’s soft smile.<<else>>and you look up at $aname again, brows furrowed slightly. “Partly,” you say, “but now I feel differently.” $aname looks intrigued, almost a little amused. “Oh? How so?” You squeeze $atheir hand. “Would you be holding onto me like this if you disliked me?” Even in the increasing darkness of the temple, as the twilight hour begins to fade, you can make out the soft smile $aname gives you in response.<</if>><</if>> The sun is gone, but the air feels so warm. “It’s strange.” $aname’s thumb slowly slides over the back of your hand, caressing the bumps and divots of your knuckles as $athey speaks. “Lately…” <<if $res gt $flirt>>Usually, such a display would have you feeling overwhelmed, but there’s something so comfortable about it. Soothing, almost, satisfying some deep-seated need you hadn’t even realized was there.<<else>>Usually, such a display would provoke more intense desires from you, and while you certainly still feel those, you also feel oddly comfortable. Like even if this was all $aname was willing to give you, you’d be content.<</if>> “Lately?” you ask quietly. $aname’s answer is more honest than you could’ve ever hoped for: “My heart feels at peace when I’m with you.” $cathey speaks it in a thoughtful, almost absent-minded murmur, a mere observation while $athey caresses your hand as if it were the most natural thing in the world to do. You didn’t think $athey had this side to $athem, but something must be changing between you. Enough that $aname is showing you affection, so easily given now that $atheir guard around you has lowered a little bit. It makes your head feel light yet overfull at the same time, completely entranced by $athem in this moment. What is it like to know $aname intimately? What is <em>$athey</em> like, when $athey shows and gives $atheir affection wholly and freely? $aname meets your eyes and something in your gaze must give away your thoughts, or your feelings, or the burning curiosity inside of you, because the way $athey says your name is only half a question, and half an unspoken expectation. “$name?” It <em>is</em> strange. You’ve heard $aname call you by your name dozens of times before, yet now, something has changed. Something is different. Different in the way $athey says it, and different in what it evokes from you in return. You want to kiss $athem, to thank $atheir lips for speaking it. There’s another knock on the door, and you flinch in surprise at the sudden interruption. Unlike you, $aname doesn’t look at all surprised. $cathey smiles at you with amusement as <<if $res gt $flirt>>you quickly release $atheir hand and avert your eyes, feeling your neck burn with the realization still sweeping through you. Rising to $atheir feet, $athey offers you a hand again, but this time to pull you up. “Shall we, $name?”<<else>>you scowl at the temple doors, annoyed at the intrusion just as you realized something important. Rising to $atheir feet, $aname uses the grip on your hand to pull you up, before $athey finally releases it—to your disappointment. “Shall we, $name?”<</if>> The way $athey’s saying your name now, tongue curling around it, <em>must</em> be on purpose. When $aname turns toward the doors, however, the lighthearted demeanor fades. “I still have some leads to follow up on in the city, so it’ll be a while before I’m back at the palace.” “Regarding the missing citizens?” Your brows furrow. “Try not to stay out too late. Or, if you have to, then send me a message to let me know.” “Why?” $aname gives you a mischievous look. “Would you miss me too much?” <<if $res gt $flirt>>The lingering heat on your neck spreads to your face, and $aname chuckles.<<else>>“Don’t tease me,” you warn $athem, resisting the impulse to <<if $ass gt $pass>>take $atheir hand again<<else>>ask $athem to take your hand again<</if>>.<</if>> “I mean it, $aname. I’ll get worried.” $cathey smiles with fondness. “I’ll come back to you, $name.” [[Continue|10.a1]]<<if $xfriend is false or $dfriend is false>><<set $day to 12>><</if>>“Another cup of tea, Your Imperial Majesty?” Ishrah bends low to whisper in your ear as you stare blankly at your most recent candidate for a court position in the past two hours. A lady from a noble house, currently rambling in an uninterrupted monologue about past legal reforms to city limits on residential garden sizes. She's applying to become the Minister of Defense.<<if $dfriend is false or $xfriend is false>> It has been days of this since you finalized your plans with $aname and $rname in your personal temple. The Festival of Cleansing has already arrived and is almost at its end, while you're still in the unfortunate position of wrapping up the last vacancies at court; even a week-long religious holiday does not afford the Crown any reprieve.<</if>> Keko stands on your other side, a positively serene expression on his face, letting the words wash over him as if they were little more than air. Which isn’t far off from the truth, in terms of their usefulness. You envy him greatly. “My esteemed great-great-great-granduncle from my mother’s side was, in fact, instrumental in delineating the ideal border width between such gardens—whereupon I must also remark, that inner courtyards are considered an altogether separate matter in the legal realm…” The candidate doesn’t even notice as you murmur a response to Ishrah from where you sit on your throne, in one of the smaller meeting rooms of the palace. <<if $ass gt $pass>><<if $blunt gt $charm>>“That depends. Will the tea be able to get this clay-brained idiot to shut up long enough for me to hear myself think?” Ishrah snorts so loudly that it actually catches the attention of the candidate. “I beg your forgiveness, Your Imperial Majesty?” the candidate says, glancing between the two of you. “You should,” you reply, pretending not to notice Ishrah clapping a hand over her mouth. “I feel as if I’m being made a fool of. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think this was someone’s idea of a joke.” The candidate stares at you, uncomprehending. “I… ah…” You stare back at her. “My lady, are you so slow that you can’t even tell when you’re being insulted? Why do you even want this position?”<<else>>“Spirits, please, <em>yes</em>.” Ishrah giggles loud enough that it actually catches the attention of the candidate. “Your Imperial Majesty?” the candidate says, glancing between the two of you. “My lady,” you speak, very slowly, “you have been going on about <em>garden sizes</em> for the past half hour. What exactly do you think it is that the Imperial Court will legislate on this topic when the Empire is on the brink of ruin?” The candidate clears her throat, shifting uncomfortably in her seat. “No, please, continue,” you insist. “Tell me about the legal distinctions in legislation between gardens and courtyards, I’m sure it’s riveting! We’ll simply let Şevan figure itself out.” She looks flustered, but then she actually takes you up on your insincere offer. You roll your eyes skywards. “Inner courtyards cannot be larger than half the size of the maximum limit for gardens, which—” “I wish your tendency to speak was half the size of the empty cavern you call your head,” you reply in a bored tone, pretending not to notice Ishrah clapping a hand over her mouth. “Perhaps then you’d be quiet long enough to pick up on sarcasm. Why do you even want this position?”<</if>><<else>><<if $blunt gt $charm>>“Yes. Now. Immediately.” Ishrah snorts so loudly that it actually catches the attention of the candidate. “Your Imperial Majesty?” the candidate says, glancing between the two of you. You close your eyes and breathe in deep, counting to five in your head before exhaling. As frustrated as you are, and as clearly unfit as this candidate is, you shouldn’t take it out on her. There’s no need for insults, you should remain civil. “My lady,” you speak slowly as you open your eyes again, “why do you want this position?” The candidate stares at you, uncomprehending. “I… ah… the gardens—” “For the love of the sky that embraces the mountains, <em>forget about garden sizes</em>.” You stare back at her. “Tell me, in clear terms: why do you want this position?” If you hear one more word spoken about the legal limits of residential gardens in cities, you will throw yourself out the nearest window and run screaming across the Royal Gardens like a lunatic.<<else>>“Spirits, please, <em>yes</em>.” Ishrah giggles loud enough that it actually catches the attention of the candidate. “Your Imperial Majesty?” the candidate says, glancing between the two of you. You close your eyes and breathe in deep, counting to five in your head before exhaling. As frustrated as you are, and as clearly unfit as this candidate is, you shouldn’t take it out on her. There’s no need for insults, you should remain civil. “My lady,” you speak slowly as you open your eyes again, “you have been going on about <em>garden sizes</em> for the past five minutes.” “Yes?” “You are applying for the position of Minister of Defense.” The candidate clears her throat, shifting uncomfortably in her seat. She looks flustered, as if you had said something nonsensical. “It is the achievement of legislation that is the important part, is it not?” “An achievement your distantly related ancestor was responsible for, not you.” You stare at her, starting to feel as if perhaps you are the insane one. “Why do you even want this position?”<</if>><</if>> “I only…” She glances around now that she was forced to abandon her no doubt prepared speech, as if looking for an escape route. “My mother—” “Wanted you in the Imperial Court to support your sister in the Office of Diplomacy,” Keko interjects, a deceptively kind smile on his face, though the words are more for your ears than for hers. “Ah.” Now it becomes clear; you give the lady in front of you an assessing look. “You’re angling for a political alliance?” “No, of course not!” the candidate protests, rising up to her feet, cheeks burning red. “I am very p-passionate about… about…” “Garden sizes?” Keko supplies helpfully. You give her an incredulous look. The lady glances between the three of you, whole face glowing with a bright blush, then quickly bows. “I will retract my application! Please forgive my blunder, Your Imperial Majesty!” [[Continue|10.29]]$dname’s very first letter to you was curt, straight to the point as it described the situation in western Zerat briefly and factually. You tried not to feel too disappointed, seeing how it lacked any warmth—$dthey’s your general first and foremost. $cdthey can’t waste time on pleasantries when $dthey’s buried elbow deep in protecting the province. Yet, disappointed you were, and that feeling has made you question exactly what it is that you want from $dname. <<if $drelationship is 'low'>>It’s undeniable that you’ve been drawn to $dthem from the moment you met. The way $dthey pledged $dthemselves to you as your general, to protect you with such pure devotion, it touched you more deeply than you realized at the time. Since then, you’ve tried to get to know $dthem better, grow closer, and you thought you were succeeding for a while. Until, the day after the coronation banquet, $dthey decided to leave. You know that action <em>had</em> to be taken, but did $dname truly need to go to Zerat personally? Or did $dthey use it as an excuse to distance $dthemselves from you? As you put your pen to the page, you decide that you won’t let $dname pull back so easily. Not after the way $dthey already opened up to you before; you know that there is something between you, and you want nothing more than to explore it. <<if $blunt gt $charm>>I will strive to become a Crown that the general need not shield, but rather, one you can rely on instead.<<else>>I am deeply grateful that I have a general like you to rely on.<</if>><<else>>It’s undeniable that you’ve been drawn to $dthem from the moment you met, but that feeling deepened into something more as you came to know $dthem better. $cdthem, $dname, not the general. The person beneath the golden scales of $dtheir armor, one who is as devoted to Arsur as $dthey is cunning in service to it, wielding $dtheir position and rank almost as a shield to protect $dthemselves. $cdthey is much more than that, though $dname doesn’t seem to think so. Ten years spent like this, it isn’t a mindset that $dthey will be able to shed so easily, but you know that $dthey can if $dthey’s allowed to. If $dthey has the <em>opportunity</em> to. That is why, most of all, you must do your best to become a Crown capable of ruling in $their own right. The last thing you want is to become another shackle to $dname, like $dtheir mother’s disgrace has been. As you write, you find your hand pausing on the sheet of papyrus, eyes rereading the last sentence you inked onto its page. <<if $blunt gt $charm>>I will strive to become a Crown that the general need not shield, but rather, one you can rely on instead.<<else>>I am deeply grateful that I have a general like you to rely on.<</if>> Something about it is too distant, too cold. The feeling is an impulse that arises from your chest, but you know it rationally, too; the word choice is not right. It doesn’t matter if $dname is the general. Whatever $dthey is, whoever $dthey chooses to be, you want $dthem at your side all the same. You want $dthem to trust you, to rely on you, to share $dtheir burdens with you, as one person would to another who they hold dear. Not because you’re the Crown, and not because $dthey’s your general, but because you care about each other. You toss the sheet of papyrus out, rewriting it from scratch, and change that single sentence into something more meaningful: <<if $blunt gt $charm>>I will strive to become someone that you need not shield, but rather, a friend that you can rely on instead.<<else>>I am deeply grateful that I have someone like you to rely on, my friend.<</if>><</if>><<if $drelationship is 'high'>> The more you write, the more your feelings come pouring out of you. Your frustration, your confusion, your longing; you need clarity, you want answers. <<if $res gt $flirt>>Writing the words on the page instead of having to say them to $dthem in person makes you feel braver. More able to be honest, to voice what has been on your mind ever since $dname left the way $dthey did.<<else>>Writing the words on the page, you can ask what you want for without distraction. Able to say what's on your mind, without worry that you might be pushed away, like you were when $dname left the way $dthey did.<</if>> It was too sudden, and even with weeks passing you still aren't used to $dtheir absence.<</if>> You hope and wish that you will see each other again, soon. [[Continue|10.22d]]@@.xfontneat;Dear $name, <<if $blunt gt $charm>>Hopefully this style of handwriting will meet your high standards! I expect to be congratulated for my efforts, because my fingers are already cramping from having to write in this way. Truly, the things I suffer for a pretty face.<<else>>Hopefully this will convince you that there is no need to show $aname anything, least of all our private correspondence! How can I compose poetry about your beauty knowing that $aname will tease me for it the next time we meet?<</if>> I would like to tell you more about our progress, but in the unlikely event this letter is intercepted, I can’t give out too many details. Suffice it to say that all is going according to plan. Now that you can actually read my handwriting, perhaps I should instead repeat what I wrote to you last time. You missed the part where I lamented your absence like the earth in drought laments the absence of rain. Compare me to a pitiful sunflower trapped in the shade, wilting away now that I’m no longer by your side. I feel as if I am in winter already, deprived of your warmth. Did that impress you? I bet that impressed you. In seriousness, you will have to forgive me for pouring all these flattering words out only in these letters, when I was unable to tell them to you in person when we parted. My heart is both more honest and more selfish from a distance, where I don’t have to consider the consequences of my actions. I have thought of you often, truly, and I have missed you. But I also know that it would be better that I don’t, and I don’t have the wisdom to decide where that leaves us. I know it will hurt you, eventually. All I can do is ask for your mercy, and your forgiveness. This letter will be the last I’ll be able to send you in a while, and I’m afraid I’ll have to ask you to refrain from sending a reply as well. The next leg of my journey is a dangerous one, and one where I can’t afford to be tracked. A messenger pigeon heading right for me would increase that risk. I cannot say anything more, but don’t fret too much. Everything is well in hand, and once this last thing is handled, I will be free to return to the Royal Palace and inform you in person. Flatter you in person, too. <<if $res gt $flirt>>Yours as well,<<else>>Missing you more,<</if>> $xname@@ [[View in regular font|10.21xregular]] [[Continue|10.22x]]<b>IN NORTHERN ZERAT</b><<set $day to 8>> “General, you <em>must</em> do something about this!” $dname crosses $dtheir arms, staring down the fuming noble with narrowed eyes. The lady of House Berwarî casts a disdainful glare toward the military encampment stretching out behind $dname, the hem of her silk yellow dress stained with dirt. “What are your soldiers good for if they cannot protect the Crown’s Road properly? This is the third time bandits have robbed my caravan!” “You knew the risks, Lady Berwarî,” $dname replies coolly, not having bothered to remember her chosen name. “We can’t be everywhere all at once. With the provincial army occupied at the border of Şevan, we’re stretched thin across Zerat.” “That is not acceptable.” Lady Berwarî points an accusatory finger to $dname’s chest. “If you cannot be bothered to protect $ctheir Imperial Majesty’s tithes properly, then I will be forced to make an official complaint to the Imperial Court!” It takes all of $dname’s composure to prevent $dtheir upper lip from curling into a sneer. “$ctheir Imperial Majesty’s tithes, you say?” Lady Berwarî straightens her shoulders, chin lifting. “Yes, the Crown’s tithes.” “Then how come these tithes were headed for Zeratun?” She pauses, blinking twice in rapid succession. “The Imperial Vault is located in the capital.” “Yet the Crown, as well as $their administration, currently reside in Marabad.” $dname knows $dthey has Berwarî cornered when the lady glances away, barely able to suppress the panic in her eyes. “All taxes and tithes were ordered for registry in Rojan.” “Ah, is that so?” Lady Berwarî tries to smooth her composure, folding her hands in front of her. “I must have missed the announcement. Regardless, it does not change the fact that bandits have—” She halts when $dname leans in, lowering $dtheir lips to Berwarî’s ear. “The next time you get the idea to fill your family’s vault, try not to be so obvious about it.” When $dname pulls back, Lady Berwarî looks pale. “You- you dare to accuse—” She stammers, flustered as $dname’s gaze remains unflinching, then abruptly turns around to her servants. “Ready the chariot! We return to Zeratun immediately!” $dname watches her scurry off with thinly-veiled disgust as her feet slip along in the mud, and she berates one of her servants when they try to help. “Leech,” $dname scoffs, remaining at the edge of the camp until the noble has returned to the road where her chariot awaits, taking off as soon as she steps onto it and leaving a cloud of dust in its wake. Someone approaches from behind. “General.” $dname turns to find one of $dtheir soldiers—though they don’t look like it at first glance, seeing as how they’re dressed in the ragged garbs of a common bandit. [[Continue|10.23d]]@@.intelcharm;<<if $drelationship is 'high'>>$dname, I trust you remain in good health since our last correspondence. <<if $blunt gt $charm>>If there is any further news from Zerat, it has not reached Marabad yet, which I take as a sign that there is no cause for concern. I presume the Imperial Army’s endeavors have continued to bear fruit under your leadership. These past days I have been occupied with my lessons. I confess that they have been enlightening: I finally understand why your departure, while sudden, was imperative to stabilizing the situation regarding the trade routes. In truth, I owe you my thanks for taking such quick action where I was not yet able to. It should not have been your burden to bear, yet you have borne it with dignity. I will strive to become someone that you need not shield, but rather, a friend that you can rely on instead.<<else>>I have been waiting for any further news from Zerat, but if there is any, it has not reached Marabad yet beyond your letters. I will take that as a good sign, as I have no doubt you have things well in hand, as you always do. As for me, I have come to a better understanding of why you had to leave so suddenly. While it was disappointing at the time, my tutors have taught me how necessary it was, and I admit to feeling embarrassed. While I was not yet able to grasp the situation, you were forced to take action in my stead. If it were not for you, the southern trade routes would be in dire straits; I am deeply grateful that I have someone like you to rely on, my friend. Hopefully, in the future, I will prove myself capable enough for you to rely on me as well.<</if>> $aname and $rname are doing their best to support me as much as they can, and my tutors have been of great help. <<if $res gt $flirt>>Still, I hope it’s not too forward to say that I have felt your absence. Even with all the progress I’ve made, there are moments where I feel as unprepared as I was when I first arrived at the palace. Even during that short time, you became a familiar presence at my side, especially missed now that the palace is filled with strangers. Perhaps I shouldn't speak this way. I don't want to cause you any discomfort by implying a closeness between us that isn't reciprocated. I remember that you were worried, before you left, that it would make you seem biased in my favor in the eyes of the court. If that is the case, then please take this letter as one sent from a friend, nothing more. Or, if that is too difficult, then forget about these words altogether. I won't resent you for it; I understand better than anyone the need to protect yourself, even when it leaves you lonely. Tell me you want me to be nothing more than your Crown, and I will never consider you to be more than my general in turn. I will understand. What I mean to say above all, regardless of your answer, is that I am keeping you in my thoughts, and that I hope that you are well, and that I will welcome your return to Marabad soon. As soon as you are able, of course. With gratitude, $name<<else>>Still, I admit I have felt your absence in these past days especially. Even with all the progress I’ve made, there are moments where I feel as unprepared as I was when I first arrived at the palace. In those moments, I find myself wishing I could speak to you. Not merely for advice, but because your presence has been a comfort even in the short time we’ve known each other. I’ve come to consider you a friend, one of the few I have in the palace. I hope it is permissible to consider you as such. The last thing I want is to cause you discomfort by implying a closeness between us that isn't reciprocated. I remember that you were worried, before you left, that it would make you seem biased in my favor in the eyes of the court. But you will have to forgive me, because I cannot lie about my fondness for you in private, nor do I want to. If you insist on building a wall between us, I will insist on tearing it down. The only way to prevent this, I'm afraid, is to be clear about your wishes. Tell me in no uncertain terms that you want me to be your Crown only, and I will never consider you to be more than my general in turn. Regardless of your answer, I will continue to keep you in my thoughts, and anxiously wait for your return to Marabad. With affection, $name<</if>><<else>><<if $res gt $flirt>>General,<<else>>My dear general,<</if>> I trust you remain in good health since our last correspondence. <<if $blunt gt $charm>>If there is any further news from Zerat, it has not reached Marabad yet, which I take as a sign that there is no cause for concern. I presume the Imperial Army’s endeavors have continued to bear fruit under your leadership. These past days I have been occupied with my lessons. I am slowly but surely beginning to gain more confidence in my judgment as I gain more knowledge. My tutors seem equally pleased with my progress. I hope, once you return, you will find cause to agree with them. I will strive to become a Crown that the general need not shield, but rather, one you can rely on instead.<<else>>I have been waiting for any further news from Zerat, but if there is any, it has not reached Marabad yet beyond your letters. I will take that as a good sign, as I have no doubt you have things well in hand, as you always do. As for me, I have become rather studious these days. My tutors are certainly pleased, though I am almost embarrassed at the breadth of my ignorance. My goal is to have cured some of it by the time you return, though that will require great effort on my part! In any event, I am deeply grateful that I have a general like you to rely on in the meantime. Hopefully, in the near future, I will prove myself capable enough as the Crown for you to rely on me as well.<</if>> $aname and $rname are doing their best to support me as much as they can, and my tutors have been of great help. Still, I have felt the absence of your advice. You are much more experienced in these matters than I, having been the general for so long, and I sometimes second-guess myself. Without your insight, I fear politics is still not a realm I feel comfortable in. I feel fortunate for your support, and hope that you will be able to conclude your campaign in Zerat successfully. Best regards, $name<</if>>@@ [[View in regular font|10.24nofont]] [[Continue|10.25d]]@@.intelblunt;<<if $drelationship is 'high'>>$dname, I trust you remain in good health since our last correspondence. <<if $blunt gt $charm>>If there is any further news from Zerat, it has not reached Marabad yet, which I take as a sign that there is no cause for concern. I presume the Imperial Army’s endeavors have continued to bear fruit under your leadership. These past days I have been occupied with my lessons. I confess that they have been enlightening: I finally understand why your departure, while sudden, was imperative to stabilizing the situation regarding the trade routes. In truth, I owe you my thanks for taking such quick action where I was not yet able to. It should not have been your burden to bear, yet you have borne it with dignity. I will strive to become someone that you need not shield, but rather, a friend that you can rely on instead.<<else>>I have been waiting for any further news from Zerat, but if there is any, it has not reached Marabad yet beyond your letters. I will take that as a good sign, as I have no doubt you have things well in hand, as you always do. As for me, I have come to a better understanding of why you had to leave so suddenly. While it was disappointing at the time, my tutors have taught me how necessary it was, and I admit to feeling embarrassed. While I was not yet able to grasp the situation, you were forced to take action in my stead. If it were not for you, the southern trade routes would be in dire straits; I am deeply grateful that I have someone like you to rely on, my friend. Hopefully, in the future, I will prove myself capable enough for you to rely on me as well.<</if>> $aname and $rname are doing their best to support me as much as they can, and my tutors have been of great help. <<if $res gt $flirt>>Still, I hope it’s not too forward to say that I have felt your absence. Even with all the progress I’ve made, there are moments where I feel as unprepared as I was when I first arrived at the palace. Even during that short time, you became a familiar presence at my side, especially missed now that the palace is filled with strangers. Perhaps I shouldn't speak this way. I don't want to cause you any discomfort by implying a closeness between us that isn't reciprocated. I remember that you were worried, before you left, that it would make you seem biased in my favor in the eyes of the court. If that is the case, then please take this letter as one sent from a friend, nothing more. Or, if that is too difficult, then forget about these words altogether. I won't resent you for it; I understand better than anyone the need to protect yourself, even when it leaves you lonely. Tell me you want me to be nothing more than your Crown, and I will never consider you to be more than my general in turn. I will understand. What I mean to say above all, regardless of your answer, is that I am keeping you in my thoughts, and that I hope that you are well, and that I will welcome your return to Marabad soon. As soon as you are able, of course. With gratitude, $name<<else>>Still, I admit I have felt your absence in these past days especially. Even with all the progress I’ve made, there are moments where I feel as unprepared as I was when I first arrived at the palace. In those moments, I find myself wishing I could speak to you. Not merely for advice, but because your presence has been a comfort even in the short time we’ve known each other. I’ve come to consider you a friend, one of the few I have in the palace. I hope it is permissible to consider you as such. The last thing I want is to cause you discomfort by implying a closeness between us that isn't reciprocated. I remember that you were worried, before you left, that it would make you seem biased in my favor in the eyes of the court. But you will have to forgive me, because I cannot lie about my fondness for you in private, nor do I want to. If you insist on building a wall between us, I will insist on tearing it down. The only way to prevent this, I'm afraid, is to be clear about your wishes. Tell me in no uncertain terms that you want me to be your Crown only, and I will never consider you to be more than my general in turn. Regardless of your answer, I will continue to keep you in my thoughts, and anxiously wait for your return to Marabad. With affection, $name<</if>><<else>><<if $res gt $flirt>>General,<<else>>My dear general,<</if>> I trust you remain in good health since our last correspondence. <<if $blunt gt $charm>>If there is any further news from Zerat, it has not reached Marabad yet, which I take as a sign that there is no cause for concern. I presume the Imperial Army’s endeavors have continued to bear fruit under your leadership. These past days I have been occupied with my lessons. I am slowly but surely beginning to gain more confidence in my judgment as I gain more knowledge. My tutors seem equally pleased with my progress. I hope, once you return, you will find cause to agree with them. I will strive to become a Crown that the general need not shield, but rather, one you can rely on instead.<<else>>I have been waiting for any further news from Zerat, but if there is any, it has not reached Marabad yet beyond your letters. I will take that as a good sign, as I have no doubt you have things well in hand, as you always do. As for me, I have become rather studious these days. My tutors are certainly pleased, though I am almost embarrassed at the breadth of my ignorance. My goal is to have cured some of it by the time you return, though that will require great effort on my part! In any event, I am deeply grateful that I have a general like you to rely on in the meantime. Hopefully, in the near future, I will prove myself capable enough as the Crown for you to rely on me as well.<</if>> $aname and $rname are doing their best to support me as much as they can, and my tutors have been of great help. Still, I have felt the absence of your advice. You are much more experienced in these matters than I, having been the general for so long, and I sometimes second-guess myself. Without your insight, I fear politics is still not a realm I feel comfortable in. I feel fortunate for your support, and hope that you will be able to conclude your campaign in Zerat successfully. Best regards, $name<</if>>@@ [[View in regular font|10.24nofont]] [[Continue|10.25d]]@@.intucharm;<<if $drelationship is 'high'>>$dname, I trust you remain in good health since our last correspondence. <<if $blunt gt $charm>>If there is any further news from Zerat, it has not reached Marabad yet, which I take as a sign that there is no cause for concern. I presume the Imperial Army’s endeavors have continued to bear fruit under your leadership. These past days I have been occupied with my lessons. I confess that they have been enlightening: I finally understand why your departure, while sudden, was imperative to stabilizing the situation regarding the trade routes. In truth, I owe you my thanks for taking such quick action where I was not yet able to. It should not have been your burden to bear, yet you have borne it with dignity. I will strive to become someone that you need not shield, but rather, a friend that you can rely on instead.<<else>>I have been waiting for any further news from Zerat, but if there is any, it has not reached Marabad yet beyond your letters. I will take that as a good sign, as I have no doubt you have things well in hand, as you always do. As for me, I have come to a better understanding of why you had to leave so suddenly. While it was disappointing at the time, my tutors have taught me how necessary it was, and I admit to feeling embarrassed. While I was not yet able to grasp the situation, you were forced to take action in my stead. If it were not for you, the southern trade routes would be in dire straits; I am deeply grateful that I have someone like you to rely on, my friend. Hopefully, in the future, I will prove myself capable enough for you to rely on me as well.<</if>> $aname and $rname are doing their best to support me as much as they can, and my tutors have been of great help. <<if $res gt $flirt>>Still, I hope it’s not too forward to say that I have felt your absence. Even with all the progress I’ve made, there are moments where I feel as unprepared as I was when I first arrived at the palace. Even during that short time, you became a familiar presence at my side, especially missed now that the palace is filled with strangers. Perhaps I shouldn't speak this way. I don't want to cause you any discomfort by implying a closeness between us that isn't reciprocated. I remember that you were worried, before you left, that it would make you seem biased in my favor in the eyes of the court. If that is the case, then please take this letter as one sent from a friend, nothing more. Or, if that is too difficult, then forget about these words altogether. I won't resent you for it; I understand better than anyone the need to protect yourself, even when it leaves you lonely. Tell me you want me to be nothing more than your Crown, and I will never consider you to be more than my general in turn. I will understand. What I mean to say above all, regardless of your answer, is that I am keeping you in my thoughts, and that I hope that you are well, and that I will welcome your return to Marabad soon. As soon as you are able, of course. With gratitude, $name<<else>>Still, I admit I have felt your absence in these past days especially. Even with all the progress I’ve made, there are moments where I feel as unprepared as I was when I first arrived at the palace. In those moments, I find myself wishing I could speak to you. Not merely for advice, but because your presence has been a comfort even in the short time we’ve known each other. I’ve come to consider you a friend, one of the few I have in the palace. I hope it is permissible to consider you as such. The last thing I want is to cause you discomfort by implying a closeness between us that isn't reciprocated. I remember that you were worried, before you left, that it would make you seem biased in my favor in the eyes of the court. But you will have to forgive me, because I cannot lie about my fondness for you in private, nor do I want to. If you insist on building a wall between us, I will insist on tearing it down. The only way to prevent this, I'm afraid, is to be clear about your wishes. Tell me in no uncertain terms that you want me to be your Crown only, and I will never consider you to be more than my general in turn. Regardless of your answer, I will continue to keep you in my thoughts, and anxiously wait for your return to Marabad. With affection, $name<</if>><<else>><<if $res gt $flirt>>General,<<else>>My dear general,<</if>> I trust you remain in good health since our last correspondence. <<if $blunt gt $charm>>If there is any further news from Zerat, it has not reached Marabad yet, which I take as a sign that there is no cause for concern. I presume the Imperial Army’s endeavors have continued to bear fruit under your leadership. These past days I have been occupied with my lessons. I am slowly but surely beginning to gain more confidence in my judgment as I gain more knowledge. My tutors seem equally pleased with my progress. I hope, once you return, you will find cause to agree with them. I will strive to become a Crown that the general need not shield, but rather, one you can rely on instead.<<else>>I have been waiting for any further news from Zerat, but if there is any, it has not reached Marabad yet beyond your letters. I will take that as a good sign, as I have no doubt you have things well in hand, as you always do. As for me, I have become rather studious these days. My tutors are certainly pleased, though I am almost embarrassed at the breadth of my ignorance. My goal is to have cured some of it by the time you return, though that will require great effort on my part! In any event, I am deeply grateful that I have a general like you to rely on in the meantime. Hopefully, in the near future, I will prove myself capable enough as the Crown for you to rely on me as well.<</if>> $aname and $rname are doing their best to support me as much as they can, and my tutors have been of great help. Still, I have felt the absence of your advice. You are much more experienced in these matters than I, having been the general for so long, and I sometimes second-guess myself. Without your insight, I fear politics is still not a realm I feel comfortable in. I feel fortunate for your support, and hope that you will be able to conclude your campaign in Zerat successfully. Best regards, $name<</if>>@@ [[View in regular font|10.24nofont]] [[Continue|10.25d]]@@.intublunt;<<if $drelationship is 'high'>>$dname, I trust you remain in good health since our last correspondence. <<if $blunt gt $charm>>If there is any further news from Zerat, it has not reached Marabad yet, which I take as a sign that there is no cause for concern. I presume the Imperial Army’s endeavors have continued to bear fruit under your leadership. These past days I have been occupied with my lessons. I confess that they have been enlightening: I finally understand why your departure, while sudden, was imperative to stabilizing the situation regarding the trade routes. In truth, I owe you my thanks for taking such quick action where I was not yet able to. It should not have been your burden to bear, yet you have borne it with dignity. I will strive to become someone that you need not shield, but rather, a friend that you can rely on instead.<<else>>I have been waiting for any further news from Zerat, but if there is any, it has not reached Marabad yet beyond your letters. I will take that as a good sign, as I have no doubt you have things well in hand, as you always do. As for me, I have come to a better understanding of why you had to leave so suddenly. While it was disappointing at the time, my tutors have taught me how necessary it was, and I admit to feeling embarrassed. While I was not yet able to grasp the situation, you were forced to take action in my stead. If it were not for you, the southern trade routes would be in dire straits; I am deeply grateful that I have someone like you to rely on, my friend. Hopefully, in the future, I will prove myself capable enough for you to rely on me as well.<</if>> $aname and $rname are doing their best to support me as much as they can, and my tutors have been of great help. <<if $res gt $flirt>>Still, I hope it’s not too forward to say that I have felt your absence. Even with all the progress I’ve made, there are moments where I feel as unprepared as I was when I first arrived at the palace. Even during that short time, you became a familiar presence at my side, especially missed now that the palace is filled with strangers. Perhaps I shouldn't speak this way. I don't want to cause you any discomfort by implying a closeness between us that isn't reciprocated. I remember that you were worried, before you left, that it would make you seem biased in my favor in the eyes of the court. If that is the case, then please take this letter as one sent from a friend, nothing more. Or, if that is too difficult, then forget about these words altogether. I won't resent you for it; I understand better than anyone the need to protect yourself, even when it leaves you lonely. Tell me you want me to be nothing more than your Crown, and I will never consider you to be more than my general in turn. I will understand. What I mean to say above all, regardless of your answer, is that I am keeping you in my thoughts, and that I hope that you are well, and that I will welcome your return to Marabad soon. As soon as you are able, of course. With gratitude, $name<<else>>Still, I admit I have felt your absence in these past days especially. Even with all the progress I’ve made, there are moments where I feel as unprepared as I was when I first arrived at the palace. In those moments, I find myself wishing I could speak to you. Not merely for advice, but because your presence has been a comfort even in the short time we’ve known each other. I’ve come to consider you a friend, one of the few I have in the palace. I hope it is permissible to consider you as such. The last thing I want is to cause you discomfort by implying a closeness between us that isn't reciprocated. I remember that you were worried, before you left, that it would make you seem biased in my favor in the eyes of the court. But you will have to forgive me, because I cannot lie about my fondness for you in private, nor do I want to. If you insist on building a wall between us, I will insist on tearing it down. The only way to prevent this, I'm afraid, is to be clear about your wishes. Tell me in no uncertain terms that you want me to be your Crown only, and I will never consider you to be more than my general in turn. Regardless of your answer, I will continue to keep you in my thoughts, and anxiously wait for your return to Marabad. With affection, $name<</if>><<else>><<if $res gt $flirt>>General,<<else>>My dear general,<</if>> I trust you remain in good health since our last correspondence. <<if $blunt gt $charm>>If there is any further news from Zerat, it has not reached Marabad yet, which I take as a sign that there is no cause for concern. I presume the Imperial Army’s endeavors have continued to bear fruit under your leadership. These past days I have been occupied with my lessons. I am slowly but surely beginning to gain more confidence in my judgment as I gain more knowledge. My tutors seem equally pleased with my progress. I hope, once you return, you will find cause to agree with them. I will strive to become a Crown that the general need not shield, but rather, one you can rely on instead.<<else>>I have been waiting for any further news from Zerat, but if there is any, it has not reached Marabad yet beyond your letters. I will take that as a good sign, as I have no doubt you have things well in hand, as you always do. As for me, I have become rather studious these days. My tutors are certainly pleased, though I am almost embarrassed at the breadth of my ignorance. My goal is to have cured some of it by the time you return, though that will require great effort on my part! In any event, I am deeply grateful that I have a general like you to rely on in the meantime. Hopefully, in the near future, I will prove myself capable enough as the Crown for you to rely on me as well.<</if>> $aname and $rname are doing their best to support me as much as they can, and my tutors have been of great help. Still, I have felt the absence of your advice. You are much more experienced in these matters than I, having been the general for so long, and I sometimes second-guess myself. Without your insight, I fear politics is still not a realm I feel comfortable in. I feel fortunate for your support, and hope that you will be able to conclude your campaign in Zerat successfully. Best regards, $name<</if>>@@ [[View in regular font|10.24nofont]] [[Continue|10.25d]]<em><<if $drelationship is 'high'>>$dname, I trust you remain in good health since our last correspondence. <<if $blunt gt $charm>>If there is any further news from Zerat, it has not reached Marabad yet, which I take as a sign that there is no cause for concern. I presume the Imperial Army’s endeavors have continued to bear fruit under your leadership. These past days I have been occupied with my lessons. I confess that they have been enlightening: I finally understand why your departure, while sudden, was imperative to stabilizing the situation regarding the trade routes. In truth, I owe you my thanks for taking such quick action where I was not yet able to. It should not have been your burden to bear, yet you have borne it with dignity. I will strive to become someone that you need not shield, but rather, a friend that you can rely on instead.<<else>>I have been waiting for any further news from Zerat, but if there is any, it has not reached Marabad yet beyond your letters. I will take that as a good sign, as I have no doubt you have things well in hand, as you always do. As for me, I have come to a better understanding of why you had to leave so suddenly. While it was disappointing at the time, my tutors have taught me how necessary it was, and I admit to feeling embarrassed. While I was not yet able to grasp the situation, you were forced to take action in my stead. If it were not for you, the southern trade routes would be in dire straits; I am deeply grateful that I have someone like you to rely on, my friend. Hopefully, in the future, I will prove myself capable enough for you to rely on me as well.<</if>> $aname and $rname are doing their best to support me as much as they can, and my tutors have been of great help. <<if $res gt $flirt>>Still, I hope it’s not too forward to say that I have felt your absence. Even with all the progress I’ve made, there are moments where I feel as unprepared as I was when I first arrived at the palace. Even during that short time, you became a familiar presence at my side, especially missed now that the palace is filled with strangers. Perhaps I shouldn't speak this way. I don't want to cause you any discomfort by implying a closeness between us that isn't reciprocated. I remember that you were worried, before you left, that it would make you seem biased in my favor in the eyes of the court. If that is the case, then please take this letter as one sent from a friend, nothing more. Or, if that is too difficult, then forget about these words altogether. I won't resent you for it; I understand better than anyone the need to protect yourself, even when it leaves you lonely. Tell me you want me to be nothing more than your Crown, and I will never consider you to be more than my general in turn. I will understand. What I mean to say above all, regardless of your answer, is that I am keeping you in my thoughts, and that I hope that you are well, and that I will welcome your return to Marabad soon. As soon as you are able, of course. With gratitude, $name<<else>>Still, I admit I have felt your absence in these past days especially. Even with all the progress I’ve made, there are moments where I feel as unprepared as I was when I first arrived at the palace. In those moments, I find myself wishing I could speak to you. Not merely for advice, but because your presence has been a comfort even in the short time we’ve known each other. I’ve come to consider you a friend, one of the few I have in the palace. I hope it is permissible to consider you as such. The last thing I want is to cause you discomfort by implying a closeness between us that isn't reciprocated. I remember that you were worried, before you left, that it would make you seem biased in my favor in the eyes of the court. But you will have to forgive me, because I cannot lie about my fondness for you in private, nor do I want to. If you insist on building a wall between us, I will insist on tearing it down. The only way to prevent this, I'm afraid, is to be clear about your wishes. Tell me in no uncertain terms that you want me to be your Crown only, and I will never consider you to be more than my general in turn. Regardless of your answer, I will continue to keep you in my thoughts, and anxiously wait for your return to Marabad. With affection, $name<</if>><<else>><<if $res gt $flirt>>General,<<else>>My dear general,<</if>> I trust you remain in good health since our last correspondence. <<if $blunt gt $charm>>If there is any further news from Zerat, it has not reached Marabad yet, which I take as a sign that there is no cause for concern. I presume the Imperial Army’s endeavors have continued to bear fruit under your leadership. These past days I have been occupied with my lessons. I am slowly but surely beginning to gain more confidence in my judgment as I gain more knowledge. My tutors seem equally pleased with my progress. I hope, once you return, you will find cause to agree with them. I will strive to become a Crown that the general need not shield, but rather, one you can rely on instead.<<else>>I have been waiting for any further news from Zerat, but if there is any, it has not reached Marabad yet beyond your letters. I will take that as a good sign, as I have no doubt you have things well in hand, as you always do. As for me, I have become rather studious these days. My tutors are certainly pleased, though I am almost embarrassed at the breadth of my ignorance. My goal is to have cured some of it by the time you return, though that will require great effort on my part! In any event, I am deeply grateful that I have a general like you to rely on in the meantime. Hopefully, in the near future, I will prove myself capable enough as the Crown for you to rely on me as well.<</if>> $aname and $rname are doing their best to support me as much as they can, and my tutors have been of great help. Still, I have felt the absence of your advice. You are much more experienced in these matters than I, having been the general for so long, and I sometimes second-guess myself. Without your insight, I fear politics is still not a realm I feel comfortable in. I feel fortunate for your support, and hope that you will be able to conclude your campaign in Zerat successfully. Best regards, $name<</if>></em> [[Continue|10.25d]]<<if $drelationship is 'high'>>Before $dname knows it, $dthey has picked the letter up again. $cdtheir thumb traces the papyrus in an absentminded motion, along the ink where $name’s name is written. $ctheir magic signature is sealed within it, to ensure its authenticity. As $dname brushes over the letters, $dthey feels its heat radiate against the pad of $dtheir finger. <<if $magicaffinity is 'eclipse'>>The edges of the ink gleam a gentle but vivid gold as the magic within it reacts, its ink seeming to darken into a deeper black in contrast<<else>>The black of the ink fades into gold, gleaming gently but vividly like a ray of sunlight caught inside the page<</if>>. Its warmth feels unexpectedly pleasant, like it did right after $name’s affinity was first revealed. Perhaps it’s due to the nature of $dname’s own magic, but $name’s light feels soothing, invigorating—<em>inviting</em>. $dname’s eyes trail back up to the letter’s contents, which have been on $dtheir mind for several days now. <em><<if $blunt gt $charm>>…a friend that you can rely on.<<else>>…my friend.<</if>></em> $dname’s gaze flits back to the bottom of the page. <em><<if $res gt $flirt>>I understand better than anyone the need to protect yourself, even when it leaves you lonely.<<else>>I cannot lie about my fondness for you in private, nor do I want to.<</if>></em> $cdthey closes $dtheir eyes, quickly rolling the letter back up, restraining $dthemselves from squeezing it between a fist as $dthey puts it back down onto the desk. This is not the time to be distracted by something as meaningless as word choice, let alone read into it for motives that don’t exist—or worse, motives that <em>do</em> exist. It will only hurt them both. Yet, despite the best efforts of $dtheir mind to talk sense into $dtheir heart, its attempts have not been entirely successful. Evidently, since $dthey has hastened the Imperial Army's return to Marabad by more than a week. At this rate, they will arrive before the Festival of Cleansing has ended.<<else>>$dname’s mouth twists, lips pressed together tightly as $dtheir worries begin to grow. Perhaps $dthey should send a letter to head servant Keko, inquiring after the recent events at the palace to get a better idea of how the Crown has been doing. Usually, $dthey would trust $rname and $aname to have things well in hand, but neither of them are particularly adept at navigating political waters with finesse. $rname from a lack of experience, and $aname from a lack of interest. $dname would feel better if the Crown had someone to help them navigate it, especially as new members of the Imperial Court must be appointed quickly. $cdthey rolls the letter back up and puts the letter back down on the desk. $cdthey has already hastened the planned return to Marabad by more than a week, and that is as much of a concession as $dthey’s willing to make. They will likely arrive before the Festival of Cleansing has even ended.<</if>> A half-finished reply to $name sits folded in an inner pocket of $dname’s tunic, beneath $dtheir armor. $cdthey didn’t want to risk someone else reading it, but also couldn’t risk losing or damaging it during battle. So instead, it sits pressed against $dtheir chest. A small secret. <<if $drelationship is 'high'>>$cdthey should’ve resisted writing it, should’ve sent the Crown a quick, impersonal update instead, but the words had to be released. Even if it is in a letter that $dname will never send.<<else>>Even though the contents are far from scandalous, the words $dthey chose in $dtheir first draft are softer than they should be. Truthfully, $dthey should discard it and write a new one, but...<</if>> Forcing the matter out of $dtheir mind, $dname instead refocuses and begins to pack up for the journey back to the palace. The soldiers make good time: the camp is cleaned up in a matter of hours, and they’re ready to leave by the early afternoon. It’ll give them enough time to return to the Crown’s Road, which is generally safe to travel by night with all the guard posts spread along it. Not to mention, there are few bandit groups that would risk summary execution by engaging in violence during the festival. Still, there does exist some risk. While it would take a truly suicidal bandit to try and ambush the Imperial Army, especially during this time of year, the assassination attempts on <<if $drelationship is 'high'>>$name<<else>>the Crown<</if>> have proven that their enemies have methods that can’t be fully countered at a moment’s notice. They’ll all have to be on their guard. As the army sets out, led back onto the road by $dname, $dthey could not have anticipated how right $dthey was to be wary. [[Continue|10.26d]] There is an ambush. The sun has set, and the Crown’s Road passes through a dense forest. $dname was ill at ease the moment they stepped foot in the woods, the odds of an attack lingering on $dtheir mind. It’s $dtheir urge to anticipate every possibility that saves lives in the end, ordering the soldiers to stay on guard and walk in a closed formation. When the assailants appear from between the shadows of the trees, launching their attack, the soldiers are ready to fend them off with shields and spears raised. But that doesn’t make it easy. $dname can scarcely see in the dark, swinging out $dtheir mace with force. Its blunted tip collides into one of the silhouettes surrounding $dthem, knocking them into another. Thankfully, flares of illuminating magic shoot up into the air, flickering with radiance as they hover above the chaotic fray like stars. It grants the army more visibility, but not enough for $dname to make out anything of note about their assailants. What motives do they have? These cannot be common bandits. They’re too well-equipped, fight with too much discipline. Who sent them? One of the Crown’s enemies? The Followers, or someone else? They don’t wear the mask that the Crown’s previous would-be assassin had, but have covered their faces with cloth instead. More like bandits. Perhaps mercenaries, then? Hired killers? In which case, it’s more likely this is coming from one of the Crown’s political opponents, hoping to cripple their support in the Imperial Court. $dname thinks as $dthey fights. Their attacks can hardly hurt $dthem, anyway. Common blades and arrows glance off the warded scales of $dtheir armor. All $dthey has to worry about is protecting $dtheir head— The earth suddenly rumbles beneath $dthem. $cdthey almost loses $dtheir footing, $dtheir surroundings shifting. Too late, $dthey realizes $dthey’s being separated from the rest of the army as more enemies close in around $dthem, the earth carrying $dthem away like a small landslide. So <em>$dthey</em> is the real target after all. That certainly gives credence to $dtheir theory that this is politically motivated. “There you are, general.” One of the attackers steps before $dthem, the sound of a grin in their voice as they twirl a dagger between their fingers. $dname narrows $dtheir eyes. $cdthey doesn’t like the look of that blade. Its edge gives off an unpleasant, bright red glow, simmering with foreboding magic. That dagger is the most dangerous thing to $dname here, if that magic is what $dthey thinks it is. $cdthey straightens now that the earth has stopped moving, eyeing the amount of enemies surrounding $dthem. “Who do you work for?” The leader of the group stops twirling the dagger, pointing it at $dname. “You won’t be here long enough to find out, I’m afraid.” $dname hears the whistling of another arrow, but keeps $dtheir gaze focused on the assailant’s dagger, assuming the arrow will glance off $dtheir chest piece like the others—a mistake. The arrow pierces $dthem. [[Continue|10.27d]]$dname finds $dthemselves on $dtheir knees, shocked by the sheer pain that ripples through $dtheir body from the tip of the arrow embedded in the lower part of $dtheir chest, $dtheir armor shattered. Its metal is supposed to be warded against such attacks, as it was crafted by one of the most talented blacksmiths in Arsur<<if $drelationship is 'low'>>. Whoever is behind this attack must be especially high-ranking, to have such resources at their disposal.<<else>>— <em>The letter.</em> It’s a foolish thing to be worried about when $dthey has just suffered a serious injury, yet $dtheir hand reflexively presses against $dtheir armor, where the arrow pierced through and where the answer to $name's letter was meant to be safe.<</if>> “I’ve got the general!” the leader says to the rest of the group<<if $drelationship is 'high'>>, returning $dname's attention to the battle at hand<</if>>. “The rest of you, deal with the army!” Sending them away. A miscalculation; this mercenary must be either supremely arrogant or supremely stupid to think $dname is already done for. “Doing alright there, Sîdar?” the leader says as they turn back to $dthem, now holding a stone with a sigil carved onto it in their hand. It glows with the same eerie red as their dagger. “Peri magic is nasty business, isn’t it? We knew we had to hit you with something special. You’re famously hard to kill, after all. Skin tougher than rock, people say.” The leader bends down, speaking mockingly into $dname’s ear, “Someone like you must be destroyed from the inside out.” The carved stone sigil the assailant holds in their hand lights up red with their magic—the arrow in $dname’s side explodes. A searing heat tears through $dthem in a wave of agony, spreading even to the very tips of $dtheir toes and fingers. For a moment, $dtheir vision goes black with the ache, body seizing as $dthey collapses onto $dtheir side on the ground. $cdthey feels like $dtheir very insides are on <em>fire</em>. “Don’t worry, General,” $cdthey hears the assailant say from above. “This won’t take much longer.” $dname’s jaw is clenched so tightly $dthey feels as if $dtheir teeth might shatter from the force, but even curled up on the ground and trembling from the white-hot ache of the magic trying to poison $dthem from the inside out, $dthey can still think. $cdthey knows what $dthey needs to do. As the assailant thrusts their dagger toward $dtheir throat, $dname grits $dtheir teeth through the pain and catches their wrist. “No, it won’t.” The long dormant magic inside of $dthem opens up into a gaping hole, its maw spread wide as it inhales the foreign magic like a hungry mouth. It’s deeply unpleasant, shuddering down $dname’s spine; it tastes like the bitterest medicine, dry as dirt between $dtheir lips. “How- what- <em>how</em>—” The assailant looks on in disbelief as $dname draws up to $dtheir full height. The wound on $dtheir side still radiates with pain, but beyond the initial explosion, it’s not enough to cripple $dthem. “<em>Someone like you</em>?” $dname repeats their earlier words in a hiss. “You have no idea who I really am, and that was your first mistake.” $cdthey snaps the assailant’s wrist between $dtheir fingers. They howl in pain, dropping to their knees. $dname releases their arm, only to grab them by the side of their head instead. The assailant’s eyes widen in terror. “Wait, wait, WAIT!” $dname slams their head against a tree, and they go out like a candle, slumping over onto the ground. Just in time, as well, because as soon as the assailant is knocked out a wave of nausea comes over $dthem. “Ugh.” $dname leans against the tree, feeling $dtheir whole body break out into a cold sweat. Whatever peri magic $dthey just absorbed was not meant for consumption. “General!” $cdthey breathes a sigh of relief as $dthey hears the familiar voices and footsteps of $dtheir soldiers approaching, the sounds of battle behind $dthem having faded. It seems the army warded off the ambush successfully. $dname finds the strength to lift a hand to $dtheir approaching soldiers, even as $dtheir vision grows blurry and $dtheir knees feel weak. “I’m alright,” $cdthey says. “It’s not fatal.” And then $dthey passes out. <<if $peritrader is true>>[[Continue|10.27khamyes]]<<else>>[[Continue|10.27khamno]]<</if>> The bandit leader startles from their stupor. “Re… retreat! RETREAT!” $xname feels Şanazî approach from behind as the bandits begin to flee toward the forest a short distance away, only a handful of them left. She stands beside $xthem. At their backs, the Crescent Blades finish off the bandits surrounding the farm, not letting a single one escape. “Same as always, chief?” Şanazî asks, readying her bow. “Same as always,” $xname agrees, watching the retreating backs of the bandits. “Hunt them down.” Şanazî gets to work. One arrow nocked, aimed, released—one dead, collapsing onto the grass. A second arrow nocked, aimed, released—another dead, clutching the back of their neck as they fall where the tip is embedded. A third. A fourth. Then the last, reaching out towards the trees. They made it to the edge of the forest, but not far enough to escape. Ferhat whispers a short distance away: “Wasn’t that a bit harsh? They were fleeing.” Tûjo replies: “These bandits didn’t try to rob a noble, they tried to exploit a village by threatening the farm that it relies on. It’s better to finish them off now, so they don’t return to seek revenge once we leave.” “Still…” “If you wanted to be a warrior of honor, Ferhat, then you shouldn’t have become a mercenary.” $xname straightens $xtheir shoulders, fixing $xtheir expression into a neutral one as $xthey turns to face the Blades. $cxthey pats Şanazî approvingly on her shoulder while addressing the rest of them: “Finished?” The Blades answer, almost entirely in unison. “Yes, chief!” Nodding, $xname lets a smile slip onto $xtheir face. “Good work. Clean up the bodies, I’ll speak to the farmers.” On the periphery of $xtheir awareness, $xthey senses Heval break away from the group; in the near distance, a bird flies intently toward the farm. $xname casts a glance at the sky, spotting a messenger pigeon. $cxthey puts the matter aside. Heval will inform $xthem if it’s important. $xname heads to the farmhouse, knocking on its door to announce $xtheir arrival and keep the farmers from startling. A brother and sister, and the sister’s two adolescent children. They’re hiding in the basement. As $xname steps inside, $xthey calls out to them. “You can come out now, it’s safe!” They emerge from the stairs one by one, casting anxious looks around, but relaxing once they spot $xname. The brother approaches $xthem first, clasping $xname’s hands in his own burly ones. “I don’t know how to thank you! You’ve saved us all, you saved our village—” $xname can’t help but laugh a little. “Easy there, I didn’t do this for payment.” “You didn’t?” the sister says, aghast. “But- but we <em>must</em> repay you somehow!” Pretending to think on it, $xname hums thoughtfully. “How about this? If you keep quiet about everything that happened here, especially our interference, I’ll consider your debt paid.” As planned, the Crescent Blades left for the Armas Mountains in order to bait a reaction from the Followers of Vidarna. Half of them, lead by Huner, remained stationed in the mountains to keep watch, while $xname and the rest split off to Zerat in secret. So far, things have been quiet. $xname has yet to receive word from Huner about anything notable occurring. “That’s it?” $xname extracts $xtheir hands from the brother’s grip, taking note of the way it lingered. His skin didn’t feel entirely unpleasant; rugged and calloused, but warm. “That’s it.” $cxthey turns back around to leave. “We’re camping in the forest nearby if you need any further help- oh, and I wouldn’t go outside just yet. We’re still cleaning up.” The sister swallows thickly, appearing a little green at the thought. “Yes, we’ll… we’ll stay away from the windows.” “Thank you again!” the brother calls out after $xname as $xthey heads back out. All in all, it has been a pretty successful day. “Chief!” Heval strides towards $xthem from between the Blades that are carrying and pulling the bodies of the bandits out of the way, a roll of papyrus in their hand. “Letter for you.” They hand it over, and $xname instantly recognizes the magic signature seeped into it.<<if $xrelationship is 'high'>> A smile widens on $xtheir face before $xthey catches $xthemselves, quickly erasing it from $xtheir lips. [[Continue|10.x3high]]<<else>> [[Continue|10.x5]]<</if>>$cxthey ignores Heval’s gaze burning a hole through $xtheir face as $xthey tucks the letter away in a pocket, keeping $xtheir features carefully placid. “Thank you.” It speaks to $xtheir self-restraint that $xthey doesn’t open the letter and read it until the bodies have been burned and the Blades have returned to camp. <<if $xlowcount is 1>>Despite the way $xname left the palace, and the argument $xthey had with $name before, $xthey has found $xthemselves anticipating $name's letters.<</if>> $cxthey feels it radiating with $name’s warmth in $xtheir pocket as $xthey heads straight for $xtheir tent for some privacy. Though, evidently, Heval does not approve; they hoped that $xname would separate $xthemselves completely from the Royal Palace, but it’s not that simple. Closing the curtains of $xtheir tent, $xname settles down onto $xtheir fur blankets as $xthey untangles the delicate string tied around the roll of papyrus, then spreads it open.<<if $intel gt $intu and $charm gt $blunt>> <blockquote>@@.intelcharm;<<if $charm gt $blunt>>Dear <</if>>$xname, <<if $blunt gt $charm>>Your handwriting is completely illegible. I can scarcely decipher what you wrote to me last time—something about bandits, something about Heval being ill-humored, and something about how big your muscles are. I hope you did this to cause me a headache intentionally, because the alternative would be pitiful. In short, clean up your handwriting or I will stop sending you letters. In fact, I will not only stop sending you letters, I will ban your letters from the palace entirely. They are works of terror not fit for anyone’s eyes.<<else>>It seems $aname did not exaggerate. Your handwriting is magnificent, a true feat of poetry—if it were recited by a drunk on his third bottle of wine, that is. The only things I could make out from your previous letter were something about bandits, something about Heval being ill-humored, and something about how big your muscles are. Did I get that right? Please clean up your handwriting or I will be forced to have $aname decipher your letters for me, and $athey will laugh you out of the palace the next time you meet. Sincerely, do not make me inflict this embarrassment upon you, because I will.<</if>> In any case, things at the palace are the same as ever. Most of it would bore you, so I won’t speak too much of it. Besides, I’m more interested in hearing what you’ve been up to. Have things been progressing well? I have to admit that this is a first for me. I’ve never had someone whose presence I’ve grown used to remain apart from me for so long. <<if $res gt $flirt>>It’s a little embarrassing to say, but I’ve been worried. Of course I know that you can handle yourself, but even so, I hope that you and the Crescent Blades stay safe. I have thought of you often, despite my better judgment. Even though we parted on such unclear terms, as I write this, I find myself hoping I’m not the only one who feels this way. I know you had your own reservations, though you did not explain them to me. You seemed as reluctant to part from me as you were reluctant to stay, it was confusing to say the least. Perhaps that makes me a fool, because here I am thinking of you all the same. It’s something that I will have to get used to with time: I know you cannot linger in one place for long, and that you will always travel from place to place. Which is also why you should clean up your handwriting, since we’ll be sending each other letters many more times in the future! In the meantime, I’ll be keeping you and the Blades in my thoughts, and eagerly await your reply. I will give you time to decide where your heart lies, so if nothing else, give me something to tide me over in return. Patiently yours,<<else>>These days I find myself becoming more and more aware of your absence. Even in the short time we spent together, you branded me with your presence, and now I only have the faintest of scars left as proof you were ever here at all. Far be it from me to rush your return, however. Perhaps your heart will grow a little fonder in the meantime, unless that would be ‘favoring you’ too much? I shouldn’t tease you, though you deserve it. Part of me feels vexed: you seemed as reluctant to part from me as you were reluctant to stay. Ever since, I’ve kept asking myself why, and chastizing myself for being so taken with you, who cannot seem to be honest with me or $xthemselves. So here I sit, fool that I am, writing to you with a heart that is sick with frustration and longing. It’s another reason why you should clean up your handwriting, since we’ll be sending each other many more frustrated letters in the future. In the meantime, I’ll take my ill temper out on the nobility as I await your reply. Missing you already,<</if>> $name@@</blockquote><</if>><<if $intel gt $intu and $charm lt $blunt>> <blockquote>@@.intelblunt;<<if $charm gt $blunt>>Dear <</if>>$xname, <<if $blunt gt $charm>>Your handwriting is completely illegible. I can scarcely decipher what you wrote to me last time—something about bandits, something about Heval being ill-humored, and something about how big your muscles are. I hope you did this to cause me a headache intentionally, because the alternative would be pitiful. In short, clean up your handwriting or I will stop sending you letters. In fact, I will not only stop sending you letters, I will ban your letters from the palace entirely. They are works of terror not fit for anyone’s eyes.<<else>>It seems $aname did not exaggerate. Your handwriting is magnificent, a true feat of poetry—if it were recited by a drunk on his third bottle of wine, that is. The only things I could make out from your previous letter were something about bandits, something about Heval being ill-humored, and something about how big your muscles are. Did I get that right? Please clean up your handwriting or I will be forced to have $aname decipher your letters for me, and $athey will laugh you out of the palace the next time you meet. Sincerely, do not make me inflict this embarrassment upon you, because I will.<</if>> In any case, things at the palace are the same as ever. Most of it would bore you, so I won’t speak too much of it. Besides, I’m more interested in hearing what you’ve been up to. Have things been progressing well? I have to admit that this is a first for me. I’ve never had someone whose presence I’ve grown used to be apart from me for so long. <<if $res gt $flirt>>It’s a little embarrassing to say, but I’ve been worried. Of course I know that you can handle yourself, but even so, I hope that you and the Crescent Blades stay safe. I have thought of you often, despite my better judgment. Even though we parted on such unclear terms, as I write this, I find myself hoping I’m not the only one who feels this way. I know you had your own reservations, though you did not explain them to me. You seemed as reluctant to part from me as you were reluctant to stay, it was confusing to say the least. Perhaps that makes me a fool, because here I am thinking of you all the same. It’s something that I will have to get used to with time: I know you cannot remain in one place for long, and that you will always travel from place to place. Which is also why you should clean up your handwriting, since we’ll be sending each other letters many more times in the future! In the meantime, I’ll be keeping you and the Blades in my thoughts, and eagerly await your reply. I will give you time to decide where your heart lies, so if nothing else, give me something to tide me over in return. Patiently yours,<<else>>These days I find myself becoming more and more aware of your absence. Even in the short time we spent together, you branded me with your presence, and now I only have the faintest of scars left as proof you were ever here at all. Far be it from me to rush your return, however. Perhaps your heart will grow a little fonder in the meantime, unless that would be ‘favoring you’ too much? I shouldn’t tease you, though you deserve it. Part of me feels vexed: you seemed as reluctant to part from me as you were reluctant to stay. Ever since, I’ve kept asking myself why, and chastizing myself for being so taken with you, who cannot seem to be honest with me or $xthemselves. So here I sit, fool that I am, writing to you with a heart that is sick with frustration and longing. It’s another reason why you should clean up your handwriting, since we’ll be sending each other many more frustrated letters in the future. In the meantime, I’ll take my ill temper out on the nobility as I await your reply. Missing you already,<</if>> $name@@</blockquote><</if>><<if $intel lt $intu and $charm lt $blunt>> <blockquote>@@.intublunt;<<if $charm gt $blunt>>Dear <</if>>$xname, <<if $blunt gt $charm>>Your handwriting is completely illegible. I can scarcely decipher what you wrote to me last time—something about bandits, something about Heval being ill-humored, and something about how big your muscles are. I hope you did this to cause me a headache intentionally, because the alternative would be pitiful. In short, clean up your handwriting or I will stop sending you letters. In fact, I will not only stop sending you letters, I will ban your letters from the palace entirely. They are works of terror not fit for anyone’s eyes.<<else>>It seems $aname did not exaggerate. Your handwriting is magnificent, a true feat of poetry—if it were recited by a drunk on his third bottle of wine, that is. The only things I could make out from your previous letter were something about bandits, something about Heval being ill-humored, and something about how big your muscles are. Did I get that right? Please clean up your handwriting or I will be forced to have $aname decipher your letters for me, and $athey will laugh you out of the palace the next time you meet. Sincerely, do not make me inflict this embarrassment upon you, because I will.<</if>> In any case, things at the palace are the same as ever. Most of it would bore you, so I won’t speak too much of it. Besides, I’m more interested in hearing what you’ve been up to. Have things been progressing well? I have to admit that this is a first for me. I’ve never had someone whose presence I’ve grown used to be apart from me for so long. <<if $res gt $flirt>>It’s a little embarrassing to say, but I’ve been worried. Of course I know that you can handle yourself, but even so, I hope that you and the Crescent Blades stay safe. I have thought of you often, despite my better judgment. Even though we parted on such unclear terms, as I write this, I find myself hoping I’m not the only one who feels this way. I know you had your own reservations, though you did not explain them to me. You seemed as reluctant to part from me as you were reluctant to stay, it was confusing to say the least. Perhaps that makes me a fool, because here I am thinking of you all the same. It’s something that I will have to get used to with time: I know you cannot remain in one place for long, and that you will always travel from place to place. Which is also why you should clean up your handwriting, since we’ll be sending each other letters many more times in the future! In the meantime, I’ll be keeping you and the Blades in my thoughts, and eagerly await your reply. I will give you time to decide where your heart lies, so if nothing else, give me something to tide me over in return. Patiently yours,<<else>>These days I find myself becoming more and more aware of your absence. Even in the short time we spent together, you branded me with your presence, and now I only have the faintest of scars left as proof you were ever here at all. Far be it from me to rush your return, however. Perhaps your heart will grow a little fonder in the meantime, unless that would be ‘favoring you’ too much? I shouldn’t tease you, though you deserve it. Part of me feels vexed: you seemed as reluctant to part from me as you were reluctant to stay. Ever since, I’ve kept asking myself why, and chastizing myself for being so taken with you, who cannot seem to be honest with me or $xthemselves. So here I sit, fool that I am, writing to you with a heart that is sick with frustration and longing. It’s another reason why you should clean up your handwriting, since we’ll be sending each other many more frustrated letters in the future. In the meantime, I’ll take my ill temper out on the nobility as I await your reply. Missing you already,<</if>> $name@@</blockquote><</if>><<if $intel lt $intu and $charm gt $blunt>> <blockquote>@@.intucharm;<<if $charm gt $blunt>>Dear <</if>>$xname, <<if $blunt gt $charm>>Your handwriting is completely illegible. I can scarcely decipher what you wrote to me last time—something about bandits, something about Heval being ill-humored, and something about how big your muscles are. I hope you did this to cause me a headache intentionally, because the alternative would be pitiful. In short, clean up your handwriting or I will stop sending you letters. In fact, I will not only stop sending you letters, I will ban your letters from the palace entirely. They are works of terror not fit for anyone’s eyes.<<else>>It seems $aname did not exaggerate. Your handwriting is magnificent, a true feat of poetry—if it were recited by a drunk on his third bottle of wine, that is. The only things I could make out from your previous letter were something about bandits, something about Heval being ill-humored, and something about how big your muscles are. Did I get that right? Please clean up your handwriting or I will be forced to have $aname decipher your letters for me, and $athey will laugh you out of the palace the next time you meet. Sincerely, do not make me inflict this embarrassment upon you, because I will.<</if>> In any case, things at the palace are the same as ever. Most of it would bore you, so I won’t speak too much of it. Besides, I’m more interested in hearing what you’ve been up to. Have things been progressing well? I have to admit that this is a first for me. I’ve never had someone whose presence I’ve grown used to be apart from me for so long. <<if $res gt $flirt>>It’s a little embarrassing to say, but I’ve been worried. Of course I know that you can handle yourself, but even so, I hope that you and the Crescent Blades stay safe. I have thought of you often, despite my better judgment. Even though we parted on such unclear terms, as I write this, I find myself hoping I’m not the only one who feels this way. I know you had your own reservations, though you did not explain them to me. You seemed as reluctant to part from me as you were reluctant to stay, it was confusing to say the least. Perhaps that makes me a fool, because here I am thinking of you all the same. It’s something that I will have to get used to with time: I know you cannot remain in one place for long, and that you will always travel from place to place. Which is also why you should clean up your handwriting, since we’ll be sending each other letters many more times in the future! In the meantime, I’ll be keeping you and the Blades in my thoughts, and eagerly await your reply. I will give you time to decide where your heart lies, so if nothing else, give me something to tide me over in return. Patiently yours,<<else>>These days I find myself becoming more and more aware of your absence. Even in the short time we spent together, you branded me with your presence, and now I only have the faintest of scars left as proof you were ever here at all. Far be it from me to rush your return, however. Perhaps your heart will grow a little fonder in the meantime, unless that would be ‘favoring you’ too much? I shouldn’t tease you, though you deserve it. Part of me feels vexed: you seemed as reluctant to part from me as you were reluctant to stay. Ever since, I’ve kept asking myself why, and chastizing myself for being so taken with you, who cannot seem to be honest with me or $xthemselves. So here I sit, fool that I am, writing to you with a heart that is sick with frustration and longing. It’s another reason why you should clean up your handwriting, since we’ll be sending each other many more frustrated letters in the future. In the meantime, I’ll take my ill temper out on the nobility as I await your reply. Missing you already,<</if>> $name@@</blockquote><</if>> [[View in regular font|10.xregular]] [[Continue|10.x4high]]$cxthey ignores Heval’s gaze burning a hole through $xtheir face as $xthey tucks the letter away in a pocket, keeping $xtheir features carefully placid. “Thank you.” It speaks to $xtheir self-restraint that $xthey doesn’t open the letter and read it until the bodies have been burned and the Blades have returned to camp. $cxthey feels it radiating with $name’s warmth in $xtheir pocket as $xthey heads straight for $xtheir tent for some privacy. Though, evidently, Heval does not approve; they hoped that $xname would separate $xthemselves completely from the Royal Palace, but it’s not that simple. Closing the curtains of $xtheir tent, $xname settles down onto $xtheir fur blankets as $xthey untangles the delicate string tied around the roll of papyrus, then spreads it open. <blockquote><em><<if $charm gt $blunt>>Dear <</if>>$xname, <<if $blunt gt $charm>>Your handwriting is completely illegible. I can scarcely decipher what you wrote to me last time—something about bandits, something about Heval being ill-humored, and something about how big your muscles are. I hope you did this to cause me a headache intentionally, because the alternative would be pitiful. In short, clean up your handwriting or I will stop sending you letters. In fact, I will not only stop sending you letters, I will ban your letters from the palace entirely. They are works of terror not fit for anyone’s eyes.<<else>>It seems $aname did not exaggerate. Your handwriting is magnificent, a true feat of poetry—if it were recited by a drunk on his third bottle of wine, that is. The only things I could make out from your previous letter were something about bandits, something about Heval being ill-humored, and something about how big your muscles are. Did I get that right? Please clean up your handwriting or I will be forced to have $aname decipher your letters for me, and $athey will laugh you out of the palace the next time you meet. Sincerely, do not make me inflict this embarrassment upon you, because I will.<</if>> In any case, things at the palace are the same as ever. Most of it would bore you, so I won’t speak too much of it. Besides, I’m more interested in hearing what you’ve been up to. Have things been progressing well? I have to admit that this is a first for me. I’ve never had someone whose presence I’ve grown used to be apart from me for so long. <<if $res gt $flirt>>It’s a little embarrassing to say, but I’ve been worried. Of course I know that you can handle yourself, but even so, I hope that you and the Crescent Blades stay safe. I have thought of you often, despite my better judgment. Even though we parted on such unclear terms, as I write this, I find myself hoping I’m not the only one who feels this way. I know you had your own reservations, though you did not explain them to me. You seemed as reluctant to part from me as you were reluctant to stay, it was confusing to say the least. Perhaps that makes me a fool, because here I am thinking of you all the same. It’s something that I will have to get used to with time: I know you cannot remain in one place for long, and that you will always travel from place to place. Which is also why you should clean up your handwriting, since we’ll be sending each other letters many more times in the future! In the meantime, I’ll be keeping you and the Blades in my thoughts, and eagerly await your reply. I will give you time to decide where your heart lies, so if nothing else, give me something to tide me over in return. Patiently yours,<<else>>These days I find myself becoming more and more aware of your absence. Even in the short time we spent together, you branded me with your presence, and now I only have the faintest of scars left as proof you were ever here at all. Far be it from me to rush your return, however. Perhaps your heart will grow a little fonder in the meantime, unless that would be ‘favoring you’ too much? I shouldn’t tease you, though you deserve it. Part of me feels vexed: you seemed as reluctant to part from me as you were reluctant to stay. Ever since, I’ve kept asking myself why, and chastizing myself for being so taken with you, who cannot seem to be honest with me or $xthemselves. So here I sit, fool that I am, writing to you with a heart that is sick with frustration and longing. It’s another reason why you should clean up your handwriting, since we’ll be sending each other many more frustrated letters in the future. In the meantime, I’ll take my ill temper out on the nobility as I await your reply. Missing you already,<</if>> $name</em></blockquote> [[Continue|10.x4high]] Perhaps Heval is right to be worried. $xname trails $xtheir fingertips along the <<if $intel gt $intu and $blunt gt $charm>>sharp, straight strokes of<</if>><<if $intu gt $intel and $blunt gt $charm>>simple, honest strokes of<</if>><<if $intu gt $intel and $charm gt $blunt>>lively curves and colorful strokes of<</if>><<if $intel gt $intu and $charm gt $blunt>>pretty curves and elegant strokes of<</if>> ink that have absorbed $name’s magic. <<if $magicaffinity is 'eclipse'>>They gleam a gentle but vivid gold as the signature within reacts to $xname’s touch, its ink seeming to darken into a deeper black in contrast<<else>>Their black fades into gold, gleaming gently but vividly, like a ray of sunlight caught inside the page<</if>>. It’s as if $name’s magic reaches out to $xname’s, or perhaps $xname’s does to $name’s. There’s something undeniably alike in their affinities, <<if $magicaffinity is 'eclipse'>>though $name’s radiant light is accompanied by an even deeper darkness. Perhaps it’s why $xname’s fire is so drawn to it, allured by something so opposite yet similar.<<else>>both radiant with light, yet in different ways. The sun captured in $name’s skin makes $xname’s flames burn hotter, brighter; it’s an undeniable allure.<</if>> It should not be more than that, $xname knows. An allure, a temptation, a flirtation; temporary, fleeting. $cxthey isn’t in the position to offer anything more, yet as $xtheir eyes gaze over the words—<em><<if $res gt $flirt>>patiently yours<<else>>missing you already<</if>></em>—$xthey can’t help but wonder. Is there a way? What happened in $xname’s past was so long ago, its ghosts long gone. While time isn’t enough to heal the wounds, it has softened them, and there is a part of $xthem that is tired of being stuck in hole of regret. What if meeting $name was an opportunity, whether given by luck or by fate, to make things right? $xname folds the letter with a sigh, closing $xtheir eyes and pressing it to $xtheir chest, letting its warmth seep through $xtheir tunic into $xtheir skin. $cxthey can’t lie to $xthemselves. $cxthey can’t pretend that talking $xthemselves into seeing $name again and remaining by $their side is purely about closure or redemption. The truth is far simpler. $xname’s heart has already grown fond of $name, and $xname’s mind uses reason to justify it. This, just like everything else, is another method of running away. Indulging in a fantasy and locking away the past isn’t any better than denying $xtheir feelings. If $xthey truly cares about $name, then $xname needs to ask $xthemselves what would be in $name’s best interest. Even when $xthey knows the answer could be a painful one. [[Continue|10.x5]]<<if $xrelationship is 'low'>>$cxthey doesn’t look at it until all the bodies have been burned and the Blades have returned to camp. Only then does $xthey head for $xtheir tent, figuring it best to read it in relative privacy. $cxthey remains standing as $xthey quickly spreads the letter open, greeted by the familiar <<if $charm gt $blunt>>curved<<else>>straight<</if>> lines of $name’s handwriting. Skimming the words quickly, $xname closes $xtheir eyes and breathes a sigh. The same as the previous letter, $name writes to ask $xname how $xthey and the Blades are doing, mentioning some of the happenings in the palace, but above all, asks for a reply. <<if $intu gt $intel and $charm gt $blunt>> @@.intucharm;You promised to write a letter back, remember?@@<</if>><<if $intu gt $intel and $charm lt $blunt>> @@.intublunt;You promised to write a letter back, remember?@@<</if>><<if $intu lt $intel and $charm gt $blunt>> @@.intelcharm;You promised to write a letter back, remember?@@<</if>><<if $intu lt $intel and $charm lt $blunt>> @@.intelblunt;You promised to write a letter back, remember?@@<</if>> But it’s not that simple. <</if>>“Chief?” <<if $xrelationship is 'high'>>$xname startles, quickly stuffing the letter back in $xtheir pocket as Heval stands outside the tent. It’s rare for $xthem to be caught unaware by someone’s approach; $xthey must’ve been more deeply in thought than $xthey’d noticed.<<else>>$xname turns around to face the opening of the tent, having sensed Heval’s approach as $xthey read the letter. Folding it, $xthey returns it to $xtheir pocket.<</if>> “What is it?” $xthey calls, and Heval takes it as a sign to enter. To $xname’s surprise, they hold another letter in their hand. This time, their mood isn’t merely skeptical. It’s wary. Straightening up, $xname rises to $xtheir feet to meet Heval halfway. “Another letter? From who?” Heval hands it over. “Mîr Behram.” $xname’s whole body tenses. $cxtheir gaze narrows as it falls on the letter Heval holds out to $xthem. “From Mîr Behram?” $cxthey eyes the roll of papyrus cautiously as $xthey takes it, turning it over in between $xtheir fingers. It does indeed belong to Mîr Behram; the cold, sharp magic of his affinity to ice is reflected unmistakably within the ink. “Thank you, Heval.” $xname nods curtly. “I’ll handle it.” “Are you sure?” Heval’s eyes look concerned through the holes in their mask, having noticed the stiffness in $xname’s posture. $xname smiles with reassurance $xthey doesn’t feel, clapping Heval on the shoulder. “Trust me.” After a long moment, Heval finally relents, giving $xname a last look before turning and heading back out the tent. As soon as the curtain falls shut behind them, the smile on $xname’s face fades, returning $xtheir attention to the letter. It must be something important if Behram went through the effort to send $xname a letter, which is concerning to say the least. Nothing important that Behram would have to announce would spell good news for $xname. $xname takes a quiet breath through $xtheir nose, forcefully relaxing the tightness in $xtheir jaw, then rolls the letter open. As soon as $xtheir eyes fall on the words written there, $xtheir whole body goes still. It’s as if the ice in the ink spreads through $xname’s limbs, into $xtheir chest to seize $xtheir heart. <em>Payam still lives.</em> $cxtheir village burns in $xtheir mind. <em>Come see me if you want him.</em> [[Continue|10.1]]<b>IN EASTERN ROJAN</b><<set $day to 8>> “So, did it work?” $xname blinks $xtheir eyes open at the voice murmuring into $xtheir ear. The wooden ceiling above is dimly lit by a candle still burning on the small nightstand beside the bed, the sun having long set. $cxtheir skin feels sweaty but warm, especially with another body pressed up against $xtheir side. “Did what work?” $xname asks, words floating on a weary breath as $xthey feels lips press against $xtheir bare shoulder. “Forgetting.” $xname sighs, then shifts to sit up. $cxtheir bedmate rolls off $xthem, and $xname ignores the confused look $xthey’s given as $xthey swings $xtheir legs over the edge of the bed, bending down to start picking up $xtheir discarded clothes. “Did I say something wrong?” $xname pauses. “I thought I made it clear: no prying into my business.” “I’m sorry.” Arms wrap around $xtheir waist, a chin resting atop $xtheir shoulder. “I won’t ask again, I promise. You don’t have to leave so soon.” This was certainly one of $xname’s more useless ideas, judging by how annoyed $xthey feels in the aftermath. It was to work off the tension, forget about everything that happened, distract $xthem a little. When the Crescent Blades camped near the farm last night and the farmer—the brother—approached, $xname saw an opportunity and $xthey took it, thinking it would help. Instead, all it ended up doing was to make $xthem feel as if $xthey’s struggling in futility. Running away from something<<if $xrelationship is 'high'>>, from <em>someone</em><</if>>, like a coward. The farmer in question admittedly doesn’t deserve the brunt of $xname’s annoyance. Though it is painfully obvious that he was hoping for something more, despite the mutual agreement that this was strictly about pleasure. It happens, occasionally. A few hours of rolling in someone’s bed is hardly going to leave $xname infatuated, but the same cannot always be said of $xtheir partner. Usually $xname isn’t so bothered by it, can even understand it, but this time it’s getting on $xtheir nerves. “No, I should leave,” $xname replies curtly, removing the arms from around $xtheir waist as $xthey gets up from the bed, not looking at the farmer whose name $xthey didn’t even bother to ask. There’s a long stretch of silence behind $xtheir back as $xthey puts $xtheir trousers on, until it’s broken by an indignant, “Are you always this rude?” $xname scoffs, looking around the room for the rest of $xtheir clothes. “I told you what to expect, don’t act surprised.” “I’m not surprised,” the farmer retorts, and $xname can see him frowning from the corner of $xtheir eyes. “But you can’t tell me that you didn’t feel something, I know you did. I know <em>I</em> did.” $xname sighs with exasperation, slipping on $xtheir tunic next. “It’s called having an orgasm, I’m glad I could enlighten you.” “That’s not—” There is the hurt, now. Hurt and anger that his private little delusion didn’t pan out the way he hoped. “I only thought—” At this point, all $xname can think is that $xthey should’ve bedded the farmer’s sister instead. “Thought what?” $xname snaps, turning to face the farmer as $xthey wraps $xtheir cloth belt around $xtheir waist. “That I would change my mind and ask to court you? Don’t flatter yourself, you weren’t that good.” “Get out!” the farmer erupts. $xname huffs, snatching $xtheir boots off the ground and $xtheir shamshir from where it leans against the wall. Before heading for the door, $xthey turns to face the farmer and bows mockingly. “You’re welcome for the performance.” “LEAVE!” [[Continue|10.24x]]$xname’s magic burns in the ink that spells $xtheir name when your fingers brush over it. As if the flames within reach out for you, caressing your skin and warming it with its familiar heat. $cxtheir handwriting suits $xthem strangely well; large, hurried letters, almost as if they were shouting at you from the page. Unfortunately, $xtheir handwriting is still atrocious, but it is more readable now compared to the mess of ink you received before. Its contents, however, are what have you truly distracted as you decipher each word as you have done before, your heart beating unsteadily in your chest. <em>I know it will hurt you, eventually.</em> You close your eyes, taking a deep breath to try and resettle your pulse. Your skin burns, the strangest mixture of irritation, restlessness and something aching. Both more honest and more selfish indeed; saddling you with adoring phrases while asking for your forgiveness in advance, all without clarifying a single thing. Secrets. It’s always the secrets. You’re so tired of them, and yet it isn’t enough to deter your heart from what—who—it wants. If anything, you feel even more determined to uncover what it is that $xname is hiding from you. Asking for forgiveness through a letter is far too simple. <<if $ass gt $pass>>Perhaps if $xthey begged you on $xtheir knees instead, you might be placated.<<else>>$cxthey will have to try harder than that to smooth things over between the two of you.<</if>> With a considerable amount of discipline, you put your feelings aside to focus on the rest of $xname's letter. The closing lines raise so many questions. What does $xthey mean with the next leg of $xtheir journey, and why would it be dangerous for $xthem to be tracked? Is it a guise to fool any potential Followers who might intercept the letter, letting them believe $xname is traveling further up the Armas Mountains, or is it something else entirely? <<if $intu gt $intel>>Your gut tells you it’s the latter<<else>>You think it likelier to be the latter<</if>>. The <em>last thing</em> that $xname spoke of being handled, it sounds separate from the plan you made to fool the Followers—perhaps it’s even a personal matter, which would explain why $xname is so secretive about it. $cxthey has always been rather tight-lipped about $xthemselves where it concerns anything important. Should you be worried? You sigh, putting $xtheir letter back down on your desk again. Whether you should or you shouldn’t doesn’t matter, because you know you already are. What is $xname getting $xthemselves into? <em><<if $res gt $flirt>>Yours as well.<<else>>Missing you more.<</if>></em> Leaning back against your chair, you close your eyes and whisper a wish into the quiet air. “Just be safe, $xname.” [[Continue|10.23x]]<em>Dear $name, <<if $blunt gt $charm>>Hopefully this style of handwriting will meet your high standards! I expect to be congratulated for my efforts, because my fingers are already cramping from having to write in this way. Truly, the things I suffer for a pretty face.<<else>>Hopefully this will convince you that there is no need to show $aname anything, least of all our private correspondence! How can I compose poetry about your beauty knowing that $aname will tease me for it the next time we meet?<</if>> I would like to tell you more about our progress, but in the unlikely event this letter is intercepted, I can’t give out too many details. Suffice it to say that all is going according to plan. Now that you can actually read my handwriting, perhaps I should instead repeat what I wrote to you last time. You missed the part where I lamented your absence like the earth in drought laments the absence of rain. Compare me to a pitiful sunflower trapped in the shade, wilting away now that I’m no longer by your side. I feel as if I am in winter already, deprived of your warmth. Did that impress you? I bet that impressed you. In seriousness, you will have to forgive me for pouring all these flattering words out only in these letters, when I was unable to tell them to you in person when we parted. My heart is both more honest and more selfish from a distance, where I don’t have to consider the consequences of my actions. I have thought of you often, truly, and I have missed you. But I also know that it would be better that I don’t, and I don’t have the wisdom to decide where that leaves us. I know it will hurt you, eventually. All I can do is ask for your mercy, and your forgiveness. This letter will be the last I’ll be able to send you in a while, and I’m afraid I’ll have to ask you to refrain from sending a reply as well. The next leg of my journey is a dangerous one, and one where I can’t afford to be tracked. A messenger pigeon heading right for me would increase that risk. I cannot say anything more, but don’t fret too much. Everything is well in hand, and once this last thing is handled, I will be free to return to the Royal Palace and inform you in person. Flatter you in person, too. <<if $res gt $flirt>>Yours as well,<<else>>Missing you more,<</if>> $xname</em> [[Continue|10.22x]]$xname’s last parting shot tastes like dirt in $xtheir mouth as $xthey leaves the house, immediately regretting the childish taunt as soon as $xthey closes the door behind $xthem. Once outside, all $xtheir audacity drains out of $xthem, as well as anything else. $cxthey bends down to put $xtheir boots on in hollowed silence. The moon watches $xname from high above, shining through a thin veil of clouds that obscures most of the stars. <<if $xrelationship is 'high'>> $cxthey misses the sun.<</if>> Righting $xthemselves again once $xtheir feet are covered with leather, $xname stares up at sky. A bird flies overhead, quieter than a whisper, not even a fluttering of wings audible. An owl, shadowed black against the moonlight. The tranquility lasts only a few moments. $xname’s skin is still warm from the bed, sticky with sweat. When it shivers, cooled by the night’s winds, the sensation cracks through the emptiness like sound echoing in a cave, filling it with <<if $xrelationship is 'high'>>thoughts that throb like wounds. <em>I think you favor me too much, Your Imperial Majesty.</em> What a lie, what a cowardly thing to say. $name’s favor was never the problem; $xname’s is. $cxtheir own inability to stay away, $xtheir arrogance to think $xthey had it under control, that it could be a mere flirtation to pass the time. There’s too much pain, too much guilt, just too much- too much of <em>$name</em>. $cthey<<if $pronouns is 'theythem'>>’re<<else>>’s<</if>> entirely unlike the Crown that $xname expected $them to be. Refusing to indulge in the facade even when it would be more convenient for $them, seeing past it with a gaze that asks for truth. One $xname <em>wants</em> to give, but can’t. The two of them are so alike and so different. They both carry their pain with them, yet $name has the strength to hold it close to $their heart—staring $their mother in the eyes with such open grief and longing—while $xname can barely stand to look at $xtheir own. “I can’t.” $xname buries $xtheir face in $xtheir hands. “I can’t, I can’t, I can’t.” $name is not merely $name, $they<<if $pronouns is 'theythem'>>’re<<else>>’s<</if>> the Crown. The dead that $xname carries with $xthem howl in $xtheir ears: it has to end here. It has to, but— $cxthey takes a slow, deep breath, holding it.<<else>>a single thought. Why does $xthey do this to $xthemselves? $xname does not let it linger. $cxthey lifts $xtheir palms, covering $xtheir eyes as $xthey takes a slow, deep breath, holding it.<</if>> $cxtheir fingers shake, curling against $xtheir forehead. Then, just as slowly, $xthey breathes out, exhaling $xtheir trembling with it. All sensation disappears, and the world opens up to offer $xthem mercy. When $xname lowers $xtheir hands again, $xthey feels nothing of $xthemselves. Not $xtheir body, not $xtheir heart, not $xtheir guilt, not $xtheir fear. Instead, $xthey feels Arsur. An ant walks over the toes of $xname’s boot, wandered off from the group that scurries through the grass below. There’s a colony nearby, breathing through the earth, workers crawling up to the surface through its pathways. Eight legs run through the grass; a spider catches one. High above, the wind rushes through the cloud-cover. It bends in an arc, rustling through the tops of the trees, sweeping the first leaves of autumn with it, scattering it at the edges of the meadow where $xname stands. There, a few mice scuttle through the brush of grass. An owl swoops down, claws snapping around its prey. It flies off back into the direction of the forest, where distant campfires glow faintly through the trees. Thirty-eight bodies rest scattered in tents or beneath the trees, while fourteen sit around the fires, awake and speaking quietly amongst each other. “Do you think we’ll return to Marabad?” Ferhat. “Tûjo said it was likely, but…” Nebez, tentative. “The chief does need to report back to the Crown.” Şanazî. “$cxthey can send a letter, can’t $xthey?” Ferhat again. “Or go alone?” “You don’t want to go back?” Nebez. “His <em>pride</em> doesn’t want to go back.” Şanazî again. “Not after the way he was humiliated at the Red Lantern.” “When will you stop bringing that up?” Ferhat, embarrassed. “Quit your bickering.” Nebez again, irritated. “You’re going to wake the others.” The conversation falls silent. [[Continue|10.25x]]$xname walks to camp. Most of the Blades are still sleeping by the time $xthey makes it back. The group $xthey heard speaking before nod or say a word in greeting as $xname passes them by, heading for $xtheir own tent. Ferhat is the only exception; he avoids $xname’s eyes. While $xname’s feelings are numb, rationally, $xthey understands Ferhat’s apprehension. No doubt it is shared by many of the other Blades. There’s a reason most of them chose to join a mercenary group, rather than sign up or remain with Arsur’s armies. To be at the beck and call of the Crown is not what any of them had in mind, yet this is the situation $xname is in now, and $xthey has dragged the Blades into it with $xthem. It’s an irresponsible thing to do, one that breaks a promise $xthey made to them—$xtheir only family—that they would always come first. Yet, $xthey has driven $xthemselves into a corner, and the only way to fix it is to press $xtheir back further against the wall, until $xthey has enough leverage to escape. And for that, Payam needs to die. “Chief.” Heval approaches, Tûjo not far behind. “You’re back already?” Usually, $xname would give a self-satisfied quip here, so that’s what $xthey attempts to do. “Already? Give me more credit, I was gone for hours!” Heval freezes, Tûjo beside them frowning deeply, and $xname knows instantly $xtheir attempt at levity fell flat. It’s difficult to imitate in this state. “You’re doing it again.” Heval sounds distressed. “$xname, you can’t- you said you would limit it. You said you wouldn’t use it outside of battle!” “It’s only temporary,” $xname replies, but $xthey knows letting the numbness linger will only upset Heval more, so $xthey pulls it back, gradually. Heval’s shoulders are tensed as they watch $xname. Their breath hisses against the metal of their mask, hands balled at their sides, eyes staring into $xname’s. When they inhale, metal scales lift on their chest and shoulders with the weighted motion, preparing to speak until Tûjo cuts in. He steps between, placing a hand against Heval’s sternum. “Not here, friend.” His gaze shifts meaningfully toward the tents of the other Blades, a few of them within view. Nebez watches over the small group by the campfire, meeting Tûjo’s eyes, looking briefly toward Heval, then glancing at $xname. He frowns. Even Şanazî has noticed $xname’s current state. Though she’s not looking at $xname like Nebez, $xname can feel her silent concern as she distracts the other Blades with small talk, sometimes by poking at Ferhat. She’s covering for $xname, so they don’t notice the same thing she did. Regret is the first emotion that awakes in the pit of $xname’s stomach, followed closely by shame. The world shrinks, $xtheir feelings caging $xtheir senses once more. $cxtheir body is heavy, $xtheir skin is cold and ill-fitting, clothes itching, mouth dry, lips cracked. $cxthey hates it. Tûjo’s hand reaches out to $xthem, fingers curling around $xtheir shoulder. The warmth of his palm through $xname’s tunic is the only sensation that doesn’t feel burdensome. “Let’s go,” Tûjo says, tilting his head toward the trees. No delaying anymore; it’s time to tell them about $xname’s decision. [[Continue|10.26x]] The forest is quiet, as if holding its breath in anticipation, listening for a reaction. Just like $xname, after having confessed $xtheir plans. $cxthey leans back against the tree in painfully feigned nonchalance, almost insulting in how blatant it is. Camp is a short distance away, but between the trees, only Tûjo and Heval remain by $xtheir side. Neither of them looks pleased. “$xname,” Heval speaks tightly against the steel of their mask, black mouth eternally shut. “I am saying this as your friend: do not do this.” The golden teeth painted on the upper lip of their mask glint in the dim moonlight filtering through the branches above. A name flits through $xname’s head, one $xthey catches in mid-air and locks away again into the dark recess from which it escaped. $cxthey narrows $xtheir eyes at Heval. “Why?” “The Crown will hear of this.” Heval’s eyes are dark, disapproving, but also beseeching. “It will force $them to look into it.” A sharp twinge pierces the space between $xname’s ribs, chest drawing in a tight breath. “And $they will find nothing,” $xthey retorts coolly, pushing off from the tree, straightening $xtheir shoulders as $xthey faces Heval fully. “Heval, Payam is the last loose end. If I’m to continue <<if $xrelationship is 'high'>>being present at $name’s side<<else>>serving the Crown<</if>>—” Heval’s voice rises with disbelief, and building frustration. “So you <em>are</em> planning on returning?” $xname remains silent, knowing $xthey has said too much. <<if $xrelationship is 'high'>>$cxthey can’t run away like this, couldn’t stay away even if $xthey wanted to. The only way to end it is to face it.<<else>>There’s too much there, but guilt most of all; $xthey has to return, for $xtheir own peace of mind. To find closure if nothing else.<</if>> $cxtheir jaw clenches as $xthey shifts $xtheir gaze to Tûjo. He stands silently between the two of them, cautiously watchful behind the cloth wrapping his face. His posture is impassive, hands still folded around his back, belying the concern $xname can feel tinging the air around him like flecks of color in a dark iris. $xname weighs $xtheir words, taking a breath to ease the tension in $xtheir shoulders, in $xtheir expression. The smile comes practiced, almost easy, $xtheir voice lightening. “What richer employer could a mercenary ask for? Especially with the Imperial Army so spread out as it is, and the provincial armies disconnected—” Heval interrupts, the disappointment—and hurt—in their voice cutting through $xname’s act. “You know better than to try that with me.” Any sign of humor disappears from $xname’s face, leaving the both of them in uneasy silence. Clouds block out the moon, casting a dark shadow over the forest. $cxtheir gaze lowers, unable to hold the weight of Heval’s. $cxtheir hand almost reaches for a dagger at $xtheir waist that is no longer there in search of reassurance, before $xthey catches $xthemselves and crosses $xtheir arms instead. “Chief,” Heval says, a last plea, “do not fall for the same tricks that got you into this mess to begin with. Mîr Behram sent that message to you for a reason, hoping you will go after Payam so that he has yet more leverage over you. It’s obvious he intends to blackmail you!” “It doesn’t matter.” $xname’s head bends, exhausted. “I don’t intend on giving him what he wants, and I don’t intend on letting Payam live.” Honor, pride, principle—each a word $xthey has perverted, twisted it into something that does nothing but bring $xthem pain and misery. Yet what else is left? $cxthey has been carrying $xtheir village with $xthem for the past twenty years. It is a burden that $xthey has dragged upon $xtheir shoulders like a proud carcass, carving $xtheir dignity out of its bones if only to ensure that it suffered and died for a reason. That it wasn’t martyred in futility, that $xtheir pain wasn’t for nothing. This is no longer about justice or vengeance, but about habit. $cxthey sees no way out, walking down the only road in sight, even as it leads $xthem off a cliff. It’s too late to correct $xtheir course. Being swallowed by the fall is only what $xthey deserves. “You…” Heval takes a breath, exhaling what little hope they had left. “You are not a mountain, $xname. You don’t have to carry the sky by yourself.” An echo of advice Heval had once given $xthem long before, something $xthey always remembered but never listened to. The same words, ones that felt hopeful for a while, now empty of promise in the face of duty, bestowed on $xname by $xtheir mother’s corpse. “I’ve made up my mind,” $xthey speaks, the finality of the words burdening the air. Heval does not move. They stand there for what feels like the longest time, their gaze piercing through $xname even without eye contact. When they finally do move, it is to walk away. $xname looks up to stare at their back as it recedes. “Heval—” “Don’t,” Heval calls back, the rigidity of the word conveying that they are restraining their temper, as well as their fear. Their worry for $xname. They won’t be party to this. They slip away between the trees, back towards camp. $xname turns to Tûjo, whose eyes linger on the place where Heval disappeared from view. $xname can still hear their footsteps, heavy across the grass. “Do you think I’m making a mistake, brother?” $xname’s voice is quiet. Straining to even leave $xtheir mouth. Tûjo looks at $xthem then, hesitance plain in the pull of his brows. “I understand your reasons why,” he says. “But?” “But nothing.” Tûjo averts his gaze. “I’m not here to act as your conscience.” “And if I were to ask for advice?” Tûjo stays silent for a long while. $xname can sense something inside Tûjo ease as the uncertainty around him clears up. He knows $xname has already made up $xtheir mind. Unconditional acceptance, painfully kind in how quiet it is. “Don’t get caught.” <<if $peritrader is true>>[[Continue|10.27khamyes]]<<else>>[[Continue|10.27khamno]]<</if>><<timed 4s>><<goto "10.r2">><</timed>> <<timed 7s>><<goto "10.r3">><</timed>> <img @src="setup.ImagePath+'symbol.png'" id="rsymbol" width="330px"/><img @src="setup.ImagePath+'symboldark.png'" id="rsymboldark" width="330px"/> The world comes flooding back as suddenly as it disappeared. “$rname!” $crthey finds Perjin and Master Zîn’s worried faces hovering over $rthem where $rthey lays on the floor, the stone cold against $rtheir body through the fabric of $rtheir dress. They both take $rname by a shoulder as $rthey moves to sit up, still feeling a horrible, lingering numbness in $rtheir limbs. $crtheir body is hollow. “Are you alright, my dear?” Perjin asks when $rname remains silent. Slowly, $rname lifts $rtheir gaze to her, but even then $rthey doesn’t truly see Perjin. $crtheir mind is overwhelmed with too many images. “You were right, Master Zîn,” $rname says quietly while $rthey still stares at Perjin, unable to stop $rtheir hands from shaking on $rtheir lap. Master Zîn clasps them with her own, brows furrowed in heavy concern. “About what, $rname?” $rname’s lips open and close, unable to push the words out, not enough air in $rtheir lungs. Perjin brushes a long lock of $rname’s hair out of $rtheir face in a soothing gesture as $rname sucks in a sharp breath, trying to calm $rtheir pounding heart. $crtheir voice is hoarse when $rthey finally manages to answer. “About my parents.” Master Zîn and Perjin exchange a look. “The Void ate it,” $rname continues, eyes unseeing as a small, panicked laugh escapes $rtheir lips. “It was there this whole time, but the Void <em>ate it</em>.” Perjin’s hand wraps around $rname’s shoulder, a hint of urgency and fear in the way she squeezes it even while her voice remains calm. “What did it eat, $rname?” $rname closes $rtheir eyes to keep $rtheir tears from falling down, locking them away like $rtheir parents once did to the memories $rthey never knew $rthey had. “The mental ward my parents placed on me.” <<if $peritrader is true>>[[Continue|10.27khamyes]]<<else>>[[Continue|10.27khamno]]<</if>><b>IN THE STREETS OF MARABAD</b> $aname’s footsteps are silent going up the stone steps of the city, traversing a thick, dark fog that obscures even the stars. It’s spread across the streets of the Half Moon district, far east of the palace. The fog itself is unnatural, surely created by a person, but $aname cannot sense its point of origin. There’s too much magic in the air, covering any potential tracks $athey could’ve followed. This certainly isn’t what $athey expected to find when trying to visit one of the families whose relatives went missing. $aname isn’t even supposed to still be out here this late. No doubt $name will meet with the court candidates soon and will be noticing $atheir absence, but after their talk in the temple, $aname felt restless<<if $arelationship is 'high'>>, or perhaps even reinvigorated. Very few people are aware of Axîn's disappearance, aside from those who knew her before like Mîr Lîlan. Telling $name about her, trusting $them with it and finding $their acceptance in return, has made $aname feel as if $athey’s less alone with this burden. Investigating it no longer seems as hopeless as it once did. Yet, this revitalized determination also led $aname to walk right into this mist.<<else>> for new leads and continued investigating in the city. At which point, $athey walked right into this mist.<</if>> Is it an opportunity, or a trap? $aname can hardly make out the walls of the buildings surrounding $athem, the fog is <em>that</em> thick. Now that the sun has set, the torches and lanterns lining the houses are nearly useless for visibility, light barely penetrating the veil that has settled over the district. With the amount of fog polluting the air, $atheir ability to sense magic is also hampered, forcing $athem to rely on $atheir physical senses instead—mainly $atheir hearing. $cathey stays close to the walls as $athey reaches the top of the stairs and walks through the streets, holding one dagger at the ready while $atheir other hand trails along the stone. $cathey passes by an open door, finding its resident peering out into the street with concern. “Stay inside and cover the windows,” $aname warns them. They glance at $aname’s armor and weapons before nodding and quickly closing the door again. The last thing $athey needs is civilians wandering around this mist while $athey’s trying to navigate it. What’s especially notable is that $athey has yet to encounter any city guards. $cathey hears footsteps in the near distance, nervous conversation from citizens wondering what’s happening. $aname urges each person $athey encounters to go inside, but the persistent lack of any city guards sets $athem further and further on edge. It’s unwise to jump to conclusions, $athey knows. $cathey doesn’t know how far the fog has spread, the city guards could be occupied elsewhere— “Help!” [[Continue|10.a2]] The voice calls from a fair distance away, only audible to $aname due to the magic enhancing $atheir hearing, but it’s enough to pinpoint their location. $aname breaks out into a run while keeping alert for any other noises. This could be bait, but $athey’s not willing to risk someone’s life by playing it safe. Besides, even if the cry for help does lead $athem into an ambush, $athey’s confident enough in $atheir own abilities to ward off whatever attack might be thrown at $athem. As $aname quickly navigates the streets, noting $athey’s no longer running into people anymore, $athey feels a spike of magic in the air that is decidedly foreign from the fog. Turning around a corner, $athey spots sparks of red and orange light dancing in the distance, and the sound of someone wheezing. It’s during times like these that $aname regrets not having any talent for outer magic; $rname could’ve easily dissolved this fog with the flick of $rtheir fingers. $aname, however, has no choice but to cross through it. $aname tugs on $atheir inner magic in a quick command, washing over $atheir body as it cloaks $athem with invisibility. Approaching the dancing sparks while taking $atheir second dagger in the other hand, $athey begins to make out the form of two figures struggling against each other. A hooded assailant is trying to drag a squirming citizen off into an alleyway by their arms, the citizen clutching at their neck as if they were being choked by an unseen force. $aname’s arm moves in reflex, a lightning quick movement that sends one of $atheir daggers flying through the air. The assailant reacts at the last moment, releasing the citizen to duck—but it’s not that easy to dodge $aname’s daggers. $cathey holds $atheir hand outstretched, fingers pulling in a sharp motion, and the dagger $athey threw, now behind the assailant, slows to a hover in midair. It twists around and shoots back toward $aname, with the assailant still in its path. The blade impales the back of the assailant’s shoulder, its force sending them stumbling. “Agh!” The citizen meanwhile quickly starts to crawl away; whatever magic was choking them before seems to have ceased once $aname’s dagger found its mark. $aname quickly drops $atheir invisibility. “Don’t run!” $athey shouts at the citizen before they can disappear into the fog. “Get behind me, there may be more nearby!” They quick scramble up to their feet, nearly tripping over the hem of their dress, and hurry towards $aname. They’re still coughing and gasping for breath as $aname steps between them and the assailant. “Are you alright?” $aname asks, glancing at them. “F-fine now, thank you,” they rasp in response, no doubt their throat still aching. At least they’re out of danger, now. $aname is briefly reminded of the assailant that tried to strangle Ziryan as well. That was back during the assassination attempt on $name in the tunnels. It could just be a coincidence, as Ziryan's attacker used their hands, while this one used magic of some sort. It’s something $aname will have to keep in the back of $atheir mind. The robed attacker, meanwhile, is down on one knee, clutching at their impaled shoulder. $aname points the other dagger still in $atheir left hand at them. “I’ll give you one chance to answer my questions voluntarily.” The assailant tilts their head up at them, features cloaked in the darkness of the fog, and lets out a pained snort. [[Continue|10.a3]] Laughter. The tension in $aname’s shoulders eases somewhat. This would-be abductor’s personality and thoughts must still be intact; there is no mental ward on their mind. Which means it’s unlikely that the Crown’s assassins are a part of this plot. It doesn’t rule out the Followers, however. This could still be them, but a different faction, using a different method, or someone else entirely. Hopefully this assailant can clarify that part of it for $aname, at least. “You’re brave,” $aname remarks, regarding the attacker coolly. “Not many people would laugh in the face of death.” The assailant exhales, halfway a pant. “There’s worse things than death, friend.” “Such as?” They remain silent. The citizen taking cover behind $aname begins to fidget. “Who are you?” they demand from over $aname’s shoulder. “Why did you attack me? I was just walking home, I didn’t…” They trail off, voice too hoarse to speak. “Nothing personal,” the assailant grunts. $aname arches $atheir brows. “Then someone paid you to do this? Who, and how many people have you abducted?” “Why should I even bother to answer?” they sneer. “You’ll read my mind regardless, won’t you? Get it over with then, Protector!” This is a trap. The assailant is hardly even hiding it; $aname can hear the grin in their words, taunting $athem. No, it’s better to apprehend them first, then have them tested for any hidden magic before reading their memories. $aname’s mishap with the Crown’s assassin taught $athem that particular lesson very well. Seeing $aname’s apprehension, the assailant tilts their head. The next words out of their mouth make $aname’s blood run cold. “Don’t you want to know about Axîn?” <<if $peritrader is true>>[[Continue|10.27khamyes]]<<else>>[[Continue|10.27khamno]]<</if>>[ [[Lessons in the Crown's Domain]] updated ]<<set $court to true>><<set $dappointed to true>> Once she has left, you recline into the seat of your throne and stare unseeing at the ceiling, your head feeling emptied of any and all reason after having had to endure nearly two hours of this. You’ve already selected the most promising officials at the very start of this process, days ago, and sent $dname a formal notice of appointment as High General. Now that you’ve gone through the list compiled for you by $rname, $aname and Keko, the remaining candidates are the equivalent of a pile of refuse. Moments later, Ishrah offers you a steaming, fragrant cup of mint tea. <<if $rfriend is true>>“I could kiss your hands for this, Ishrah,”<<else>>“You have my eternal gratitude for this, Ishrah,”<</if>> you sigh as you take the cup, and Ishrah smiles at you. “I should be thanking <em>you</em> for sparing me from cleaning duty,” she quips, then quickly glances at Keko as if to make sure the jest has landed well, relaxing when he gives her an amused look. “Not spared, I would say,” he replies. “Merely delayed.” Ishrah pouts. “There was no need to point it out, master.” “Becoming disillusioned is a part of growing up, dear child.” You glance at Keko from the corner of your eyes as you sip your tea. It hasn’t escaped your notice how knowledgeable the old servant has been about the political goings-on within the nobility. Then again, it makes sense considering how long he has been head servant, serving under two different Crowns—three now, counting you. <<if $calc gt $kind>>It’s the reason why you invited him specifically to sit in on your meetings with the court candidates. As you suspected when you first met the servants of the Imperial Palace, they have eyes and ears everywhere. Whenever a candidate attempts to pull the wool over your eyes, Keko steps in to clarify their intentions for you. Whatever games and alliances are being played, he is aware of them all.<<else>>When Keko approached you to ask if he could sit in on these meetings, you were surprised but curious. As quickly became clear, it wasn’t simply to attend to you: he has stepped in whenever a candidate has tried to pull the wool over your eyes. Being that you’re still not fully familiar with the intricacies of the many political alliances no doubt at play, you appreciate the help.<</if>> “Keko,” you say, drawing his attention to you. “I noticed you hold the title of master as well as head servant. Did you graduate from a school?” “I did indeed,” Keko replies with a smile and a subtle bow of his head. “It was many decades ago now.” So even the head servant of a palace must have certain qualifications. “What did you study?” “I specialized in aura magic.” That surprises you. When speaking of aura magic, you tend to think of people like $aname and the Imperial Guards, not a servant at a palace. Before you can ask more, there is a knock on the door. You sigh, putting your cup down on the small table beside your throne. “I suppose the next candidate has arrived. Enter!” <<if $nazapoints gte 2>>[[Continue|10.30naza]]<<else>>[[Continue|10.30]]<</if>><<set $magicodexii to true>>[ [[Lessons in Magic]] <b>updated</b> ] To your surprise, the person who strides through the doors is none other than Lady Naza. She has let her hair down in a wave of long, thick curls today, wearing a white fur cape draped over her shoulder to compliment her deep red dress. Her limbs are draped from shoulders to fingertips in heavy bands of gold that almost look more like armor than delicate jewelry, putting the scars along her arms and shoulders on full display. With her height and size, she looks statuesque. “Your Imperial Majesty.” She bows and greets you without further preamble, a poised smile gracing her lips. “Lady Naza of House Ishtal,” you greet in return, eyes narrowing slightly. Her house, you’ve come to learn, is one of the older noble houses that traces its lineage to the Ardian Monarchy. Its original founder was supposedly a peri who courted an Ardian noble; it would explain the name Ishtal, which is not any sort of tribal name you would usually recognize. It also explains her temperament. In her eyes, you truly are nothing more than a whelp, Crown or no. For all the supposed talk of chosen Crowns and selection based on merit, based on divinity, bloodlines and lineages are undeniably influential. In fact, it’s how the nobility still operates. <<if $hidenone is true>>Though, thinking about her now, didn’t she send you a flower before? It was some time before the coronation—a yellow tulip expressing respect or admiration, as Siham explained it to you. “You may approach,” you say, gesturing to the open space in front of the throne.<<else>>“I admit, I’m surprised to see you here,” you say, before gesturing to the open space in front of the throne. “You may approach.”<</if>> The smile still lingers on her lips as she comes to stand before your throne, raised just enough for you to still tower over her. “I am here to serve, Your Imperial Majesty.” You arch your brows. “Are you?” Keko bends down to your ear, though he still speaks loud enough for Lady Naza to overhear. “Lady Naza served as the previous Minister of Defense, Your Imperial Majesty.” You glance at him in surprise, then look back at Lady Naza. “Is that true?” “It is.” Her answer is plainly spoken, but you sense a story. “Did you resign your post?” “I did.” The smile fades from Lady Naza’s face, now. “Following the assassination of Crown Ferzan, both the highest ranking officials in the Imperial Army as well as the Office of Defense were forced to resign.” <<if $loveinterest is 'D'>>You frown deeply, having more knowledge of the event than even Lady Naza likely does. It seems $dname’s mother was not the only one who took the fall; even Lady Naza and others merely <em>related</em> to the Imperial Army were forced to resign. $dname didn’t mention this to you when $dthey spoke of it, focusing only on $dtheir mother, but doubtlessly this weighs on $dtheir mind as well. Not only $dtheir mother was impacted, but dozens of people had to take responsibility for something they were blameless in. Did $dthey not want to worry you? But how could you not worry—what single person should have to carry such a burden for ten years? You push the matter from your mind for the time being, refocusing on the present.<<else>>You knew that the previous general had to resign following the assassination, but you hadn’t realized that it also included officials who were merely <em>related</em> to the Imperial Army. It strikes you as unreasonable, but what’s done is done.<</if>> “And after your resignation, there was no way for you to be reinstated without a Crown,” you surmise, and Lady Naza nods in agreement. “I cannot tell you how frustrating it has been.” She heaves a deep sigh. “The current High General has done an admirable job managing the basic necessities of the office, but it has been barely functional; $dthey is but one person. Part of the reason why the Imperial Army is so undermanned and underfunded is because there has been no proper management of its logistics in years.” Not to mention, no Crown to mandate any additional spending. How on earth has $dname been managing to head the office at all? No doubt appointing a new minister would take a great weight off $dtheir shoulders. “So,” you conclude, “you essentially want to return to your old post?” “In large part.” Lady Naza meets your eyes, as boldly as she did during your first meeting. “But don’t misunderstand, Your Imperial Majesty. I would not return to serve under a Crown who I did not think had any potential.” Potential? <<if $charm gt $blunt>>“Was that a compliment, Lady Naza?” you ask, intrigued at the change in attitude compared to before.<<else>>“Elaborate,” you state, though you are intrigued by the change in attitude compared to before.<</if>> “I respect those who are bold in temperament,” Lady Naza replies. “Those who are unafraid to take command and face enemies without flinching. It’s why I chose to serve Crown Ferzan as well; he was exactly such a Crown. From what I’ve seen so far, you also possess the potential to become a ruler of that caliber.” That is a lot more than you expected to hear from her, but Lady Naza has certainly made her point. She respects authority and strength more than anything else, and somehow you have shown it. <<if $hidenone is true>>Was it because you did not hide the assassination attempt from anyone?<<else>>Was it because of how you’ve addressed the nobility in the past?<</if>> Regardless, it’s undeniable that Lady Naza has experience for the position, at the very least. That doesn’t answer all your concerns, however. “What if I disappoint you down the line?” you ask, and Lady Naza grins. “Then I’ll simply resign.” It’s a more straightforward answer than you expected, and she elaborates, “I’m not the type to play political games, Your Imperial Majesty. I stab my enemies in the front, not the back. You don’t have to worry about any scheming from me.” You look over at Keko for his opinion, and he gives you the slightest inclination of his head in confirmation. She must be speaking the truth. The Office of Defense is also not a position well-suited for political maneuvering. Its primary focus is to support the Imperial Army; those with true political ambitions are more likely to choose the Office of Diplomacy, or the Office of Correspondence. It’s why this position is one you left as one of the last ones to be filled. All it really needs is someone who has a mind for bureaucratic management and logistics, which doesn’t take a prodigy. Someone who is reasonably competent would be more than enough. Still, the decision is yours to make: do you want Lady Naza in your court, or not? “I’ll take your application under advisement,” you tell Lady Naza, but in your mind, you’ve already decided… [[…to appoint her as Minister of Defense.|10.31][$nazaminister to true]] [[…not to appoint her as Minister of Defense.|10.31][$nazaminister to false]]<<set $magicodexii to true>>[ [[Lessons in Magic]] <b>updated</b> ] The person who enters following your command is one who seems very vaguely familiar, though you can’t place them anywhere until they bow before you and state their name. “Nûdem of House Sarshiv, Your Imperial Majesty,” they greet, the coins along the decorated silver headband they wear gently clinking together as they bow, matching their gray and white robes. “Any address is fine.” You squint as you try to recall exactly where you’ve seen them before, but then it comes to you. During your very first meeting with the nobility, Noble Nûdem tried to defend you when Lady Naza spoke out of turn and challenged your authority. They didn’t fully succeed, but you appreciated their attempt at the time. <<if $charm gt $blunt>>“Be welcome, Noble Nûdem,”<<else>>“Noble,”<</if>> you greet, then cut to the chase; you’ve been sitting on your throne too long to spare time on pleasantries. “There are only a few positions left to fill. Which one has your interest?” <<if $law is 'outwitted'>>“That of Minister of Law, Your Imperial Majesty,” Nûdem replies, which you’re not surprised to hear. Ever since you dismissed the entire office during your first official court meetings, it has been the most fought over position, and why wouldn’t it be? It holds great power in court, as it can organize either the greatest support or the greatest attack on the Crown’s decisions, all based on the principle of law. Whether the Crown’s decrees are lawful or not, based on the interpretation of the minister—it is not a position to take lightly. “What is your experience in matters of law?” you ask, unable to recall reading anything about Noble Nûdem in particular. They weren’t on the list of recommended candidates that $rname gave to you, but that doesn’t necessarily mean they’re unfit.<<else>>“Serving the Minister of Law, Your Imperial Majesty,” Nûdem replies, which takes you aback. Keko seems similarly surprised, though it is only visible in the mild lift of his brows. “The Crown does not typically manage the lower ranking officials in the various offices, Noble Nûdem, which I’m certain you are also well aware of.” “Indeed.” Noble Nûdem glances to Keko in acknowledgment, but then looks back at you. “My true aim is to become the Minister of Law within a year’s time. However, I can still serve at the office in advance, which will be of benefit to you as well, Your Imperial Majesty. Of course, Minister Besna is unlikely to appoint me to the office herself, seeing as how I’m an outsider.” They’re offering to become your eyes and ears in the office. You admit, you’re intrigued. <<if $law is 'compromise'>>During your first court meeting, you were forced to compromise and keep Minister Besna in place for the time being, but her position is still only a temporary one.<<else>>While you stamped out the protests to keep the Office of Law intact, you weren’t able to truly dismiss anyone, leaving Minister Besna in place for the time being. Regardless, her position is still a temporary one.<</if>> Having someone on the inside during that period could help limit the damage she could do, but can you trust Noble Nûdem? Besides which, appointing them publicly to the office would be a very blatant declaration that you’re keeping watch. It’d be a tactic of intimidation, rather than subterfuge. “I see.” It’s a clever offer, but it’ll take more than that to get you to agree. “I’ll certainly consider that. But what about your qualifications, Noble Nûdem? What is your experience in matters of law?”<</if>> “I used to be the head official of law in Mîr Behram’s court,” Noble Nûdem answers honestly, which immediately clarifies why $rname didn’t recommend them. $crthey must have ignored any nobles who served at the courts of Mîr Behram and Mîr Mêrxas. “You used to be?” Nûdem frowns, a look of contempt passing their face. “Mîr Behram dismissed me a year ago.” [[Continue|10.30b]]<<set $defenseappointed to true>>Lady Naza bows gracefully as you dismiss her, taking her leave again. That was certainly one of the shortest applications you’ve had. <<if $nazaminister is true>>You’ll have to look into her record and achievements as Minister of Defense later, to ensure she’s as suited for the position as you suspect she is. $rtitle $rname might not enjoy her appointment, but personal distaste must be set aside when it comes to matters of governing.<<else>>Regardless of her prior experience, you’re not certain you can trust her with the position, even when she could only do a limited amount of damage. It’s better to have your court filled with people you’re certain of. After she has left, you take a quick break to finish your tea—the liquid kept warm by the ward inscribed in the cup—before welcoming the next candidate into the room.<</if>> The person who enters following your command is one who seems very vaguely familiar, though you can’t place them anywhere until they bow before you and state their name. “Nûdem of House Sarshiv, Your Imperial Majesty,” they greet, the coins along the decorated silver headband they wear gently clinking together as they bow, matching their gray and white robes. “Any address is fine.” You squint as you try to recall exactly where you’ve seen them before, but then it comes to you. During your very first meeting with the nobility, Noble Nûdem tried to defend you when Lady Naza spoke out of turn and challenged your authority. They didn’t fully succeed, but you appreciated their attempt at the time. <<if $charm gt $blunt>>“Be welcome, Noble Nûdem,”<<else>>“Noble,”<</if>> you greet, then cut to the chase; you’ve been sitting on your throne too long to spare time on pleasantries. “There are only a few positions left to fill. Which one has your interest?” <<if $law is 'outwitted'>>“That of Minister of Law, Your Imperial Majesty,” Nûdem replies, which you’re not surprised to hear. Ever since you dismissed the entire office during your first official court meetings, it has been the most fought over position, and why wouldn’t it be? It holds great power in court, as it can organize either the greatest support or the greatest attack on the Crown’s decisions, all based on the principle of law. Whether the Crown’s decrees are lawful or not, based on the interpretation of the minister—it is not a position to take lightly. “What is your experience in matters of law?” you ask, unable to recall reading anything about Noble Nûdem in particular. They weren’t on the list of recommended candidates that $rname gave to you, but that doesn’t necessarily mean they’re unfit.<<else>>“Serving the Minister of Law, Your Imperial Majesty,” Nûdem replies, which takes you aback. Keko seems similarly surprised, though it is only visible in the mild lift of his brows. “The Crown does not typically manage the lower ranking officials in the various offices, Noble Nûdem, which I’m certain you are also well aware of.” “Indeed.” Noble Nûdem glances to Keko in acknowledgment, but then looks back at you. “My true aim is to become the Minister of Law within a year’s time. However, I can still serve at the office in advance, which will be of benefit to you as well, Your Imperial Majesty. Of course, Minister Besna is unlikely to appoint me to the office herself, seeing as how I’m an outsider.” They’re offering to become your eyes and ears in the office. You admit, you’re intrigued. <<if $law is 'compromise'>>During your first court meeting, you were forced to compromise and keep Minister Besna in place for the time being, but her position is still only a temporary one.<<else>>While you stamped out the protests to keep the Office of Law intact, you weren’t able to truly dismiss anyone, leaving Minister Besna in place for the time being. Regardless, her position is still a temporary one.<</if>> Having someone on the inside during that period could help limit the damage she could do, but can you trust Noble Nûdem? Besides which, appointing them publicly to the office would be a very blatant declaration that you’re keeping watch. It’d be a tactic of intimidation, rather than subterfuge. “I see.” It’s a clever offer, but it’ll take more than that to get you to agree. “I’ll certainly consider that. But what about your qualifications, Noble Nûdem? What is your experience in matters of law?”<</if>> “I used to be the head official of law in Mîr Behram’s court,” Noble Nûdem answers honestly, which immediately clarifies why $rname didn’t recommend them. $crthey must have ignored any nobles who served at the courts of Mîr Behram and Mîr Mêrxas. “You used to be?” Nûdem frowns, a look of contempt passing their face. “Mîr Behram dismissed me a year ago.” [[Continue|10.30b]]<<if visited('10.32') is 1>><<if $lawminister is 'nudem' or $lawminister is 'patient game'>><<set $publicfavored += 2>><</if>><<if $lawminister is 'zar'>><<set $elitefavored += 2>><<set $publicfavored -= 1>><<set $publicpoints -= 2>><</if>><</if>>“I appreciate the offer, Noble Nûdem,” you say, keeping your expression neutral. “You’ve given me much to think about.” <<if $lawminister is 'patient game'>>It’s a sound strategy, one you’re inclined to agree with—<em>after</em> you discuss it with $rname and $aname. Keko, at least, already seemed approving of Noble Nûdem.<</if>><<if $lawminister is 'nudem'>>Of all the candidates you’ve seen so far, Nûdem seems the most appealing. You don’t want a lapdog, you want a competent official who will perform their duties with integrity, even if that means they may disagree with you from time to time.<</if>><<if $lawminister is 'zar'>>Of all the candidates you’ve seen so far, Noble Nûdem certainly seems more competent, but also more dangerous. What guarantee do you have that they won’t turn on you in the future, should they disagree with one of your decisions? You’d much rather go with a safer candidate, one who is certain to support you—you already have someone else in mind. Unfortunate for Noble Nûdem as it is.<</if>><<if $nudemrejected is true>>Noble Nûdem certainly seems competent, but also more dangerous. What guarantee do you have that they won’t turn on you in the future, should they disagree with one of your decisions, and leak information to Besna instead? You’d rather deal with Besna in a different, safer way, unfortunate for Noble Nûdem as it is.<</if>> Noble Nûdem bows, taking their leave, and as they head out the doors a welcome face strides in. <<if $afriend is false or $xfriend is false or $dfriend is false>>$rname glances at the noble, who offers a quick bow in passing, but then turns $rtheir attention back to you as the doors close again behind $rthem. “Hello again! How have the meetings been?” You heave a sigh, and $rname chuckles as $rthey approaches. $crthey climbs the short steps to join you by your throne, smiling in greeting to Keko and Ishrah. <<if $blunt gt $charm>>“$rname,” you say, giving $rthem a long-suffering look, “I can’t take much more of this.” $rname suppresses a grin at your expense, though $rtheir eyes are narrowed with humor. “Surely it was not that bad?” “I have felt my own intelligence deteriorate for every moment I’ve spent talking to these people.”<<else>>“$rname,” you bemoan, giving $rthem a long-suffering look, “my youth is wasting away in this place!” “You’ve only been in here for two hours,” $rname replies with amusement, though $rthey suppresses a grin at your expense. “I’m sure your youth will survive, Your Imperial Majesty.” “You don’t know how bad I’ve had it!”<</if>> Nûdem<<if $nazapoints gt 0>> and Lady Naza were<<else>> was<</if>> decidedly the exception; most of the rest of your meetings were a complete waste of time. You look at Keko and Ishrah, gesturing with your hand. “Tell $rthem about the garden size lady.” “I will!” Ishrah volunteers with such enthusiasm it nearly borders on sadistic, considering what an utter headache that lady was for you. “I will tell $rthem!” $rname gives the three of you a befuddled look. “Garden size lady?” A short few minutes later, you glare at $rname from your throne while $rthey tries to smother $rtheir laughter, while Ishrah doesn’t hold back whatsoever. “At least I am consoled to see my suffering bring you such joy,” you say, hearing Keko cough in a way that sounds suspiciously like a laugh and shooting him a glare. “You have a true talent for exaggeration, Your Imperial Majesty.” $rname grins at you, then gently pats your shoulder. “There, there. It’s almost over now, there’s only one candidate left.”<</if>><<if $rfriend is false>>$aname glances at the noble, who offers a quick bow in passing, but then turns their attention back to you as the doors close again behind $athem. “From the look on your face, $name, I take it you haven’t enjoyed these most recent meetings.” You heave a sigh, and $aname grins with amusement as $athey approaches, climbing the short few steps to join you by your throne and nodding in greeting to Keko and Ishrah. <<if $blunt gt $charm>>You give $athem a long-suffering look. “I have enjoyed it as much as I would’ve enjoyed swallowing shards of glass.” “Who am I to say that you do not enjoy swallowing shards of glass?” $aname quips cheekily, and you roll your eyes. “I have felt my own intelligence deteriorate for every moment I’ve spent talking to these people.”<<else>>“$aname,” you bemoan, giving $athem a long-suffering look, “save me from this place! Invent a security risk so I can stop talking to these people!” “Be strong, Majesty,” $aname replies with amusement, patting you on the shoulder. “You’ve survived assassins, you can survive two hours of questioning nobility.” “You don’t know how bad I’ve had it!”<</if>> Nûdem<<if $nazapoints gt 0>> and Lady Naza were<<else>> was<</if>> decidedly the exception; most of the rest of your meetings were a complete waste of time. You look at Keko and Ishrah, gesturing with your hand. “Tell $athem about the garden size lady.” “I will!” Ishrah volunteers with such enthusiasm it nearly borders on sadistic, considering what an utter headache that lady was for you. “I will tell $athem!” $aname gives the three of you a puzzled, but mildly curious look. “Now this I have to hear.” A short few minutes later, you glare at $aname from your throne while $atheir shoulders shake with laughter, Ishrah joining in heartily as the two of them devolve into giggles. “I am consoled to see my suffering bring you such joy,” you say, hearing Keko cough in a way that sounds suspiciously like a laugh and shooting him a glare. “Perhaps a walk in the gardens would cheer you?” $aname replies, smirking with merciless delight. “You are not funny,” you lie. It <em>would</em> be a little funny, if it had happened to someone who wasn’t you. “At least you can take heart in knowing that there’s only one candidate left.”<</if>> “Already?” Ishrah says, looking genuinely disappointed. “You could not possibly have enjoyed that,” you say, frowning. “But I did!” Ishrah picks up the tea tray from the table beside your throne, taking your cup and the now empty teapot with it. “It was interesting to watch the different ways in which people behaved to appeal to you, Your Imperial Majesty. Would you like some more tea?” You stare at her, surprised to hear her curiosity about it. “Tea, sure—but what was that you said about watching people’s behavior?” If it were any other person, you might have even called it cunning. But surely Ishrah’s interest must be more genuine, at least in intent? Ishrah flushes, nervously repositioning her hands around the tea tray as she avoids your eyes. “I will get you more tea!” You look on as she bows and hurries away again, then turn your attention back to <<if $rfriend is true>>$rname, deciding to let it go. “Has $aname still not returned?” <<if $afriend is false>>The lingering mirth on $rname’s face disappears, though $rthey doesn’t look entirely worried, either. “$cathey has not, but I assume $athey’ll arrive soon. $cathey would’ve sent a message by now, if not.” You nod, taking $rname’s word for it, then turn your attention to the doors as you call to the servants outside: “Send in the last candidate!”<<else>>“$cathey has,” $rname replies, the mirth on $rtheir face deepening for a moment. “$cathey’s stationed outside the throne room. Something about ‘inane chatter’ being bad for $atheir health.” Of course $athey’d avoid having to listen in on these meetings. Somehow $athey always finds a way to evade accompanying you whenever you have a pesky task to complete. “I know you’re there, $aname!” you shout at the doors. “I’ll get revenge for this!” You hear a muffled reply: “I am merely doing my duty and guarding the door, Majesty!” You roll your eyes as $rname snickers beside you. “Make yourself useful and send in the last candidate, then!”<</if>><<else>>$aname, deciding to let it go. “Has $rname still not returned?” The lingering amusement on $aname’s face disappears, a slight frown deepening on $atheir face. “No, though I assume $rthey’ll be back in time for the court meeting. Did $rthey inform you of where $rthey went?” “Yes,” you start, but then halt, remembering $rname avoided telling $aname about examining the room the assassin’s body was in. $aname gives you a scrutinizing look. “I have several Imperial Guards following $rthem, Majesty. I know $rthey’s <<if $prisoner is 'palace'>>down in the dungeons<<else>>in the city<</if>>, though not why. I trust $rthey had a good reason?” “$crthey did,” you assure $athem, though you can’t help but feel a little worried. “Could you contact the guards you have accompanying $rthem? Just in case.” “If you think that’s wise.” $aname narrows $atheir eyes at you slightly, but doesn’t ask further questions. You turn your attention to the doors of the throne room as you call to the servants outside: “Send in the last candidate!”<</if>> [[Continue|10.33]] As the fight continues, you watch $rname press $rtheir own hand onto the other side of the barrier, on the same place where $aname’s is. $aname’s eyes widen in realization as the barrier begins to tremble with the sound of deafening rumbling, right before it explodes into shards of ice. You reflexively lift an arm to protect your face, but the shards are all aimed at $aname. “Goodness!” Ishrah exclaims from beside you, clinging onto Siham’s arm who watches with rapt attention. $aname dances out of the way with a laugh, dodging around each of the shards thrown at $athem, sidestepping with the lightness of a feather. “Too scared for hand-to-hand, my <<if $rgender is 'male'>>lord<<else>>lady<</if>>?” “I’m not a fool!” $rname shoots back, lifting another hand to join the other, but this one crackles with threads of energy. To your utter amazement, $rthey conjures multiple spears of lightning in the air with one hand while directing shards of ice with the other, balancing both effortlessly. <<if $rfriend is false>>You’ve seen $rthem use the lightning spear before, in the tunnels, but nothing like <em>this</em>. Was $rthey holding back against the assassin—or rather, did it take so little effort for $rthem to deal with it?<</if>> “Are you faster than lightning, $aname?” $rthey taunts. $aname’s response is to stop evading, holding $atheir ground and instead punching through the shards of ice as if they were nothing more than sheets of papyrus. “Let’s find out!” You’d be worried about how dangerous this spar is, but neither of them seem concerned. If anything, they look like they’re having fun. “Famous last words!” $rname says, bringing down the hand that wields $rtheir lightning together with the remaining shards of ice. This time when $aname moves with speed, you’re more prepared for it, and yet it still takes you by surprise. The shards of ice are of no consequence anymore; there are only the flashes of lightning, and the flashes of $aname’s form between them, until— The sparring match ends with the tremor of the earth and in a cloud of dust. <<if $afriend is false>>Jagged edges of the ground are cracked upwards, surrounding $aname in an attempt to trap $athem, but $athey has dodged them all. $cathey stands right behind $rname, holds the tips of $atheir fingers against $rname’s neck, placed flat against each other in a straightened edge like a blade of their own. $rname, still with $rtheir hands up, seems surprised at first but then breathes out a chuckle. “I yield.” “Good match.” $aname lowers $atheir hand and steps away, then glances your way as if to make sure you were watching. <<if $arelationship is 'high'>>When $athey catches your eyes, a smirk dimples $atheir cheeks. It’s a touch cockier than you’re used to from $athem, but it flatters $atheir face all the more for it. “Enjoy the performance?” <<if $flirt gt $res>>“Very much so,” you reply, momentarily forgetting everyone around you as $aname’s expression softens into a pleased smile. Then Siham clears their throat.<<else>>“You were…” You nearly lose track of your thoughts, momentarily forgetting everyone around you. “It was impressive.” $aname’s expression softens into a pleased smile, keeping you mesmerized until Siham clears their throat.<</if>><<else>>When $athey catches your eyes $athey looks away again, and before you can make anything of it Siham interrupts.<</if>><</if>><<if $rfriend is false>>Jagged edges of the ground crack upwards, surrounding $aname, clamping down around $atheir legs and rendering $athem immobile. Before $athey can think to break out, $rname lifts the tips of two fingers to $aname’s throat, small balls of lightning glowing in warning. $aname looks surprised at first, but then lifts $atheir palms in surrender. “I yield.” “You were a worthy opponent.” $rname lowers $rtheir hand, the raised chunks of the earth sliding back into place to release $aname, then glances your way as if to make sure you were watching. <<if $rrelationship is 'high'>>When $rthey catches your eyes, $rthey smiles brightly, looking at you almost hopefully. “What did you think, $name?” <<if $flirt gt $res>>“You were magnificent,” you praise readily, momentarily forgetting everyone around you as $rname’s eager smile radiates with delight. Then Siham clears their throat.<<else>>You nearly lose track of your thoughts, momentarily forgetting everyone around you. “You were very impressive.” $rname’s eager smile radiates with delight, keeping you mesmerized until Siham clears their throat.<</if>><<else>>When $rthey catches your eyes $rthey looks away again, and before you can make anything of it Siham interrupts.<</if>><</if>><<if $rfriend is true and $afriend is true>>Jagged edges of the ground crack upwards, surrounding $aname, clamping down around $atheir legs and rendering $athem immobile. Yet, at the same time, $athey holds the tips of $atheir fingers against $rname’s neck, placed flat against each other in a straightened edge like a blade of their own. The two look at each other in both surprise and amusement. “A draw?” $rname suggests. “I can live with that,” $aname agrees. $rname makes a quick downwards motion of $rtheir hand, the chunks of earth slide back into place, while $aname withdraws $atheir own fingers from $rname’s throat and steps back. Beside you, Ishrah begins to clap enthusiastically. “That was wonderful!” “Agreed,” you say, looking at them both. “I’m really impressed.”<<if $dfriend is false or $xfriend is false>> Though part of you can’t help but wonder how <<if $dfriend is false>>$dname<<else>>$xname<</if>> would do in a spar like this.<</if>> “You should be,” $aname replies, though $athey looks pleased with the compliment. “We <em>are</em> both quite impressive.” Siham clears their throat, breaking up the moment.<</if>> “I apologize sincerely for interrupting, Your Imperial Majesty, but the Royal Secretary wanted me to remind you that you have meetings planned with various court candidates in an hour.” Unfortunately, there’s still that on the agenda: the last of the meetings you have with the remaining candidates for court positions are spread throughout the week. At least you are almost finished with filling up all the vacancies. You look at $rname and $aname. “Shall we move onto the temple?” [[Continue|10.16a]] Unexpectedly, the next person to walk in is already dressed in official government robes. Deep blue ones, marking them as belonging to the Office of Imperial Decrees. <<if $cs gt 0>>Recognition passes over you. This is the highest ranking royal historian, the same one who defended you against Steward Welat during your first court meeting, and has sided with you in the court meetings since.<<else>>You faintly recognize the official’s face, his name popping into memory moments later. The highest ranking royal historian; his office has always been the friendliest to you, though they also haven’t outright supported you.<</if>> “Official Awir Xastiyan,” you greet him, giving him a questioning look. “Surely you’re not here to apply?” He’s known as a hard worker, organized and meticulous in management with nearly 20 years of prior experience, so you already planned to elevate him to minister of his office. A fact that he should have been made aware of very recently. “No, Your Imperial Majesty,” he answers as he bows to you, and you barely repress the urge to sigh in relief. “Firstly, I wished to formally thank you for my promotion.” <<if $blunt gt $charm>>You wave a dismissive hand. “Your thanks are unnecessary. You were the most suited for the position, so you received it. That’s all.” “I understand,” Awir replies as he rights himself again, the graying hair at his temples more visible as he stands before your throne.<<else>>“You don’t need to thank me with words, official,” you respond with a smile. “Thank me with your exemplary service, instead.” “I will be sure to do so,” Awir replies as he rights himself again, the graying hair at his temples more visible as he stands before your throne.<</if>> “My gratitude is also not the only reason I am here.” You suspect you’re about to find out his true goal for meeting you covertly. If he had requested an official audience, it would’ve no doubt drawn attention, but by slipping in as a ‘candidate’ he ensured a private conversation. “What reason might that be?” “A proposal of a different kind.” <<if $rfriend is true>><<if $rfriendship gt 0>>Glancing briefly at $rname, the two of you exchange a look. Yours is questioning, which $rname answers with a slight twist of $rtheir lips in contemplation, a gesture you think tells you to explore further.<<else>>You glance briefly at $rname, finding $rthem watching Awir, but being unable to read anything else from $rtheir expression.<</if>><<else>><<if $afriendship gt 0>>Glancing briefly at $aname, the two of you exchange a look. Yours is questioning, which $aname answers with a slight frown, one you think warns you to proceed with caution.<<else>>You glance briefly at $aname, finding $athem watching Awir, but being unable to read anything else from $atheir expression.<</if>><</if>> <<if $blunt gt $charm>>“Proceed,” you tell Awir, figuring you should at least hear him out.<<else>>“Oh?” You keep any obvious interest from showing on your face, instead smiling at him with an amused nonchalance. “Do tell, historian.”<</if>> Official Awir briefly bows his head as he begins to speak. “While you were absent, Your Imperial Majesty, it did not deter the Office of Imperial Decrees from performing its duties. We continued to record history, but not the Crown’s—that of the nobility.” “You’ve been keeping an eye on them?” You sit up a little straighter. “For the past ten years?” “Indeed.” Awir gives a small smile. “They paid no attention to us, thinking our office defunct without the Crown. We, however, took matters into our own hands.” The implications here are significant. The Office of Imperial Decrees might possess knowledge that could give you enormous leverage over the nobility, something that would surely help level the playing field. The disadvantage of your inexperience might be completely evened out. “There are countless noble houses in Rojan,” you say, letting some skepticism color your words before you get carried away. “Let alone the whole of Arsur. How did you manage, with the limited number of officials on your office?” His answer is much simpler than you expected. “The pleasure houses.” <<if $rfriend is true>>“The artists agreed to spy for you?” $rname remarks, arching a single brow.<<else>>“The artists agreed to work together with you?” $aname questions, frown deepening.<</if>> “Not as such.” Awir shakes his head. “We managed to persuade some artists in the more well-known pleasure houses to pass along some information, but only that which was pertinent to the political. We’re not in the business of blackmail, Your Imperial Majesty, but only to record history.” <<if $calc gt $kind>><<if $blunt gt $charm>>You scoff. “Please drop the act, Xastiyan; you’re insulting my intelligence.” “I beg your forgiveness, Your Imperial Majesty.” The historian looks somewhat taken aback, no doubt having expected you to play along with his facade, but you’re not one to mince words. “That was certainly not my intent.” The nobles and the government officials might be used to playing these petty games, but you have no time or energy to waste. Besides which, you are the Crown. Why should you play along with them? <em>They</em> should learn to play along with <em>you</em>. “Do you expect me to believe you approached me with this information merely out of a selfless sense of duty to Arsur?” You rest your head on your hand, knuckles press against the side of your cheek. “It’s obvious what you want. Let’s not dance around the topic and begin the negotiations, shall we? Name your price.”<<else>>“I’m sure.” The smile returns to your face, thought it is sharper this time as you stare down at the official. “Then you should be rewarded for your diligence and dedication, should you not?” “Serving Arsur is its own reward,” the historian replies dutifully, but you both know better. It’s almost a dance, or a ritual of a sort, one you’re starting to become more and more proficient in. It’s much simpler than you thought it would be. He offers information and expects something in return—the hardest part is seeing through the act to recognize his true intentions, but once that’s accomplished, the rest is child’s play. “I insist.” You rest your head on your hand, knuckles pressing against the side of your cheek. “In fact, I command it to be done. Now, what would the historians like in return for their loyalty?”<</if>> When Official Awir meets your eyes, though it is brief, you think you see a hint of respect reflected in them.<<else>>You’re starting to recognize where the official is going with this. It’s a game, an act; beneath his facade of humility, he is offering you information in return for something. <<if $blunt gt $charm>>It’s one of the things you’ve come to dislike most about being the Crown. Constantly dealing with people who have hidden motives, who don’t speak honestly, always wanting something from you to benefit themselves. Unfortunately, it’s an undeniable reality of being the Crown. “I understand your meaning, official.” You rest your head on your hand, knuckles pressing against the side of your cheek. “What is it you want?”<<else>>It’s one of the things that both frustrate you and amuse you about being the Crown. Watching people dance around with words and veil their intentions with deceptive smiles, that is the amusing part. Seeing them angle for ways to benefit themselves, uncaring for who they have to trample on to get what they want, <em>that</em> is the frustrating part. “Interesting.” You rest your head on your hand, knuckles pressing against the side of your cheek. “I suppose you expect a reward for your efforts?”<</if>> Official Awir does not hesitate to respond.<</if>> “To increase the amount of officials from my office who are able to partake in the court meetings.” Your eyes widen at the bold proposal. Ordinarily, most offices have seven ranked officials present to represent them in court discussions, but for some of the less politically involved offices—such as the Office of Imperial Decrees, and the Office of Defense—the number is three. Having less numbers present to vote on matters means they also have less sway as a result. What Awir is proposing could change the dynamic of the Imperial Court. <<if $rfriend is true>>“How many?” $rname asks, eyes narrowed thoughtfully.<<else>>“Of course, it all comes back to more power,” $aname mutters beneath $atheir breath, before asking the official, “How many?”<</if>> “The same as the other offices,” Awir answers. “Seven.” At first glance, it wouldn’t be a drastic change. The other offices could still easily overrule whatever the historians would have to say, but they have also been the friendliest office towards you so far. Having a potential ally in court as you begin your reign, aside from the Imperial Army, could only be a benefit. You could even go so far as to take your own advantage of this situation. The historians are responsible for what is recorded in history, as well as what is announced to the public. During your first court meeting, Steward Welat and Minister Besna tried to take advantage of that fact to politically strangle you. Who says you couldn’t do the same to them? Having the historians in your pocket could be a powerful tool. When you look over at <<if $rfriend is true>>$rname, you find $rthem already watching you, but $rthey does not voice any further opinions. It seems $rthey’s waiting for what you will decide.<<else>>$aname, you find $athem already watching you, but $athey does not voice any further opinions. It seems $athey’s waiting for what you will decide.<</if>> You are the Crown, after all, and this is your court. The decision is in your hands. <ul class="a"> <li><<if $elitefavored gt 0 and $law isnot 'outwitted'>>[[Go one step further and propose a long-term alliance.|10.34a][$historyalliance to true]]<<else>><b>You haven’t prioritized the elites enough to unlock this option.</b><</if>></li> <li>[[Agree to the proposal.|10.34b][$historyalliance to 'conditional']]</li> <li>[[Remain impartial.|10.34c][$historyalliance to false]]</li> </ul><<if visited('10.34a') is 1>><<set $elitefavored += 2>><<set $noblepoints += 2>><</if>>Why stop at the historian’s proposal? The Office of Imperial Decrees records history and makes announcements to the public. If the manner in which they record or announce things could be skewed, even subtly, in your favor, that would give you much greater influence than the nobility could ever hope to match. <<if $calc gt $kind>>It’s all for the good of Arsur, is it not? Having the nobles undermine your rule would only spell chaos for the Empire, which wouldn’t benefit anyone except them. You should use every tactic available to you to get out ahead of it and to secure your reign, even if it might be underhanded.<<else>>You don’t like having to resort to this, but having the nobles undermine you at every step would only cause more chaos. The best thing to do is to ensure your position is strong enough to withstand whatever they throw at you, and having an additional ally in court would help immensely with that.<</if>> <<if $blunt gt $charm>>“I have no qualms giving you what you want,” you state, “but would you not want to consider something more longterm?” If Official Awir is surprised by your proposal, he doesn’t show it. “What do you suggest, Your Imperial Majesty?” “The way I see it, we both could benefit from your office holding a stronger position in court.” You ignore <<if $rfriend is true>>$rname<<else>>$aname<</if>>’s gaze burning on the side of your face. “Diminishing the influence of the noble houses can only be to Arsur’s benefit. So why not work together to that end, now and in the future?”<<else>>“I agree to your request,” you state, “but do you not think it too humble, Official Awir?” If Official Awir is surprised by your words, he doesn’t show it. “What do you mean, Your Imperial Majesty?” “Friendship.” You ignore <<if $rfriend is true>>$rname<<else>>$aname<</if>>’s gaze burning on the side of your face as you smile at the historian. “I do feel rather alone at court, considering I wasn’t properly educated as the Crown. I could use some friends to help guide me while I find my footing.”<</if>> Now, you <em>do</em> see a flicker of surprise on Awir’s face, flitting through his eyes before he smooths it over, brows furrowing in contemplation. “I see… yes, I understand your meaning.” He pauses for a moment, but then asks, “Would you permit me to consider your proposal first, Your Imperial Majesty?” “I don’t mind.” You make a dismissive gesture with your hand. “Take your time to talk it over with your office, but don’t take too long.” “Of course.” Official Awir bows deeply as you dismiss him, and with a last glance at you and <<if $rfriend is true>>$rname<<else>>$aname<</if>>, he takes his leave. Once he has left, Keko is the first to speak. “An interesting strategy, Your Imperial Majesty,” he comments, a thoughtful look in his eyes as he regards you. It’s not disapproval, but not approval, either. You get the sense Keko is reconsidering whatever his opinion was of you before. “A beneficial one, I hope.” You look at <<if $rfriend is true>>$rname<<else>>$aname<</if>>. “What do you think?” <<if $rfriend is true>>$rname is slow to answer, words chosen more carefully than you’re used to from $rthem. “Politically, it’s a cunning move.” You note that doesn’t say much about what $rthey thinks, which surprises you somewhat. Usually $rname isn’t so guarded towards you.<<else>>$aname remains silent for a moment, as if considering how to respond. Finally, $athey sighs and crosses $atheir arms. “What do I know of such things?” $athey replies, avoiding your gaze. “I’m merely a guard.” <<if $afriend is false>>It’s not that simple, and you both know it. Even Keko knows it, from the way he frowns at $aname; you recall that the old servant is most likely aware of $aname being Crownsblood. He served under Crown Piruz as well, after all. Still, if $athey would rather not go down this road, then you won’t push $athem.<<else>>That’s odd. You’re not used to $aname keeping $atheir opinion to $athemselves, but if $athey really doesn’t want to talk about it, then you won’t push the matter.<</if>><</if>> You look back out over the empty throne room. “Where is Ishrah? She’s taking a while to fetch more tea.” “Should I—” Before Keko can finish his sentence, both the doors to the throne room are thrown open again. <<if $rfriend is false>>[[Continue|10.35r]]<<else>>[[Continue|10.35]]<</if>><<if visited('10.34b') is 1>><<set $publicfavored += 1>><<set $publicpoints += 2>><<set $noblepoints -= 1>><</if>>Awir’s proposal would benefit you both, especially in helping you deal with any particularly pesky nobles going forward. However, that doesn’t mean you have any delusions about being allies with the Office of Imperial Decrees. This is a mutually beneficial agreement, only applicable to these specific circumstances. In the future, Awir could very well decide your interests diverge too much with that of his office, and use his new seats in the Imperial Court to protest your decisions. It’s a risk you will have to take. You cannot bend your principles enough to propose an alliance and try to manipulate the office in your favor, though you realize how much power that could give you. The Office of Imperial Decrees should record history with integrity, for the benefit of the <em>public</em> instead of dancing to the tune of the Crown. “I will agree to your proposal, Official Awir,” you answer at length, having finally made up your mind. “Keep in mind that I can retract what I have given at a moment’s notice, should the information provided by your office not satisfy.” It might cause a bit of an uproar in the court to lower their seats back down to three after already changing the custom once, but you will simply have to bear it. An agreement should be honored by both parties. If the Office of Imperial Decrees gives you useless knowledge, you’d be a fool not to retract your part of the deal. Awir seems to recognize that you’re not making an empty threat, and bows deeply before you. “I will ensure that you are not disappointed, Your Imperial Majesty. Feel free to make your inquiries whenever you wish.” You dismiss him shortly after, considering which noble house you should ask about first as you watch him leave. Once he has gone, Keko is the first to speak. “A wise decision, Your Imperial Majesty,” he comments, his mild tone in contrast to the much sharper look in his eyes, though it isn’t one of disapproval. “I certainly hope so.” You look at <<if $rfriend is true>>$rname<<else>>$aname<</if>>. “What do you think?” <<if $rfriend is true>>$rname appears to agree with Keko. “As much as I hate to admit it, there are times when it is better to play along in these games.” You smile a little with amusement at the obvious distaste in $rtheir words. At least it’s good to know you are in agreement on this matter. <<else>>$aname sighs and crosses $atheir arms. “It was necessary, I suspect.” $cathey doesn’t look very pleased about it, grudgingly admitting it. “Though I hope you know better than to trust them merely because of this arrangement.” “Of course not.” <</if>>You look back out over the empty throne room. “Where is Ishrah? She’s taking a while to fetch more tea.” “Should I—” Before Keko can finish his sentence, both the doors to the throne room are thrown open again. <<if $rfriend is false>>[[Continue|10.35r]]<<else>>[[Continue|10.35]]<</if>><<if visited('10.34c') is 1>><<set $publicpoints -= 2>><</if>>While Awir’s proposal could benefit you in the short-term, it’s obvious he’s angling for more power for his own office. You don’t trust him enough to agree. In the future, Awir could very well decide your interests diverge too much with that of his office, and use his new seats in the Imperial Court to protest your decisions. Then what use will this arrangement be? If you then try to retract the given seats, lowering them back down to three again, it will make you seem like a clueless Crown who rules based on $their whims. No, it’s better to remain as impartial as possible. You will figure out how to handle the court and its nobility on your own, without any help through suspect agreements. “I cannot agree to your proposal, Official Awir,” you answer at length, having finally made up your mind. “You ask for too much, and I’m not convinced that I need whatever information you can offer me.” If Awir is surprised or displeased by your rejection, he doesn’t show it. Perhaps he also anticipated this possibility. “It is regrettable,” he admits, “but I understand, Your Imperial Majesty. In which case I wish you the best of luck.” Is that another way of saying that you’re on your own? Granted, you all but <em>asked</em> to be on your own, so you can’t exactly take offense to that. “You may leave.” He bows deeply, then heads out after you dismiss him. Once he has gone, Keko is the first to speak. “A cautious judgment, Your Imperial Majesty,” he comments, his mild tone in contrast to the slight frown above his eyes. You can’t tell whether he disapproves or not. “I figured that his help came at too high a cost.” You look at <<if $rfriend is true>>$rname<<else>>$aname<</if>>. “What do you think?” <<if $rfriend is true>>$rname appears thoughtful. “I do like not being beholden to any of the nobles. I suppose you won’t have to worry about the Office of Imperial Decrees having too much influence in court, if nothing else.” You nod, glad that $rname has understood your reasoning without having to explain it in so many words. It makes you feel better about having made the right decision.<<else>>$aname gives you a considerate look. “If nothing else, Xastiyan did not appear offended when you turned his offer down. I’d say there was no harm done by not taking the risk.” “Right.” You roll the stiffness out of your shoulders. “I’d prefer not to be beholden to any nobles at the start of my reign.” $aname smiles. “That’s understandable.”<</if>> You look back out over the empty throne room. “Where is Ishrah? She’s taking a while to fetch more tea.” “Should I—” Before Keko can finish his sentence, both the doors to the throne room are thrown open again. <<if $rfriend is false>>[[Continue|10.35r]]<<else>>[[Continue|10.35]]<</if>><b>IN MARABAD'S ROYAL PALACE</b> <<if $khamproach is 'test' or $khamproach is 'secret'>><<set $khamproach to 'deceptive'>><</if>>“Crown.” You avert your gaze from the fountain, turning around to face Kham as she enters the courtyard. It is a smaller one, secluded in the west wing of your palace, near your chambers. She couldn’t have had better timing. You already planned on meeting her some time during the week, in order to ask about the peri trader, but as you were getting ready in your chambers a servant approached with a message. Kham requested an audience. Likely to inform you that she will be returning to Anshan soon for a short duration, as $rname predicted. Her wooden mouth opens halfway into a toothless smile, speaking before you can return her greeting as she approaches. “You’ve changed.” You arch your brows. “Oh?” “Your posture has improved somewhat.” She drifts toward the fountain to stand beside you, the skeletal branches of her wings stretching out behind her like dead wood, gleaming orange eyes reflected in the surface of the water. You lift your shoulders a little, trying not to look too self-conscious now that Kham has remarked on it. <<if $height is 'very tall' or $height is 'tall'>>Even with your <<if $height is 'very tall'>>impressive<<else>>notable<</if>> height, tending to be the tallest person in the room, she still easily towers over you<<else>>She easily dwarfs you in height, making you crane your neck to look up at her<</if>>. <<if $charm gt $blunt>>“While my etiquette tutor will be charmed to hear that, I’m sure you did not request an audience merely to flatter me.” “I did not,” Kham replies in a light, singsong voice,<<else>>“Why did you request an audience?” “Blunt as ever, I see,” Kham replies with amusement,<</if>> the glowing balls of light in her eye-holes twisting to look at you in a way that would be very unnatural in a human face. “I merely wished to inform you of my impending departure in a week’s time. It will be a short visit home before I return; my mother and sisters have missed me so dearly, I should like to see them again.” You both know that’s not the half of it. Clearly she intends to report back her findings, whatever they are, to Queen Nis. <<if $khamtrust is 'yes'>> It is a good thing you trust her, or hearing that might make you a little nervous. Hopefully your request for her to let you meet with the peri trader will go over well.<</if>><<if $khamtrust is 'no' or $khamtrust is 'undecided'>> While you decided the best course of action was to use Kham to get a meeting with the peri trader, that doesn’t mean you trust her. Clearly, she and her mother have their own agenda.<</if>> “Before you go,” you say, “there’s something I’d like to ask you.” The wood above Kham’s eyes, vaguely shaped like carved brows, arches with something resembling intrigue. “Indeed?” <<if $blunt gt $charm>>There’s no point in being subtle. “There is a peri trader in the city I wish to meet.” Kham seems amused by your statement, but you note that she does not seem surprised. “That should be simple. There is currently only one peri trader in the city that I know of, I have met him a few times.” “Then you will help me arrange a meeting?”<<else>>“I’ve had an interest in the magic of flowers as of late.” You keep your tone light and your expression nonchalant. “Would you know of an expert who could help me further? Human magi are unfortunately far behind on this topic.” Kham gives you a long look, lingering enough for you to start growing anxious, until she finally says, “I know of the peri trader from Anshan. Magically enhanced flowers are one of his most popular wares.” “How fortunate.” You smile at her. “Then could I ask you to help arrange a meeting?”<</if>> You watch as Kham turns away from you, trailing along the edge of the fountain until she stands opposite to you on the other side. Her orange eyes are reflected brightly in the rippling surface of the water. “Anything specific you’re interested in learning about?” she asks, gaze unwavering from yours. “I should know what to tell the trader.” “If he knows his craft, then he shouldn’t have to prepare anything in advance,” you reply, evading Kham’s obvious attempt to unearth your reasons for asking. “I only want to ask him a few questions.” “I doubt it is that straightforward, Crown.” Kham presses her ‘lips’ together in a wide line, imitating a smile. “After all, you know the peri trader represents my mother, or you would not approach me with a request to arrange a meeting. Considering that, you would also not risk disturbing the relationship between Anshan and Arsur needlessly.” The holes of her eyes narrow as she continues to smile. “So then, what is it that you’re hoping to learn?” <<if $hidekham is false>>She leans forward a little, her long arms reaching down to rest her hands on the edge of the fountain. “Perhaps it has something to do with the assassination attempt?” This is quickly going into the wrong direction. Kham is more perceptive than you anticipated, using it to drive you into a corner and pressure the truth out of you. While she might know about the assassination attempt, you cannot allow her to connect it to the magic flowers, as that would give away far too much. Especially seeing as how Queen Nis will hear about it.<<else>> You have to play this carefully. Kham doesn’t know about the assassination attempt, which means there’s less risk of her unearthing the true reason for your interest in magic flowers, but clearly she’s clever enough to notice <em>something</em> is going on.<</if>> [[Continue|10.27khamyes2]]<b>IN MARABAD'S ROYAL PALACE</b> “Crown.” You avert your gaze from the fountain, turning around to face Kham as she enters the courtyard. It is a smaller one, secluded in the west wing of your palace, near your chambers. She couldn’t have had worse timing. You planned on avoiding her for as much as possible, seeing as you intend to go around her to meet with the peri trader yourself, but as you were getting ready in your chambers a servant approached with a message. Kham requested an audience. Hopefully, to inform you that she will be returning to Anshan soon for a short duration, as $rname predicted. Her wooden mouth opens halfway into a toothless smile, speaking before you can return her greeting as she approaches. “You’ve changed.” You arch your brows. “Oh?” “Your posture has improved somewhat.” She drifts toward the fountain to stand beside you, the skeletal branches of her wings stretching out behind her like dead wood, gleaming orange eyes reflected in the surface of the water. You lift your shoulders a little, trying not to look too self-conscious now that Kham has remarked on it. <<if $height is 'very tall' or $height is 'tall'>>Even with your <<if $height is 'very tall'>>impressive<<else>>notable<</if>> height, tending to be the tallest person in the room, she still easily towers over you<<else>>She easily dwarfs you in height, making you crane your neck to look up at her<</if>>. <<if $charm gt $blunt>>“While my etiquette tutor will be charmed to hear that, I’m sure you did not request an audience merely to flatter me.” “I did not,” Kham replies in a light, singsong voice,<<else>>“Why did you request an audience?” “Blunt as ever, I see,” Kham replies with amusement,<</if>> the glowing balls of light in her eye-holes twisting to look at you in a way that would be very unnatural in a human face. “I merely wished to inform you of my impending departure in a week’s time. It will be a short visit home before I return; my mother and sisters have missed me so dearly, I should like to see them again.” You both know that’s not the half of it. Clearly she intends to report back her findings, whatever they are, to Queen Nis. <<if $khamtrust is 'yes'>> Your personal trust in Kham aside, it is not so great to warrant telling her about your plans with the peri trader. Trust is not so black and white, after all; there are levels to it, and your level of trust in Kham is still too low.<</if>><<if $khamtrust is 'no' or $khamtrust is 'undecided'>> It is one of the reasons why you decided not to extend your trust to Kham on the matter of the peri trader. Her motives are still unclear, her judgments even less so; it’s not worth the risk.<</if>> <<if $kind gt $calc>>The problem here is that you’re not a natural at lying or hiding things from people. You’ve had to learn how to do it to survive, but part of you still squirms in discomfort as you control your expression, painting a false calm across your face.<<else>>Thankfully, lying is one of your talents. Even if you weren’t forced to learn deception in order to survive, controlling your expression and demeanor to project a false calm is almost second nature to you.<</if>> <<if $blunt gt $charm>>“Was that all?” Kham laughs, the sound echoing from her hollow mouth. “How cold you are! <<if $khampoints lte 0>>Though I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. You don’t seem to trust me very much.” You hold her gaze with an unflinching stare. “I don’t.” “Wise.” She presses her ‘lips’ together in a wide line, imitating a smile. “Trust should be earned.”<<else>>Here I thought we were starting to become friends.” You hold her gaze with an unflinching stare. “I hardly know you.” “You’re right.” She presses her ‘lips’ together in a wide line, imitating a smile. “You don’t.”<</if>><<else>>“Well,” you say, giving her a polite smile, “pass my greetings onto your mother.” Kham grins, tilting her head at you. “Is that all? I had hoped you would beg me to stay, unable to bear the thought of my absence! <<if $khampoints lte 0>>Though I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. You don’t seem to trust me very much.” Your smile remains unflinching. “I trust you as much as you trust me, princess.” “I take your point.” She presses her ‘lips’ together in a wide line, imitating a smile. “Trust should go both ways.”<<else>>Here I thought we were starting to become friends.” Your smile remains unflinching. “Do you even know my favorite color?” “I don’t suppose it’s gold?” She presses her ‘lips’ together in a wide line, imitating a smile. “We can work on that once I return.”<</if>><</if>> You decide it’s better not to reply, hoping that was all Kham had to tell you and that she’ll excuse herself soon. For a moment, you watch her long fingers trail the edge of the fountain’s stone, but then the movement pauses. <<if $khamproach is 'honest'>>“Have you discovered anything more about the blue siren since we last spoke?” Your whole body tenses. It’s only your <<if $calc gt $kind>>experience<<else>>reflexes<</if>> allowing you to keep the surprise from showing on your face. “No,” you answer as calmly as you can, even managing to add a bit of disappointment to your tone as you furrow your brows. “It seems to be an area of magic that hasn’t been fully explored by human magi yet.” <<if $dfriend is true>>Kham gives you a long look, long enough to make you start feeling nervous, until she finally says, “What a shame.” <<else>>“What a shame.” Her tone doesn’t sound at all apologetic. “Have you asked that <<if $dgender is 'male'>>handsome<<else>>beautiful<</if>> general of yours to keep an eye out for you?” You frown, unable to keeping the confusion from showing on your face. Why is she bringing up $dname? “I did not think to.” Kham stares at you until her orange eyes begin to flicker, embers of light sparking from them as her face twists with amusement. “Oh, you don’t know? How amusing. Then again, $dthey seems to forget about it $dthemselves half the time.” Your frown sharpens into a scowl. <<if $blunt gt $charm>>“What are you talking about?”<<else>>“Perhaps you would care to enlighten me, princess?”<</if>> What does she know about $dname that you don’t? You recall seeing her and $dname talk during the coronation banquet as well, though that seemed to be about $dname’s mother. Is there something else that $dname neglected to tell you about? “Never you mind!” <</if>>Then, like the flip of a coin, Kham’s entire demeanor changes again, the open-mouthed smile back on her face. “I should leave you be, I’m sure you’re busy enough without having to entertain me!”<<else>>“Might I make a request, Crown?” You do not let the wariness show on your face, answering as neutrally as you can. “Of course.” “Once I return, I would like it if the palace could stock up on juice from singing flowers.” She meets your eyes. “Particularly the blue siren. It is my favorite, if you’ll recall.” Your whole body tenses. It’s only your <<if $calc gt $kind>>experience<<else>>reflexes<</if>> allowing you to keep the surprise from showing on your face. “Consider it done,” you answer as calmly as you can, <<if $blunt gt $charm>>even managing to nod<<else>>even managing to smile<</if>>. <<if $dfriend is true>>Kham gives you a long look, long enough to make you start feeling nervous, until she finally says, “I’ll look forward to it.”<<else>>“I’ll look forward to it.” Her tone doesn’t sound at all grateful, almost bordering on apathetic. “Perhaps you can ask that <<if $dgender is 'male'>>handsome<<else>>beautiful<</if>> general of yours to keep an eye out for me?” You frown, narrowing your eyes at her slightly. Why is she bringing up $dname? <<if $blunt gt $charm>>“$dname has better things to do than pick flowers for you.”<<else>>“I’m afraid $dname is occupied with matters of actual importance, princess,” you reply coolly. “On <em>my</em> behalf.”<</if>> <em>Watch your step, princess.</em> Kham stares at you until her orange eyes begin to flicker, embers of light sparking from them as her face twists with amusement. “Feeling threatened, are we? Don’t worry, I don’t have any intentions of encroaching upon your territory.” <em>Your territory</em>? Does she think $dname is a thing to be owned? You take a deep breath to quell your rising indignation, placating yourself with the reminder that she will be gone soon. As you control your temper, like the flip of a coin, Kham’s entire demeanor changes again, the open-mouthed smile back on her face. “I should leave you be, I’m sure you’re busy enough without having to entertain me!”<</if>><</if>> She takes a step back, never once breaking eye-contact. “Crown.” <<if $dfriend is false>>You suppose you should at least be thankful that you’re rid of her, now. <</if>>“Kham.” Without further ado, she turns around and walks back the way she came. You don’t move until you hear the last of her footsteps fade away, then finally exhale the deepest sigh of relief you’ve ever breathed. “Everything alright, Your Imperial Majesty?” one of your guards asks from a corner of the courtyard, though they’re hidden from view. “Fine.” You gather your composure, straightening your shoulders. “Have the candidates for the court positions arrived yet?” “They are already waiting.” <<if $loveinterest is 'A' or $loveinterest is 'R'>> ”What about <<if $afriend is false>>$aname<<else>>$rname<</if>>?” you ask. “Has <<if $afriend is false>>$athey<<else>>$rthey<</if>> returned to the palace yet?” There’s a brief moment of silence. “Not yet,” the guard answers apologetically, even though it’s not their fault. You frown, starting to get worried, but it can’t be helped. “Inform me as soon as <<if $afriend is false>>$athey<<else>>$rthey<</if>> does.”<</if>> Onto the remainder of your day, then. You still have several candidates left to meet with for the vacant court positions. Hopefully there will be some promising ones among them, so that you can fill up the last vacancies quickly. [[Continue|10.28]] Unlike what you suspected, it’s neither a servant or a guard who strides in. At least, not first. It’s Master Zîn, the long hem of her dress trailing behind her as she strides into the throne room with hurried footsteps. Ishrah and Ziryan follow right behind her, looks of concern written across their faces. “Master Zîn?” You get up out of your seat, alarmed by how anxious the usually composed teahouse owner appears to you now. “What happened?” If she’s here when she was supposed to accompany $rname before— You grip one of the armrests of your throne, jaw tightening as the possibility occurs to you a moment before Master Zîn bows before you. “Your Imperial Majesty.” Beyond the cursory greeting, she wastes no further words on pleasantries as she quickly rights herself again, seeming slightly out of breath. “It concerns $rtitle $rname.” $aname glances at you from beside you, frowning deeply as $athey addresses Zîn. “What, exactly, is it that $rname went to do?” You answer $athem before Zîn has to; if something has happened, $aname needs to know. You keep your words subtle, being that you’re still in the presence of Keko and Ishrah. “An examination.” “Of the…?” $aname leaves the words unfinished, eyes widening in realization, and then anger. “Why would $rthey do something so careless, and why would you let $rthem? Not even $xname could defend against it!” “$crthey said it would be safe with Master Zîn and Perjin there,” you argue, though it’s halfhearted—you’re already regretting your decision to let $rthem go, or at least, not having accompanied $rthem. “$crthey didn’t examine it directly, merely the room. But I take it something went wrong?” You refocus to Master Zîn, whose lips thin in a tense line. “$crthey hasn’t been harmed,” she begins to say, “at least, not physically.” The hand you have around your armrest squeezes tighter, fingers hurting from how harshly you dig into the wood. “What does that mean?” Master Zîn glances at Ishrah and Keko, and you quickly gesture with a hand. “Give us the room.” They both bow, and you count the seconds it takes for them to leave. Once the doors are closed behind them, you turn to Master Zîn. “The Void touched $rtheir mind,” Master Zîn explains gravely, hands gripping the skirt of her dress as she speaks, each following word inspiring more dread inside you. “There was a mental ward placed on it by $rtheir parents that the Void destroyed. After $rthey told us that, $rthey fell into a state of shock; $rthey hasn’t spoken or reacted to anyone since. We’ve already called for the royal physicians, but they’ve had no success in rousing $rthem.” You suck in a sharp breath. “Where is $rthey?” <<if $prisoner is 'palace'>>“We carried $rthem back to $rtheir chambers—”<<else>>“We carried $rthem back to the palace and placed $rthem in $rtheir chambers—”<</if>> Master Zîn stops talking when you rush down the stairs, $aname on your heels. If $rname doesn’t recover from this, you will never forgive yourself. [[End Chapter|11.r1]] Ishrah rushes into the room without any tea, hair askew and face flushed, panting as if she ran straight back from the kitchens. <<if $afriend is true>>$aname trails after her, looking as bemused at the rest of you; whatever happened, the Imperial Guards are not aware of it.<</if>> “Ishrah?” You get up out of your seat, alarmed by the look of panic on her face. “What’s wrong?” She approaches the throne but stops in front of the stairs, doubled over as she catches her breath, hands on her knees. “It’s- there’s- there was a—” Keko heads down the steps, placing a concerned hand on her shoulder. “Take a moment to breathe, dear girl! Slow and steady.” <<if $afriend is true>>“$aname?” $rname asks, but $aname shakes $atheir head. “She came running in before I could ask her what was wrong.”<<else>>You and $rname look at each other, sharing confusion between your eyes; whatever it was, it doesn’t have anything to do with palace security. $rname would have sensed anything amiss with the wards. $aname’s absence, where before a small point of concern in your mind, now begins to rapidly expand into a black hole of doubt and worry.<</if>> Ishrah continues to breathe in deep, seeming a little steadier now. “It’s about- it’s- it’s an emergency!” <<if $afriend is false>>“What kind of—” Before $rname can get the question out, the doors open once again, this time Ziryan striding inside with a grave look on their face, for once not wearing their helmet. You tense, one hand reflexively reaching for the armrest of your throne to steady yourself. “Ziryan, what happened?” It’s $aname. It must be. You hope it’s not, you <em>pray</em> that it’s not, but you haven’t heard from $athem for hours since you last saw $athem in your temple. Ziryan bows curtly in front of your throne, but then quickly straightens up again to report. “There was an attack in the city, another attempted abduction.” “Attempted?” $rname remarks sharply, frowning down at them. “So it didn’t succeed?” “No, thankfully not.” Ziryan’s gaze shifts back to you. “The victim reported that Captain $aname intervened in time to save her.” You almost begin to relax, yet the dread in the pit of your stomach has yet to shrink. “If that’s true, then where is $aname now?” Tending to the victim. Ensuring the area is secure. Perhaps even seeing to minor injuries—any one of these is preferable to the foreboding possibilities flitting through your head one by one. “$cathey…” Ziryan glances back toward the doors, as if to ensure they’re firmly closed behind them. “Spit it out, Ziryan,” $rname demands, looking as on edge as you feel. Ziryan closes their eyes when they answer, as your throat tightens with fear. “$cathey’s gone missing.” [[End Chapter|11.a1]]<</if>><<if $xfriend is false>>“What kind of emergency?” $aname asks, coming to stand beside Ishrah. “Everyone is talking about it,” she gasps out. “The Imperial Court has already gathered, they’re demanding General <<if $dgender is 'male'>>Dara<<else>>Delal<</if>> be summoned back to the palace!” “They want to summon <<if $dgender is 'male'>>Dara<<else>>Delal<</if>> back?” $rname repeats, your collective confusion only growing. “For what reason? What on earth happened?” “It’s because of Mîr Behram,” Ishrah rushes to say, breathing having steadied, but her panic has hardly diminished. “His palace has been attacked!”<<if $xrelationship is 'high'>> You’re nailed to the floor, eyes going wide with realization—you know, at once, who is most likely to be behind this. It isn’t complete certainty and you don’t know the reasons behind it, but the timing of it, the way you saw them arguing during the coronation banquet, it all makes too much sense to ignore. You hope you’re mistaken, you <em>pray</em> you’re mistaken. Violence committed during the Festival of Cleansing is punishable by death. <em>Everything is well in hand, and once this last thing is handled…</em> What has $xname done?<</if>> [[End Chapter|11.x1]]<</if>><<if $dfriend is false>>“What kind of emergency?” $aname asks, coming to stand beside Ishrah. “Everyone is talking about it,” she gasps out. “The guard outpost in Kartan’s Forest spotted their arrival, they should be here in a matter of hours!” “Who?” $rname repeats, your collective confusion only growing. “Who is arriving?” “It’s the Imperial Army,” Ishrah rushes to say, breathing having steadied, but her panic has hardly diminished. “They were on the road back to Marabad when they were ambushed!” Fear strikes your heart so suddenly that it leaves you without words. It can’t be. It can’t possibly be— “Were there any injured?” $aname wastes no time in asking. “Any dead?” Still standing, you grip one of the armrests of your throne, squeezing it so tightly that your fingers hurt. It’s the Festival of Cleansing, where violence—even in the name of the Crown—is strictly forbidden. Whoever ambushed them must have hoped they would be caught unaware, unprepared. “A few dead, I heard, and many injured.” Ishrah looks at you, her expression pained, and you distantly feel $rname’s hand on your shoulder as Ishrah speaks. “General <<if $dgender is 'male'>>Dara<<else>>Delal<</if>> was wounded. The healers said it was severe. They said $dthey… they said $dthey won’t wake up.” The words are out of your mouth before you realize you’ve spoken them: “Bring me to $dthem.” You can’t sit around and wait for the Imperial Army’s arrival. Besides, $dname will wake once you go to see $dthem. $cdthey would hate violating decorum by not greeting $dtheir Crown properly, so $dthey has no choice to but to wake, to see you. $cdthey must. <<if $drelationship is 'high'>><<if $res gt $flirt>>[[Continue|10.36dres]]<<else>>[[Continue|10.36dflirt]]<</if>><<else>>[[End Chapter|11.d1]]<</if>><</if>> A bloodstained letter found beneath General $dname's armor: <img @src="setup.ImagePath+'bloodstainsres.png'" id="dletter"/><img @src="setup.ImagePath+bloodstainsresdark.png'" id="dletterdark"/> [[View in regular font|10.36dreg]] [[End Chapter|11.d1]]“I cannot say.” You speak resolutely, meeting Kham’s mocking smile without flinching. “All I can guarantee is that it won’t bring harm to Anshan.” The smile fades from Kham’s face. “You’re asking me to take you at your word?” “I am.” Kham falls silent, her gaze shifting down to the spray of water that pours out of the center of the fountain. You can’t read much from her wooden features, much more inscrutable than that of a human with its lack of detail. It suddenly occurs to you that it might be why she insists on going around in her peri form to begin with. <<if $khamproach is 'honest' or $khamproach is 'deceptive' and $khampoints gte 1>>“I suppose,” Kham begins to speak at length, eyes still focused on the fountain, “that there is no harm in it.” You only barely resist the urge to exhale in relief, keeping your composure by a thread as the smile returns to Kham’s face. “I will have to ask my mother for permission first,” she continues before you begin to celebrate in your mind. “But if it’s a request from <em>me</em>, I’m sure she will oblige. I am her favorite, after all.” Which means you will have to wait until Kham has returned before you can meet the peri trader. “Thank you, princess.” Frankly, you’re shocked she hasn’t asked for anything in return. “It is such a trivial matter,” Kham replies airily, her usual carefree attitude returning. “You have been forthcoming enough with me before, I see no reason to refuse you now.” <<if $khamproach isnot 'honest'>> Is she trying to say that she has nothing to hide? You frown slightly, but decide not to respond; you could be reading into things.<</if>> “I appreciate that. When can I expect your return?”<</if>><<if $khamproach is 'deceptive' and $khampoints lte 0>>When Kham finally speaks, it’s not the answer you want to hear. “I’m afraid I can’t do that, Crown.” Her eyes flit back up to your face, any trace of humor gone from her expression. “If you wish for me to arrange a meeting, my sole condition is honesty. Tell me why you wish to meet with the trader, and don’t think about lying. I know your interest is not a mere curiosity.” You only barely resist the urge to grit your teeth. This is the exact situation you were trying to avoid, hoping you could somehow convince Kham to cooperate without giving away anything about the blue siren. Unfortunately, she has all the power here, and she’s clearly aware of it. You’re going to have to concede <em>something</em> to get her to agree. “I…” You take a breath, gathering your composure. “There is one flower in particular that has my interest. I can’t tell you why—it is a matter of security—but it’s important that I find out all that I can.” “The blue siren?” You almost curse aloud. You hoped Kham wouldn’t have remembered your prior conversation about the blue siren, but clearly, she took notice. Seeing the look on your face, Kham grins widely. “That will do. I understand, Crown. I will arrange the meeting, but it requires my mother’s permission first.” Which means you will have to wait until Kham has returned before you can meet the peri trader. “I see.” “Don’t look so sour!” Kham teases, clearly delighting in the situation. “It’s only fair to be forthcoming when asking for such a request from an acquaintance, is that not so?” You cross your arms, not responding to her mockery. “When can I expect your return?”<</if>> “Oh, near the end of the month, I suspect.” Kham turns, beginning to walk back around the fountain towards the same hallway she arrived from<<if $dfriend is false>>, but then stops just beside you. “One more thing.” Tension <<if $khamproach is 'deceptive' and $khampoints lte 1>>increases<<else>>settles<</if>> in your shoulders. “Yes?” “When is that <<if $dgender is 'male'>>handsome<<else>>beautiful<</if>> general of yours returning to the palace?” You frown, narrowing your eyes at her slightly. Why is she bringing up $dname? <<if $khamtrust isnot 'yes'>>><<if $blunt gt $charm>>“Soon.” <em>Mind your business, princess.</em> Your curt<<else>>“As soon as $dtheir has completed $dtheir mission in Zerat.” You smile as you add, with emphasis, “Which $dthey has accepted in <em>my</em> stead.” <em>Mind your business, princess.</em> The warning in your<</if>> response has Kham staring at you until her orange eyes begin to flicker, embers of light sparking from them as her face twists with amusement. “Feeling threatened, are we? Don’t worry, I don’t have any intentions of encroaching upon your territory.” <em>Your territory</em>? Does she think $dname is a thing to be owned? You take a deep breath to quell your rising indignation, placating yourself with the reminder that she will be gone soon. As you control your temper, like the flip of a coin, Kham’s entire demeanor changes again, the open-mouthed smile back on her face. “I should leave you be, I’m sure you’re busy enough without having to entertain me!”<<else>>“$cdthey hasn’t informed me yet,” you answer truthfully, seeing no reason to lie even if Kham’s interest in $dname irks you a little. “Though I suspect it will be before the end of the month.” “Hmm.” Kham looks pleased by that, though her eyes then look you up and down as if in assessment. “Do you not regularly exchange letters?” Why this line of questioning? Is she trying to provoke a reaction from you? “Are you interested in $dname, princess?” you decide to ask her outright, and it actually startles a laugh out of her. “Oh, no, not at all!” She waves her wooden fingers around. “$cdthey’s all yours, Crown.” What does <em>that</em> mean? Like the flip of a coin, Kham’s entire demeanor has shifted into something more lighthearted as she gives you an open-mouthed smile. “I should leave you be, I’m sure you’re busy enough without having to entertain me any further!”<</if>><<else>>. <<if $khamtrust isnot 'yes'>>You hope your honesty won’t backfire on you later.<<else>>Hopefully Kham won’t betray your trust; you have been inclined to trust her in the past, so perhaps your honesty here will be taken as a sign of good faith.<</if>><</if>> “Crown,” she says as she passes you, shooting you an open-mouthed smile. “Kham.” You don’t move until you hear the last of her footsteps fade away, then finally exhale the deepest sigh of relief you’ve ever breathed. “Everything alright, Your Imperial Majesty?” one of your guards asks from a corner of the courtyard, though they’re hidden from view. “Fine.” You gather your composure, straightening your shoulders. “Have the candidates for the court positions arrived yet?” “They are already waiting.” <<if $loveinterest is 'A' or $loveinterest is 'R'>> ”What about <<if $afriend is false>>$aname<<else>>$rname<</if>>?” you ask. “Has <<if $afriend is false>>$athey<<else>>$rthey<</if>> returned to the palace yet?” There’s a brief moment of silence. “Not yet,” the guard answers apologetically, even though it’s not their fault. You frown, starting to get worried, but it can’t be helped. “Inform me as soon as <<if $afriend is false>>$athey<<else>>$rthey<</if>> does.”<</if>> Onto the remainder of your day, then. You still have several candidates left to meet with for the vacant court positions. Hopefully there will be some promising ones among them, so that you can fill up the last vacancies quickly. [[Continue|10.28]] That’s certainly interesting. “On what grounds?” “On the grounds of ‘excessive protest’.” The disdain all but drips from the noble’s words as they answer. “Mîr Behram does not value the principles of law or the will of the citizens; he considers himself a master beholden only to his own whims. I often found myself arguing with him on nearly every decree.” You recline back into your throne, considering the noble in front of you. “Do you have an example?” “The final incident that lead to my dismissal should be clarifying, Your Imperial Majesty,” Noble Nûdem speaks with a slight nod of their head. “He wanted to implement a mandate that required all adolescents to serve in the provincial army for a minimum of three years.” Your brows can’t decide whether to arch or to scowl. The provincial armies are separate entities from the Mîrs for a reason: the provincial army commanders report exclusively to the High General, as the armies ultimately fall directly under the <em>Crown’s</em> jurisdiction. Mîrs have no say in the army, or rather, they’re not supposed to. It’s to deter a Mîr from having the resources to start a revolt, but with the absence of the Crown, that separation must have deteriorated. To try and enforce a mandate for army service in such clear violation of the law, for what purpose? “I told him that was absurd,” Noble Nûdem continues, growing more heated as they retell it. “A Mîr cannot mandate army service of any sort! It was an unlawful proposal, and not to mention, it carried no discernible benefits for the citizens or for public safety. Unfortunately, I was outnumbered in the court and Mîr Behram refused to listen. I saw myself forced to report him to High General <<if $dgender is 'male'>>Dara<<else>>Delal<</if>>.” You snort. “I’m sure that went over well.” “It was quite a sight, Your Imperial Majesty.” Noble Nûdem lets a satisfied smirk slip. “The general arrived at Mîr Behram’s palace with a full battalion of soldiers, all but dragging the provincial army commander along by his neck. One of the palace guards almost mistook them for an invading force—suffice it to say Mîr Behram withdrew his plans, but not before dismissing me from court.” When you look to Keko for confirmation of the story, Keko gives a slight smile as he nods, and you don’t imagine the noble would make up such an easily verifiable story. You will still verify it, of course, but your first inclination is that Nûdem is being truthful. That doesn’t mean they’re free of motive, however. “Is that why you<<if $law isnot 'outwitted'>> eventually<</if>> wish to become Minister of Law?” you ask, giving Nûdem an assessing look. “To lord it over Mîr Behram as revenge for dismissing you, or perhaps simply to get in his way?” “I…” Noble Nûdem clears their throat. “I cannot deny that holds some appeal, but it’s far from my main reason for doing this. Arsur has become a lawless land in these ten years, Your Imperial Majesty. I come from a family where many of my relatives have served as judges and mediators. I only wish to serve in the best way I know how.” Pretty words, but becoming Minister of Law undeniably holds the allure of power. Clearly Noble Nûdem is also not afraid to speak their mind to their betters to serve the public, and their animosity towards Mîr Behram could work to your benefit as well. <<if $law isnot 'outwitted'>>It would certainly be amusing to saddle Minister Besna with someone of Nûdem’s temperament.<</if>> On the other hand, that kind of pride could also work against you.<<if $law is 'outwitted'>> You’ve certainly met other candidates for the position who are meeker in temperament, more willing to bend to your whims and obey you without question. It would undoubtedly be much easier for you in the future to have the Office of Law guaranteed to be on your side.<</if>> Based on this initial meeting, however, you think you… <<if $law is 'outwitted'>>[[…will appoint them as Minister of Law.|10.32][$lawminister to 'nudem']] [[…will not appoint them as Minister of Law.|10.32][$lawminister to 'zar']]<<else>>[[…will agree to their proposal.|10.32][$lawminister to 'patient game']] [[…will not agree to their proposal.|10.32][$nudemrejected to true]]<</if>><b>A bloodstained letter found beneath General $dname's armor</b>: <blockquote><em>Your Imperial Majesty, You will have to forgive me for being unable to start this letter with the usual pleasantries. At the time of writing, the situation in Zerat is the last thing on my mind. All I can say is that the region is stable. There is no cause for concern. More importantly, you asked for my honesty, so against my better judgment In truth, I should not speak of I have read your letter six times over. The words are engraved on my eyelids. I’ve seen them every night, and wake up with them every morning. My heart is conflicted, more than I thought it would be. When we first met, I thought I would finally have a liege to serve, to rectify my family's mistakes by pledging my loyalty. I could not have anticipated to meet someone so alike. Despite the duty weighing on your shoulders, you refuse to let it chain you. You are true to your heart, even when it pains you with grief, whereas I deny mine at every turn. I can only be honest here, in this letter, knowing you will never see it. <<if $res gt $flirt>>I could never forget about the words you’ve written me.<<else>>I would never want you to lie about how you feel about me.<</if>> I could never tell you that I want you to be nothing more than my Crown, as that would be a lie<<if $flirt gt $res>> as well<</if>>. I want to spend time with you. I want to know you better, $name, as you are. I want It doesn’t matter what I want. We</em></blockquote> [[End Chapter|11.d1]]@@.chaptertitle;THE TRUE ORDER OF EVENTS SO FAR@@<<if $intel gt $intu and $charm gt $blunt>> @@.intelcharm;<<if $caut gt $adven>><b>525, Remembrance</b> — Father began to research the Crown's succession together with Scholar Yekbûn. <b>526, Promise</b> — Father found a Spirit of Storms who pointed him to the Armas Mountains, and began planning an expedition. Their goal was the highest mountain, the peak of Mount Asha, to meet Şahmaran. <b>526, Warding</b> — Father and Scholar Yekbûn eventually found a benefactor willing to invest. They turned out to be part of the Followers of Vidarna. Father and mother met each other for the first time. <b>526, Blessings</b> — The expedition began, then ended a month later. My parents were the only ones who returned. Mother lost her younger brother, Ciwan. They went on the run. <b>527, 12 Mourning Embers</b> — The day I was born. By this point, father already knew I would be chosen as the Crown. <b>535-537</b> — We were on the run. <b>543, 24 Remembrance</b> — Ferzan assassinated, I was chosen as the successor. Father was proven right. <b>545, during the summer</b> — We visited Marabad. My parents met with Scholar Yekbûn, preparing for the possibility that I would become the Crown. <b>549, 30 Fire</b> — Lady Zerya passed away, $rname became the Sorcerer. <b>552, Month of Light</b> — The Followers of Vidarna found us. <b>553, 15 to 18 Liberation</b> — Arrived in Marabad, found $rname, made it to the Royal Palace. There were 2 assassination attempts. <b>553, 21 Liberation</b> — Coronation day. After the banquet, there was chaos in the <<if $prisoner is 'palace'>>palace<<else>>city<</if>>. <<if $yekbun is 'dead'>>Scholar Yekbûn died.<</if>><<if $innocents is 'dead'>>Several citizens died.<</if>> <b>553, 22 Liberation</b> — First court meeting. <<if $law is 'outwitted'>>I dismissed the Office of Law<<else>>The Office of Law may become a problem in the future<</if>>.<<else>><b>525, Remembrance</b> — Father researched the Crown's succession together with Scholar Yekbûn, despite others doubting him. Maybe he shouldn’t have. <b>526, Promise</b> — A Spirit of Storms was kind enough to point him to the Armas Mountains, and they began to plan an expedition to the peak of Mount Asha. They wanted to meet Şahmaran! Did they succeed? What did she tell them? Scholar Yekbûn <<if $yekbun is 'dead'>>didn’t<<else>>doesn’t<</if>> know. <b>526, Warding</b> — An investor appeared, conveniently. They turned out to be part of the Followers of Vidarna, going by an alias, Atar. Father and mother also met each other for the first time. <b>526, Blessings</b> — The expedition lasted for a month. My parents were the only survivors, mother even lost her younger brother. My uncle, Ciwan. <b>527, 12 Mourning Embers</b> — My birthday. By this point, we were already on the run; father knew I would become the Crown. <b>535-537</b> — Still on the run. Even so, I do have some happy memories from this time. <b>543, 24 Remembrance</b> — Ferzan was assassinated, I was chosen as his successor as father predicted. Bet that was a gut punch. Mother certainly didn’t take it well. <b>545, during the summer</b> — My parents met with Scholar Yekbûn in Marabad, preparing in case I ever became the Crown. Good thing that they did, I suppose. <b>549, 30 Fire</b> — Lady Zerya passed away, and $rname became the next Crown’s Sorcerer. <b>552, Month of Light</b> — The FoV found us. Father told me to find $rname. He did prepare for this possibility. <b>553, 15 to 18 Liberation</b> — Arrived in Marabad, found $rname, and made it to the Royal Palace. Survived two assassination attempts so far, hopefully those were the only ones. <b>553, 21 Liberation</b> — My coronation day. After the banquet, there was chaos in the <<if $prisoner is 'palace'>>palace<<else>>city<</if>>. <<if $yekbun is 'dead'>>Scholar Yekbûn died.<</if>><<if $innocents is 'dead'>>Several citizens died.<</if>> <b>553, 22 Liberation</b> — My first ever meeting with the Imperial Court, or what was left of it. <<if $law is 'outwitted'>>I managed to dismiss the Office of Law<<else>>The Office of Law may become a problem in the future<</if>>!<</if>><</if>><<if $intel gt $intu and $charm lt $blunt>> @@.intelblunt;<<if $caut gt $adven>><b>525, Remembrance</b> — Father began to research the Crown's succession together with Scholar Yekbûn. <b>526, Promise</b> — Father found a Spirit of Storms who pointed him to the Armas Mountains, and began planning an expedition. Their goal was the highest mountain, the peak of Mount Asha, to meet Şahmaran. <b>526, Warding</b> — Father and Scholar Yekbûn eventually found a benefactor willing to invest. They turned out to be part of the Followers of Vidarna, going by an alias, Atar. Father and mother met each other for the first time. <b>526, Blessings</b> — The expedition began, then ended a month later. My parents were the only ones who returned. Mother lost her younger brother, Ciwan. They went on the run. <b>527, 12 Mourning Embers</b> — The day I was born. By this point, father already knew I would be chosen as the Crown. <b>535-537</b> — We were on the run. <b>543, 24 Remembrance</b> — Ferzan assassinated, I was chosen as the successor. Father was proven right. <b>545, during the summer</b> — We visited Marabad. My parents met with Scholar Yekbûn, preparing for the possibility that I would become the Crown. <b>549, 30 Fire</b> — Lady Zerya passed away, $rname became the Sorcerer. <b>552, Month of Light</b> — The Followers of Vidarna found us. <b>553, 15 to 18 Liberation</b> — Arrived in Marabad, found $rname, made it to the Royal Palace. There were 2 assassination attempts. <b>553, 21 Liberation</b> — Coronation day. After the banquet, there was chaos in the <<if $prisoner is 'palace'>>palace<<else>>city<</if>>. <<if $yekbun is 'dead'>>Scholar Yekbûn died.<</if>><<if $innocents is 'dead'>>Several citizens died.<</if>> <b>553, 22 Liberation</b> — First court meeting. <<if $law is 'outwitted'>>I dismissed the Office of Law<<else>>The Office of Law may become a problem in the future<</if>>.<<else>><b>525, Remembrance</b> — Father researched the Crown's succession together with Scholar Yekbûn, despite others doubting him. Maybe he shouldn’t have. <b>526, Promise</b> — A Spirit of Storms was kind enough to point him to the Armas Mountains, and they began to plan an expedition to the peak of Mount Asha. They wanted to meet Şahmaran! Did they succeed? What did she tell them? Scholar Yekbûn <<if $yekbun is 'dead'>>didn’t<<else>>doesn’t<</if>> know. <b>526, Warding</b> — An investor appeared, conveniently. They turned out to be part of the Followers of Vidarna, going by an alias, Atar. Father and mother also met each other for the first time. <b>526, Blessings</b> — The expedition lasted for a month. My parents were the only survivors, mother even lost her younger brother. My uncle, Ciwan. <b>527, 12 Mourning Embers</b> — My birthday. By this point, we were already on the run; father knew I would become the Crown. <b>535-537</b> — Still on the run. Even so, I do have some happy memories from this time. <b>543, 24 Remembrance</b> — Ferzan was assassinated, I was chosen as his successor as father predicted. Bet that was a gut punch. Mother certainly didn’t take it well. <b>545, during the summer</b> — My parents met with Scholar Yekbûn in Marabad, preparing in case I ever became the Crown. Good thing that they did, I suppose. <b>549, 30 Fire</b> — Lady Zerya passed away, and $rname became the next Crown’s Sorcerer. <b>552, Month of Light</b> — The FoV found us. Father told me to find $rname. He did prepare for this possibility. <b>553, 15 to 18 Liberation</b> — Arrived in Marabad, found $rname, and made it to the Royal Palace. Survived two assassination attempts so far, hopefully those were the only ones. <b>553, 21 Liberation</b> — My coronation day. After the banquet, there was chaos in the <<if $prisoner is 'palace'>>palace<<else>>city<</if>>. <<if $yekbun is 'dead'>>Scholar Yekbûn died.<</if>><<if $innocents is 'dead'>>Several citizens died.<</if>> <b>553, 22 Liberation</b> — My first ever meeting with the Imperial Court, or what was left of it. <<if $law is 'outwitted'>>I managed to dismiss the Office of Law<<else>>The Office of Law may become a problem in the future<</if>>!<</if>><</if>><<if $intel lt $intu and $charm lt $blunt>> @@.intublunt;<<if $caut gt $adven>><b>525, Remembrance</b> — Father began to research the Crown's succession together with Scholar Yekbûn. <b>526, Promise</b> — Father found a Spirit of Storms who pointed him to the Armas Mountains, and began planning an expedition. Their goal was the highest mountain, the peak of Mount Asha, to meet Şahmaran. <b>526, Warding</b> — Father and Scholar Yekbûn eventually found a benefactor willing to invest. They turned out to be part of the Followers of Vidarna, going by an alias, Atar. Father and mother met each other for the first time. <b>526, Blessings</b> — The expedition began, then ended a month later. My parents were the only ones who returned. Mother lost her younger brother, Ciwan. They went on the run. <b>527, 12 Mourning Embers</b> — The day I was born. By this point, father already knew I would be chosen as the Crown. <b>535-537</b> — We were on the run. <b>543, 24 Remembrance</b> — Ferzan assassinated, I was chosen as the successor. Father was proven right. <b>545, during the summer</b> — We visited Marabad. My parents met with Scholar Yekbûn, preparing for the possibility that I would become the Crown. <b>549, 30 Fire</b> — Lady Zerya passed away, $rname became the Sorcerer. <b>552, Month of Light</b> — The Followers of Vidarna found us. <b>553, 15 to 18 Liberation</b> — Arrived in Marabad, found $rname, made it to the Royal Palace. There were 2 assassination attempts. <b>553, 21 Liberation</b> — Coronation day. After the banquet, there was chaos in the <<if $prisoner is 'palace'>>palace<<else>>city<</if>>. <<if $yekbun is 'dead'>>Scholar Yekbûn died.<</if>><<if $innocents is 'dead'>>Several citizens died.<</if>> <b>553, 22 Liberation</b> — First court meeting. <<if $law is 'outwitted'>>I dismissed the Office of Law<<else>>The Office of Law may become a problem in the future<</if>>.<<else>><b>525, Remembrance</b> — Father researched the Crown's succession together with Scholar Yekbûn, despite others doubting him. Maybe he shouldn’t have. <b>526, Promise</b> — A Spirit of Storms was kind enough to point him to the Armas Mountains, and they began to plan an expedition to the peak of Mount Asha. They wanted to meet Şahmaran! Did they succeed? What did she tell them? Scholar Yekbûn <<if $yekbun is 'dead'>>didn’t<<else>>doesn’t<</if>> know. <b>526, Warding</b> — An investor appeared, conveniently. They turned out to be part of the Followers of Vidarna, going by an alias, Atar. Father and mother also met each other for the first time. <b>526, Blessings</b> — The expedition lasted for a month. My parents were the only survivors, mother even lost her younger brother. My uncle, Ciwan. <b>527, 12 Mourning Embers</b> — My birthday. By this point, we were already on the run; father knew I would become the Crown. <b>535-537</b> — Still on the run. Even so, I do have some happy memories from this time. <b>543, 24 Remembrance</b> — Ferzan was assassinated, I was chosen as his successor as father predicted. Bet that was a gut punch. Mother certainly didn’t take it well. <b>545, during the summer</b> — My parents met with Scholar Yekbûn in Marabad, preparing in case I ever became the Crown. Good thing that they did, I suppose. <b>549, 30 Fire</b> — Lady Zerya passed away, and $rname became the next Crown’s Sorcerer. <b>552, Month of Light</b> — The FoV found us. Father told me to find $rname. He did prepare for this possibility. <b>553, 15 to 18 Liberation</b> — Arrived in Marabad, found $rname, and made it to the Royal Palace. Survived two assassination attempts so far, hopefully those were the only ones. <b>553, 21 Liberation</b> — My coronation day. After the banquet, there was chaos in the <<if $prisoner is 'palace'>>palace<<else>>city<</if>>. <<if $yekbun is 'dead'>>Scholar Yekbûn died.<</if>><<if $innocents is 'dead'>>Several citizens died.<</if>> <b>553, 22 Liberation</b> — My first ever meeting with the Imperial Court, or what was left of it. <<if $law is 'outwitted'>>I managed to dismiss the Office of Law<<else>>The Office of Law may become a problem in the future<</if>>!<</if>><</if>><<if $intel lt $intu and $charm gt $blunt>> @@.intucharm;<<if $caut gt $adven>><b>525, Remembrance</b> — Father began to research the Crown's succession together with Scholar Yekbûn. <b>526, Promise</b> — Father found a Spirit of Storms who pointed him to the Armas Mountains, and began planning an expedition. Their goal was the highest mountain, the peak of Mount Asha, to meet Şahmaran. <b>526, Warding</b> — Father and Scholar Yekbûn eventually found a benefactor willing to invest. They turned out to be part of the Followers of Vidarna, going by an alias, Atar. Father and mother met each other for the first time. <b>526, Blessings</b> — The expedition began, then ended a month later. My parents were the only ones who returned. Mother lost her younger brother, Ciwan. They went on the run. <b>527, 12 Mourning Embers</b> — The day I was born. By this point, father already knew I would be chosen as the Crown. <b>535-537</b> — We were on the run. <b>543, 24 Remembrance</b> — Ferzan assassinated, I was chosen as the successor. Father was proven right. <b>545, during the summer</b> — We visited Marabad. My parents met with Scholar Yekbûn, preparing for the possibility that I would become the Crown. <b>549, 30 Fire</b> — Lady Zerya passed away, $rname became the Sorcerer. <b>552, Month of Light</b> — The Followers of Vidarna found us. <b>553, 15 to 18 Liberation</b> — Arrived in Marabad, found $rname, made it to the Royal Palace. There were 2 assassination attempts. <b>553, 21 Liberation</b> — Coronation day. After the banquet, there was chaos in the <<if $prisoner is 'palace'>>palace<<else>>city<</if>>. <<if $yekbun is 'dead'>>Scholar Yekbûn died.<</if>><<if $innocents is 'dead'>>Several citizens died.<</if>> <b>553, 22 Liberation</b> — First court meeting. <<if $law is 'outwitted'>>I dismissed the Office of Law<<else>>The Office of Law may become a problem in the future<</if>>.<<else>><b>525, Remembrance</b> — Father researched the Crown's succession together with Scholar Yekbûn, despite others doubting him. Maybe he shouldn’t have. <b>526, Promise</b> — A Spirit of Storms was kind enough to point him to the Armas Mountains, and they began to plan an expedition to the peak of Mount Asha. They wanted to meet Şahmaran! Did they succeed? What did she tell them? Scholar Yekbûn <<if $yekbun is 'dead'>>didn’t<<else>>doesn’t<</if>> know. <b>526, Warding</b> — An investor appeared, conveniently. They turned out to be part of the Followers of Vidarna, going by an alias, Atar. Father and mother also met each other for the first time. <b>526, Blessings</b> — The expedition lasted for a month. My parents were the only survivors, mother even lost her younger brother. My uncle, Ciwan. <b>527, 12 Mourning Embers</b> — My birthday. By this point, we were already on the run; father knew I would become the Crown. <b>535-537</b> — Still on the run. Even so, I do have some happy memories from this time. <b>543, 24 Remembrance</b> — Ferzan was assassinated, I was chosen as his successor as father predicted. Bet that was a gut punch. Mother certainly didn’t take it well. <b>545, during the summer</b> — My parents met with Scholar Yekbûn in Marabad, preparing in case I ever became the Crown. Good thing that they did, I suppose. <b>549, 30 Fire</b> — Lady Zerya passed away, and $rname became the next Crown’s Sorcerer. <b>552, Month of Light</b> — The FoV found us. Father told me to find $rname. He did prepare for this possibility. <b>553, 15 to 18 Liberation</b> — Arrived in Marabad, found $rname, and made it to the Royal Palace. Survived two assassination attempts so far, hopefully those were the only ones. <b>553, 21 Liberation</b> — My coronation day. After the banquet, there was chaos in the <<if $prisoner is 'palace'>>palace<<else>>city<</if>>. <<if $yekbun is 'dead'>>Scholar Yekbûn died.<</if>><<if $innocents is 'dead'>>Several citizens died.<</if>> <b>553, 22 Liberation</b> — My first ever meeting with the Imperial Court, or what was left of it. <<if $law is 'outwitted'>>I managed to dismiss the Office of Law<<else>>The Office of Law may become a problem in the future<</if>>!<</if>><</if>> [[View in regular font|order no font]] <<back>>@@.chaptertitle;THE TRUE ORDER OF EVENTS SO FAR@@ <<if $caut gt $adven>><b>525, Remembrance</b> — Father began to research the Crown's succession together with Scholar Yekbûn. <b>526, Promise</b> — Father found a Spirit of Storms who pointed him to the Armas Mountains, and began planning an expedition. Their goal was the highest mountain, the peak of Mount Asha, to meet Şahmaran. <b>526, Warding</b> — Father and Scholar Yekbûn eventually found a benefactor willing to invest. They turned out to be part of the Followers of Vidarna. Father and mother met each other for the first time. <b>526, Blessings</b> — The expedition began, then ended a month later. My parents were the only ones who returned. Mother lost her younger brother, Ciwan. They went on the run. <b>527, 12 Mourning Embers</b> — The day I was born. By this point, father already knew I would be chosen as the Crown. <b>535-537</b> — We were on the run. <b>543, 24 Remembrance</b> — Ferzan assassinated, I was chosen as the successor. Father was proven right. <b>545, during the summer</b> — We visited Marabad. My parents met with Scholar Yekbûn, preparing for the possibility that I would become the Crown. <b>549, 30 Fire</b> — Lady Zerya passed away, $rname became the Sorcerer. <b>552, Month of Light</b> — The Followers of Vidarna found us. <b>553, 15 to 18 Liberation</b> — Arrived in Marabad, found $rname, made it to the Royal Palace. There were 2 assassination attempts. <b>553, 21 Liberation</b> — Coronation day. After the banquet, there was chaos in the <<if $prisoner is 'palace'>>palace<<else>>city<</if>>. <<if $yekbun is 'dead'>>Scholar Yekbûn died.<</if>><<if $innocents is 'dead'>>Several citizens died.<</if>> <b>553, 22 Liberation</b> — First court meeting. <<if $law is 'outwitted'>>I dismissed the Office of Law<<else>>The Office of Law may become a problem in the future<</if>>.<<else>><b>525, Remembrance</b> — Father researched the Crown's succession together with Scholar Yekbûn, despite others doubting him. Maybe he shouldn’t have. <b>526, Promise</b> — A Spirit of Storms was kind enough to point him to the Armas Mountains, and they began to plan an expedition to the peak of Mount Asha. They wanted to meet Şahmaran! Did they succeed? What did she tell them? Scholar Yekbûn <<if $yekbun is 'dead'>>didn’t<<else>>doesn’t<</if>> know. <b>526, Warding</b> — An investor appeared, conveniently. They turned out to be part of the Followers of Vidarna, going by an alias, Atar. Father and mother also met each other for the first time. <b>526, Blessings</b> — The expedition lasted for a month. My parents were the only survivors, mother even lost her younger brother. My uncle, Ciwan. <b>527, 12 Mourning Embers</b> — My birthday. By this point, we were already on the run; father knew I would become the Crown. <b>535-537</b> — Still on the run. Even so, I do have some happy memories from this time. <b>543, 24 Remembrance</b> — Ferzan was assassinated, I was chosen as his successor as father predicted. Bet that was a gut punch. Mother certainly didn’t take it well. <b>545, during the summer</b> — My parents met with Scholar Yekbûn in Marabad, preparing in case I ever became the Crown. Good thing that they did, I suppose. <b>549, 30 Fire</b> — Lady Zerya passed away, and $rname became the next Crown’s Sorcerer. <b>552, Month of Light</b> — The FoV found us. Father told me to find $rname. He did prepare for this possibility. <b>553, 15 to 18 Liberation</b> — Arrived in Marabad, found $rname, and made it to the Royal Palace. Survived two assassination attempts so far, hopefully those were the only ones. <b>553, 21 Liberation</b> — My coronation day. After the banquet, there was chaos in the <<if $prisoner is 'palace'>>palace<<else>>city<</if>>. <<if $yekbun is 'dead'>>Scholar Yekbûn died.<</if>><<if $innocents is 'dead'>>Several citizens died.<</if>> <b>553, 22 Liberation</b> — My first ever meeting with the Imperial Court, or what was left of it. <<if $law is 'outwitted'>>I managed to dismiss the Office of Law<<else>>The Office of Law may become a problem in the future<</if>>!<</if>> <<back>>“How did your day go, $rname?” you ask, eager to change the subject. “It was productive,” $rname replies as you all take a seat. $crthey sits across from you and $aname sits beside you, while $rname continues to speak. “More than I expected it to be, in fact. I may finally have a lead on the blue siren.” The singing flower, with its paralyzing chiming sound that nearly cost you your life. “What did you discover?” “Nothing concrete yet,” $rname admits, “but a magus who specializes in botany pointed me to someone who would know more. A peri trader from Anshan, one of the rare few who sell their wares in Marabad.” You consider this information with a frown. “What kinds of wares?” “Flowers.” $rname gives you a meaningful look. “Of the magical variety.” Now that <em>is</em> something. “So all we need to do is speak to this peri trader?” $rname glances at $aname, who shakes $atheir head. “It’s not going to be that simple, not with a peri from Anshan.” You give $aname a curious look, and $athey explains, “Peri traders from Anshan are rare for a reason. They’re not mere merchants; they’re also representatives of Queen Nis herself, keeping her informed of the state of human affairs in exchange for offering luxury goods for sale. Approaching one carelessly could offend her at best, and damage relations at worst.” “Could Kham not help facilitate a meeting?” $rname suggests, and while the idea isn’t far-fetched, $aname appears rather skeptical. <<if $hidekham is false>>“Kham already knows about the assassination attempt,” you add to $rname’s point. “If we told her about the blue siren, she would understand the necessity, wouldn’t she?” $aname crosses $atheir arms, unconvinced. “She might know about the attempt, but we didn’t tell her the assassin’s exact methods for a reason. We don’t know her motives in being here, or that of her mother. It’s best we keep our interest in the blue siren private for now.”<<else>>“Should we inform Kham of the assassination attempt?” you ask, though that evidently wasn’t your first choice. “She might understand the necessity better.” “I’m not so certain that entrusting the princess with that information should be our first course of action.” $aname crosses $atheir arms, unconvinced. “We don’t know her motives in being here, or that of her mother. It’s best we keep our interest in the blue siren private for now.”<</if>> “Do you think it’s that much of a security risk?” you ask, and after a moment of thought, $aname nods. “I can’t be certain, but leaking knowledge like this could muddy the waters.” $aname’s gaze trails toward the pool; its surface ripples again. “We don’t want to give Anshan any leverage when you haven’t established yourself with them yet. It will start you off on unequal footing.” You can understand $aname’s point, though that complicates things. “Then, if Kham is to be convinced, we’ll have to hide the truth from her.” “Or,” $rname says, a gleam in $rtheir eyes, “we don’t involve Kham at all.” [[Continue|10.17]]“Lieutenant.” $dname gives them an expectant look. “I take it the tithes have been returned to their respective villages?” “Yes, General.” The lieutenant lowers the scarf covering their mouth, wiping at the red battle paint covering their forehead. “Though we gave some of the villagers quite a scare. I suppose we pulled off the bandit act a little too well.” “It didn’t occur to you to take your robes off?” The lieutenant gives $dthem a sheepish look. “We didn’t think we had the time for a wardrobe change.” “I see.” $dname arches a brow. “I hope the hand-off was subtle, at least?” “Of course.” The lieutenant smiles with satisfaction. “We left all the tithes in a secure place for the stewards to recollect, while some of us kept an eye on the tax office.” If any of Berwarî’s people are in the villages, they’re likely to be working at the tax office. How to deal with <em>them</em>, however, is another matter—one for the Crown. While cloak-and-dagger tactics like these are an immediate solution, it’s also a temporary one. No doubt Berwarî will try the same thing in the future. At the very least, now that summer has ended, the villages will be able to build enough of a food storage to make it through the coming winter. It’s good that they managed to finish their task before the Festival of Cleansing; being caught “stealing” during that time is grounds for being executed on sight. It would draw the entire Empire’s attention. “Good work.” $dname claps the lieutenant on the shoulder, then retreats toward $dtheir tent. “Rejoin your commander, she has another task for you.” The rest of the encampment is already beginning to pack up now that the situation here has been resolved, for the time being. The Ardalan Heights border the valley where they’ve settled and watch over them in the near distance. They look strange to $dname, its slopes and peaks in the wrong places, angles and cliffs that $dthey’s never seen before. $cdthey knows the mountain range better from the other side, in Penawar. Facing them from this angle feels unnatural in a way $dthey has never managed to shake off, no matter how much time $dthey’s spent in Zerat. The view of them disappears as $dname tears $dtheir gaze away and enters $dtheir tent. $cdthey moves its curtain aside, the edges woven with dimly glimmering sigils casting a protective ward over it. It prevents anyone that isn’t $dname from entering. $cdthey handles too much sensitive information to leave it unguarded. Stepping inside, $dtheir eyes are immediately drawn to the table at its center. A map of Zerat is spread out across its surface, dotted with marks and crosses for the operations—both the publicly known ones and otherwise—that the Imperial Army has been carrying out for the past month. $dname walks around the desk, glancing at the opened letter sitting on a corner, written <<if $intel gt $intu and $blunt gt $charm>>in the sharp, straight strokes of the Crown’s hand, its letters narrowed as if not to waste unnecessary space on the page.<</if>><<if $intu gt $intel and $blunt gt $charm>>in the Crown’s loose hand, straight letters stretching out across the page in simple strokes as if to make full use of its space.<</if>><<if $intu gt $intel and $charm gt $blunt>>in the curving strokes of the Crown’s hand, its letters given free reign across the pages, somehow colorful despite its black ink.<</if>><<if $intel gt $intu and $charm gt $blunt>>in the Crown’s controlled hand, swooping in neat and elegant lines across the page as if made in a precise, continuous motion.<</if>> $name is not yet aware of the more covert missions the army has been executing under $dname’s command, mostly because any communication indicating as such could be intercepted. <<if $drelationship is 'low'>>$cdthey’s uncertain of what the Crown’s reaction will be once $dname returns to Marabad and informs $them of it. All that has been done has been to right the wrongs committed by those in power, in a discreet manner so as to not cause trouble for the Crown, but there is a chance that $name might see this as undermining $their authority. It can’t be helped. $name is not yet experienced enough as the Crown to help plan or oversee these types of undertakings, especially as $they<<if $pronouns is 'theythem'>>’re<<else>>’s<</if>> still being trained and cobbling together the Imperial Court. Similarly, $dname is not capable of doing nothing in the face of injustice, even if it means being accused of disloyalty. $cdtheir loyalty has always been, first and foremost, to Arsur. Glancing down at the contents of the letter, $dname reads along its last lines. <<if $intel gt $intu and $blunt gt $charm>>@@.intelblunt;I hope you remain in good spirits and in good health, and that your endeavors in Zerat will bear fruit.@@<</if>><<if $intu gt $intel and $blunt gt $charm>>@@.intublunt;I hope you remain in good spirits and in good health, and that your endeavors in Zerat will bear fruit.@@<</if>><<if $intu gt $intel and $charm gt $blunt>>@@.intucharm;I hope you remain in good spirits and in good health, and that your endeavors in Zerat will bear fruit.@@<</if>><<if $intel gt $intu and $charm gt $blunt>>@@.intelcharm;I hope you remain in good spirits and in good health, and that your endeavors in Zerat will bear fruit.@@<</if>> The tips of $dname’s fingers rest onto the table’s surface, frowning deeply as the sounds of the soldiers cleaning up the camp fill the air inside the tent. $cdthey hadn’t planned on returning to the palace again so soon, but there’s a lingering concern for how the Crown is doing that $dthey can’t quite shake off. Perhaps its the weariness of $their tone that comes through in the letter, or perhaps $dname is being paranoid about a disaster occurring in $dtheir absence. $cdthey breathes a deep sigh, skimming over the contents of the letter for a second time. $cdthey needs to learn to trust the Crown as being capable of leading without $dname’s advice, or $dtheir worries will become endless. Yet, the way the Crown speaks in $their letter doesn’t make it very easy to do so.<<else>>$cdthey trusts that $name will understand once $dname returns to Marabad and informs $them of it. All that has been done has been to right the wrongs committed by those in power, in a discreet manner so as to not cause trouble for $name. $cthey no doubt <<if $pronouns is 'theythem'>>have<<else>>has<</if>> enough on $their mind, learning how to be the Crown and filling up the empty positions in the Imperial Court. The last thing $they <<if $pronouns is 'theythem'>>need<<else>>needs<</if>> is to deal with the corruption of Zerat’s petty nobility. If $dname can take this burden off $their shoulders before it can even settle there, to make things a little easier for $name going forward, then $dthey will do so gladly. The thought gives $dname pause, the tips of $dtheir fingers resting onto the table’s surface. $cdthey frowns deeply as the sounds of the soldiers cleaning up the camp fill the air inside the tent. $cdthey has done all of this work in the past month first and foremost for Arsur, that much $dthey knows—so why factor in $name at all? The Crown is <em>supposed</em> to carry such burdens. $dname can’t be motivated by an urge to protect $them from it: that will lead them both down a road that won’t be good for anyone. Glancing down at the contents of the letter, $dname intends merely to skim over its last lines, yet—for what must be the sixth or seventh time already—ends up rereading it in its entirety.<</if>> <<if $intu gt $intel and $blunt gt $charm>>[[Continue|10.24dintublunt]]<</if>><<if $intu gt $intel and $blunt lt $charm>>[[Continue|10.24dintucharm]]<</if>><<if $intu lt $intel and $blunt gt $charm>>[[Continue|10.24dintelblunt]]<</if>><<if $intu lt $intel and $blunt lt $charm>>[[Continue|10.24dintelcharm]]<</if>><<set $progress to "11">><<if $xrelationship is 'low'>><<set $xletter to false>><<else>><<set $xletter to true>><</if>><div id="11.1">@@.chaptertitleact1;CHAPTER ELEVEN@@</div><<if $xgender is 'female'>>@@.titleblack;Daughter, Liar, Murderer@@<<else>>@@.titleblack;Son, Liar, Murderer@@<</if>> Your footsteps tap quickly across the decorated stone tiles, its sound echoing harshly between the walls of the palace’s corridors. <<if $clothing is 'dress'>>The thin, outer coat of your dress billows out behind you, trailing your form<</if>><<if $clothing is 'robes'>>The shawl draped around your shoulders and hanging down your back, accenting your robes, billows out behind you<</if>><<if $clothing is 'shalwar'>>The outer coat you wear on top of your tunic and shalwar billows out behind you, trailing your form<</if>> as you stalk towards the smaller throne room where the Imperial Court awaits. Behind you, $aname and $rname follow in silence, perhaps able to sense you are in no mood to talk. You’re grateful for it. Once you turn a corner and the tall doors to the throne room appear in the subsequent hallway, you feel your magic well up inside you in response—either to your intent or your emotions. Before the guards by the doors can so much as twitch, <<if $magicpref is 'inner'>>you use both hands to throw them open. The wood gives as much weight and resistance as sheets as paper, slamming against the inner walls of the throne room with such force it startles all of the nobles and officials inside. It’s the added strength to your muscles fueled by your magic, a form physical enhancement you have not truly practiced yet. When one’s feelings are heightened, however, this kind of magic tends to come out naturally, instinctively.<<else>>you lift a hand in a quick cutting motion, briefly connecting with the air around you and yanking at its threads. It bursts through the doors like a physical force, the wood slamming against the inner walls of the throne with such power it startles all of the nobles and officials inside. Usually it would take you some time to get in the right frame of mind to perform such magic, similar to a physical warm-up. When one’s feelings are heightened, however, this kind of magic tends to come out naturally, instinctively.<</if>> The anxiety pounding between your ears certainly qualifies as a heightened state. As you enter, court officials turn around or look over their shoulders at you with arched brows and wide, surprised eyes. Whatever chatter filled the chamber before is instantly quieted as you head down the center of the room towards the small set of stairs leading up to your throne, not dignifying a single person with so much as a glance. Atop the steps, you turn around to face the court, <<if $clothing is 'dress' or $clothing is 'shalwar'>>whipping the edge of your coat back behind you in a curt motion<<else>>adjusting the hem of your robes behind you in a curt motion<</if>> before you sit down. Your Sorcerer and your Royal Protector have both followed you up, $rname on your right and $aname on your left as you stare down at the Imperial Court. Now that your Imperial Court has been completed, they won’t have to interfere as much on your behalf, but that also means it is entirely up to you to lead the court meetings now. Blood thrumming through your hands, you clasp them around the armrests of your throne, knowing you should compose yourself before you speak. Many new faces fill out the throne room, a little over a hundred uniform robes in various colors denoting which office each official belongs to. Only half of those have legitimate votes to cast during discussions, while the other half are either junior officials or administrators keeping track of the meetings. The representatives of the Mîrs are all present as well, having been assigned during the same time you were appointing your own officials to court. Mîr Behram’s representative in particular stands near the front of the court in bright red robes, marked with the subtle embroidery of mountains along the hem. As you recall, having memorized everyone who has become part of your court, Behram’s representative is a noble lord named Samal. He is considered to be Behram’s right hand, and undoubtedly the one who has been making demands in the wake of the attack on Behram’s palace. He, much like the rest of the officials, gaze up at you with expectation. They all watch and wait for the court meeting to begin. Their silence is deceptive, their demands sealed in their mouths like the fangs of a serpent, unleashed only at the moment of striking. You must be ready for it. [[Continue|11.x2]]<<if $pass gt $ass>>Composure is the most important thing in the face of this court, and one way to assure yours remains intact is by using court procedure as your guide.<<else>>Before anything else, you must take control of the situation and direct the meeting—no matter what its results or revelations may be.<</if>> You turn your gaze to the Voice of the Crown, the official who manages the court’s overall concerns and sets the agenda for each meeting, and also functions as your mouthpiece in your absence. Appointed to that position, on $rname and Keko’s recommendations, was Karwan Feylî. A veteran of politics and the oldest member of your court. He looks surprisingly fit at first glance, broad-shouldered and tall with a full head of thick, curly black hair. His face is the only thing that betrays his age: deep brown skin wrinkled so deep that its rolls nearly swallow his facial features. From his straight-backed posture, you get the sense he must have served as a soldier at some point. You’ve not yet seen him in action before, but you trust $rname’s and Keko’s judgment. “I heard there was a commotion in the court,” you say to him, ignoring Lord Samal’s gaze from among the crowd. He will have to wait his turn, as is decorum. “What has been said, chief minister?” Minister Karwan bows with his neck as you address him. His hands are folded behind his back, standing across Lord Samal on the right side of the court. “There has been news of an attack on Mîr Behram’s palace, Your Imperial Majesty,” Minister Karwan confirms, just as Ishrah said. His voice is roughened with his years but calm and clear in tone, naturally loud as it fills the chamber. “It happened several days ago, the court learned of it only at the arrival of a messenger earlier today.” <<if $xrelationship is 'high'>>Heart pounding unsteadily in your chest, your fingers clench around your armrests. “Who attacked? Is it known?”<<else>>You don’t want to think it possible, but $xname’s silence in response to your letters—as well as the longstanding animosity between $xthem and Behram—has you on edge. But you can’t imagine what possible reason $xthey could’ve had for it. Surely $xthey would know that $xthey would be suspected most? “Who attacked?” you ask. “Is it known?”<</if>> “As of yet, it was an unknown assailant.” Your chest swells with a breath of relief and anxiety both. “A single person, alone?” Minister Karwan inclines his head. “Lord Samal may tell you more.” You shift your gaze to Behram’s representative. “What can you tell me about the attack?” Lord Samal bows customarily before he answers your question. “It happened in the dead of night, Your Imperial Majesty. Several guards were killed in the wake of the attack, and the rest were unable to follow after the assailant once they fled. There were no clues left behind as to the assailant’s identity; we cannot find even a trace of a magical signature.” Whether $xname is behind this or not cannot distract you now, even though it is an insistent thought in the back of your mind, eating away at you with every word Lord Samal speaks. You will deal with that once you aren’t facing down the Imperial Court. “So you have no idea who is behind this,” you conclude, frowning deeply. “Do you have any ideas as to the possible motives?” “It is as unclear to us as it is to you, Your Imperial Majesty,” Lord Samal says, and you arch your brows. “Nothing was stolen?” you press. “No one was assassinated? No attempt was made on Mîr Behram’s life, or those close to him?” “No, Your Imperial Majesty.” This makes no sense. “Lord Samal,” you speak slowly, narrowing your eyes at him. “Do you expect this court to believe that someone went through the trouble of breaking into Mîr Behram’s palace, killed his guards, then left again without attempting to assassinate Mîr Behram or taking anything of value?” Lord Samal bows his head. “I am only reporting the facts, Your Imperial Majesty. Mîr Behram is as confused about the attack as you are. Perhaps the assailant did not think they could assassinate Mîr Behram successfully after alerting the guards, or perhaps whatever they were looking for could not be found in the palace.” “I see.” You recline back into your seat, mind spinning with even more questions than before. If this is $xname’s doing, what possible motives could $xthey have had? You cannot imagine $xthem running into problems and failing to assassinate Behram if $xthey truly wanted to, and $xthey doesn’t strike you as a thief. <<if $xrelationship is 'high'>>Was it someone else after all, and did you jump to conclusions?<<else>>So it could very well be someone else. At least, that is your hope.<</if>> <<if $law isnot 'outwitted'>>[[Continue|11.x3besna]]<<else>>[[Continue|11.x3zn]]<</if>> Returning your attention to the entirety of your court, you gaze back out over the crowd of officials gathered in the chamber. “What do the rest of you have to say on this matter?” As expected—and perhaps, dreaded—Minister Besna steps forward. <<if $law is 'rejected'>>You keep your expression devoid of emotion, forcing a blankness to settle over your mind. She will not rattle you this time.<<else>>You keep your expression carefully neutral, not wanting to have any of the wariness you feel filter through your words.<</if>> “Minister Besna?” She bows, then says, “We should offer Mîr Behram additional protection from the provincial army, Your Imperial Majesty. Such a precaution would only make sense after an attack.” Many officials around her nod and voice their agreement. <<if $law is 'compromise'>>The proposal, while sensible on its face, has you ill at ease. Did you not hear Noble Nûdem describe how Behram was trying to exert influence over the provincial army less than an hour ago? If it had not been for that, you might have thought it a reasonable request.<<else>>You can’t fully prevent the scowl that forms on your face at hearing the proposal. Did you not hear Noble Nûdem describe how Behram was trying to exert influence over the provincial army less than an hour ago? This seems yet another scheme to serve that end.<</if>> <<if $nazaminister is true>><<set $behramsoldiers to false>>Before you can think of a response to the swell of support for Minister Besna’s motion, however, someone unexpected steps forward. “Lady Naza,” you greet her, which draws several surprised looks from the court while Lady Naza herself smiles at you. What is she planning? You did not anticipate she would so boldly attend the meeting before you had even confirmed her appointment. Did she already anticipate what you would decide based on your discussion with her earlier? Minister Besna scowls, looking over at Lady Naza standing on the other side of the room. “Your Imperial Majesty, if I may, Lady Naza is not a court official. As an outsider, she should not have any part in official court meetings.” You meet Lady Naza’s eyes once more, and she gives you a slight, imperceptible nod. As if telling you to trust her. You <em>did</em> decide you wanted to appoint her before, but thought you would have some time to confirm her words first. Glancing over at $rname, you see the troubled expression painted across $rtheir face. However, to your great surprise, when $rthey notices you looking $rthey whispers: “Give her a chance.” The alternative is allowing Minister Besna to rally the court in favor of giving Mîr Behram more soldiers. $rname must have realized this as well, despite $rtheir personal dislike of her. You’ll have to trust your judgment that having Lady Naza as your Minister of Defense will work in your favor. “Lady Naza will be Minister of Defense,” you finally state, and take some satisfaction from the way Minister Besna and her allies look taken aback by the statement. Only Steward Welat seemingly remains unaffected by the news, stoically facing forward. “As such, she is far from an outsider, as she has the obligation to partake in court meetings. Lady Naza, you wished to speak?” “I did.” Naza inclines her head towards you, then turns to face Minister Besna. “As for your proposal, Minister Besna, you are overstepping your authority. It is not the purview of the Office of Law to manage the provincial armies. That right is reserved solely for the High General and the Minister of Defense.” You are certainly missing $dname’s presence at the moment. You’re sure $dthey would’ve had a way to find a way out of this situation. “The High General is currently absent,” Lord Samal interjects irritably, seeming to cover for Minister Besna. If she is in Mîr Behram’s camp, then of course it would make sense the two would be allied. “Furthermore, you are not yet officially appointed by the Crown. In the absence of a proper Minister of Defense and the High General, other ministers should be allowed to make their recommendations.” This is quickly devolving into a political battle. <ul class="a"> <li>[[Let Naza handle it herself.|11.x4nazaa][$nazapoints -= 4]]</li> <li>[[Interrupt and solidify Naza’s position in court.|11.x4nazab][$nazapoints += 4]]</li> </ul><<else>><<if $lawminister is 'patient game'>>Noble Nûdem is not yet among the law officials, as you didn’t have time to officially appoint them before this emergency meeting was called. Neither is the position of Minister of Defense filled yet, though you already have a candidate in mind<<if $nazapoints gt 0>> after having rejected Lady Naza’s proposal<</if>>.<<else>>The position of Minister of Defense is not filled yet, though you already have a candidate in mind<<if $nazapoints gt 0>> after having rejected Lady Naza’s proposal<</if>>.<</if>> With $dname also being absent, there is no one else to speak on matters of the army with any actual authority. Which means you need to handle this issue yourself. <<if $intel gt $intu>>“On the basis of which laws are you making this recommendation, Minister Besna?” you ask, deciding to meet her on her own playing field. If it’s a battle of wits and reasoning she wants, you’re not afraid to give it to her—though it will be fought uphill on your end. “It is the obligation of a ruler, Your Imperial Majesty,” Minister Besna replies, even inclining her head towards you in a show of gracious respect. It is all a performance. “The provinces pay their taxes in exchange for protection from the Crown. As the Imperial Court, paid by those very same taxes, we cannot shirk in our duties to advocate for them.” “With all the unrest in Zerat and Şevan, you would still prioritize Mîr Behram?” you point out with a frown. “Rojan’s provincial army is better served supporting them than guarding the Mîr’s palace.” “The High General $dthemselves is currently in Zerat, is $dthey not?” Minister Besna replies. “Several of Mîr Behram’s guards were killed. Of course, his safety must take precedence—unless you have some other reason you do not wish to extend your aid, Your Imperial Majesty?”<<else>>“If it’s a few additional soldiers Mîr Behram wants, then by all means, he can have them,” you reply in an unbothered air. You don’t know enough about Arsur’s laws to argue with her about them, so depending on rhetoric gives you a better fighting chance. “But surely you are not suggesting the entirety of Rojan’s provincial army should waste its resources on guarding the palace?” “It cannot be a waste of resources when an attack has happened on palace grounds,” Minister Besna replies, even inclining her head towards you in a show of gracious respect. It is all a performance. “Of course, I would not send the entirety of the army, but a substantial amount of soldiers would deter any future attacks. Say, a third of them.” “That still amounts to thousands of soldiers,” you point out. “For a single palace, while Zerat and Şevan are in chaos?” Minister Besna smiles politely. “It is a large palace—as well as its surrounding area, of course. The trade routes in Zerat and Şevan are already beginning to stabilize.” You did not speak of the trade routes, you meant the villages and the citizens. It’s telling that <em>that</em> was her main concern. “I cannot agree to that.” “No?” She gives you a questioning look, eyes narrowing slightly even as the smile lingers on her face. “Do you have a reason as to why you do not wish to protect your own Mîr, Your Imperial Majesty? I am sure it is a serious one, for I cannot imagine why else a ruler would abandon their own subjects in such a way.”<</if>> She is a tough one to beat. The longer she speaks, the more you can tell she is swaying the court to her side. Even the officials you have personally appointed remain silent now, seeming unwilling or unable to voice their disagreements. The title of a Mîr still weighs heavier than the welfare of the common citizen, it seems. An attack on a symbol of power will always take precedence over the safety of ordinary people. It will take a lot more than <<if $intu gt $intel>>rhetoric<<else>>reason and rationality<</if>> to overcome this, you realize with some bitterness. <<if $historyalliance is true>><<set $behramsoldiers to false>>As you struggle to come up with a response, Minister Awir steps forward to speak. [[Continue|11.x4awir]]<<else>>[[Continue|11.x4alone]]<</if>><</if>><<set $behramsoldiers to false>>Returning your attention to the entirety of your court, you gaze back out over the crowd of officials gathered in the chamber. “What do the rest of you have to say on this matter?” As expected, Steward Welat steps forward. Unlike your last confrontation with him, however, this time you do not feel threatened. He is the mere steward of a city, which affords him very little authority when it comes to matters of the Imperial Court now that all its vacant seats have been filled. Even his presence in your court now is a mere courtesy. “Steward Welat?” He bows, then says, “I would like to point out, Your Imperial Majesty, that Mîr Behram left a large share of his personal guard in Marabad to serve in the city guard when he moved to a different palace.” <<if $calc gt $kind>>“You’re suggesting they should simply be returned to him, for protection?” you surmise, and Welat inclines his head in a nod. Interesting tactic. He knows he has no say over Arsur’s armies, so he’s suggesting Marabad’s city guards instead, veiled under the conceit of paying Mîr Behram back for his service to the city. Unfortunately for him, he has no leg to stand on.<<else>>You arch your brows. “Your point being?” “It would not be a great sacrifice to return those soldiers to him for protection,” Steward Welat elaborates. “He gifted them to the city in the first place, after all.”<</if>> <<if $historyalliance is true>>The proposal, while sensible on its face, has you ill at ease. Did you not hear Noble Nûdem describe how Behram was trying to exert influence over the provincial army less than an hour ago? If it had not been for that, you might have thought it a reasonable request.<<else>>You can’t fully prevent the scowl that forms on your face at hearing the proposal. Did you not hear Noble Nûdem describe how Behram was trying to exert influence over the provincial army less than an hour ago? This seems yet another scheme to serve that end.<</if>> While the officials around him look considerate at the proposal, they don’t look wholly keen to support it either. It’s highly unusual for a steward to voice such proposals, after all. <<if $nazaminister is true>><<set $behramsoldiers to false>>Before you can even think of a response, someone unexpected steps forward. “Lady Naza,” you greet her, which draws several surprised looks from the court while Lady Naza herself smiles at you. What is she planning? You did not anticipate she would so boldly attend the meeting before you had even confirmed her appointment. Did she already anticipate what you would decide based on your discussion with her earlier? Steward Welat frowns deeply at Lady Naza’s interference before looking back at you. “Your Imperial Majesty, I beg for clarification. Lady Naza is not a court official, what is the purpose of her attendance?” You meet Lady Naza’s eyes once more, and she gives you a slight, imperceptible nod. As if telling you to trust her. You <em>did</em> decide you wanted to appoint her before, but thought you would have some time to confirm her words first. Glancing over at $rname, you see a thoughtful expression painted across $rtheir face. To your great surprise, when $rthey sees you looking, $rthey whispers: “Give her a chance.” While you feel confident that you could handle the steward on your own, perhaps this is a good opportunity to test where Lady Naza’s loyalties lie. “Lady Naza will be Minister of Defense,” you state, noting the way Steward Welat seemingly remains unaffected by the news. Perhaps he already anticipated as much. “As such, she is far from an outsider, as she has the obligation to partake in court meetings. Lady Naza, you wished to speak?” “I did.” Naza inclines her head towards you, then turns to face Welat. “As for your proposal, Steward Welat, it is obvious to everyone that you are overstepping your authority. Since when can the steward of the city make recommendations on matters of defense? It’s laughable!” “The High General is currently absent,” Lord Samal interjects irritably, seeming to cover for the steward. If Welat is in Mîr Behram’s camp, then of course it would make sense the two would be allied. “Furthermore, you are not yet officially appointed by the Crown. In the absence of a proper Minister of Defense and the High General, other ministers should be allowed to make their recommendations.” This is quickly devolving into a political battle. <ul class="a"> <li>[[Let Naza handle it herself.|11.x4nazac][$nazapoints -= 4]]</li> <li>[[Interrupt and solidify Naza’s position in court.|11.x4nazad][$nazapoints += 4]]</li> </ul><<else>><<set $behramsoldiers to false>>Even without a Minister of Defense or a High General present, the former not yet officially appointed, you have little to fear from the steward’s pressuring. You are more than capable of handling this issue yourself<<if $historyalliance is true>>—but it is at that moment Minister Awir steps forward. [[Continue|11.x4znawir]]<<else>>. [[Continue|11.x4znsolo]]<</if>><</if>> You decide not to interfere, curious to see how Lady Naza will respond. She looks unimpressed by Lord Samal’s line of reasoning. “Is the lack of my official appointment the only problem, then?” Lord Samal frowns, looking hesitant to respond as he perhaps senses her intent. Not bothering to wait for his reply, Lady Naza turns to you. “Your Imperial Majesty, may I approach the throne?” You raise your brows, and it takes a moment before you realize her intent. She wants you to appoint her on the spot. “You may.” Lady Naza steps out from among the crowd and walks forward, coming to a halt in front of the steps leading up to your throne. “Lady Naza of House Ishtal,” you speak, “I wish to appoint you as Minister of Defense in official capacity. Will you serve?” She inclines her head. “With honor, Your Imperial Majesty.” “Then henceforth, you are appointed as the Minister of Defense.” Looking back at a stunned Lord Samal and resigned Minister Besna, you ask, “Does that satisfy the court?” Lord Samal swings his head around from right to left, as if searching for a way to prevent what has already come to pass. No one else wants to meet his eyes, sensing the tides have turned, until his gaze finally lands on Minister Karwan. “Chief minister, is this allowed? There must be procedure for the appointment of officials—” “It is all at the Crown’s discretion,” Minister Karwan states simply, turning away from the representative again to face forward instead. “But this is highly unusual!” Your Voice breathes an exasperated sigh. “Oh, quiet down! Were you not using the same technicalities to get your way a moment ago, you insolent dog?” “Do not speak to me that way!” Lord Samal erupts. “I serve Mîr Behram!” “And I was already serving the Crowns of this Empire when your master was still suckling at the teat!” the chief minister snaps. “Now be a good boy and come to heel, we have many more matters to discuss.” Lord Samal’s face burns red with such anger and humiliation you suspect it is preventing him from speaking. To you, however, it is a most welcome development. Every other time you’ve had to face the nobility and the Imperial Court so far, you were essentially on your own. Now, you actually have allies in your corner. Lady Naza grins and winks at him as she saunters back to her previous position—though it is <em>Minister</em> Naza now. Once she is back in line, she resumes her previous line of reasoning. “May I make my official recommendation regarding the attack on Mîr Behram, Your Imperial Majesty?” You suspect you’re going to like what she has to say. “Go ahead.” Minister Naza smiles wide. “Let him sort the mess out himself. The provincial army has enough worries, we cannot expect them to waste time and resources making up for the incompetence of the Mîr’s security.” “Watch your tongue!” Lord Samal shouts across the chamber. “Good soldiers died protecting Mîr Behram at the hands of some vicious assassin, they do not deserve to be spoken ill of!” “I thought you did not know whether it was an assassin or a thief?” Minister Naza remarks coolly in return. “Regardless, I do not speak of incompetence from the guards. I speak of incompetence from Mîr Behram. He should have trained them better or planned his security more efficiently, if he did not wish to see them killed.” “The Minister of Defense has given her recommendation.” Minister Karwan casts a sharp look toward Lord Samal, whose hands are effectively tied. He cannot voice any further protest without it reflecting on Mîr Behram, as the Mîrs’ representatives do not have the authority to influence court meetings. They are only present to serve as the ears and mouth of the Mîr, nothing further. Lord Samal realizes this himself as well, retreating into a stiff, straight posture as he lowers his head incrementally. “I agree with your sentiments, Minister Naza.” You give her a small smile, glad that your decision to trust her paid off. “I am sure Mîr Behram is capable enough to handle this attack on his own.” [[Continue|11.x5]]<<if $intel gt $intu>>So it seems the rules of the court exist solely to be bent to political convenience. In which case, as master of the court, why should you not be able to do the same?<<else>>The thought pops into mind the moment protest passes Lord Samal’s lips. As the Crown, can you not solve the issue on the spot?<</if>> <<if $blunt gt $charm>>“Lady Naza,” you interject before the argument can continue, “approach the throne.”<<else>>“Is her lack of official appointment the only reason for your protest?” you ask Lord Samal. He looks a little startled when you address him, hesitating before answering. “Yes, Your Imperial Majesty.” “Let’s resolve that right now, then.” You look back at Lady Naza, gesturing with a hand. “Approach the throne, Lady Naza.”<</if>> Silence falls in the chamber. Appearing intrigued, Lady Naza steps out from among the crowd and walks forward, coming to a halt in front of the steps leading up to your throne. “Lady Naza of House Ishtal,” you speak, “I wish to appoint you as Minister of Defense in official capacity. Will you serve?” You catch the glimpse of a sharp smile crossing Lady Naza’s lips, before she bows deeply before you. “With honor, Your Imperial Majesty.” “Then henceforth, you are appointed as the Minister of Defense.” Looking back at a stunned Lord Samal and resigned Minister Besna, you ask, “Does that satisfy the court?” Lord Samal swings his head around from right to left, as if searching for a way to prevent what has already come to pass. No one else wants to meet his eyes, sensing the tides have turned, until his gaze finally lands on Minister Karwan. “Chief minister, is this allowed? There must be procedure for the appointment of officials!” “It is all at the Crown’s discretion,” Minister Karwan states simply, turning away from the representative again to face forward instead. “But this is highly unusual!” Your Voice breathes an exasperated sigh. “Oh, quiet down! Were you not using the same technicalities to get your way a moment ago, you insolent dog?” “Do not speak to me that way,” Lord Samal erupts. “I serve Mîr Behram!” “And I was already serving the Crowns of this Empire when your master was still suckling at the teat!” the chief minister snaps. “Now be a good boy and come to heel, we have many more matters to discuss.” Lord Samal’s face burns red with such anger and humiliation you suspect it is preventing him from speaking. To you, however, it is a most welcome development. Every other time you’ve had to face the nobility and the Imperial Court so far, you were essentially on your own. Now, you actually have allies in your corner. Lady Naza grins and winks at him as she saunters back to her previous position—though it is <em>Minister</em> Naza now. Once she is back in line, she resumes her previous line of reasoning. “May I make my official recommendation regarding the attack on Mîr Behram, Your Imperial Majesty?” You suspect you’re going to like what she has to say. “Go ahead.” Minister Naza smiles wide. “Let him sort the mess out himself. The provincial army has enough worries, we cannot expect them to waste time and resources making up for the incompetence of the Mîr’s security.” “Watch your tongue!” Lord Samal shouts across the chamber. “Good soldiers died protecting Mîr Behram at the hands of some vicious assassin, they do not deserve to be spoken ill of!” “I thought you did not know whether it was an assassin or a thief?” Minister Naza remarks coolly in return. “Regardless, I do not speak of incompetence from the guards. I speak of incompetence from Mîr Behram. He should have trained them better or planned his security more efficiently, if he did not wish to see them killed.” “The Minister of Defense has given her recommendation.” Minister Karwan casts a sharp look toward Lord Samal, whose hands are effectively tied. He cannot voice any further protest without it reflecting on Mîr Behram, as the Mîrs’ representatives do not have the authority to influence court meetings. They are only present to serve as the ears and mouth of the Mîr, nothing further. Lord Samal realizes this himself as well, retreating into a stiff, straight posture as he lowers his head incrementally. “I agree with your sentiments, Minister Naza.” You give her a small smile, glad that your decision to trust her paid off. “I am sure Mîr Behram is capable enough to handle this attack on his own.” [[Continue|11.x5]]“Minister Awir,” you speak with some measure of relief, remembering the deal you struck with him before the court meeting. You’re hopeful that he will offer you some way out of this. Awir does not disappoint. He bows shortly before you, before he turns to address Minister Besna. “I must point out, Minister Besna, that it is unprecedented for a Minister of Law to involve themselves in matters of military and defense, when no laws have been broken.” For the first time, Minister Besna’s composure slips, expression marred with distaste as her lips thin into a tense line, before smoothing out again. “We live in unprecedented times—” “An excuse that may have worked in the absence of the Crown,” Minister Awir counters briskly, “but $ctheir Imperial Majesty is here now. Need I remind you who the provincial armies answer to? It is the High General and the Minister of Defense, and they serve only the Crown, not the Imperial Court. I know of no instance in history where the Minister of Law could order the armies around.” It is a scolding that works much better coming from another minister than from you. If you had been the one to make this argument, it would’ve made you look power-hungry at best. By another minister stating such, especially the chief official who leads the royal historians, it is much more credible. “Is your suggestion that nothing should be done, then?” Lord Samal interjects, having realized the discussion is no longer going his master’s way. The officials who previously, vocally, agreed with Minister Besna are quiet now. “It would not be my place to make any suggestions on the matter,” Minister Awir replies coolly. “Because unlike some in this court, I know my place. It is only for our Crown to decide on. Unless you are suggesting you would know better than the Crown, Lord Samal? Would you prefer to sit on the throne, perhaps?” “What an outrageous- you cannot simply accuse—” Lord Samal sputters, anger veiling the hint of fear you see in his eyes. The officials around him refuse to meet his eyes, a few even taking subtle steps away from him. To be suspected of disloyalty to the Crown, especially in the Imperial Court, can ruin one’s reputation forever. Minister Awir turns back to you. “I am sure the Imperial Court has the good sense to agree that you are the only one who should have a say in this matter, Your Imperial Majesty. The provincial armies serve at your command.” Minister Besna, as well as her supporters, remain silent. You allow yourself to ease a little in your seat, thankful for Awir’s assistance. Offering that alliance to him truly has worked in your favor. “It is settled, then,” you speak when no one else objects. “The provincial army will not be sent to Mîr Behram’s palace, but will remain at the border to offer support to Zerat.” [[Continue|11.x5]]<<set $behramsoldiers to true>>Seeing you struggle in your argument with Minister Besna, $rname tries to assist you. “It is not for the Minister of Law to make proposals relating to the Crown’s armies,” $rthey says, keeping $rtheir tone steady though you can see the frustration you feel has built up with $rthem as well. $rname’s gaze is sharpened to a glare. Minister Besna appears unruffled, even going so far as to address <em>you</em> rather than respond to $rtitle $rname directly. “Perhaps it is unusual, Your Imperial Majesty, but it is even less the business of the inner court to speak on such matters. Exceptions were made when the Imperial Court was still incomplete, but now the Crown’s Sorcerer may return to their regular duties.” $rname scowls, and you cut in before $rthey has a chance to berate the Minister. “Mind your manners, Minister Besna,” you snap, giving her a look of warning. “Even if $rtitle $rname belongs to the inner court, you will address $rthem with the respect that $rthey is due. Need I remind you how replaceable a mere minister is, compared to the Crown’s Sorcerer?” Minister Besna’s gaze cools, clearly not appreciative of being scolded, but it isn’t enough to disturb her composure. She inclines her head toward $rname. “My apologies, my <<if $rgender is 'male'>>lord<<else>>lady<</if>>.” “Matters of propriety aside,” Minister Karwan interjects. “Is the Imperial Court in agreement on this issue? Does the majority recommend sending Rojan’s provincial soldiers to Mîr Behram’s palace?” You see looks exchanged, officials muttering briefly amongst each other, until the ministers voice their agreements one by one. “I cannot see how we can abandon Mîr Behram on such an occasion,” Minister Ramyar, from the Office of Diplomacy, states. “Even if the attack was small in scale, leaving him unprotected will paint Arsur as weak.” “Agreed.” Minister Çinar, from the Office of Correspondence, supports Minister Ramyar. “It need not be for an extended period, or a large force of soldiers. But we should spare at least a token amount.” “These resources are better spent elsewhere,” Minister Senger, the Wisdom of the Crown, voices as a lone opponent. It gives you some hope that you might have enough officials on your side to at least stall the proposal. “We vote against.” “We will abstain,” is all that Minister Awir states. You suppose you can’t be wholly surprised. <<if visited('10.34b') gte 1>>While you accepted his proposal to extend more votes in favor of information provided on the nobility, on occasions like these, his office has no true reason to support you. It is disappointing, but expected.<</if>><<if visited('10.34c') gte 1>>Even if you did decide to accept his proposal from earlier, his office has no true reason to support you on occasions like these.<</if>> “We vote for,” Minister Lerzan, from the Office of Personnel, says as the final minister to cast their vote. Her vote seals your fate. With that, there are two offices absent, one against, one abstained, and three in favor. You are outnumbered. $rname looks over to meet your eyes. Neither of you is keen to admit it, but there is little more you can do in this situation. Merely because you appointed some of these ministers yourself, does not mean they will blindly fight on your side. Clearly, they have judged that giving into Mîr Behram on this occasion makes more sense than ignoring the attack. “That is the court’s recommendation, then,” the chief minister concludes, turning back to you. “Your Imperial Majesty, the court proposes to send Rojan’s provincial soldiers to Mîr Behram’s protection. We will leave the exact number to your discretion, should you agree.” Agree? As if there is any other choice. To throw out the court’s proposal, as tempting as the idea is, would portray you as unreasonable and irrational. Not to mention that it would no doubt damage your relations with newly appointed ministers, even though they did vote against you this time. You exhale a deep breath. “Very well. Once I formally appoint a Minister of Defense, I will discuss how many soldiers to send to Mîr Behram’s palace.” It is the only way to stall, and the only way you have to minimize the number of soldiers that will serve Mîr Behram. As the court accepts your judgment, Lord Samal smiles widest of them all, uttering, “Your wisdom is exemplary, Your Imperial Majesty,” in unison with the rest. He certainly looks pleased. The court bows before you, as if they hadn’t just badgered you into this outcome. [[Continue|11.x5]]<<if $law isnot 'outwitted'>><<if $historyalliance is true or $nazaminister is true>>With the argument resolved, you move forward: “Now, is there anyone else—<em>of relevance</em>—who has something to say on the matter?” During the argument, however, it appears there is one among the court who has taken the opportunity to craft a different strategy. Steward Welat steps forward.<<else>>“Can we end the meeting, then?” you say with no small amount of frustration. At this point, you just want to get the meeting over with. As if having sensed your thoughts and intent on making matters worse, Steward Welat steps forward.<</if>> You arch your brows, a small gesture mirroring the wariness you feel. “Steward Welat?” “I have nothing to say in relation to how the attack should be handled, Your Imperial Majesty,” he begins, as calm and collected as always. “It is not my place to do so. However, I would like to remark that this attack took place during the Festival of Cleansing.” He lifts his head to meet your eyes. “Can you guarantee the court that, should the perpetrator be found, they will be executed summarily?”<<else>>Just when you thought Welat was defeated, one of the officials that are part of his office steps forward. A thinly veiled proxy for the steward, who would not dare voice another ‘suggestion’ so soon after you put him in his place. “You are a city official, are you not?” you say, giving them an unimpressed look. <<if $blunt gt $charm>>“What do you want?” <<else>>“I see you take after the steward in sense. Go on, then. Entertain the court.”<</if>> This official looks a bit more nervous than their master, glancing at the steward from the corner of their eyes before responding to your <<if $blunt gt $charm>>blunt question<<else>>derisive comments<</if>>. “I have nothing to say in relation to how the attack should be handled, Your Imperial Majesty. It is not my place to do so.” “Oh?” You scoff. “So you have better sense than your master, it seems. Continue.” “I only would like to remark that this attack took place during the Festival of Cleansing.” The city official bows again. “And?” you prompt, tapping your fingers against the armrest with purposefully visible impatience. “Is it…” The city official clears their throat, unable to look you in the eyes as they hold their bow. “Is it a guarantee, then, that the perpetrator will be executed summarily should they be found?”<</if>> The request causes confusion in the court—because it is not meant for them. Your eyes <<if $law isnot 'outwitted'>>are fixed on Steward Welat’s<<else>>flit to Steward Welat<</if>>, and you feel overcome with a sudden and deep swell of dread. Does he know that $xname might be behind this, and is he trying to trap you here and now, should that be the case? Or perhaps he suspects you yourself could have something to do with it, and he hopes to ensnare you that way? <<if $nazaminister is true>>“What kind of request is this, steward?” Lady Naza scoffs in his direction. “Of course the perpetrator will be executed! Even if it weren’t the Festival of Cleansing, such an act is punishable by death.”<<else>>“Of course, such an act must be punishable by death,” Chief Minister Karwan speaks, brows furrowed deeply at Steward Welat. “Even if it were not the Festival of Cleansing, such an act cannot stand.”<</if>><<if $lawminister isnot 'zar' and $lawminister isnot 'nudem'>> “Indeed,” Minister Besna is quick to agree, casting a look in your direction. “$ctheir Imperial Majesty already realizes as much $themselves, Steward Welat. Your request is unnecessary.”<</if>> Even your allies do not suspect what you are privy to, and the whole court is unified on this issue. It is a troubling development for the problems it could cause in the future. If, in the worst case, $xname is behind this and $xthey is somehow caught after the fact, $xtheir reputation and the public’s general dislike of Mîr Behram might have spared $xtheir life. Had this attack been committed at any other time, you might even be able to get away with pardoning $xthem entirely. To do such a thing during the Festival of Cleansing, however, and having the Crown’s word that the perpetrator will be executed? It would make a death sentence unavoidable. Even with a public outcry, it would cost you dearly to ignore both the Imperial Court and centuries of custom to spare $xthem. What should you do? What can you say to escape this, to protect $xname? <em>Should</em> you protect $xname? <ul class="a"> <<if $xgender is 'female'>><li>[[You trust Xelara. If she did this, she did it for good reason, and you will protect her as much as you can.|11.x6][$xpoints += 2; $xtrust to true]]</li> <li>[[Xelara went behind your back. She did not trust you, so why should you trust her?|11.x6][$xpoints -= 2; $xtrust to false]]</li><<else>><li>[[You trust Xelef. If he did this, he did it for good reason, and you will protect him as much as you can.|11.x6][$xpoints += 2; $xtrust to true]]</li> <li>[[Xelef went behind your back. He did not trust you, so why should you trust him?|11.x6][$xpoints -= 2; $xtrust to false]]</li><</if>> <li>[[You don’t know what to think.|11.x6][$xtrust to 'unsure']]</li> </ul><<if visited("11.x6") is 1>><<if $xpoints gte 15>><<set $xrelationship to 'high'>><<else>><<set $xrelationship to 'low'>><</if>><</if>><<if $xtrust is false>>Regardless of your lack of trust in $xname,<</if>><<if $xtrust is true>>You trust $xname, but even if you didn’t,<</if>><<if $xtrust is 'unsure'>>You’re uncertain of whether to trust $xname or not, but even if you didn’t,<</if>> allowing Steward Welat<<if $law is 'outwitted'>> and his allies<</if>> to pressure you into making statements is not a path that ends well. The last time this happened you were all but interrogated in front of your own court. You do not wish a repeat, but how to circumvent this? <<if $law isnot 'outwitted' and $historyalliance isnot true>>Before you are forced to make a public statement, however, $rname steps in. “You are right, Steward Welat,” $rthey speaks, $rtheir voice measured in emotion and expression . “It is the Festival of Cleansing. Violence, in all its forms, is strictly forbidden.” You and $aname exchange a look, before both of you look over at $rname. Surely $rthey cannot be siding with Welat on this issue? Then again, $rthey doesn’t know that $xname could be behind this— “As such, would it not also go against the principles of the Festival to have the Crown swear an oath of violence?” Instant relief fills you as your tense posture eases back into your throne. A clever play. Steward Welat gives $rname a long look, and $rname returns it with a steady one of $rtheir own, bordering on a glare. At length, the old steward says, “That is a very broad interpretation of the festival’s principles, $rtitle $rname.” “Is it?” $rname’s tone sharpens as $rthey gazes coldly at the steward. “Were you not taught the threefold path?” The memory comes to you in a jolt. A basic tenant of Arsurian philosophy, one that you were taught about more in depth during one of your tutoring classes very recently. With $rname having opened up the path to escape, you quickly take advantage. “Good thoughts, good words, good deeds.” You cannot resist the slight smile pulling at the corner of your mouth when you see the way Steward Welat’s gaze darkens. “$rtitle $rname is right to be concerned, steward. Should we be plotting such violent acts during a time meant to cleanse one’s spirit and maintain peace? I think not.”<<else>>It comes to you suddenly, in one of the lessons you were taught by your tutor. <<if $charm gt $blunt>>“You do have a point, <<if $law isnot 'outwitted'>>steward<<else>>city official<</if>>,” you say. “All manner of violence is forbidden during the Festival of Cleansing, in accordance with the threefold path.” You notice $rname and $aname exchange a look between each other at your approach, no doubt wondering why you are ostensibly siding with Welat<<if $law is 'outwitted'>>’s faction<</if>> on this issue. “<em>All</em> manner of violence,” you emphasize, easing back into your throne as you arch a single brow toward <<if $law isnot 'outwitted'>>Welat<<else>>the city official<</if>>. “In thoughts, words and deeds. Is it not unbecoming of the Crown to declare an intention of violence during this time? I fear that it would not be cleansing to my spirit.”<<else>>“Violence is forbidden during the Festival of Cleansing, yes,” you agree, <<if $law isnot 'outwitted'>>meeting Welat’s gaze with an unflinching one of your own<<else>>staring down unflinchingly at the still bowed city official<</if>>. You notice $rname and $aname exchange a look between each other at your approach, no doubt wondering why you are ostensibly siding with Welat<<if $law is 'outwitted'>>’s faction<</if>> on this issue. “Violence in thoughts will lead to violence in words,” you continue to point out, “which will lead to violence in deeds. Does this not go against the foundation of the festival? I cannot proclaim such violent intent without being branded a hypocrite.”<</if>> “The Crown is right,” $rname speaks, catching your eyes with a look of understanding. $crthey has realized where you’re going with this, and is supporting your reasoning. “It forms the foundation of the festival. We should not infringe upon the basic tenants of such a sacred holiday.” You realize you have become more comfortable in your role as the Crown, and more adept at navigating these political conflicts. <<if $law is 'outwitted'>>Perhaps it is because you have realized you are not beholden to the nobility and that you do not have to play to their tune, which has made you more confident.<<else>>Perhaps it is because you have realized you can outwit these people and outplay them at their own game, which has made you more confident.<</if>><</if>> <<if $law isnot 'outwitted'>>Steward Welat looks between the two of you<<else>>The city official briefly lifts their head to look between the two of you, then glances at the stony expression on Steward Welat’s face<</if>>, the previous agreement in the court now fractured as your allies take your cues<<if visited("11.x4alone") gte 1>>, unlike before<</if>>. “Some customs exist for a reason,” Minister Lerzan<<if visited("11.x4alone") gte 1>>, from the Office of Personnel,<</if>> considers. “It is for $ctheir Imperial Majesty to say whether $they wish<<if $pronouns isnot 'theythem'>>es<</if>> to adhere to it or not.” “Agreed,” Minister Çinar<<if visited("11.x4alone") gte 1>>, from the Office of Correspondence,<</if>> says, and does not elaborate any further. “It would reflect poorly on Arsur if our Crown contradicted such an important principle,” Minister Ramyar<<if visited("11.x4alone") gte 1>>, from the Office of Diplomacy,<</if>> adds. “We would look weak to our foreign relations.” “$ctheir Imperial Majesty is correct to point out the philosophy behind the festival,” Minister Senger<<if visited("11.x4alone") gte 1>>, the Wisdom of the Crown,<</if>> says. “The Crown has the duty to be both an exemplary monarch as well as an exemplary moral guide for the people. Who else will lead them righteously?” “Let it be a time of peace,” Minister Karwan states last of all, simply but plainly.<<if $nazaminister is true>> You notice Minister Naza remains quiet, watching the proceedings with a thoughtful look. She glances at you once, her expression inscrutable. You wonder what she thinks of the tactic, but she does not look outwardly displeased. That, at least, is a good sign. Naza is not the sort to hide her disapproval for the sake of appearances.<</if>> “I believe the court has spoken, <<if $law isnot 'outwitted'>>Steward Welat<<else>>city official<</if>>,” you say, not bothering to hide your triumphant smile. <<if $historyalliance isnot true and $nazaminister isnot true and $law isnot 'outwitted'>>At least one thing has gone right during this court meeting.<</if>> <<if $law isnot 'outwitted'>>He holds your gaze for a moment longer, before he finally bends his neck in a sharp, short motion. Welat has conceded defeat, at least on this occasion.<<else>>The city official can do nothing but bow again, even more deeply than before. You take note of the look Welat shoots them from the corner of his eyes. He looks greatly displeased, to your personal satisfaction.<</if>> [[Continue|11.x7]]“Was that all that the court wished to discuss, chief minister?” you ask, eager to end the meeting as soon as possible. <<if $law isnot 'outwitted'>><<if $behramsoldiers is true>>While Welat was thwarted, Mîr Behram is still receiving the provincial soldiers he wanted. You can’t say this meeting has gone your way, which doesn’t make you feel hopeful for the future. Even having appointed some of these people yourself, they’d rather protect a Mîr—even a widely disliked one—than prioritize the greater good. So long as the trade routes are protected, they don’t care about anything else. It’s demoralizing. Is this what you’ll have to deal with for the rest of your life?<<else>><<if $nazaminister is false and $historyalliance is true>>While Welat and Minister Besna were both thwarted, there was a moment where it seemed like you might be overruled. Thankfully, your alliance with the historians amounted to a small victory on this occasion. While the discussion was a stressful one, even frustrating at times, part of you also felt a a moment of excitement. It was when Minister Awir stepped in, and the look on Minister Besna’s face—the instant she knew she was defeated. Similar to the way Welat reluctantly bowed at the end. That rush of power.<</if>><<if $nazaminister is true and $historyalliance is true or $nazaminister is true and $historyalliance is false>>While Welat and Minister Besna were both thwarted, you realize it could have easily gone the other way had you not appointed Naza as Minister of Defense. She’s the only one who would’ve been daring enough to show up to the court meeting when not yet formally appointed, which saved you a drawn out argument. There’s no time to dwell on your victory, however.<</if>><</if>><<else>><<if $nazaminister is false and $historyalliance is false>>While Welat was thwarted, you realize it could have easily gone the other way had you not gotten rid of Minister Besna and instated <<if $lawminister is 'nudem'>>Nûdem<</if>><<if $lawminister is 'zar'>>Zar<</if>>. Welat hardly had a foot to stand on as a mere steward, and no other ministers were willing to stand by him because of it. His attempt was halfhearted besides, likely having realized he wouldn’t be successful. Still, he pressured you enough that it was a nuisance, and wasted valuable time besides. You’ll have to figure out how to deal with him soon.<</if>><</if>> “That was all, Your Imperial Majesty,” Minister Karwan confirms, to your great relief. Without further delay, you rise from your seat. “Then this meeting is concluded.” The court bows as you descend the steps, $rname and $aname right behind you. It is an effort to maintain an air of calm, resisting the urge to storm out of the chamber the same way you stormed in. With the politics resolved, there is only one thing on your mind. <em>$xname.</em> [[Continue|11.x8]] You decide not to interfere, curious to see how Lady Naza will respond. She looks unimpressed by Lord Samal’s line of reasoning. “Is the lack of my official appointment the only problem, then?” Lord Samal frowns, looking hesitant to respond as he perhaps senses her intent. Not bothering to wait for his reply, Lady Naza turns to you. “Your Imperial Majesty, may I approach the throne?” You raise your brows, and it takes a moment before you realize her intent. She wants you to appoint her on the spot. “You may.” Lady Naza steps out from among the crowd and walks forward, coming to a halt in front of the steps leading up to your throne. “Lady Naza of House Ishtal,” you speak, “I wish to appoint you as Minister of Defense in official capacity. Will you serve?” She inclines her head. “With honor, Your Imperial Majesty.” “Then henceforth, you are appointed as the Minister of Defense.” Looking back at a stunned Lord Samal and resigned Steward Welat, you ask, “Does that satisfy the court?” Lord Samal swings his head around from right to left, as if searching for a way to prevent what has already come to pass. No one else wants to meet his eyes, sensing the tides have turned, until his gaze finally lands on Minister Karwan. “Chief minister, is this allowed? There must be procedure for the appointment of officials—” “It is all at the Crown’s discretion,” Minister Karwan states simply, turning away from the representative again to face forward instead. “But this is highly unusual!” Your Voice breathes an exasperated sigh. “Oh, quiet down! Were you not using the same technicalities to get your way a moment ago, you insolent dog?” “Do not speak to me that way!” Lord Samal erupts. “I serve Mîr Behram!” “And I was already serving the Crowns of this Empire when your master was still suckling at the teat!” the chief minister snaps. “Now be a good boy and come to heel, we have many more matters to discuss.” Lord Samal’s face burns red with such anger and humiliation you suspect it is preventing him from speaking. To you, however, it is a most welcome development. Every other time you’ve had to face the nobility and the Imperial Court so far, you were essentially on your own. Now, you actually have allies in your corner. Lady Naza grins and winks at him as she saunters back to her previous position—though it is <em>Minister</em> Naza now. Once she is back in line, she resumes her previous line of reasoning. “May I make my official recommendation regarding the attack on Mîr Behram, Your Imperial Majesty?” You suspect you’re going to like what she has to say. “Go ahead.” Minister Naza smiles wide. “Let him sort the mess out himself. Marabad's city guard has enough worries, we cannot expect them to waste time and resources making up for the incompetence of the Mîr’s security.” “Watch your tongue!” Lord Samal shouts across the chamber. “Good soldiers died protecting Mîr Behram at the hands of some vicious assassin, they do not deserve to be spoken ill of!” “I thought you did not know whether it was an assassin or a thief?” Minister Naza remarks coolly in return. “Regardless, I do not speak of incompetence from the guards. I speak of incompetence from Mîr Behram. He should have trained them better or planned his security more efficiently, if he did not wish to see them killed.” “The Minister of Defense has given her recommendation.” Minister Karwan casts a sharp look toward Lord Samal, whose hands are effectively tied. He cannot voice any further protest without it reflecting on Mîr Behram, as the Mîrs’ representatives do not have the authority to influence court meetings. They are only present to serve as the ears and mouth of the Mîr, nothing further. Lord Samal realizes this himself as well, retreating into a stiff, straight posture as he lowers his head incrementally. “I agree with your sentiments, Minister Naza.” You give her a small smile, glad that your decision to trust her paid off. “I am sure Mîr Behram is capable enough to handle this attack on his own.” [[Continue|11.x5]]<<if $intel gt $intu>>So it seems the rules of the court exist solely to be bent to political convenience. In which case, as master of the court, why should you not be able to do the same?<<else>>The thought pops into mind the moment protest passes Lord Samal’s lips. As the Crown, can you not solve the issue on the spot?<</if>> <<if $blunt gt $charm>>“Lady Naza,” you interject before the argument can continue, “approach the throne.”<<else>>“Is her lack of official appointment the only reason for your protest?” you ask Lord Samal. He looks a little startled when you address him, hesitating before answering. “Yes, Your Imperial Majesty.” “Let’s resolve that right now, then.” You look back at Lady Naza, gesturing with a hand. “Approach the throne, Lady Naza.”<</if>> Silence falls in the chamber. Appearing intrigued, Lady Naza steps out from among the crowd and walks forward, coming to a halt in front of the steps leading up to your throne. “Lady Naza of House Ishtal,” you speak, “I wish to appoint you as Minister of Defense in official capacity. Will you serve?” You catch the glimpse of a sharp smile crossing Lady Naza’s lips, before she bows deeply before you. “With honor, Your Imperial Majesty.” “Then henceforth, you are appointed as the Minister of Defense.” Looking back at a stunned Lord Samal and resigned Steward Welat, you ask, “Does that satisfy the court?” Lord Samal swings his head around from right to left, as if searching for a way to prevent what has already come to pass. No one else wants to meet his eyes, sensing the tides have turned, until his gaze finally lands on Minister Karwan. “Chief minister, is this allowed? There must be procedure for the appointment of officials—” “It is all at the Crown’s discretion,” Minister Karwan states simply, turning away from the representative again to face forward instead. “But this is highly unusual!” Your Voice breathes an exasperated sigh. “Oh, quiet down! Were you not using the same technicalities to get your way a moment ago, you insolent dog?” “Do not speak to me that way!” Lord Samal erupts. “I serve Mîr Behram!” “And I was already serving the Crowns of this Empire when your master was still suckling at the teat!” the chief minister snaps. “Now be a good boy and come to heel, we have many more matters to discuss.” Lord Samal’s face burns red with such anger and humiliation you suspect it is preventing him from speaking. To you, however, it is a most welcome development. Every other time you’ve had to face the nobility and the Imperial Court so far, you were essentially on your own. Now, you actually have allies in your corner. Lady Naza grins and winks at him as she saunters back to her previous position—though it is <em>Minister</em> Naza now. Once she is back in line, she resumes her previous line of reasoning. “May I make my official recommendation regarding the attack on Mîr Behram, Your Imperial Majesty?” You suspect you’re going to like what she has to say. “Go ahead.” Minister Naza smiles wide. “Let him sort the mess out himself. Marabad's city guard has enough worries, we cannot expect them to waste time and resources making up for the incompetence of the Mîr’s security.” “Watch your tongue!” Lord Samal shouts across the chamber. “Good soldiers died protecting Mîr Behram at the hands of some vicious assassin, they do not deserve to be spoken ill of!” “I thought you did not know whether it was an assassin or a thief?” Minister Naza remarks coolly in return. “Regardless, I do not speak of incompetence from the guards. I speak of incompetence from Mîr Behram. He should have trained them better or planned his security more efficiently, if he did not wish to see them killed.” “The Minister of Defense has given her recommendation.” Minister Karwan casts a sharp look toward Lord Samal, whose hands are effectively tied. He cannot voice any further protest without it reflecting on Mîr Behram, as the Mîrs’ representatives do not have the authority to influence court meetings. They are only present to serve as the ears and mouth of the Mîr, nothing further. Lord Samal realizes this himself as well, retreating into a stiff, straight posture as he lowers his head incrementally. “I agree with your sentiments, Minister Naza.” You give her a small smile, glad that your decision to trust her paid off. “I am sure Mîr Behram is capable enough to handle this attack on his own.” [[Continue|11.x5]]“Minister Awir,” you speak, curious to see what he will do. He does not disappoint. The chief official of the royal historians bows shortly before you, before he turns to address Steward Welat. “I must point out, Steward Welat, that it is unprecedented for a city steward to involve themselves in matters of military and defense.” Steward Welat does not look surprised by this line of reasoning, arguing back calmly, “I do not speak of military or defense. Merely to return the soldiers Mîr Behram has left behind.” “It is good of you to speak of it,” Minister Awir replies, his own manner much more cold. “Allow me to refresh the court’s memory: Mîr Behram did not leave those soldiers behind as a boon to Marabad. When he left the city, in fear of the Pale Sword—” “Rumors,” Steward Welat interjects, voice raising for a rare moment as he casts Awir a sharp look, yet Awir continues. “When he left <em>in fear</em> of the Pale Sword after the wrongs he committed,” Minister Awir repeats, even louder to drown out the steward’s protest, “those soldiers were left behind as a means to cover his escape. Were it not for them, the public would have stormed the palace to oust him!” Agitated murmurs fill the chamber as the court becomes restless at the confrontation. Minister Awir has revealed something most intriguing. You’ve heard the songs, of course, of $xname chasing Mîr Behram out of his palace across the province, but the songs never quite mention what caused the feud in the first place. It would make sense if it was due to the Mîr’s mistreatment of Marabad’s citizens. Lord Samal clears his throat, quickly stepping forward as he nervously glances toward the steward. You’re almost tempted to ignore him to see where the argument goes, but it’ll be better for you to wrap this meeting up as soon as possible so you can figure out what <em>exactly</em> happened—and whether $xname was connected to it. “What is it, Lord Samal?” “I would ask the court not to dredge up unfounded gossip.” Lord Samal scowls briefly in Minister Awir’s direction. “Whatever happened at that time is neither here nor there. A Mîr of Arsur has been attacked, that requires action!” “And who decides what should be done?” Minister Awir replies, unruffled by Samal’s intervention. “Neither the Minister of Defense nor the High General are present to make their recommendations. Only $ctheir Imperial Majesty can say what must be done.” Now, at last, you have all arrived to the conclusion you knew was inevitable from the moment you walked in. Welat has no more allies in court, no influence to wield. You’re certain he will find other ways to try and get his way in the future, but at least in this one instance you can prevent him from getting what he wants. “It is settled, then,” you speak when no one else objects. “The city guard will not be sent to Mîr Behram’s palace, but will remain in Marabad. Neither will I send Rojan's provincial army, as they are far more needed at the border with Zerat. Mîr Behram is capable of handling this attack on his own.” [[Continue|11.x5]]“Is this a formal proposal, Steward Welat?” you ask, easing back into your throne with your forearms draped over the armrests in an almost lackadaisical pose. “A mere suggestion, Your Imperial Majesty,” Steward Welat replies. “As a steward, I realize it is not my place to make proposals of any kind.” <<if $blunt gt $charm>>“What is the material difference between a proposal and a suggestion?” While the steward’s face remains as solid as stone, he doesn’t reply immediately. You note the pause. “It is not something the Imperial Court needs to vote on.” You tilts your head, leaning your temple against your knuckles as you stare down at the steward. “You are leaving it entirely to me, then?” He has no way to enforce it. No true allies in court since you removed the former minister from her post in the Office of Law, and no one willing to back him to turn this ‘suggestion’ into a ‘proposal’. Steward Welat begins to incline his head in response, but before he can fully bow you make your statement. “I reject your suggestion.” The way Welat’s head snaps up to look at you again, the only indicator of his surprise, makes you smile with satisfaction. No doubt he expected you would at least pretend to consider it, perhaps giving him an opportunity to make another argument for it, but you have no interest in playing such games. You meet his gaze with the single arch of a brow. He can say nothing in response, and everyone knows it. <<else>>“How generous of you,” you mock, tilting your head to lean your temple against your knuckles. “Allowing me to decide on matters of government in my own court!” Steward Welat averts his eyes to the floor, and you enjoy the gesture of submission. He has no other choice. No true allies in court since you removed the former minister from her post in the Office of Law, and no one willing to back him to turn this ‘suggestion’ into a ‘proposal’. “I beg for your forgiveness, Your Imperial Majesty,” he says to the stone floor tiles. “This humble servant only wished to be of assistance.” “I’m sure you would be happy to assist from my throne if I allowed you to sit on it.” You enjoy the indignant looks from Welat’s faction in the chamber, though they take their cues from their leader as Welat remains silent. There is nothing they could say, either way. “Your Imperial Majesty,” the Minister Karwan speaks in a respectful tone, perhaps taking pity on the steward’s humiliation. “Are you ready to cast your judgment on this matter?” “Yes, chief minister, I think I’ve decided,” you announce with a cheery smile, feeling much better about this court meeting than you thought it would. It helps, being able to take out some of your frustration and anxiety on a deserving target. “Steward Welat’s suggestion has been rejected.” You meet the steward’s eyes again with a challenging look, daring him to protest.<</if>> “I see.” This time, when Welat bows, you suspect it is to hide his expression. “As you say, Your Imperial Majesty.” Now, at last, you have all arrived to the conclusion you knew was inevitable from the moment you walked in. Welat has no more allies in court, no influence to wield. You’re certain he will find other ways to try and get his way in the future, but at least in this one instance you can prevent him from getting what he wants. “It is settled, then,” you speak when no one else objects. “The city guard will not be sent to Mîr Behram’s palace, but will remain in Marabad. Neither will I send Rojan's provincial army, as they are far more needed at the border with Zerat. Mîr Behram is capable of handling this attack on his own.” [[Continue|11.x5]]$rname and $aname have the wisdom to remain silent until you’ve returned to your personal quarters, leaving the Imperial Court behind both in presence and thought. The guards standing watch at the golden doors open them, then close them behind you and your companions as you stalk past them into your bedchambers. Even they can sense that you’re agitated. “$name,” $rname starts, predictably the one to broach the subject. $crthey looks on in concern as you begin to pace up and down the room, your palms feeling clammy as you fold them behind your back so you don’t fidget. “What is it? We were all quite shocked to hear about the attack, but I suspect that’s not the reason you’re so worked up.” “It’s not.” You pace for a short while longer, unsure of how to speak of it—if you even <em>should</em> speak of it. Perhaps it would be better to keep your suspicions quiet until you’re certain of what’s going on. Besides, it would be better for $aname and $rname’s own good to remain unaware of $xname’s possible involvement, at least for the time being. Should it be revealed that $xname was behind the attack on the palace, their ignorance will protect them from being implicated. You don’t even know with certainty if $xname is responsible for it. Perhaps that should be your priority, to find out what exactly happened at Behram’s palace. Mind made up, you stop your pacing and turn to $aname. “Do you have any quick way to contact $xname?” $aname’s eyes narrow the slightest bit, a curious tilt of $atheir chin. Perhaps trying to guess at your intent. “$rname’s messenger eagle could get to the Crescent Blades faster than other birds,” $athey responds, deciding not to question you directly. $cathey casts a look at $rname, who frowns but nods in confirmation. “No, not the Crescent Blades.” You glance at the doors, reminding yourself that your chambers are as secure as can be. “$xname, specifically.” $aname raises $atheir brows high, while $rname’s frown only deepens. <<if $blunt gt $charm>>“Don’t ask.” If they start asking questions, it’ll only complicate things further.<<else>>“It’s a long story.” It’s not, but it’s better to guide them away from the topic before they start asking questions.<</if>> “Can your eagle find $xthem, $rname?” “If $xname did not take the message beacon with them, then it will be difficult for my eagle to find $xthem,” $rname considers, folding $rtheir arms in a thoughtful pose. “Perhaps if we had something of $xname’s, something that carried $xtheir magical signature, as well as a general area to search in…” Considering $xname wanted $xtheir journey to remain strictly secret, you doubt $xthey would’ve taken the messenger beacon with them. It’s a small but effective magic-infused gem that messenger birds are trained to find, allowing the recipient to be tracked while on the move. Most likely it remains with the Crescent Blades. A thought occurs to you. “I do have something of $xname’s.” [[Continue|11.x9]] If you remember, right, Ishrah put it away for you in your room shortly after you first arrived at the palace. Turning towards the closets in your room, you begin to rifle through the drawers. In the very bottom drawer, you find it. It’s wrapped in dark silk cloth, the warding sigils woven into the fabric glowing faintly at your touch as you pick it up and unwrap it. During $xname’s absence, you took the dagger out a few times. Simply to hold it, admire its craftsmanship, but also wonder as to why $xname would give it to you. Did $xthey truly expect that you would use it, or was it merely something to remember $xthem by? Perhaps both? Its white pearl handle contrasts its dark sheath, the latter decorated with painted patterns of gold. You recognize some of the patterns, especially the way the sun is drawn. It’s unique to the southwest of Rojan, bordering Penawar: its rays were painted with crisscrossing patterns to form its center rather than the circular designs you’re used to seeing, having grown up in the north. Before you can turn to offer it to $rname, however, $aname cuts in. “Why do you have that dagger?” You turn to look at $athem, taken aback by the bemused look on $atheir face. “$xname gave it to me.” “$cxthey gave it to you?” $aname repeats incredulously, glancing back down at the dagger in your hands. “Did $xthey tell you who it originally belonged to?” “It belonged to someone else?” You assumed $xname was the only one who owned it, but looking at it again, despite its well-cared-for state you can make out subtle signs of wear and tear. Little scratches along its sheath, the edges of pearl looking a little worn along the handle. “Whose was it?” “$cxtheir mother’s.” Your fingers tighten around its sheath in shock, then twitch with the urge to put it away. “$cxtheir mother’s? Why would…” You look down at the dagger in complete disbelief. “Why would $xthey give it to me?” $xname gave you not even an inkling of it. Even when $xthey told you about what happened to $xtheir village, $xthey mentioned nothing about the dagger, but it must be a priceless treasure to $xthem. Perhaps one of the few things, or even the only thing, $xname still has left of $xtheir mother. Why leave it with you—why entrust it to <em>the Crown</em>? “I’ve never seen $xthem hand that dagger to anyone, not even to hold it,” $aname remarks, appearing as bewildered as you are. “It’s worth more to $xthem than $xtheir own life.” $aname must also be aware of how $xname’s village was destroyed. $rname, in comparison, appears lost as $rthey looks between the two of you in mild confusion. “$xname’s reasons aside, the dagger could work in tracking $xthem down,” $rthey says. “I’m assuming $xthey has carried it with $xthem for a long time?” “For many years,” $aname confirms. “Yes, I can sense it even from a distance.” $rname peers at the dagger with interest, tapping $rtheir chin. You know exactly what $rthey means. As you’ve begun to train your magic, you’ve become more sensitive to sensing it around you, and $xname’s dagger is lit up like a bonfire in your hands. $cxtheir magical signature is soaked through its very steel. It’s one of the reasons why you would take it out from time to time, whenever your thoughts lingered on $xname with a small pinch in your chest. “Finding $xthem should work with the dagger,” $rname continues, putting $rtheir musings aside. “Provided that you have a general idea of where we can search for $xthem, $name.” You carefully wrap the dagger in its protected silk cloth again, feeling a discomforting sense of guilt at having touched it without knowing its true value. $xname continues to mystify you even from across the province. “In the east of Rojan,” you answer vaguely, “though $xthey’s likely on $xtheir way back now.” Hopefully far away from Behram’s palace. You receive twin looks of suspicion and try to divert the attention by handing $rname the wrapped dagger. “Be careful with this,” you tell $rthem. $crtheir gaze softens with understanding. “Of course. Did you want to send $xname a letter?” “No.” Anything you want to say to $xthem, you will do it in person. “Just tell $xthem to come see me without delay.” $cxthey owes you an explanation, face to face. [[Continue|11.x10]]<<set $day to 16>>Four days pass before you hear news of $xname’s arrival. <<if $behramsoldiers is false>>Lord Samal continues to pester you during the court meetings to give Mîr Behram additional protection, but you remain steadfast in your refusal. There’s little he can do beyond complain, considering your allies all follow your example and hold the line on the matter. That doesn’t mean your meetings with the Imperial Court have become easy to handle. Even the officials you handpicked for their new positions will argue with you on various matters, so long as they have a personal stake in it.<<else>>Lord Samal has quieted now that you’ve given him and his master what they wanted. It concerns you to hand over soldiers like that to Behram when you are distrustful of his intentions, especially after hearing Noble Nûdem’s story, but you had few other options at the time. It exemplifies what you’re beginning to understand is an inherently antagonistic relationship with the Imperial Court. Even the officials you handpicked for their new positions will argue with you when they have a personal stake in it.<</if>> “Raising taxes on the farmers?” you repeat incredulously, thinking your court must be playing a joke on you. “They have been paying taxes to the Mîrs in your absence, Your Imperial Majesty,” the Minister of Personnel, Lerzan, puts forward, “but not to the Imperial Household.” You frown. “Then I will ask for an account from the Mîrs.” <<if $law isnot 'outwitted'>>“The Mîrs have already offered their share in tithes upon your coronation, Your Imperial Majesty,” Minister Besna replies. “You cannot force them to pay a surplus, it is not lawful.”<<else>>“The Mîrs have already offered their share in tithes upon your coronation, Your Imperial Majesty,” Minister Lerzan replies. “You cannot force them to pay a surplus, it is not lawful. Is that not so, Minister of Law?” You look at <<if $lawminister is 'nudem'>>Minister Nûdem, who scowls back at Minister Lerzan. “That is a very broad interpretation of the law, Minister Lerzan,” they reply coolly. “It exists to ensure the Crown does not exploit the Mîrs, but this situation concerns an oversight in taxation. I do not think it ought to be applied here. We should prioritize the principle of fairness instead.” “Efficiency must take precedence over ‘fairness’, as you call it,” Minister Lerzan shoots back. “If the Imperial Household goes bankrupt, who will pay to maintain the roads, the public buildings, the Imperial Army that protects us all? We must find the gold for it, sooner rather than later, and we cannot pressure the Mîrs to pay double what they already have.”<<if $security is 'both' and $festivities is 'both'>> She casts a look in your direction. “The expenses made for the coronation certainly didn’t help, in that regard.” You glare back at her as the court erupts in a small commotion. “The coronation was already much smaller than those of previous Crowns,” Chief Minister Karwan points out irritably. “It is disingenuous to imply it has caused the shortage of gold. If nothing had been spent, you would be standing here complaining about that instead!” “I did not say it was the main cause for the shortage,” Minister Lerzan retorts hotly, scowling back at Karwan. “But it has contributed, as have many other things! The point is that the Mîrs should not be expected to pay the price for it.”<</if>><<else>>Minister Zar, whose brows furrow with some uncertainty, but he does not outright contradict her. “It is perhaps a somewhat broad interpretation of the law,” he admits to you upon seeing your questioning look, “but Minister Lerzan is correct about the letter of it. Asking the Mîrs to pay more on behalf of their provinces could be considered unlawful.”<</if>><</if>> <<if $publicfavored gt $elitefavored>>“But I can force the farmers to pay instead?” you speak with frustration, shifting in your seat as you can feel your temper building. Notably, the representatives of the Mîrs are remaining silent during this discussion. Satisfied, perhaps, to let others fight their battles for them. “How do you expect them to make up for the lack in the Imperial Vault?” “We do not suggest this because it pleases us, Your Imperial Majesty,” the Minister of Correspondence chimes in, bowing her head. “We only make the point because of how severely underfunded many of our offices are. The treasury is lacking such that we will not be able to pay our government officials in the long run, let alone maintain utilities such as the Crown’s Road. This would be especially disastrous in the case of the Imperial Army.<<if $nazaminister is true>> Is that not so, Minister Naza?” Naza glances in your direction, but then agrees with Minister Çinar. “Yes, that is true.” She turns to address you next. “Frankly speaking, Your Imperial Majesty, I do not care where you get the gold from. Be it the Mîrs or the farmers or Şahmaran herself, the situation will soon become dire. As it stands, it is a struggle to find the coin even for the most basic repairs to equipment.” Perhaps it was too much to hope for her to openly side with you on this issue. It seems Naza does not care how you accomplish it, so long as you do.<</if>> “I understand that,” you speak, forcing your jaw to unclench so that you do not speak through gritted teeth, “but the solution cannot be to put the pressure on the farmers to fund it all.” “Humbly speaking, Your Imperial Majesty,” Minister Lerzan says, not sounding humble at all, “how else do you suggest we get the necessary gold? Even if we tax the Mîrs additionally, would they be able to fund everything we need?” “Perhaps I’ll have the Mîrs pay with one of their palaces,” you sneer. “Surely that would be sufficient.” The Imperial Court erupts in protests, and the meeting—as well as the rest of your afternoon—devolves into chaos.<<else>>You loathe to give in on this point, but it seems most of the court is set against you, and even your usual allies decide to abstain from the decision. You don’t arrive at a solution during that meeting, the stalemate between you and the court lasting for hours, until you finally decide to end the discussion here. Perhaps with time, you’ll be able to find a different solution, and if not, you may have to give in to your court’s wishes. That, more than anything, aggravates you immensely. What are you the Crown for, if you do not have the authority to enforce your will?<</if>> <<if $adven gt $caut>>“You are moving too rashly, Majesty,” $aname comments from the sidelines as you circle your opponent in the training yard with your practice dagger in hand. “Use your anger, but do not let it lead you.” Another young palace guard. Though, unlike Evdal, this one knows what they’re doing as they circle you in turn, watchful of your movements. “I’m not letting anyone <em>lead me</em> in anything!” you reply with frustration, launching into a lunge. You overreach, your opponent easily evading the blow and driving their knee into your gut instead. Letting out a wheeze at the harsh impact, you stumble backward onto the ground,<<else>>“You are hesitating too much, Majesty,” $aname comments from the sidelines as you circle your opponent in the training yard with your practice dagger in hand. “You have to act eventually.” Another young palace guard. Though, unlike Evdal, this one knows what they’re doing as they circle you in turn, watchful of your movements. “I cannot act if I do not see an opening!” you say with frustration, your distraction in replying to $aname giving your opponent an opening instead. You see them lunging towards you and try to step back, managing to deflect the initial strike of their practice dagger only barely. They use your flustered response to push you back further. Their foot hooks around your ankle—already off-balance, it doesn’t take them much to trip you backward. You fall onto the ground,<</if>> though you manage to keep hold of your dagger as $aname taught you. Not that it matters, considering the palace guard holds theirs to your throat before you can recover. You exhale a short breath, heated from the exertion of your training. “I yield.” The palace guard offers you an arm, giving you a look of apology. “Please forgive my forcefulness, Your Imperial Majesty.” “It’s fine.” You take the offered arm, letting the guard pull you back up to your feet, and sigh as you wipe the dirt from your clothes. “I got in my own way. You did well in teaching me that lesson.” [[Continue|11.x11]]<<if $afriendship gt 1>>“Do you need a break?” $aname asks as $athey approaches from the sidelines, idly brushing some dust off your shoulders. You smile a little at the gesture. “Fussing over me already? I’m not that frail.” “I meant a break for <<if $adven gt $caut>>your temper<<else>>your peace of mind<</if>>,” $aname replies dryly. “If you keep <<if $adven gt $caut>>wasting energy like that<<else>>being paralyzed by your own thoughts<</if>> you’ll end up black and blue all over.” <<if $blunt gt $charm>>“Too late for that,” you reply, patting your behind, then immediately regretting it when a dull stab of pain makes you wince. “My ass has already kissed the ground more than Lord Samal has been kissing Mîr Behram’s.” $aname lets out a deeply amused laugh while the palace guard’s eyes go wide, quickly averting their gaze as if merely overhearing the words is a scandalous thing. The people here are so uptight. “Should I tell the guards to trip you less?” $aname suggests teasingly. “For the sake of your royal behind.” “My royal behind does not need to be coddled.”<<else>>“There are worse things,” you reply, rolling your shoulders and stretching your arms. “I’d rather my body get bruised in the training yard than have my sanity rot away on the throne.” “You’ve handled the court as well as can be expected,” $aname remarks, perhaps trying to make you feel better. “Certainly better than most would in your circumstances.” You huff as you adjust your clothes, grumbling, “Wish they’d handle themselves off a cliff.” $aname lets out a deeply amused laugh while the palace guard’s eyes go wide, quickly averting their gaze as if pretending not to have heard that.<</if>><<else>>“Do you need a break?” $aname asks as $athey approaches from the sidelines. “I’m fine,” you say, though you don’t feel it. $aname doesn’t look any more convinced by your words than you are, though $athey doesn’t seem inclined to contradict you, either. “Just don’t push yourself to the point of injury. That won’t do anyone any good.”<</if>> Squinting against the sun above, you wipe some sweat from your brow. It has nearly been an hour since your training started, and you’ve spent the better part of it like this, caught up in your agitated mood. Maybe a break <em>would</em> do you some good. “Your Imperial Majesty!” The three of you turn towards Siham, quickly hurrying over from across the training yard. They don’t look panicked, at least, quickly bowing before you as you greet him. “What is it, Siham?” “News from the palace guards,” Siham announces. “The High General has returned, $dthey waits for you in front of the apadana.” You breathe out a sigh of relief. “Finally.” That’s one more ally in court. [[Continue|11.x12]] You return to your chambers to freshen up before you head out to welcome $dname back, washing up in the bathing room and getting out of your training clothes. Ishrah is so kind as to massage your shoulders and upper back as you bathe, working out some of the tension you couldn’t quite shed during your bouts of sparring. Afterward, returning to your usual luxuriously styled <<if $clothing is 'dress'>>dresses<</if>><<if $clothing is 'robes'>>robes<</if>><<if $clothing is 'shalwar'>>tunics and shalwars<</if>>, you change into a more formal outfit, selecting sleek black and purple fabrics with golden accents. $aname and $rname both meet you outside in the hallway, the latter greeting you with a smile. “Feeling better, my Crown?” “I see $aname told you how my training went,” you say as you walk past them both, trying not to feel too sorry for yourself. You did learn a valuable lesson, one that you imagine is as important in court as it is in battle. <<if $adven gt $caut>>Keeping a cool head will serve you better than acting impulsively.<<else>>Becoming paralyzed with indecision will only lead you further astray.<</if>> It’s easier to repeat it back to yourself than to put it into practice, though. “It’s understandable,” $rname says as $rthey and $aname follow right behind you. “These past few court meetings have been difficult, to say the least. Anyone would feel <<if $adven gt $caut>>worked up<<else>>exhausted<</if>> after that.” “The nobles have started to test you,” $aname adds, $atheir tone matter-of-fact rather than $rname’s more comforting approach. “They’ve had a decade without having to answer to anyone. Do not let them have their way.” “I don’t see how debating with the Imperial Court for hours day in, day out, is going to get anything accomplished,” $rname replies. You let the two of them argue it out, feeling too tired to engage in strategy at the moment, directing your eyes to the view of the royal gardens from the windows. “We should find other ways to get things done.” It’s a nice day out, at least. Warm enough that your clothes were almost soaked with sweat from being under the sun during your physical training today. It’s almost sunset now, a few clouds drifting in from the east, edges tinted with golden light. “Bringing them to heel is more efficient than circumventing them, my <<if $rgender is 'male'>>lord<<else>>lady<</if>>.” “You’re starting to sound like Lady Naza.” “If it is for a good cause, it should be fought for.” Annoyance seeps through $aname’s words, though $atheir tone remains civil. <<if $publicfavored gt $elitefavored>>“$ctheir Imperial Majesty was right in questioning their suggestion to tax the farmers instead of the Mîrs. Such absurd proposals must be stamped out as soon as possible.”<</if>> Servants bow as you walk past them. You turn a corner, and the apadana at the front of the palace complex comes into view through the windows. A small group of soldiers donning the purple and white colors of the Imperial Army are stationed out in front of it—$dname’s form is easy to distinguish at the head, waiting with $dtheir golden helmet tucked under $dtheir arm. “To what end?” $rname sounds highly skeptical, neither $rthey nor $aname seeming to notice the view. “If the Crown issues an edict against the will of the court, they will be painted as a tyrant, and the nobles will find other ways to get what they want.” “The alternative is an endless stalemate.” $rname is quiet for a moment, but then considers, “If the court fought as hard against Crown Piruz to stalemate <em>his</em> edicts, Arsur would not be where it is now.” $aname gives no response. When you glance over your shoulder at $athem, you see $athem frowning deeply, $atheir gaze aimed at the ground and $atheir shoulders tensed beneath $atheir red robes. Something about what $rname said must have struck a chord, though you’re not sure what it could’ve been since it seems more critical towards you than $aname. You turn your head to look at $rname instead, arching your brows. “Are you suggesting I’m Crown Piruz in this situation, $rname?” $rname, who was also looking over at $aname with some concern at the odd behavior, blinks and meets your gaze with a wide-eyed look. “No, of course not! I only meant that the court is doing what it was always meant to do. It is there to limit the Crown’s power, good in some cases and bad in others, such as now. That’s why you shouldn’t waste energy arguing, and find a different method to solve Arsur’s most pressing issues.” “No,” $aname speaks unexpectedly, $atheir frown lifted from $atheir face and $atheir gaze far away in thought. “Ultimately, we can’t rely on either the Imperial Court or the Crown for this.” What is that supposed to mean? $rname gives $aname an equally puzzled look, but by the time you part your lips to ask what $athey means by that, you glance ahead of you to see you’ve reached the three-gated hall right behind the apadana. [[Continue|11.x13]] It has been a while since you’ve crossed the apadana. The grand roofed entrance is a spectacle reserved more for the reception of important guests. It was also used as a reception hall for the nobility during your coronation banquet, though you hadn’t seen it yourself as you returned to the palace through the tunnels. $dname looks up at your approach, the group of soldiers behind $dthem standing at attention. $cdthey bows as you reach the edge of the apadana, standing above $dthem on the steps. “General,” you greet with a smile. “I’m glad to see you return in good health.” “Your Imperial Majesty,” $dname replies formally, bowing before you together with $dtheir soldiers. “$rtitle $rname. I am glad to see you both remain in good health, as well.” “Was that ever in doubt?” $aname remarks, some of $atheir usual wit having returned to $atheir demeanor, and $dname casts $athem an unimpressed look as $dthey raises from $dtheir bow. “Of course not, Royal Protector.” <<if $charm gt $blunt>>“Enough pleasantries!” you cut in brightly, energized by the prospect of talking about something that isn’t the Imperial Court. “Come, let’s have some tea. You can tell us all about the latest news from Zerat.”<<else>>“Let’s talk in private,” you cut in, though you keep your words light, practically relieved to have something to talk about that isn’t the Imperial Court.<</if>> $dname inclines $dtheir head, turning briefly to the soldiers behind $dthem. “Dismissed.” They salute in unison, a quick tap of the side of their fists to their chest plates, then to their foreheads—more accurately, the front of their helmets—before retreating to the right side of the palace where the guard barracks reside. As the soldiers leave, you notice $dname still holds $dtheir helmet beneath $dtheir arm. There are sizable claw marks torn through the metal on the side of it. “What happened?” you ask, arching your brows as you nod at the helmet. “A fight on the way back,” $dname replies simply. “I have no injuries, there is no need for concern.” “What did you run into?” $aname asks, having spotted the claw marks as well, and $dname grimaces. “A man-eater.” $cdthey rubs the side of $dtheir head. No signs of any cuts, but it must’ve still been a heavy hit. “Its paw caught me, but my helmet protected me from the worst of it.” “You killed it, I take it?” you ask, beginning your walk back to the palace. You’ve never seen one in person before, though everyone knows what they look like: the face of a human, the body of a lion, and a scorpion-like tail that can both impale and shoot venomous spikes, like porcupine quills. They spawn rarely and seemingly randomly. No one knows how or why they appear, only that their sole purpose seems to be to eat human beings. They’re nearly as big as elephants, making them a lethal threat to any human settlement that they decide to terrorize. You’ve heard stories of entire towns being wiped out by attacks in the past. Whenever one appears, it becomes the most important priority of the nearest army, be it provincial or imperial, to hunt it as quickly as possible. It’s treated with the same level of urgency a foreign invasion would be. “Naturally.” $dname rolls $dtheir shoulders. “I would not have returned to the palace until it was put down.” “Any dead or wounded?” “Several dead, many wounded.” A brief flash of regret disturbs $dname’s otherwise calm expression. “I had more than enough soldiers to kill it quickly, but it still cost us.” “I’m sorry,” you offer. “I know it’s not much comfort, but they gave their lives to save countless more. We’ll make sure their loved ones are taken care of.” You’ll find the coin for it. Even the Imperial Court could not protest compensating grieving families<<if $publicfavored gt $elitefavored>>—and if they do, you’ll simply use that to your advantage to run their reputation into the ground. Miserable pests.<<else>>—could they?<</if>> “Yes.” $dname sighs. “I hope their families will find some comfort in that if nothing else.” [[Continue|11.x14]] When you turn to head back into the palace, however, $dname stops you. “One moment, Your Imperial Majesty. There is something I should mention before we head inside.” You quirk your brow in question. “$xname has been held at the city gates.” It takes a moment for the words to sink in, your whole body tensing as your heart begins to pound in your chest. “What do you mean, <em>held</em>?” “That may be my fault,” $rname says unexpectedly, and you turn to give $rthem a confused look. “I may have told the city guards to hold $xname there upon arrival.” “Why on earth would you do that?” $rname averts $rtheir gaze guiltily. “Well, you seemed rather upset with $xthem, so I assumed $xthey probably did something wrong—$xthey isn’t arrested, or anything of the sort! $cxthey merely can’t enter the city until someone of high rank gives permission.” You turn a frown at $dname. “And you didn’t bother to let $xname inside? You just left $xthem there?” “The order came from $rtitle $rname,” $dname replies, suspiciously stone-faced. “I assumed $rthey had good reason for it. As $rthey said, $xname wasn’t arrested, only barred entry.” “Don’t believe them for a second,” $aname tells you, $atheir words exasperated but $atheir expression amused as $athey looks between $dname and $rname. “They both did it because they thought it would be funny.” “There is nothing funny about matters of security,” $dname says, somehow seeming unconvincing despite $dtheir utterly serious expression. “It was a little funny,” $rname mumbles, thinking you’re not paying attention to $rthem. You breathe out a deep sigh. “I should go get $xthem.” “Surely you do not mean to go in person?” $dname questions. Rather than answering, you turn towards a nearby servant walking past the apadana. “You there, please fetch me a traveling cloak.” “Your Imperial Majesty, I must insist—” “I will take $aname with me,” you interrupt $dname’s protest. “I’ll have the Imperial Guards as well. We’ll use the tunnels, it’ll be perfectly safe.” You aren’t going to let this wait for a second longer. You have to talk to $xname and understand what has happened. You have to see $xthem—for the first time in a month, your heart reminds you, squeezing uncomfortably in your chest. Whether from worry or anger or something else, it’s impossible to distinguish. $dname gives you a long look, but then nods. “Then I will accompany you.” “Are you sure?” you ask, brows raising. “Wouldn’t you rather recuperate from your travels?” “It’s not a long walk through the tunnels,” $dname replies. “I can give you my report regarding Zerat on the way there.” “You really need to learn how to rest,” $aname remarks. $dname gives a rare, but weary, smile. “I’m doing this so I <em>can</em> rest later.” [[Continue|11.x15]] You leave the Royal Palace in $rname’s care as the three of you, including many invisible Imperial Guards, depart through one of the many underground passages running beneath Marabad. While you walk through the tunnels, you take $dname’s earlier suggestion and fill $dthem in on the latest happenings within the court. Chiefly among them is the attack on Mîr Behram’s palace, and the court’s reaction to it. Your eyes flit through the long, dimly-lit underground corridor, head turning briefly to glance behind you every so often. It has been weeks, but you still cannot forget how you had to run for your life here. Speaking to $dname, at least, provides some distraction. <<if $behramsoldiers is true>>“I had no choice but to give in to the court’s demands,” you recount as you tell $dthem about the soldiers you are forced to send Mîr Behram. “After hearing Nûdem’s story, I’m uneasy about what he’ll use them for.” “Certainly not something as innocuous as guarding his palace,” $aname scoffs, as displeased as you are with the turn of events. $dname’s response, however, is a more thoughtful one. “I understand your concern, but the court might have unwittingly done you a favor. Provided we make the right moves.” <<if $calc gt $kind>>Is $dthey implying you can still turn this situation around? Pondering what $dthey might have planned, the thought arrives moments later. “You want to plant spies among the soldiers we send.” “Precisely.” $dname frowns thoughtfully. “No more than one or two, and they would have to be extremely skilled. No doubt Behram would anticipate such a move. I may have a few candidates in mind.”<<else>>“What do you mean?” you ask, intrigued to hear whatever plan $dname has come up with now. “Spies.” $dname’s response is straight to the point, though you should’ve expected such a tactic from $dthem. “Plant them among the soldiers you send Behram, but no more than one or two, and they would have to be extremely skilled. No doubt Behram would anticipate such a move. I may have a few candidates in mind.”<</if>> “We can send one of the Imperial Guards,” $aname suggests. “Many of them have been trained in infiltration, and they are sworn to answer directly to the Crown.” $dname nods. “Yes, that might be for the best.”<<else>>“The court tried to force my hand,” you recount as you tell $dthem about the soldiers you were pressured to send Mîr Behram, though you withstood it thanks to your allies. “After hearing Nûdem’s story, I’m uneasy about what Behram would even use the soldiers for.” “Certainly not something as innocuous as guarding his palace,” $aname scoffs, as suspicious as you are of Mîr Behram’s intentions. “It is odd,” $dname concedes, sounding more thoughtful than being angry like you expected. Sometimes you have trouble figuring out how much of $dtheir temper and insistence on propriety is true to $dtheir character, and how much of it is calculated performance. “Either Behram is planning something and the assassin gave him exactly what he wanted, or he’s trying to turn the situation in his favor.” “Perhaps there wasn’t an assassin at all?” $aname suggests, and $dname frowns skeptically. “A blatant lie?” $cdthey shakes $dtheir head. “Too risky. The Eyes and Ears of the Crown have already been assigned to their posts, have they not?” That is true. In fact, one of the first things you did after the coronation was to appoint your Eyes and Ears, the officials who attend each Mîr’s court in order to ensure they do not overstep their authority. It would be very difficult for Mîr Behram to escape their scrutiny with such a lie. “I’ll have to think on this,” $dname concludes, reassuring you that you’ll have $dthem on the lookout for any more of Behram’s schemes.<</if>> $cdthey casts you a glance. “There was something else I wished to ask, Your Imperial Majesty.” “What is it?” $dname pauses for a moment, glancing at $aname. “Is it safe to speak here?” “The tunnels are warded more heavily than the Royal Palace,” $aname confirms. “Especially after what happened last time.” No one wants a repeat of that incident, least of all you. “Good.” Turning back to you, $dname asks, “Was $xname involved?” Your step nearly falters, the unexpected question piercing you like an arrow in your side. “What makes you say that?” While you keep your voice steady, it’s difficult to keep your expression from showing anything when $aname’s interest sharpens with the keenness of a hawk’s gaze, burning on the side of your face. You can only hope $xname wasn’t spotted anywhere $xthey shouldn’t have been. “A hunch,” $dname states, not looking at you at all, not that $dthey needs to. You feel the pressure of $dtheir questioning, though you’re relieved to know it was merely a guess on $dname’s part and nothing more. “Everyone knows how much $xname despises Behram.” $cdtheir tone is a casual one, no doubt deceptively so. Cautiously, you reply, “Why would $xname attack his palace, only to kill a guard and do nothing else?” “That is why I asked,” $dname says, agreeing with you. “It wouldn’t make sense.” Few things involving $xname make sense anymore, though you keep that thought to yourself. “What about you, $xdnickname?” $aname asks, bluntly changing the topic, though you very much appreciate it. “How has Zerat been? From your last letter, it sounded like the nobles were pestering you.” $dname heaves a sigh. “It has been a trial in patience.” The report $dthey gives you then is a more troubling one than you expected. [[Continue|11.x16]]<img @src="setup.ImagePath+'whiteeye.png'" width="80px"> A Tale of Crowns<!-- SIDEBAR --> <div id="sidebar"> <div class="sidebar-header"> <!-- EMPTY DIV --> <div></div> <!-- NAME OF YOUR GAME --> <h1 class="story-title" data-passage="gameTitle"></h1> <!-- MENU TOGGLE ICON --> <div class="sidebar-toggle"> <span id="sidebar-toggle-icon" class="lnr lnr-menu"></span> </div> </div> <!-- HISTORY BUTTONS THAT ALLOW USER TO GO BACKWARDS AND FORWARDS --> <!-- COMMENT THESE OUT IF YOU DON'T WANT THEM IN YOUR GAME --> <div class="sidebar-history-nav"> <span id="backwards-button" class="lnr lnr-arrow-left"></span> <span id="forwards-button" class="lnr lnr-arrow-right"></span> </div> <div id="sidebar-body"> <!-- GAME LOGO IMAGE --> <div class="story-logo" data-passage="storyLogo"></div> <div class="story-banner" data-passage="storyBanner"></div> <!-- AUTHOR NAME --> <h2 class="story-author" data-passage="storyAuthor"></h2> <nav class="sidebar-nav"> <div class="story-caption" data-passage="storyCaption"></div> <ul class="story-menu" data-passage="storyMenu"> </ul> <ul class="story-tools"> <li> <span id="restart-button" class="lnr lnr-redo"></span> <span class="tooltiptext">Restart</span> </li> <li> <span id="saves-button" class="lnr lnr-download"></span> <span class="tooltiptext">Saves</span> </li> <li> <span id="settings-button" class="lnr lnr-cog"></span> <span class="tooltiptext">Settings</span> </li> </ul> </nav> </div> <!-- SIDEBAR-BODY END TAG --> </div> <!-- SIDEBAR END TAG --> <div id="story" role="main"> <div id="passages"> <div id="passage-start" data-passage="start" class="passage"> </div> </div> </div>“The nobles have been stealing from the villages?” you repeat, incredulous at the nerve. <<if $publicfavored gt $elitefavored>>This only makes the court’s pleas to tax the farmers even more absurd, pleading for leniency on the Mîrs while the nobles in their provinces have been taking the tithes gathered by the rural townsfolk.<</if>> “Not only the villages,” $dname replies. “In essence, they’ve been stealing from <em>you</em>, Your Imperial Majesty. Those are taxes meant for the Imperial Vault.” Just when you thought the nobles couldn’t get any bolder. <<if $elitefavored gt $publicfavored>>This rankles you even more strongly, feeling as if you’re being made a fool of. It’s clear that none of the nobles are taking you seriously—you should rectify that, as soon as possible. <</if>>“Has Mîr Mêrxas not caught on at all, or is he part of this scheme?” “I couldn’t say.” $dname looks frustrated, hand reflexively coming to rest on the hilt of a sword worn at $dtheir hip. “I only visited Zeratun for a few days and did not notice anything suspicious during Mêrxas’ court meetings. What knowledge I have of wrongdoing only concerns a few nobles my soldiers caught in the act. I have no real evidence.” “It was clever to disguise your soldiers as bandits,” $aname says, sounding genuinely impressed, if not a little amused. “Stealing the tithes back from the thieves—though I’m surprised you would act without the Crown’s approval.” $dname nods in acknowledgment, then looks at you. “I hope you understand the necessity, Your Imperial Majesty. The situation required urgent action, and it was better to operate in secrecy.” It’s undeniable that $dname did well to return those stolen tithes to the villages so they could be sent to their rightful destination, but $aname also brings up a good point. Unexpectedly, $dthey acted without your knowledge or permission. Perhaps the situation did call for it this time, but are you comfortable with $dname acting on $dtheir own? <ul class="a"> <li>[[“You did well, but in the future, inform me of these matters if possible. We should work together on things like this.”|11.x17a][$dfriendship += 2]]</li> <li>[[“I don’t like that you acted without my knowledge. Try not to make it a habit.”|11x17b][$dfriendship -= 1]]</li> <li>[[“It’s fine. You did good, that’s what matters most.”|11x17c]]</li> </ul>“I see.” You hear a note of surprise in $dtheir voice, though it is mild. “Forgive me, Your Imperial Majesty. I wished to spare you of further concerns, with all you already had to deal with regarding the Imperial Court.” <<if $blunt gt $charm>>“You don’t need to coddle me, $dname,” you reply, though not unkindly. $cdthey was concerned for you, after all. “I can handle it.” “So I understand now,” $dname agrees.<<else>>“Underestimating me a bit, were you?” you tease. You’re not offended, if anything $dtheir concern is touching. “So it seems,” $dname agrees.<</if>> “I will do better to keep you informed in the future.” As the three of you continue to walk, a flicker of torchlight tenses your shoulders when the shadow it casts shifts in the corner of your eyes. After a breath, you gather yourself and continue walking, reminding yourself of $aname and $dname walking on either side of you. $dname continues to tell you about various incidents in Zerat, though $dtheir overall reports indicate that Zerat has begun to stabilize. Şevan is still in dire straits, though the conflict appears to have reached a deadlock of sorts—a temporary truce between nobility, the Council of Stewards, and the citizens. It’s almost a mercy to hear. You already have so many things on your plate in Rojan, you can’t imagine abandoning the province now to rush over to the south. Not until you are certain your Imperial Court will behave in your absence. The tunnel winds down into various sets of stairs, following the contours of the hills that you must be walking through and under, until finally, you spot two large doors in the near distance. “We’re nearly there,” $aname confirms. Your heart kicks up against your chest, beating faster as your anticipation—and dread—grows. You would’ve never thought you would feel this way about being reunited with $xname, but part of you is afraid. What if $xthey truly is the one who attacked Behram? [[Continue|11.x18]]“Forgive my trespass, Your Imperial Majesty,” $dname replies without hesitation. “I will take more care in the future.” You search for some sort of inflection in $dtheir words, anything to indicate what $dthey feels about your admonishment, but find nothing. Though it also doesn’t escape your notice that $dthey didn’t make any promises. Still, pushing the matter won’t do any good, so you decide to let it go for now. As the three of you continue to walk, a flicker of torchlight tenses your shoulders when the shadow it casts shifts in the corner of your eyes. After a breath, you gather yourself and continue walking, reminding yourself of $aname and $dname walking on either side of you. $dname continues to tell you about various incidents in Zerat, though $dtheir overall reports indicate that Zerat has begun to stabilize. Şevan is still in dire straits, though the conflict appears to have reached a deadlock of sorts—a temporary truce between nobility, the Council of Stewards, and the citizens. It’s almost a mercy to hear. You already have so many things on your plate in Rojan, you can’t imagine abandoning the province now to rush over to the south. Not until you are certain your Imperial Court will behave in your absence. The tunnel winds down into various sets of stairs, following the contours of the hills that you must be walking through and under, until finally, you spot two large doors in the near distance. “We’re nearly there,” $aname confirms. Your heart kicks up against your chest, beating faster as your anticipation—and dread—grows. You would’ve never thought you would feel this way about being reunited with $xname, but part of you is afraid. What if $xthey truly is the one who attacked Behram? [[Continue|11.x18]] If $dname is surprised by your lenience, $dthey doesn’t show it. “I am glad to have your understanding.” You have more important things to worry about than overseeing every single move your general makes in your absence. $dname can handle it on $dtheir own, surely. As the three of you continue to walk, a flicker of torchlight tenses your shoulders when the shadow it casts shifts in the corner of your eyes. After a breath, you gather yourself and continue walking, reminding yourself of $aname and $dname walking on either side of you. $dname continues to tell you about various incidents in Zerat, though $dtheir overall reports indicate that Zerat has begun to stabilize. Şevan is still in dire straits, though the conflict appears to have reached a deadlock of sorts—a temporary truce between nobility, the Council of Stewards, and the citizens. It’s almost a mercy to hear. You already have so many things on your plate in Rojan, you can’t imagine abandoning the province now to rush over to the south. Not until you are certain your Imperial Court will behave in your absence. The tunnel winds down into various sets of stairs, following the contours of the hills that you must be walking through and under, until finally, you spot two large doors in the near distance. “We’re nearly there,” $aname confirms. Your heart kicks up against your chest, beating faster as your anticipation—and dread—grows. You would’ve never thought you would feel this way about being reunited with $xname, but part of you is afraid. What if $xthey truly is the one who attacked Behram? [[Continue|11.x18]] Two city guards are stationed at the doors, immediately stepping aside at the sight of your golden eyes and opening up the passageway to you. A set of stairs spiral upwards, ostensibly taking you up the interior of Marabad’s walls. $dname goes first and you follow with $aname right behind you. <<if $magicpref is 'inner'>>You pass by some small windows offering a view of the forest in the near distance, fingers trailing along its ledge as you pass it— The heat of flames kisses your skin. You startle, jerking your hand back. “$name?” $aname asks from behind you, and $dname pauses ahead of you when $dthey notices you’ve stopped walking. You stare down at your hand, your pulse thumping through your fingers. It’s $xname. A trace of $xthem, however small, caressing your hand in invitation. Did your magic seek it out on its own, or did $xname’s signature draw you to it, to find it like a siren’s song? “$cxthey’s near,” you murmur in realization, more to yourself than to your companions. “Let’s not keep $xthem waiting, then,” $aname says, glancing down at your fingers and giving you a knowing look.<<else>>As you ascend, the air begins to heat in a strange way. Like the echo of flames that passed through here, still coloring the air in shades that you can’t see but that you can <em>feel</em>, somehow. You look up, something inside of you knotting into instinctive certainty as your eyes fall on the ceiling several steps above you. “$xname is there,” you say, more to yourself than to your companions, “in the room directly above us.” You don’t know how you know, but you do. Your magic seems to know how to reach out, to pick up threads of $xname left behind, grabbing hold of it to lead you closer—or perhaps the threads lure your magic to them, like a siren’s song. It’s impossible to say which. “Let’s not keep $xthem waiting, then,” $aname says, giving you a knowing look.<</if>> You move on in silence, until finally, you reach the top of the stairs and have reached the top of the walls, as well. Open doorways give a view of the battlements stretching out around the city on either side of you, curving off to embrace its contours, but even this impressive view only receives a glance from you. It’s the voice you hear, audible through the door of a small room within the tower you’re in that has you standing still, holding your breath. “I’m telling you, the Crown is standing outside the door right now!” $xname’s voice, booming and brash, with an edge of natural roughness to its undertone like the soft crackling of a bonfire. It warms you like one, too. A stranger replies, snapping you out of your trance. “I’m not falling for that one again, Pale Sword.” $dname breathes a deep sigh, raising a fist and rapping $dtheir knuckles against the door. “Guard captain, I have returned.” “General?” The door opens, revealing a befuddled-looking city guard. Their mouth is already half-open to speak, until their gaze shifts to you. They stare blankly at you for a moment, blink, then seem to realize you are, in fact, standing in front of them. “Your Imperial Majesty!” The guard captain can’t seem to decide whether to salute or to bow and ends up doing both simultaneously, but you aren’t even looking at them anymore. Your eyes pass over their bowed form to the mercenary standing behind them, leaning back against the wall beside the window with folded arms and a smug smile. $cxthey looks the same, like barely any time passed at all since the last time you saw $xthem—yet somehow, completely different at the same time. The faded golden light that falls into the room beside $xthem leaves $xthem basking in soft shadow while reflecting in $xtheir eyes, like colored glass. A deep green shine that seems to flicker when $xthey lifts $xtheir gaze from the bowing captain to finally meet your own. $cxtheir smile doesn’t falter, but it doesn’t reach $xtheir eyes either. It never did, painted on $xtheir lips to temper the way $xthey looks at you. $cxtheir brows twitch, the corner of $xtheir mouth strains, $xtheir fingers dig into $xtheir elbow. $cxthey radiates with something unspoken, <<if $magicpref is 'inner'>>so strongly you can almost feel its heat on your skin even from across a distance<<else>>something you can almost taste as you breathe it in, feeling its heat brush across your lips<</if>>. Maybe $xthey doesn’t look different at all. Maybe the way you look at $xthem has changed, no longer overwhelmed by the entirety of $xthem, but taking $xthem in little by little. Your gaze devours every detail, every shift in posture and expression, restless with a feeling you’ve never experienced before. Is this what longing does? [[Continue|11.x19]]“$dname, $aname,” you hear yourself say, not having even noticed the words exchanged between the guard captain and your companions. “Could you give me some privacy with $xname?” The guard captain, still bowing, peeks up at you from beneath their helmet. Seeing how your gaze is locked onto $xname, the captain holds their bow while awkwardly shuffling out of the doorway, as if afraid that obstructing your view to $xname would anger you. “Shall I activate the wards to the room?” $aname asks, and you give an absentminded nod as you step inside. $xname stares back at you, as incapable of looking away from you as you are from $xthem. When you pull the door shut behind you, with its swing $xname’s smile fades away as well. As if freed from its performance, now that it’s only the two of you. “You don’t look happy to see me.” $cxtheir first words to you. You stare back at $xthem as your lips part to speak, to give voice to what you feel, but it is impossible. The silence between you stretches on for what seems like a year. One you have lived through before. A year spent in grief, in uncertainty, in survival. A year of knowing nothing, of being no one to anyone. A year of loneliness. All the words you could say, and none would convey the pain you carry with you. It’s not $xname’s fault, not wholly, but $xthey has cut across the scarring of a wound that crippled you so deeply that you only barely survived it before. “$name, what’s wrong?” $xname frowns in open concern, lifting off from the wall and dropping $xtheir arms to $xtheir sides, moving a little closer. “Your heart is pounding.” Part of you wants to pull away, put distance between the two of you—another part wants to move closer, meet $xthem halfway. It leaves you rooted on the spot, watching as $xthey approaches. $cxthey halts a single step away. $cxtheir eyes flit across your face, taking you in as much as you did $xthem, but $xtheir gaze is in search of something. Quietly, $xthey asks, “Do you want me to leave?” Leave? <em>Leave</em>? Send $xthem away, after everything, without any answers? Your expression hardens. “Did you attack Mîr Behram?” The air is still. Cold, suddenly, as $xname almost physically pulls back, posture straightening. All but leaning away from you as $xtheir expression becomes guarded. The longer $xthey stays silent, the bigger the hole that opens up in the pit of your stomach, stretching wider and wider. “I did.” $cxtheir answer is simple and straightforward. $cxthey holds your eyes with $xtheir own, not a hint of apology or regret to be found within $xthem. “I slipped inside his palace and killed one of his guards.” $cxthey admitted it, just like that. As if it meant nothing. Anger wells up inside of you, spilling from your lips before you can stop yourself. “$xname, have you lost your mind?” [[Continue|11.x19a]]$xname closes $xtheir eyes and takes a breath, but $xthey doesn’t look taken aback by your reaction. $cxthey must have expected as much when $xthey answered your question truthfully. You don’t wait for $xthem to speak, your anger only intensifying at how calmly $xthey receives your temper. Does $xthey not care? It’s all you can do to keep your voice from raising into a shout, though that doesn’t lessen the ire in your words. “Do you have any idea what position you’ve put me in?” you tear on, your face and neck heating as you recall <<if $behramsoldiers is true>>the disaster that was the court meeting about this very matter. “I had to promise to send Mîr Behram additional soldiers because of the mess you made!”<<else>>the pressure Lord Samal tried to exert, how this was almost weaponized in Behram’s favor. “Mîr Behram’s representative tried to pressure me into sending him additional soldiers because of the mess you made!”<</if>> When $xname meets your eyes again, still, $xthey does not look surprised. Another thing $xthey must have anticipated. “I know. I figured he would try something like that.” You stare at $xname, struck speechless. Your anger morphs into a bitter laugh, covering the sharp pang of hurt in your chest. “You don’t care. Of course you don’t, this is all just a game to you.” “It’s not a game.” The sincerity—the twist in $xname’s expression, brows furrowing with a hint of pain—almost gives you pause. “I didn’t do this on a whim, $name. I had no choice.” “You had no choice but to attack Mîr Behram’s palace?” you repeat, incredulous. “Do you hear yourself?” $xname’s voice almost raises, gaze flaring with a rage so sudden, so deep-seated, that it nearly cuts through your own. “He—” But $xthey restrains $xthemselves before $xthey yells at you, cutting $xthemselves off, mouth snapping shut. $cxthey turns away from you, leaning $xtheir hands against the table, head hanging low between $xtheir stiff shoulders as $xthey tries to compose $xthemselves. Whatever came over $xthem just then was not aimed at you. You feel your temper cool, just a little, as you watch the way $xname slowly breathes in and out. $cxtheir voice is barely above a whisper when $xthey speaks again. “The guard I killed, the one employed by Behram, was one of the soldiers who destroyed my village.” The revelation is enough to cut through your indignation, even piercing through the hurt you feel beneath it. Its fog parts, if only for a moment. You had assumed—perhaps out of naivety, perhaps out of an unwillingness to consider otherwise—that when $xname told you what happened to $xtheir village, the ones responsible had already been taken care of. That they were punished. Surely they would have, for doing something so grotesque, so unfathomably evil? Surely someone would have righted the wrong done? Not once did it occur to you that those soldiers could still be out there, but why wouldn’t they be? It was the Crown who ordered it, after all. <ul class="a"> <<if $xgender is 'male'>><li>[[Still, as awful as that is, that doesn’t justify Xelef going behind your back.|11.x20a][$xpoints -= 4]]</li> <li>[[You understand now why he acted the way he did. It softens your own hurt, knowing how much this must have weighed on him.|11.x20c][$xpoints += 4]]</li><<else>><li>[[Still, as awful as that is, that doesn’t justify Xelara going behind your back.|11.x20a][$xpoints -= 4]]</li> <li>[[You understand now why she acted the way she did. It softens your own hurt, knowing how much this must have weighed on her.|11.x20c][$xpoints += 4]]</li><</if>> </ul><<set $xempathy to false>><<set $xrelationship to 'low'>><<if visited('11.x20a') is 1>><<set $xlowcount += 1>><</if>><<if $charm gt $blunt>>You choose your words with care, having realized why $xname would have felt the need to act above all else, softening your tone as much as you are able.<<else>>You take a moment to think before you speak, knowing how cutting your words can be when you give them carelessly and not wanting to escalate the argument.<</if>> Even so, $xname’s confession does nothing to quiet the ire that still simmers beneath your words, coating a pain that is both distant—an echo of something dead—and uncomfortably near. “Then at least I understand why you did it,” you say quietly, gazing at the side of $xname’s face. $cxthey doesn’t visibly react, so you continue. “But the fact remains, $xname, that you kept this from me.” A short breath escapes $xthem, carrying a hollow sound imitating a laugh. $cxtheir eyes briefly shut, the shadow $xtheir body casts across the table seeming to darken as $xthey shakes $xtheir head, then pushes $xthemselves upright again. $cxthey turns to face you with a harsh look, and even harsher words. “Yes, I did. So what?” The response is so sharp that it feels as if your own consideration was thrown back into your face, not at all reciprocated in the way $xname retorts, voice unusually cold. “Do you not care?” is all you can say, your anger stirring back to life at the biting answer. “I should ask you the same thing!” $xname eyes widen fractionally with disbelief. “I just told you that Behram employed one of the soldiers who murdered my family, everyone I knew and loved, and all you can think to say is that I should have, what, asked for permission first?” “Your life is at stake.” You cannot control your voice now, raising with the urgency to impress upon $xthem how serious this is. “You attacked Mîr Behram during the Festival of Cleansing, $xname. Do you understand? No matter your reasons, I could not save you if anyone ever found out. You would be put to death for it. I was nearly pressured into promising an execution because I did not know what happened.” You avert your eyes as the possibility engraves itself within your mind. What it would be like, to have the court condemn $xname to death and be unable to stop it. To have to stand by and watch it happen. Your hands tremble. More and more, the title of Crown seems like such a mockery. “I know,” $xname replies, $xtheir voice quieter now, “but telling you wouldn’t have made a difference.” So $xthey knew about the festival and did not care. Was $xthey convinced, did $xthey assume, that you would protect $xthem no matter what? Or is it that $xthey does not care about $xtheir own life, so long as $xthey exacts retribution? “It would have made a difference to me.” You cannot keep the resentment from seeping through the words, punctuated with an exhale that’s half a scoff and half a sigh. $xname does not respond. Feeling suddenly exhausted, you head over to the table $xname leaned against before and drop down into one of its chairs, squeezing your eyes shut and rubbing your hands over your face. This isn’t how you wanted your reunion to go, but your emotions are raw from all you’ve endured these past few days. The anxiety of it, building from your chest up into your throat with every passing hour you were left without answers. Its intensity almost takes you aback, especially the way it flared up during this conversation and expressed itself in anger. Do you already feel that strongly about $xname? You were aware of the physical attraction between the two of you, but you didn’t expect your heart to be so invested, even after $xtheir absence. [[Continue|11.x21a]]<<set $xempathy to true>><<set $xrelationship to 'high'>><<if visited('11.x20c') is 1>><<set $xhighcount += 1>><</if>>You watch $xthem, hunched over the table like an aged statue beginning to crumble after years of its stone being eroded. The hurt in your chest twists its form into something else, but you push it aside for the time being. After $xthey revealed such a thing to you, how could you possibly still argue with $xthem? To insist your anger and your hurt matter above all else in this moment? You hover near but make no move to approach $xthem any further, uncertain if your comfort would be welcomed, and if you would be able to give it properly. No doubt sensing as much, $xname lets out a sigh, slowly straightening up again as $xthey pushes away from the table, though $xthey doesn’t turn to face you. Can’t even seem to look at you. “I understand why you’re upset, and I don’t mean to…” $cxthey pauses, brows furrowing, lips opening and closing again while searching for the words. “It’s not like I…” $cxthey struggles to speak. You’ve never seen $xthem like this before. A noise of frustration sounds in $xtheir throat, building in $xtheir posture until $xthey can no longer bear it. $xname turns away from you, walking away toward the window. Hands coming up to $xtheir hips, then dropping, then lifting to <<if $xgender is 'male'>>run through his hair<<else>>grasp the back of her neck<</if>>. “$xname, it’s alright,” you say, watching $xthem pace with growing concern. “Take your time to—” “I’ve taken enough time.” $xname finally comes to a stop in front of the window, back turned to you, forearm leaning against the wall. You can hear $xthem take several deep breaths, seeing it in the way $xtheir shoulders lift and then fall again. “I couldn’t let him live,” $xthey finally says, the subtlest tremor in $xtheir voice. “I couldn’t. I simply <em>couldn’t</em>.” You take a slow step forward. When $xname does not react, you approach $xthem by the window, standing beside $xthem, and as you look at $xthem you are struck by the way $xthey is lit by the fading sunset. You never knew that sunlight could look so mournful, gleaming in $xname’s eyes like a coin dropped to the bottom of a well, long forgotten. $cxtheir eyelashes cast shadows across $xtheir cheeks, gaze lowered to the stone ledge of the window where $xtheir fingers are curled around its edge, callused skin stretched tight over $xtheir knuckles. “At the cost of your own life?” you ask softly, not out of accusation, but because you want to understand. “You did this during the Festival of Cleansing, $xname, during a time of peace. You know what that means.” $xname does not meet your eyes, but $xtheir brows draw down into a scowl, mouth tensing with resentment. “It doesn’t matter.” There are many ways you could interpret those words, none of them good. “Do you not care?” “Did anyone else care when they turned my village into a mass grave?” $xname speaks coldly, a tightly controlled fury simmering just beneath. “Or does it not matter because it did not happen during the festival? It is a sick joke, nothing more than mockery and lies. I’ll spit on that festival and any priest who dares to uphold it.” “I didn’t mean…” You hesitate, not wanting to say the wrong thing and hurt $xname even more, but you can hardly stand to see $xthem this way. Beneath $xtheir rage, all you hear is someone in pain. “I meant to ask if you didn’t care for your own life,” you say, speaking with what you sincerely feel, and it seems to get through to $xthem. “I want to protect you, $xname, but I can’t do that if you don’t tell me these things.” $cxtheir anger snaps away as $xthey finally looks up at you, eyes widened with disbelief, as if it were the last thing $xthey expected you to say. You are almost as surprised as $xthey is, though for different reasons. The strength of your attachment to $xthem is unexpected, certainly, but even that alone can’t wholly justify your actions. You’ve shielded $xthem from the Imperial Court and told lies for $xthem, all to protect $xthem. You’ve already violated one of the promises you made during your coronation—<em>let never a Falsehood stain upon history</em>—so early on in your reign. Not solely because of how you’ve come to care for $xname, though that certainly played a part. If anything, it was $xname’s story, and the story of $xtheir village, that kindled the embers of doubt within you. What does it truly mean to be just? $xname committed the crime of treason by attacking Mîr Behram’s palace, and to do so during the festival was an act of sacrilege on top of that. There’s not a court in the land, not a judge anywhere, that would not sentence $xthem to death. That would not declare $xthem a traitor and a sinner. Yet, your heart knows you cannot condemn $xthem in good conscience. The law be damned, the Crowns be damned, the spirits themselves be damned, how could you let $xname be punished for trying to right a grievous wrong done to $xthem and to countless others? It wouldn’t be just, yet refusing to do so puts you in an impossible position. Do you condemn the law instead, condemn your predecessors instead, condemn the spirits instead? You don’t yet know the answer. [[Continue|11.x21c]] You lower your hands from your face down to your lap, breathing out a sigh. Staring off into space, you watch specks of dust float by in the fading column of light falling by your feet. “Would you have told me if I didn’t ask you directly?” you ask, having regained a small measure of calm again. $xname’s response is more carefully worded, perhaps even cautiously so, than $xtheir previous ones. “If I had told you what I was planning on doing, what would you have done?” “I would have…” You hesitate. Uncertainty tastes much less satisfying than righteous anger. “I could have revealed it, stripped Behram of his title. Punished him and the guard publicly.” “Even if you were to order his removal, he would not go quietly,” $xname states, and when you lift your eyes to $xthem you see $xthey has returned to $xtheir spot on the wall beside the window, leaning against it with crossed arms once more. This time, though, $xtheir expression is grim. “Behram knows the Imperial Army is crippled, you can’t threaten him conventionally. He would sooner start a revolt than step down.” $xname’s claim gives you pause, a deep frown twisting your brows. “A revolt? Surely he wouldn’t go that far. Even if the Imperial Army is crippled, the other provincial armies are under my command. He would have no allies.” Unless he sought them from outside of Arsur. You quickly discard the disquieting thought. It’ll do you no good to worry about such distant possibilities, save cause you more stress. “I know what kind of man he is, $name.” $xname meets your gaze, a certainty in $xtheirs that you would rather not test. “Behram would sooner burn Rojan to the ground out of spite than give up his title, even if it cost him his life.” Part of you wants to argue, retort that $xname’s own feud with Behram is coloring $xtheir perception, but you can’t rightly say that $xname is wrong to think so. You haven’t heard a single good word spoken about Behram since your arrival in Marabad. “This was the best way to deal with this, for us both,” $xname continues at your lack of a response. $cxtheir expression is still cold, but $xtheir voice has softened into a milder tone. “You cannot start a conflict with a Mîr this early in your reign, and I could not let Payam walk free. No one else but Behram knows it was me, and he would never reveal it.” The guard’s name registers, but ultimately, it means nothing to you. Not like it does to $xname, the way $xthey spits it out as if it were poison in $xtheir mouth—and besides, $xname’s last sentence is of far greater importance. “Behram knows it was you?” “Who do you think lured me there to begin with?” $xname scoffs, though $xtheir scorn is not aimed at you. “Perhaps he was hoping to catch me in the act and kill me on the spot, as insulting as that is. His schemes have always been rather harebrained.” “But if Behram reveals he was harboring Payam—” “He won’t.” $xname’s answer is quick. “It would raise too many questions about why he was harboring Payam in the first place.” Your head feels overfull as you mull over $xname’s words. Perhaps it’s your own heightened emotions, but you get the nagging sense that $xname is still not telling you everything about this situation. Despite $xname’s answer, you still don’t understand why Behram wouldn’t simply reveal that $xname was behind it. Why would he try to hide Payam, when Payam’s actions were sanctioned by a Crown? It was Piruz who ordered him and his comrades to burn $xname’s village down. There should be no reason for Behram to keep it a secret even if he feared retribution from $xname. The law would be on his side. A headache builds between your temples, your gaze turning up to the ceiling as you tilt your head back against your chair. You don’t want to further the argument anymore. No good has come from starting it in the first place. Your eyes do not waver when you hear footsteps approaching you, until $xname comes into view in front of you and you cannot escape the look $xthey gives you. A rare hesitance presses tight in the corners of $xtheir mouth. [[Continue|11.x22a]]“It isn’t that I didn’t want to tell you.” $xname doesn’t reach for you, makes no move to come closer. “Please believe me, $name, I truly wish I could have, but this is so much more complicated than that. It was better for us both.” “So you kept it from me for my sake, is that it?” It is a wonder your reply manages to be scathing at all, with how weary you feel. “No.” An expression you can’t name flits across $xtheir face. “It’s because of who you are.” Your breath catches—the realization is a punch to the gut. “You don’t trust me.” $xname does not deny it. “You’re the Crown.” It shouldn’t hurt as much as it does. You suspected as much when you first became acquainted—you remember saying the same exact thing to $xname then, in the Red Lantern—but after the coronation, you thought that might have changed. After $xthey told you about what happened to $xtheir family, being so vulnerable with you after the banquet, you thought it meant something. Apparently, it wasn’t enough. “Then why are you here?” Your hands grasp the armrests of the chair if only to have something to hold onto. Your pulse beats so loudly between your ears that you can almost hear its blood rushing. “Why try to justify yourself to me? Why speak to me at all when you don’t—” “Because I care for you,” $xname says, as if it made any sense. Were this a week ago, the admission would’ve been thrilling. It would’ve taken your breath away, delighted you in its honesty. But now? “You don’t trust me, yet you care for me?” All it does is make your heart ache. “What am I supposed to do with that, $xname? I cannot help who I am, I did not ask to be chosen, and I have given you no reason to doubt me!” $xname’s gaze flits between your eyes, $xtheir expression untouched by your anger and hurt, which only inflames you more. <<if $xtrust is false>>“Do you trust <em>me</em>, $name?” Your lips part. Then you halt. $xname smiles, the gesture vacant as $xthey stands back up. You don’t trust $xthem, and $xname can sense as much. Suddenly, you feel ashamed.<</if>><<if $xtrust is 'unsure'>>“Do you trust me, $name?” Your lips part quickly, but then you pause, your response spoken haltingly. “I don’t know.” $xname smiles, the gesture vacant as $xthey stands back up. You don’t know if you can trust $xthem yet, and $xname must be able to sense as much. Suddenly, you feel ashamed.<</if>><<if $xtrust is true>>“You trust me, don’t you?” You stare back into $xname’s eyes, and despite your reservations about this entire situation, your feelings about $xthem are the one thing you do not doubt. “I do. I do trust you.” $cxthey used you before, but in equal measure, $xthey saved your life. $xname has shown you vulnerability and accepted yours in turn. Even if the relationship between you is ambiguous and tense, you know $xtheir character. You know that $xthey is good, that $xthey cares deeply for those around $xthem, and that $xthey would do anything for those dear to $xthem. Even to the point of defying the ruler of an empire to seek justice for them, out of love for them, no matter what it might cost. It makes you want to trust $xthem, so you do. Despite all your worries, your heart is a simple creature. “Then trust me when I say I’m trying.” $xname has never come this close to the near-plea you hear in $xtheir voice, see in $xtheir face. “It’s not anything you have or haven’t done, I would’ve distrusted anyone in your position.” You wonder what $xthey sees every time $xthey looks into the gold of your eyes. “It’s what I represent. I understand, $xname, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt to hear. To know that’s all you see when you look at me.” “It’s not all I—” $xname pushes down the flicker of emotion, of frustration, as quickly as it welled up. $cxthey takes a breath, then stands. “It’s not. I wouldn’t have returned to you if that’s all I saw in you.” You look away. While you might trust $xtheir intentions, can you put any faith in $xtheir words? You don’t know.<</if>> <<if $xtrust is false>>“Neither of us trust each other,” $xthey speaks softly. “But that need not be the end of things.” “Doesn’t it?” Your reply is more anxious than you meant it to sound. <</if>>“For me, trust comes slowly.” It’s the most self-conscious thing you’ve heard $xname admit to so far. <<if $xtrust is false or $xtrust is 'unsure'>>“I’ll understand if it does for you, too.”<<else>>“All I ask is for you to be patient with me.”<</if>> Silence unfurls between you. It stretches, longer and longer, long enough to coil around your throat. Even if you wanted to break it, you don’t know how you would. What you could say to reassure $xthem when you’re uncertain of where you stand. $xname doesn’t move from $xtheir spot in front of your chair, nailed to the stone. When you stay quiet, refusing to look up at $xthem, $xthey finally speaks. “I’ll ask you again, $name.” You hate how composed $xthey sounds, compared to you, who is unraveling at the seams. “Do you want me to leave?” You muster up a word. “No.” “Then what is it you want from me?” You don’t even know how to begin to answer that. [[Continue|11.x23a]] You remember how you missed $xthem when $xthey was gone. You remember the way the heartbeat in $xtheir neck fluttered against your fingers. You remember how $xthey reached out for you and held your hand during the coronation. <<if $comfortbyx is true>>You remember the way $xthey gathered you in $xtheir arms after your nightmare.<</if>> You remember the precious dagger $xthey pressed into your hands. Unable to avoid $xtheir gaze any longer, you look up. The room is drowned in blue-tinted shadow, the sunlight now nothing more than a quick-fading glow behind the mountains. Through that veil, $xname’s eyes find you with silent expectation, as if $xthey already knows your answer and is merely waiting for permission. “You know how I feel,” you say, and were it not for how quiet your voice is, it would sound like an accusation. “I can guess,” $xname corrects, “but I don’t know. Not wholly. Not until you tell me.” You suppose that is true. $xname can sense what you feel to a certain extent, but $xthey can’t read your thoughts, can’t look into your heart. Even if $xthey could, you doubt $xthey could make any sense of the feelings all knotted up together like tangled rope. “You’ve hurt me,” you say, because it is the easiest one to differentiate. “And…” $xname waits silently, patiently. <<if $pass gt $ass>>You find it hard to hold $xtheir gaze, so you look down and your eyes fall to $xtheir hand instead. It lingers, torn between the discomfort of vulnerability and yet the contradictory need for it. Slowly, $xname extends $xtheir hand to you. Before you can think better of it, you reach out and grasp onto $xtheir fingers.<<else>>The difficulty of putting your feelings into words awakes an urge that begs for some sort of anchor, your eyes naturally falling to $xname’s hand. They linger there, torn between the discomfort of vulnerability and yet the contradictory need for it. Slowly, you extend your hand to $xthem. After a moment’s pause, $xthey reaches back, and you grasp onto $xtheir fingers.<</if>> The warmth within them feels like pure relief as $xtheirs gently curl around yours in turn, thumb brushing across your knuckles in soothing motions, until the tightness in your chest begins to ease. “I do care for you, in spite of it.” You find the courage to look up at $xtheir face. $cxtheir features appear so much softer in shadow, or perhaps it’s the effect your words have on $xthem. “But, $xname, if you want to stay by my side, then you have to give me more than this. More than secrets, more than going behind my back. Even if you cannot tell me everything, tell me <em>something</em>. I can’t be caught unaware like this again.” $cxthey breathes in slowly, then breathes out deep through $xtheir nose. For a moment, $xtheir expression appears to flicker—something in $xtheir gaze that you’ve seen before, but can’t quite place. It reminds you of that time during the coronation banquet. The way $xthey swapped $xtheir emotions like masks, trading one for the other at a moment’s notice. But then it’s gone, and $xname’s gaze is warm and kind and reassuring, and you want nothing more than to forget what you just saw. “I understand,” $xthey says, $xtheir voice oh so soft. You look down at your hands, and when you do, $xname gives you a little tug. One of invitation, pulling you to your feet. $cxthey doesn’t move back, which means you end up right in front of $xthem, less than a finger’s length between you. <<if $height is 'very tall'>>You’re so close that $xname has to tilt up $xtheir chin a little to look into your eyes,<</if>><<if $height is 'average'>>You’re so close that you have to tilt up your chin a little to look into $xname’s eyes,<</if>><<if $height is 'short' or $height is 'very short'>>You’re so close that you nearly have to crane your neck to look into $xname’s eyes,<</if>><<if $height is 'average'>>You’re so close that you can feel your combined breaths mingling, warming the air between you,<</if>> and you—as tired as $xthey is—want nothing more than to forget about your argument and enjoy the closeness between you now. Though there is still a question you have to ask. “You said you…” You pause when $xname’s other hand lifts, brushing against your side. Your heartbeat skips, but not at all unpleasantly, its rhythm drowning out even the birdsong of the twilight hour. $xname <<if $clothing is 'shalwar'>>grips the edge of your outer coat between thumb and forefinger, knuckle brushing against your stomach as $xthey idly trails $xtheir hand down, following the embroidered pattern sewn into it. The simple touch is enough to make you weak in the knees.<</if>><<if $clothing is 'robes'>>grips the edge of the shawl draped down your shoulder between thumb and forefinger, knuckle brushing against your stomach as $xthey idly trails $xtheir hand down. The simple touch is enough to make you weak in the knees.<</if>><<if $clothing is 'dress'>>grabs one of the chains hanging down your belt, resting it against $xtheir fingers as $xtheir thumb idly brushes one of the golden coins hanging down from it. $cxtheir knuckles brush against your stomach, the simple touch enough to make you weak in the knees.<</if>> “Yes?” $xname says when you forget to speak, not looking at you as $xthey continues to toy with your <<if $clothing is 'shalwar'>>coat<</if>><<if $clothing is 'robes'>>shawl<</if>><<if $clothing is 'dress'>>belt<</if>>, as if it were a perfectly innocent gesture. <<if $res gt $flirt>>Where you meant to speak carefully, your composure has evaporated, squeezing $xname’s hand as you <<if $charm gt $blunt>>tactlessly state<<else>>blurt out<</if>> your question: “Do you want to court me?” $xname’s fingers still, gaze flitting back up to your heated face, your eyes wide in embarrassment. It is exactly what you meant, but you didn’t intend to say it so clumsily. “I don’t mean to presume—” “I know,” $xname shushes you, though $xtheir amusement is curled within $xtheir lips, eyes narrowing slightly with mirth. $cxthey gives you a long look, as if to extend your torment for as much as possible, before $xthey finally says, “I might.” It’s already more than you expected to hear, almost certain $xthey would turn you down or deflect it, but $xthey does no such thing as $xthey stares back into your eyes. As bare for you as you have ever seen $xthem. Courtships can last a long time, even several years, but they are a significant commitment. The fact that $xname has considered it means $xthey must feel more for you than you thought $xthey did. You wish you could read $xthem better, sense $xthem like $xthey can so easily sense you. Perhaps then you wouldn’t be so anxious. $xname gives you a knowing look. “Does that please you?” You turn your head away, just so have some breathing space that isn’t filled with $xthem. It’s hard to think clearly when $xthey surrounds you so utterly. “Don’t tease me.” $cxthey laughs softly, the sound almost directly brushing against <<if $height isnot 'very tall' and $height isnot 'very short'>>your neck<<else>><<if $height is 'very short'>>the top of <</if>>your ear<</if>> with $xtheir warm breath. Even a summer’s afternoon couldn’t compare to the sweltering heat it spreads across your skin, tingling in your spine. “Can I kiss you?” Your head whips forward to face $xthem again, eyes growing wide. $xname smirks at you, appearing to greatly enjoy your flustered reactions. $cxthey lifts your tangled hands, lips brushing idly across your knuckles, paying no heed to your poor heart as it tries to beat its way out of your chest. “On your cheek.”<<else>>You reach up your other hand and catch $xname’s wayward one, stilling it against your garments. $xname lifts $xtheir eyes and meets yours with a hint of amusement, though it is tempered by the unspoken expectation in the way $xthey looks at you. You’re tempted to glance down. To trace the curve of $xtheir lips, framing a mouth with the sweetest yet also the sharpest words you’ve ever heard. Whether you resist due to your own self-restraint or another kind of miracle, you manage to focus on what you want, <em>need</em>, to ask. <<if $blunt gt $charm>>“What did you mean when you said you care for me?” you ask outright, having neither the patience nor the composure to speak more delicately.<<else>>“You said you care for me,” you say, finishing your question from before. “In what way?”<</if>> $xname smiles at you, as if endeared by the question. “Did I not make myself clear?” $cxthey uses your grip on $xtheir hand to lift yours to the lips you tried to resist glancing at before, now having no choice but to look at them as they brush, so gently, across your knuckles in a not-quite kiss. “$xname,” you say, your voice sounding faint to your own ears, “do you mean to court me?” $cxthey looks at you for a while, lowering your hands again but not releasing you. $cxtheir eyes flit across your face. “I might.” It’s already more than you expected to hear, almost certain $xthey would turn you down or deflect it, but $xthey does no such thing as $xthey stares back into your eyes. As bare for you as you have ever seen $xthem. Courtships can last a long time, even several years, but they are a significant commitment. The fact that $xname has considered it means $xthey must feel more for you than you thought $xthey did. You wish you could read $xthem better, sense $xthem like $xthey can so easily sense you. Perhaps then you wouldn’t feel so restless. $xname gives you a knowing look. “Does that please you?” You breathe in quietly through your mouth, the way your lips part slightly drawing $xname’s attention to them. “Do you have to ask?” For a moment, $xname leans in the slightest bit—gaze seeming to burn on your lips, tingling in your spine. But then $xthey turns $xtheir attention away, looking back up at your eyes. “Can I kiss—” “Yes.” You speak the word before $xname finishes asking, too jittery with anticipation to feel embarrassed at your own eagerness. $xname smirks at you, appearing to enjoy your honesty, though $xthey clarifies, “On your cheek.”<</if>> Your lips tingle and you hesitate to ask for more, but if this is what $xthey wants to offer you, you don’t want to get too demanding. You give a small nod, turning your head slightly to the side. $xname makes a small noise. “You are the sweetest thing, do you know that?” You take some offense, mostly due to your own impatience. “Are you going to kiss me, or keep teasing me?” “Can I not do both?” You frown, but just as you turn your head towards $xthem again, $xname quickly leans in. $cxtheir lips nearly brush the corner of your mouth as $xthey presses a kiss, as sweet as $xtheir words, against your cheek. When $xthey pulls back to look at you, the tips of your noses almost touch. If you were to tilt your head a little— $xname pulls away. Suddenly you’re bereft of $xtheir warmth, the change so sudden it nearly leaves you dazed. “We should head out.” $cxthey motions to the windows. It’s getting dark out, a distant light blue on the horizon the only trace left of the sun. “I’m sure $aname and $dname would not thank us for making them wait just so we could fool around.” <<if $res gt $flirt>>Heat rises to your cheeks. <</if>>You’d completely forgotten about those two, but they’ve been waiting outside your door this entire time. You try not to think too hard what $xname means with <em>fooling around</em> as $xtheir hand slips out of your grip and $xthey heads for the door, with you following quietly from behind $xthem. At least you can take solace in knowing $dname didn’t sense any of what was going on inside this room, though you can’t be certain of the same for $aname. [[Continue|11.x24pchk]]“You want to protect me?” $xname repeats faintly, as if doubting whether $xthey heard your words correctly. “I already feigned ignorance of your involvement to the Imperial Court,” you say, feeling the need to prove to $xname that you are speaking sincerely. <<if $xrelationship is 'high'>>“Granted, I wasn’t certain, but your letter wasn’t exactly subtle. I had my suspicions.”<<else>>“Granted, I wasn’t certain, but your history with Behram made you the obvious suspect. I’m sure the court had the same idea.”<</if>> An uncomprehending expression forms on $xname’s face, $xtheir eyes flitting across your features as if you were a riddle to solve. “And now that you know the truth?” “What do you mean?” Now it is your turn to look confused. “Now, nothing.” “But you were upset that I—” “I am upset because you risked your neck without informing me of anything<<if $xrelationship is 'high'>> beyond a cryptic letter<</if>>,” you correct with a deep frown. “$xname, I am upset because I feared you would be <em>caught</em>. Did you think I’d care more about Behram’s dignity, the Crown’s dignity, than your life? Than the wrongs done to you and your family? Steward Welat is all but clamoring to have your head on a pike! Do you have any idea how scared I was? If anyone found out, even I couldn’t save you from the executioner’s axe.” You pause to take a breath, hand resting against the windowsill, the cold stone anchoring you. “And, like I said, I do truly wish to protect you.” $xname, at a loss for words at your desire to keep $xthem safe, looks away. $cxthey reverts to something shallow, more familiar, as $xthey remarks, “You’ll have your work cut out for you, then.” It’s meant to be a quip, but none of $xname’s usual charm is present to deliver it. If anything, the slope of $xtheir shoulders and the bend in $xtheir neck looks like an expression of defeat. “Do you not think you deserve to be protected?” $cxtheir eyes narrow slightly, looking at the forest of Anshan in the near distance. “I don’t understand why you would.” “How could you not…” You trail off before you finish the question, because you know full well why $xname could not understand it. Not if it came from the Crown. <<if $ass gt $pass>>“I care for you, $xname. Of course I would protect you. I already protected you from the court! If you had come to me with this instead of handling it on your own, I would have helped you.” You notice the way $xname’s whole body tenses at the first part of your response, and you can’t tell in what way. It might scare $xthem off, to be so honest with your feelings, but it’s the truth. You’re not the sort who endlessly pines after someone, especially when—or so you thought—$xname expressed similar interest in you in turn. Fleeting and casual, perhaps. A brief flirtation, but for you, it has lingered. It’s still there after weeks of being apart. It has even reawakened more strongly than it was before now that you have met each other again. If $xname doesn’t feel the same way, it’s better to find out now rather than later. But $xname does not respond to your admission, instead choosing to ignore it in its entirety. $cxtheir eyes are still firmly fixed on the forest as $xthey replies, “What would you have done?” Your mind still stuck on your confession, it takes you a moment to remember the rest of what you said. Then, you realize you’re actually not sure <em>what</em> you would have done.<<else>>“I already protected you from the court, haven’t I? If you had come to me with this instead of handling it on your own, I would have helped you then as well.” You can’t quite bring yourself to admit how much you’ve come to care for $xname, because it’s still something you yourself have yet to understand. Somehow, your awareness of $xthem—your care for $xthem—has grown even stronger, even though you were separated for weeks. It’s perhaps unfair to avoid the underlying question $xname is asking, but $xthey has hardly been forthcoming $xthemselves. $cxtheir eyes are still firmly fixed on the forest as $xthey replies, “What would you have done?” Your mind still stuck on your own feelings, it takes you a moment to remember the rest of what you said. Then, you realize you’re actually not sure <em>what</em> you would have done.<</if>> “I would have…” You hesitate, becoming more uncertain as you speak. “I could have revealed it, stripped Behram of his title. Punished him and the guard publicly.” “Even if you were to order his removal, he would not go quietly,” $xname states as your eyes meet again, and unlike yours, $xname’s reflect complete certainty. “Behram knows the Imperial Army is crippled, you can’t threaten him conventionally. He would sooner start a revolt than step down.” $cxtheir claim gives you pause, a deep frown twisting your brows. “A revolt? Surely he wouldn’t go that far. Even if the Imperial Army is crippled, the other provincial armies are under my command. He would have no allies.” Unless he sought them from outside of Arsur. You quickly discard the disquieting thought. It’ll do you no good to worry about such distant possibilities, save cause you more stress. “I know what kind of man he is, $name.” $xname meets your gaze, a certainty in $xtheirs that you would rather not test. “Behram would sooner burn Rojan to the ground out of spite than give up his title, even if it cost him his life.” Part of you wants to argue, retort that $xname’s own feud with Behram is coloring $xtheir perception, but you can’t rightly say that $xname is wrong to think so. You haven’t heard a single good word spoken about Behram since your arrival in Marabad. “This was the best way to deal with this, for us both,” $xname continues at your lack of a response. $cxtheir expression is still cold, but $xtheir voice has softened into a milder tone. “You cannot start a conflict with a Mîr this early in your reign, and I could not let Payam walk free. No one else but Behram knows it was me, and he would never reveal it.” The guard’s name registers, but ultimately, it means nothing to you. Not like it does to $xname, the way $xthey spits it out as if it were poison in $xtheir mouth—and besides, $xname’s last sentence is of far greater importance. “Behram knows it was you?” “Who do you think lured me there to begin with?” $xname scoffs, though $xtheir scorn is not aimed at you. “Perhaps he was hoping to catch me in the act and kill me on the spot, as insulting as that is. His schemes have always been rather harebrained.” “But if Behram reveals he was harboring Payam—” “He won’t.” $xname’s answer is quick. “It would raise too many questions about why he was harboring Payam in the first place.” Your head feels overfull as you mull over $xname’s words. Perhaps it’s your own heightened emotions, but you get the nagging sense that $xname is still not telling you everything about this situation. Despite $xname’s answer, you still don’t understand why Behram wouldn’t simply reveal that $xname was behind it. Why would he try to hide Payam, when Payam’s actions were sanctioned by a Crown? It was Piruz who ordered him and his comrades to burn $xname’s village down. There should be no reason for Behram to keep it a secret even if he feared retribution from $xname. The law would be on his side. A headache builds between your temples, and you almost wish you never brought it up as your gaze turns to the forest $xname has been staring at. It has been a painful conversation to navigate, as necessary as it was. [[Continue|11.x22c]] You hear a deep sigh from beside you, and then, an approaching warmth against your side as $xname stands upright and shifts the slightest bit closer. You see the movement from the corner of your eyes, almost tempting you to glance. “$name,” $xthey says, voice lowered to a murmur that caresses your ear with a softness you haven’t heard before. You don’t look, remaining still. “I had to do it, on my own.” Finally, you meet $xtheir eyes. $cxthey appears at a loss, staring back at you with something that almost looks like a plea—for forgiveness? For guidance, comfort? You couldn’t guess. “I didn’t want to, I <em>had to</em>. I couldn’t- I thought I couldn’t involve anyone else, least of all you. I wanted to protect you, too.” As you look back at $xthem, you wonder what you would do if you were faced with the ones who murdered your parents. If you would handle it any better than $xname, if you would be able to look past your grief, if you would be able to let it go. But why should you be expected to let it go? <<if $ass gt $pass>>Slowly, you lift your hand to $xname’s face. $cxthey doesn’t move, glancing at your fingers, then looking back into your eyes, leaning forward the slightest bit in permission. You gently cup $xtheir cheek, running your thumb across $xtheir skin. $cxtheir eyes flutter shut, another tired exhale sighed against your wrist as $xthey leans further into your touch, as if it brought $xthem mercy.<<else>>Slowly, you inch your hand closer to $xtheirs on the windowsill. $cxthey doesn’t move, glancing at your fingers, then looking back into your eyes as $xthey moves $xtheir own hand closer in turn. It slides on top of yours, engulfing you with the heat of callused skin. You turn your hand over and $xname shifts $xtheir fingers to slot them with yours, twining them together. $cxthey sighs again and closes $xtheir eyes, as if even this simple touch is a mercy. You swear you can feel a pulse beat between your palms, but you could not say who it belongs to.<</if>> Why should <em>$xname</em> be expected to let it go? “Did it bring you relief?” you ask quietly. $xname’s brows twitch, but $xthey doesn’t open $xtheir eyes. “No,” $xthey answers, voice hardly above a whisper. “Not in any way that matters. Don’t misunderstand, I don’t regret killing him. But to know he was alive all this time, that no one…” That no one cared enough to bring him to justice, like what should have happened. It was long overdue, and to deliver the killing blow after all this time must have felt more bitter than sweet. “You shouldn’t have to be the one to do this,” you say, your heart aching for $xthem. $xname opens $xtheir eyes to look at you now. “If not me, then who?” “Anyone else who knew.” $xname has already been the victim of so much, it’s unfair for $xthem to bear this burden on top of it all. To feel so responsible to deliver justice $xthemselves, at the cost of $xtheir own peace of mind. “A judge, another Mîr, a Crown. Why didn’t Crown Ferzan—” $xname winces, pulling <<if $ass gt $pass>>away from your touch<<else>>$xtheir hand free from yours<</if>>. “You know as well as I do what a fool’s hope that would’ve been, to sit and wait for one of them.” You start to <<if $ass gt $pass>>lower your hand<<else>>take a step back<</if>>, thinking $xthey must want some space and trying not to feel too hurt by the rejection, but then $xthey <<if $ass gt $pass>>catches your fingers with $xtheir own<<else>>touches your waist, keeping you from pulling back<</if>>. “I don’t mean to push you away,” $xthey says, promises, and you want to believe $xthem. You truly do. “This was the only solution I could think of, so that I could return to you.” You don’t know what to make of that. “What do you mean, so that you could return to me? You could have returned to me regardless.” “No.” $cxtheir answer is resolute. “I could not have.” An understanding begins to take hold. A painful one. “Because I’m the Crown,” you say. $xname’s features tense. “$name—” “And you are reminded of it, always,” you continue heedlessly, “because of Crown Piruz. Because of what he did. That is why you couldn’t tell me. You thought- you feared I would condemn you?” $cxthey can’t deny it. That $xtheir guilt would haunt $xthem for every moment spent with you, knowing Payam was alive and out there. <<if $xtrust is 'unsure' or $xtrust is false>>“Do you trust me, $xname?” you ask, despite already knowing the answer.<<else>>“I trust you, $xname,” you say, despite the way it hurts, knowing it isn’t returned. “Do you trust me?”<</if>> $cxthey takes a breath, chest expanding, before collapsing again. “I want to.” You will take it. The smallest sliver, the tiniest morsel. <<if $xtrust is 'unsure' or $xtrust is false>>“So do I.” You squeeze $xtheir hand. “I will try to, if you will as well. Will you give me that?”<<else>>“Then I will do my part.” You squeeze $xtheir hand. “I’ll prove to you that you can.”<</if>> [[Continue|11.x23c]]$cxthey remains silent for a long while, gaze searching for something in your face. When $xthey cannot find it, $xthey looks almost disbelieving. “You’re not angry anymore?” You consider the question, but find that you truly aren’t. $xname did cause you a headache with the court, and $xthey had you sick with worry for $xthem for days on end, but how could you possibly condemn $xthem in this moment? When $xthey has bared $xtheir heart to you, wounds and all? “I’m hurt that you didn’t trust me,” you say, figuring out your own feelings as you express them in words. “But I understand why you didn’t. I can’t say I wouldn’t have done the same in your position. More than anything, I was worried for you, $xname. When Steward Welat started talking about executions…” “I’m sorry.” $xname <<if $ass gt $pass>>squeezes your hand, and you squeeze back, reflecting the<<else>>reaches up to lightly, gently, caress your cheek with the back of $xtheir knuckles, causing a<</if>> fluttery feeling inside of you at the easy exchange of comfort, of touch, of affection. “If I could do it over again, I would tell you.” You didn’t expect $xthem to go that far. “You would?” The way $xthey gazes at you then is entirely different from the way $xthey has looked at you in the past. There are flickers of wariness to it, trying to temper the wonder you see reflected back at you. As if you weren’t at all what $xthey expected, part of $xthem wanting to reach out and part of $xthem still frozen with indecision. “I want to trust you,” $xname repeats, sounding more sure of it now. “It will take time, but I will try. Can you be patient with me?” “Of course.” You don’t even have to think about the answer. “Whatever you need, $xname.” $cxthey smiles at you then, with a fondness that coaxes a smile out of you in turn. <<if $ass gt $pass>>“I’ve come to care for you as well, $name,” $xthey says, taking you by surprise as you were so certain $xthey must have decided to ignore your confession from earlier. “You are far more admirable than you seem to think. <<if $calc gt $kind>>Anyone else in your position would’ve crumbled, yet you’ve overcome every obstacle and become stronger for it<<else>>Anyone else in your position would’ve let it change them, yet you’ve retained your kindness in spite of it all<</if>>.” You never considered it to be admirable, <<if $calc gt $kind>>merely something you had to do in order to survive<<else>>as the thought of changing never even crossed your mind<</if>>. “You would’ve done the same.” “I’m not sure I would have.” $xname gives a sad smile. “I’m not sure I did, after so long. But seeing you, it makes me wonder if I could heal even an old wound. It’s why I’m so drawn to you.” It’s something similar to what you’ve thought before, about how alike you and $xname are in some ways. $cxthey clearly thinks so too. You’re kindred spirits in more ways than one. “Whatever this is between us,” $xthey continues, “I want to give it a chance, but…”<<else>>“I’ve come to care for you, $name,” $xthey says, taking you completely by surprise with the simple and straightforward confession. “You are far more admirable than you seem to think. <<if $calc gt $kind>>Anyone else in your position would’ve crumbled, yet you’ve overcome every obstacle and become stronger for it<<else>>Anyone else in your position would’ve let it change them, yet you’ve retained your kindness in spite of it all<</if>>.” You never considered it to be admirable, <<if $calc gt $kind>>merely something you had to do in order to survive<<else>>as the thought of changing never even crossed your mind<</if>>. “You would’ve done the same.” “I’m not sure I would have.” $xname gives a sad smile. “I’m not sure I did, after so long. But seeing you, it makes me wonder if I could heal even an old wound. It’s why I’m so drawn to you.” You avoided answering $xtheir question earlier, about why you would want to protect $xthem, partly because you were uncertain about $xname’s own feelings. Hearing all of it said out loud gives you a little more courage. Enough to admit, quietly, “I care for you too.” $cxthey doesn’t look at all surprised to hear that, merely smiling at you. You must be an open book to $xthem. The smile quickly fades, however. “Whatever this is between us,” $xthey says, “I want to give it a chance, but…”<</if>> You’re hanging on $xtheir every word. “But what?” A bit of hesitance creeps into $xtheir gaze now. “You can’t be the Crown to me. I will listen to you and I will be honest with you, because I care for you and I’m fond of <em>you</em>, $name. But I can’t submit to the Crown. Not anymore, not after everything.” You understand exactly what $xthey means: $xname will never yield to you. $cxtheir spine does not know how to bend, hardened with a weight you will never fully understand. If $xtheir pain were something tangible $xthey would wield it like a sword. It isn’t in $xtheir nature to submit, any more than it is in the nature of a mountain to bow. It should be frightening, you think. It should frighten the Crown to face someone so unwavering, so strong, so free in spirit, so beloved by others. Were anyone else in your position, $xname would be an enormous threat to their power. But you’re not frightened. Not at all. It is $xtheir fierce heart that you felt from the very beginning, as $xthey held your chin between $xtheir fingers and you felt fire coursing through $xtheir veins. Everything you have always wished you could be. From that very moment, you realize, you have wanted $xthem. “You seem lost in thought,” $xname remarks, oblivious to your inner musings yet observant enough to have noticed the look in your eyes, the feelings that pass through you then. A familiar, playful smile spreads across $xtheir face. “Here I am pouring my heart out while you’re halfway across the continent. What are you daydreaming about?” <<if $pass gt $ass>>The time for hesitation is over. As clammy as your palms are, you push past your own reservations, admitting, <</if>> <<if $res gt $flirt>>“I was… I was<<else>>“I was<</if>> thinking that you’re beautiful.” $xname’s brows lift with amusement. “Why, thank you.” “Not only the way you look,” you clarify, thinking it important that $xthey understands as <<if $ass gt $pass>>you move closer. You lift your hand to $xtheir face,<<else>>$xthey moves closer. In response, you lift your hand—almost shaky—to $xtheir face,<</if>> and $xtheir smile falls away in an instant as you brush <<if $xgender is 'female'>>a wayward lock of curly hair behind her ear<<else>>a few locks of his hair back from his forehead<</if>> “The way you are is beautiful.” $xname laughs a little, though the sound is more of an exhale than anything, $xtheir eyes transfixed on you. $cxtheir voice is softer when $xthey asks, “What way would that be?” “Proud,” you say, naming the first words that come to mind, “and compassionate. Devoted, whether it be to those you love or the beliefs you hold. Free in what you feel, and how you feel it. I would never make you yield to me, $xname. I want you as you are, unbowed.” You can see the very moment $xname’s usual veil of composure falls away, revealing something beneath that almost looks fragile. $cxthey doesn’t frighten you, but it occurs to you then that you might be the one who frightens $xthem. “Don’t run from me, Pale Sword,” you say, hand gently fitting around the side of $xtheir neck, where it was all those weeks ago in a dark and quiet sitting room, when all you could see was the green in $xtheir eyes. $cxtheir pulse beats just as quickly as it did back then, thumping against your fingertips beneath skin that burns to the touch. “I couldn’t run from you even if I wanted to,” $xname replies quietly, suddenly so much closer to you, or perhaps you’re closer to $xthem, or you’re both drawn in at the same time. “And I don’t want to. It scares me, $name.” “Then be brave,” you whisper against $xtheir lips… <<if $xgender is 'female'>>[[…and you kiss her.|11.x23k]] [[…and then she kisses you.|11.x23kd]]<<else>>[[…and you kiss him.|11.x23k]] [[…and then he kisses you.|11.x23kd]]<</if>> In the shrinking space between you, there is a short exhale of breath right before your eyes close and your lips meet $xname’s. You could not say whether the sigh belonged to $xthem or you, but it is heat like you’ve never felt it before. Sweltering, burning, soothed only by $xname’s mouth. <<if $pass gt $ass>>You’ve rarely initiated something like this, certainly not so boldly. Your eagerness overpowers all else in the thrill that swoops low through your stomach, blinding you from everything else but $xthem. The kiss is a little rough at first, your lips meeting almost too hard, noses pressed forcefully against each other. Your whole body is so tense you nearly shake. $xname notices it. $cxthey guides you, gently grabbing your chin—the briefest pause in the kiss so you can breathe, readjust—tilting your head into a better, more comfortable angle. This time, your lips slot together like they’re meant to be there, and you feel it all the way down into your toes.<<else>>While your mind goes blank, your body remembers this familiar dance. You restrain your eagerness despite the thrill that swoops low through your stomach, letting it come naturally. The kiss is a little rough at first—you lean in with your hands on $xtheir waist, nearly pushing $xthem back. The little gasp that escapes $xtheir lips as $xthey clutches you more tightly tells you $xthey doesn’t mind it, but you want to savor this, so you pull back, slow down. You readjust, letting $xname come to you as you tilt your head in a more comfortable angle, having only a moment to inhale a short breath before $xtheir mouth returns to yours. This time, the kiss is so tender and sweet that you feel it all the way down into your toes.<</if>> <<if $res gt $flirt>>$xname kisses more gently than you expected, but perhaps that’s for your benefit. $cxthey must be able to feel how much your heart is pounding, how your fingers tremble as they dig into $xtheir tunic. Your hands are on $xtheir waist, and you’re almost certain you’re squeezing $xthem too hard, but $xthey doesn’t complain.<<else>>$xname follows your lead more obediently than you expected, completely pliant in your arms as $xthey seems to melt against you. You think you must be squeezing $xtheir waist too hard, but $xthey doesn’t complain.<</if>> Instead, $xthey sighs a hot breath against your mouth that mingles with your own as if $xthey <em>likes</em> it, then kisses you again a little more firmly. $cxtheir arms <<if $height is 'very tall' or $height is 'tall' or $height is 'average'>><<if $height is 'very tall'>>reach up to wrap<<else>>wrap<</if>> around your shoulders.<</if>><<if $height is 'short' or $height is 'very short'>>wrap around your upper back as $xthey bends down and you lean up a little more<</if>>. A heated palm curls around the back of your neck, <<if $hairstyle is 'short'>>thumb brushing over the short $hairtexture hairs at your nape<</if>><<if $hairstyle is 'shaved'>>thumb brushing over the stubbles of shaved hair at your nape<</if>><<if $hairstyle is 'shoulder-length' or $hairstyle is 'down to your waist' or $hairstyle is 'down to your hips'>>beneath the long locks of your $hairtexture hair<</if>><<if $hairstyle is 'done up' or $hairstyle is 'braided'>>brushing the loose hairs at your nape, beneath where you have your $hairtexture hair $hairstyle<</if>><<if $hairstyle is 'close braided'>>brushing the loose hairs at your nape, beneath where you have locks of your hair braided close to your scalp<</if>><<if $hairstyle is 'in long locs' or $hairstyle is 'in short locs'>>brushing the small fuzz of $hairtexture hair at your nape, beneath where the rest of it is hanging down in locs<</if>>. You don’t know how such a simple touch could possess you the way it does, but it does. It takes hold of your hands as you pull $xname closer, until you’re pressed together and the heat of $xthem burns away every last thought in your head. <<if $height is 'very short'>>Standing on your toes, you nearly have to arch your back with $xname bent over you like this, pressing you even closer against $xthem. You can’t bring yourself to care at how it strains your posture, so long as you can keep kissing $xthem.<</if>><<if $height is 'short'>>Having to stand nearly on your toes, you tilt your head at an almost uncomfortable angle with $xname bent over you like this. You can’t bring yourself to care, so long as you can keep kissing $xthem.<</if>><<if $height is 'average'>>One of $xname’s arms shift from your shoulders down to your waist, wrapping around your lower back as if to pull you even closer. You have to tilt your head back to accommodate, but you don’t care, so long as you can keep kissing $xthem.<</if>><<if $height is 'tall'>>One of $xname’s arms shift from your shoulders down to your waist, wrapping around your lower back as if to pull you even closer. You fit together perfectly.<</if>><<if $height is 'very tall'>>$xname has to tilt $xtheir head back a little to adjust for it, but $xthey doesn’t seem to care any more than you do. If anything, $xthey uses the grip on your shoulders to arch up against you, and you nearly lose your mind.<</if>> $cxthey captures all your senses, filling them with only $xthem. The sensation of $xtheir lips, softer than you expected, hot and wet in your exchange of kisses. $cxtheir little sighs, short breaths, trailing hands, and caressing fingers that leave goosebumps in $xtheir wake. $cxtheir scent, smelling faintly like burning wood as if the smoke of a fire still clings to $xthem, but it isn’t unpleasant. It reminds you of a hearth. You let a hum slip, barely aware that it escapes you as it travels between your mouths, but it seems to do something to $xname. The very next moment you feel cold stone against your<<if $height isnot 'very short' or $height isnot 'short'>> lower<</if>> back, a light breeze against your <<if $hairstyle is 'shaved'>>clothes<<else>>hair<</if>> as $xname has you pushed against the windowsill, and $xtheir kisses are not so gentle anymore. $cxtheir tongue traces your lower lip and you part it instinctively, letting $xthem deepen the kiss with a greed that demands every last part of you left. Whatever $xthey hasn’t consumed yet. <<if $pass gt $ass>>Unthinking, your hands slide down to $xtheir hips, digging into $xtheir skin through $xtheir clothes to have something to hold onto.<<else>>It rouses a need within you that is sharper than mere desire, baring its teeth as your fingers <<if $xgender is 'male'>>grasp a handful of $xtheir hair<<else>>slide in between the tresses tied up at the back of $xtheir head<</if>> and you pull, using the way $xtheir head moves back to take control of the kiss<</if>>. $cxthey moans with unrestrained pleasure, the sound more sensual than any erotic dream you’ve ever had as it vibrates against your mouth, making you weak in the knees. You need to breathe. [[Continue|11.x24pk]] In the shrinking space between you, there is a short exhale of breath right before your eyes close and $xname’s lips meet yours. You could not say whether the sigh belonged to $xthem or you, but it is heat like you’ve never felt it before. Sweltering, burning, soothed only by $xname’s mouth. <<if $pass gt $ass>>You let $xname come to you, lead you through it as you try to keep up. $cxthey seems mindful of how pliant you are, kissing you softly as if to coax something out of you. Not wanting to disappoint you lean in, and your eagerness grows into need. The kiss turns a little rough, your lips meeting almost too hard, noses pressed forcefully against each other. Your whole body is so tense you nearly shake. $xname notices it. $cxthey guides you, gently grabbing your chin—the briefest pause in the kiss so you can breathe, readjust—tilting your head into a better, more comfortable angle. This time, your lips slot together like they’re meant to be there, and you feel it all the way down into your toes.<<else>>While your mind goes blank, your body remembers this familiar dance. You restrain your eagerness despite the thrill that swoops low through your stomach, letting $xname take the lead. The kiss is almost rough at first. $xname must sense that you’re trying to hold back so $xthey leans in even closer, the edge of $xtheir teeth on your lower lip drawing a soft gasp out of you, enjoying the bite far more than you should. Your hands on $xname’s waist squeeze in warning not to play with fire, your self-control rapidly fraying, and you can almost feel $xname's smug smirk against your mouth as $xthey pulls back a little. $cxthey allows you to come to $xthem as $xthey tilts $xtheir head in a more comfortable angle, having only a moment to inhale a short breath before your lips return to $xtheirs. This time, the kiss is so tender and sweet that you feel it all the way down into your toes.<</if>> <<if $res gt $flirt>>$xname kisses more gently than you expected, but perhaps that’s for your benefit. $cxthey must be able to feel how much your heart is pounding, how your fingers tremble as they dig into $xtheir tunic. Your hands are on $xtheir waist, and you’re almost certain you’re squeezing $xthem too hard, but $xthey doesn’t complain.<<else>>$xname follows your lead more obediently than you expected, completely pliant in your arms as $xthey seems to melt against you. You think you must be holding $xtheir waist too tightly, but $xthey doesn’t complain.<</if>> Instead, $xthey sighs a hot breath against your mouth that mingles with your own as if $xthey <em>likes</em> it, then kisses you again a little more firmly. $cxtheir arms <<if $height is 'very tall' or $height is 'tall' or $height is 'average'>><<if $height is 'very tall'>>reach up to wrap<<else>>wrap<</if>> around your shoulders.<</if>><<if $height is 'short' or $height is 'very short'>>wrap around your upper back as $xthey bends down and you lean up a little more<</if>>. A heated palm curls around the back of your neck, <<if $hairstyle is 'short'>>thumb brushing over the short $hairtexture hairs at your nape<</if>><<if $hairstyle is 'shaved'>>thumb brushing over the stubbles of shaved hair at your nape<</if>><<if $hairstyle is 'shoulder-length' or $hairstyle is 'down to your waist' or $hairstyle is 'down to your hips'>>beneath the long locks of your $hairtexture hair<</if>><<if $hairstyle is 'done up' or $hairstyle is 'braided'>>brushing the loose hairs at your nape, beneath where you have your $hairtexture hair $hairstyle<</if>><<if $hairstyle is 'close braided'>>brushing the loose hairs at your nape, beneath where you have locks of your hair braided close to your scalp<</if>><<if $hairstyle is 'in long locs' or $hairstyle is 'in short locs'>>brushing the small fuzz of $hairtexture hair at your nape, beneath where the rest of it is hanging down in locs<</if>>. You don’t know how such a simple touch could possess you the way it does, but it does. It takes hold of your hands as you pull $xname closer, until you’re pressed together and the heat of $xthem burns away every last thought in your head. <<if $height is 'very short'>>Standing on your toes, you nearly have to arch your back with $xname bent over you like this, pressing you even closer against $xthem. You can’t bring yourself to care at how it strains your posture, so long as you can keep kissing $xthem.<</if>><<if $height is 'short'>>Having to stand nearly on your toes, you tilt your head at an almost uncomfortable angle with $xname bent over you like this. You can’t bring yourself to care, so long as you can keep kissing $xthem.<</if>><<if $height is 'average'>>One of $xname’s arms shift from your shoulders down to your waist, wrapping around your lower back as if to pull you even closer. You have to tilt your head back to accommodate, but you don’t care, so long as you can keep kissing $xthem.<</if>><<if $height is 'tall'>>One of $xname’s arms shift from your shoulders down to your waist, wrapping around your lower back as if to pull you even closer. You fit together perfectly.<</if>><<if $height is 'very tall'>>$xname has to tilt $xtheir head back a little to adjust for it, but $xthey doesn’t seem to care any more than you do. If anything, $xthey uses the grip on your shoulders to arch up against you, and you nearly lose your mind.<</if>> $cxthey captures all your senses, filling them with only $xthem. The sensation of $xtheir lips, softer than you expected, hot and wet in your exchange of kisses. $cxtheir little sighs, short breaths, trailing hands, and caressing fingers that leave goosebumps in their wake. $cxtheir scent, smelling faintly like burning wood as if the smoke of a fire still clings to $xthem, but it isn’t unpleasant. It reminds you of a hearth. You let a hum slip, barely aware that it escapes you as it travels between your mouths, but it seems to do something to $xname. The very next moment you feel cold stone against your<<if $height isnot 'very short' or $height isnot 'short'>> lower<</if>> back, a light breeze against your <<if $hairstyle is 'shaved'>>clothes<<else>>hair<</if>> as $xname has you pushed against the windowsill, and $xtheir kisses are not so gentle anymore. $cxtheir tongue traces your lower lip and you part it instinctively, letting $xthem deepen the kiss with a greed that demands every last part of you left. Whatever $xthey hasn’t consumed yet. <<if $pass gt $ass>>Unthinking, your hands slide down to $xtheir hips, digging into $xtheir skin through $xtheir clothes to have something to hold onto.<<else>>It rouses a need within you that is sharper than mere desire, baring its teeth as your fingers <<if $xgender is 'male'>>grasp a handful of $xtheir hair<<else>>slide in between the tresses tied up at the back of $xtheir head<</if>> and you pull, using the way $xtheir head moves back to take control of the kiss<</if>>. $cxthey moans with unrestrained pleasure, the sound more sensual than any erotic dream you’ve ever had as it vibrates against your mouth, making you weak in the knees. You need to breathe. [[Continue|11.x24pk]]<<set $progress to "11">><div id="11.1">@@.chaptertitleact1;CHAPTER ELEVEN@@</div>@@.titleblack;Honor Sacrificed@@ The darkness of the tunnel stretches out endlessly before you, the distance seeming unaffected by the amount of steps you take or how quickly you take them. <<if $clothing is 'dress'>>The thin, outer coat of your dress billows out behind you, trailing your form<</if>><<if $clothing is 'robes'>>The shawl draped around your shoulders and hanging down your back, accenting your robes, billows out behind you<</if>><<if $clothing is 'shalwar'>>The outer coat you wear on top of your tunic and shalwar billows out behind you, trailing your form<</if>> as you rush through the dimly-lit corridor. “There’s no need to work yourself up like this, $name,” $aname says from beside you as you travel beneath Marabad, the secret passageway the most direct one to the city’s walls. “It won’t help $dthem recover any faster.” “I know that,” you reply, but you can’t bring yourself to slow your step when you know that $dname’s life was in danger not mere days before. “$cdthey’s being tended to by the best physicians and healers in Rojan.” You don’t look at $aname as $athey continues to reassure you, your gaze fixed on the distant end of the tunnel where a set of stairs lead up into the city walls. “$cdthey’s going to be alright.” You glance at $aname from the corner of your eyes. While the words don’t do much to settle your racing heartbeat, you appreciate the kindness in them all the same. The rest of the Imperial Guards follow you invisibly. As soon as you received word from Ishrah, you insisted to visit $dname personally. Apparently, $dtheir condition was so dire that the healers decided to treat $dthem in Kartan’s Outpost, rather than travel the rest of the way into the city. A fact that doesn’t spell good news. You almost feel nauseous with nerves. Even if you wanted to, you doubt you could calm yourself. You’re not used to worrying about others like this. Usually it was always your own life in danger, and the one time it wasn’t, it was your parents instead. Your heartbeat pounds between your ears, bile rising to the back of your throat at the memory, fingers trembling as your body recalls the moment you realized both of your parents had been killed. It’s only the urgency of $dname’s situation that prevents you from spiraling completely. You can’t afford to fall apart when $dthey needs you. [[Continue|11.2d]] Once you reach the end of the tunnel, you climb up a spiraling staircase that leads into the interior of the city walls, near the main entrance point connected to the Crown’s Road. You wear no disguise, causing the guards stationed within to gawk with no small amount of surprise at the sight of you with your Royal Protector in tow. The guard captain intercepts you on the ground floor, $aname having sent word ahead of your arrival, and leads you outside to the gates where horses have already been prepared. More guards block off the entrance, ensuring travelers and citizens can only watch from behind the same blue barriers erected by shields you saw when you returned to the city as the Crown. Thankfully, between then and now, you’ve had enough lessons in horse riding to confidently mount your own horse and direct it down the road. At this point your Imperial Guards become visible, four of them riding ahead of you while four of them ride behind you, $aname on your right. You left the Imperial Palace in $rname’s hands, as no one was able to talk you out of leaving. The Forest of Anshan looms in the near distance, a gentle breeze blowing through the tops of its trees. Sunlight shines upon them with abundance, yet it has never looked so cold to you before. By the time you arrive at Kartan’s Outpost, you already see two royal physicians standing outside awaiting your arrival, recognizable from their dark gray robes. They’re accompanied by three soldiers belonging to the Imperial Army. One of the soldiers wears purple cloth wrapped around their helmet like a headband, their armor more decorated with silver details, distinguishing them from the other two. All five of them bow as you dismount from your horse, one of your guards smoothly stepping in to take its reigns as you approach the physicians and the soldiers, $aname following right on your heels. “How is the general’s condition?” you ask, not bothering with formalities. “$cdthey is stable, Your Imperial Majesty,” one of the physicians answers, easing some of the grip that fear has had on your heart since the moment you heard the news. “While $dtheir body is weak, the threat to $dtheir life has passed. Now it is only a matter of recuperation.” You release a deep sigh, tension gradually draining out of you. Before you ask to see $dthem, however, you turn to the soldiers next, gaze falling on the distinct soldier at the center. “You are?” The soldier salutes you with a hand to their chest. “Gulveda Hesar, Your Imperial Majesty, addressed as she. I am High General $dname’s second, their silver lieutenant-general.” You remember learning that Arsurian army ranks are denoted by color. The general of the Imperial Army used to be called the Golden General, but as gold carried connotations of royalty reserved only for the Crown, that was later changed to High General. The color notations remained the same for the rest of the armies, however, with silver being the second-highest for ranked officers, followed by bronze. A simple system, easy to grasp for efficiency. “What happened, lieutenant?” you ask now that you no longer need to fear for $dname’s life. “I heard there was an ambush.” “Indeed.” The lieutenant looks grim. “They were targeting the general.” “To abduct $dthem?” “No, simply to kill $dthem.” Your brows furrow, but you set your personal feelings aside for the time being. “Why? What did they have to gain?” “Coin.” Lieutenant Gulveda shakes her head. “They’re mercenaries, Your Imperial Majesty. Someone hired them, but they know not who. It was an anonymous employer with a sizable amount of wealth. Enough to make the risk worth it.” “Have you captured them?” $aname asks. The lieutenant smiles without warmth. “Some of them.” You can’t bring yourself to feel any pity. “Transfer those that remain to the Royal Palace’s dungeons,” $aname says, appearing equally unaffected. “I will interrogate them personally.” “As you wish, Royal Protector.” Lieutenant Gulveda salutes again. “I will submit a full report regarding the encounter as soon as I am able.” “That would be appreciated,” you reply, attention wandering back to the physicians now that the necessary questioning is out of the way. “Can I see $dthem?” They both bow again. “Of course, Your Imperial Majesty.” [[Continue|11.d3]] The rest of the Imperial Army seems to be stationed around the outpost. There is a large area in the back stretched out with temporary tents erected around the outpost building, where soldiers seem to be resting and tending to their injuries, several more physicians moving back and forth across the camp to tend to them. Whoever the mercenaries are that ambushed them, they were certainly skilled. “$aname,” you ask as you follow the physicians indoors, the rest of your Imperial Guards remaining outside. “Would you mind if I were present during the interrogation?” $aname meets your eyes, silent for a moment, but then nods. $catheir lack of judgment is a kind gesture, though you’re sure you’ve made it painfully evident how personal this is. The physicians lead you both through the corridors of the wide building, passing by several soldiers who quickly bow at the sight of you. Imperial soldiers mixed with provincial soldiers who were already garrisoned at the outpost—it makes the building a tad crowded, but at least you won’t have to worry about $dname lacking for protection. At last, the physicians stop at one of the doors near the end of the hallway, and gesture for you to enter. “The general will be asleep for quite some time,” one of them tells you, “but you may visit $dthem as you wish.” “You go on in,” $aname says before you can move towards the door. “I’ll stay out here.” You arch your brows. “You don’t want to visit $dthem?” “$cdthey would not want me to see $dthem in this state.” “I’m sure that’s not true,” you start, but $aname smiles and shakes $atheir head. “Trust me.” $cathey motions to the door. “$cdthey’d be much more comfortable if you visited $dthem alone.” You avert your eyes, pretending not to see the way $aname looks at you with a meaningful quirk of $atheir lips. It’s subtle enough to leave the physicians looking mildly confused, but you know very well what $athey means. Not that you’re going to acknowledge it. “Alright.” Your fingers wrap around the door handle, and after taking a quick breath, you push it open. [[Continue|11.d4]] The room that $dname has been placed in is a bare one, containing a small table in front of the windows carrying bowls of water, cloth, bandages, and jars of poultices in striking green and red colors that don’t look entirely normal. Your attention, however, fixates on the bed across from the door, where $dname sleeps beneath $dtheir blankets, covering $dthem up to $dtheir neck. $cdthey is stripped of all $dtheir armor, chest moving steadily with $dtheir breaths. The armor pieces seem to have been placed inside a large chest at the foot of $dtheir bed, judging by the helmet and mace sitting on top of it. You approach $dtheir bedside, feeling a squeeze within your chest as you look upon $dtheir slumbering form. Even though $dthey’s perfectly safe now, $dthey looks so vulnerable like this. You’ve never seen $dthem out of $dtheir armor before, and you never imagined this would be your first time witnessing it. The physicians follow you into the room. While you hover a step away from $dname’s bedside, one of the physicians moves closer to hover over $dname, while the other sorts the poultices on the table. You watch with concern and curiosity as the physician tending to $dname places the pads of their two fingers upon the pulse in $dtheir neck. When they catch you looking, they explain, “I am examining $dtheir magic pathways, Your Imperial Majesty. Pulse points in the body are where magic naturally tends to gather closest to the surface—do not worry yourself, it is routine.” “I see.” You watch as the physician continues to sense $dname’s magic, until finally pulling away. “And?” “$cdthey appears to be improving, but it’s hard to say with certainty.” You begin to ask a question while the physician shifts some of the blanket off $dname’s body to reveal $dtheir arm. “Was $dtheir magic severely impacted in the—” The sight of $dname’s skin stops you. There are dark vines wrapped around $dthem. [[Continue|11.d5]] The physician doesn’t appear phased by them at all, turning $dname’s wrist over to check $dtheir pulse there next. When you remain silent in your surprise, however, they turn their head to look at you. “Is there something amiss, Your Imperial Majesty?” they ask, but before you can even begin to figure out <em>how</em> to ask about something like this, they notice your gaze aimed at $dname’s arm. “Ah, I assume the general did not inform you?” “Inform me of what?” you ask, taking a step closer to get a better look. They really are vines. Completely indistinguishable from the vines of plants that crawl up walls and beams, except that they look withered. A dry, gray-brown texture, no leaves or flowers, almost more akin to roots than vines. They don’t seem to have a singular origin point, various strands surfacing from the skin—or burrowing into it, you can’t tell the difference—at random points along $dtheir arm. The spots that lead the vines in and out of $dname’s skin look as unhealthy as the vines themselves do, the veins beneath them made visible by their blackened color. “High General $dname has a peri parent,” the physician explains as they examine the pulse on $dname’s wrist. “$cdtheir magic functions differently from most other humans as a result.” “I didn’t know,” is all you can muster in response, at a loss for what else to say. “No?” The physician only looks mildly surprised at your admission. “The general has never made it a secret, it’s noted in $dtheir official records as well—for medical emergencies, such as this occasion.” You suppose $dname never had a reason to tell you, and you never had a reason to know until now or check $dtheir administrative records. You’ve only known each other for a month, and you wouldn’t have expected $dthem to divulge every detail of $dtheir background to you in that time. Though that raises another question. “Does having a peri parent affect one’s magic?” you ask, and the physician stops checking $dname’s pulse, nodding to themselves before turning to answer you. “Indeed it does, Your Imperial Majesty.” The physician keeps their voice low, likely for $dname’s benefit as they explain. “A peri does not have a core of magic, as their entire body consists of it. When a peri and a human have a child, that child is born with a magic core, but it functions differently compared to those without any peri heritage. “Magic cores like yours or mine possess an innate amount of magic, maintained merely by us being alive. Some are born with more, others with less. Whenever we expend our magic, our bodies naturally regenerate it over time. This is not so for the general. “While $dthey has a magic core, it does not generate magic of its own. People with such a magic core can only absorb magic from the environment. It is similar to how peris must absorb nature’s magic to stay alive, though it is not a matter of life or death for a human descendant. If the magic core of a peri-born human depletes, it does not affect their functioning. They will simply be unable to perform magic.” Is that why $dname has no talent for magic? <<if $comfortbyd is true>>$cdthey told you $dthey has no aptitude for it, back when $dthey comforted you in the wake of your nightmare shortly after you arrived at the palace. $cdtheir tutor remarked that it was as if $dname were keeping $dtheir magic fused to $dtheir body.<<else>>You thought it was simply a preference before—and that may very well still be the case—but perhaps the different functioning of $dtheir magic is an aspect that $dthey has never managed to master.<</if>> “Is it more difficult for humans like $dname to use magic?” “Not necessarily.” The physician glances at $dname, seeming to understand what you’re truly asking. “For the general, I suspect $dthey struggles to absorb idle magic, and therefore struggles to expend it as well, though I could not speculate as to why that is. To some, it comes naturally. To others, they never quite learn how to use it.” You nod as you process the physician’s explanation, but then they catch your eyes once more. “I should add, Your Imperial Majesty, that the general’s attackers were aware of the particulars of $dtheir magic as well.” They frown deeply. “They used weapons imbued with noxious magic, for lack of a better term. Absorbing it is what did the most damage.” Essentially, $dthey was poisoned. Your fingers twitch briefly into fists by your side, and you look down at $dname to remind yourself that $dthey is out of danger, and that the physicians are doing their duty in ensuring $dtheir health. “You did say $dname did not make a secret of it,” you remark at last, relaxing your hands again. “Yes, but neither did $dthey advertise it.” The physician gives you a meaningful look. “Perhaps the mercenaries overheard rumors, or perhaps—” “They gained access to $dname’s administrative records.” You close your eyes, taking a deep breath to keep your nerves calm as you let the possibility sink in. It could be someone from your very own court who could be behind this attack. [[Continue|11.d6]] “I must leave,” you decide, as painful as it is when your eyes fall upon $dname who slumbers obliviously in $dtheir bed. You want to stay and watch over $dthem to ensure $dtheir safety personally, but with what the physician has revealed to you, you cannot. No doubt the Imperial Court has heard of the attack on $dname by now, especially if someone among them had motive to cause it in the first place. You can’t in good conscience let $rname fend off the court by $rthemselves, especially when $rthey’s not yet informed on the details of the attack. “May I visit again later?” you ask the physician, who gives you a reassuring smile. “If it would not inconvenience you, Your Imperial Majesty, you may visit again in the morning.” The physician bows. “We will not be moving general for a short while yet, until we’re certain $dthey has completely stabilized.” You nod in understanding. <<if $drelationship is 'low'>>For a moment, you linger in the room, wondering whether it would be too crass to approach. To say a few words to $dname, even if $dthey cannot hear you speak them. But you have an audience, and you don’t want to risk giving the physicians anything to gossip about. Making up your mind, and casting a last glance at $dname’s face—features softened in $dtheir sleep—you turn your back, and leave $dname behind. Your heart aching all the while.<<else>>As your gaze falls upon $dname once more, and you notice the way $dtheir features are softened in $dtheir sleep, you find yourself stepping forward before you can consider whether it’s a good idea. The physician pretends not to notice as you stand by $dname’s bedside, instead quietly moving to join their colleague by the table on the other side of the room. Your eyes flit over $dname’s face, lacking the usual furrow between $dtheir eyes, no more tension in $dtheir jaw, no stern line in $dtheir lips. You keep your hands by your sides, even though your fingers seem drawn to the line of $dtheir brow, wishing to trace the relaxed slope of its line down to $dtheir cheek, to feel the warmth of $dtheir breath exhaled softly from $dtheir nose and reassure yourself of $dtheir safety. But you cannot. You know you cannot. “Rest well, $dname,” you say instead, speaking it softly into the air between you like a secret kept in dreams, “and return to me soon. I’ll be waiting for you.” It is all you can allow yourself. Somehow, you find the strength to tear your gaze away, and then your body next, turning your back on $dthem and quietly leaving the room.<</if>> [[Continue|11.d7]]$aname waits for you outside the room right where you left $athem, meeting your eyes with an expectant gaze. “$dname will be fine,” you say, gesturing with $aname to walk with you as you head back the way you entered the building. “But we should return to the palace.” “Are you sure?” You stay silent for a brief moment, eyes flitting through the corridors to look at the soldiers that move out of the way when you walk through. From your cautious demeanor, $aname appears to understand it’s not something you can talk about out in the open. “Tell me once we’re back at the palace, then,” $athey says. “In the meantime, what do you wish to do with $dname’s assailants?” “What do you mean?” You reach the entrance of the outpost building, stepping back outside where the rest of your Imperial Guards wait. “You’re going to interrogate them, aren’t you?” $aname signals the guards, likely so that they go fetch the horses for you. The two of you linger in front of the outpost building as you continue your discussion. “I am, but what happens after?” $aname asks you, meeting your eyes, and you realize the thought of punishing the mercenaries hadn’t even occurred to you yet. It has never been a concern for you, having never held any kind of authority over anyone else before. Now, however, their fate is in your hands. Their very lives, in fact. What kind of punishment should these mercenaries receive, for attempting to assassinate the High General of Arsur? <ul class="a"> <li>[[Execution: it’s what they deserve, and they should be made examples of.|11.d8a][$punishment to 'revenge'; $dpoints -= 2]]</li> <li>[[Execution: you don’t want to risk another prison break, it’s too dangerous to leave them alive.|11.d8b][$punishment to 'caution'; $dpoints += 6]]</li> <li>[[Imprisonment: they were tools for someone else, you don’t believe they should be killed for it.|11.d8c][$punishment to 'mercy'; $dpoints -= 4]]</li> <li>[[Imprisonment: you might find some use for them in the future.|11.d8d][$punishment to 'calculated'; $dpoints += 4]]</li> </ul><<if visited("11.d8a") is 1>><<if $dpoints gte 17>><<set $drelationship to 'high'>><<set $dhighcount += 1>><<else>><<set $drelationship to 'low'>><<set $dlowcount += 1>><</if>><</if>>It’s the usual punishment, the expected one, but your reasons for choosing it have little to do with the law and more to do with your personal feelings. As much as you could pretend you’re only trying to administer justice as best you can— You want revenge. It’s that simple. At the very core of it, you’re furious at what they’ve done to $dname, what they tried to do, and you want their heads for it. “They’ll be beheaded,” you finally answer $aname, avoiding $atheir eyes. $aname remains quiet. When you glance at $athem from the corner of your eyes, $atheir expression appears impassive. You can’t tell what $athey’s thinking. “I don’t imagine anyone in the Imperial Court would disagree,” is all $athey offers. Before you can respond, one of the Imperial Guards returns with your horses. It’s time to head back to Marabad. [[Continue|11.d9]] <<if visited("11.d8b") is 1>><<if $dpoints gte 17>><<set $drelationship to 'high'>><<set $dhighcount += 1>><<else>><<set $drelationship to 'low'>><<set $dlowcount += 1>><</if>><</if>>You have no true reason to think the mercenaries and the assassin that escaped from <<if $prisoner is 'palace'>>the palace dungeons<<else>>the city’s prison<</if>> are connected, but if the latter escaped, then it could be possible for the former to escape as well. Especially as they have certain means of magic, having targeted $dname’s weak points as they did. It’s too risky to leave them be. You can’t afford another repeat of what happened with the assassin, especially not on the tail of $dname being ambushed and injured. Personal feelings aside, this would be safest for everyone involved—albeit at the cost of the mercenaries’ lives. You’re not sure how to reconcile that yet, but now is not the time to ruminate on it. “They’ll be beheaded,” you finally answer $aname, avoiding $atheir eyes. $aname remains quiet. When you glance at $athem from the corner of your eyes, $atheir expression appears impassive. You can’t tell what $athey’s thinking. “I don’t imagine anyone in the Imperial Court would disagree,” is all $athey offers. Before you can respond, one of the Imperial Guards returns with your horses. It’s time to head back to Marabad. [[Continue|11.d9]]<<if visited("11.d8c") is 1>><<if $dpoints gte 17>><<set $drelationship to 'high'>><<set $dhighcount += 1>><<else>><<set $drelationship to 'low'>><<set $dlowcount += 1>><</if>><</if>>As egregious as their crimes were, in the end, they were hired by someone else. Of course, it’s notable that these mercenaries were willing to take on a request for the assassination of the High General of the Imperial Army, but in your eyes, the main person responsible is the one who made the request to begin with. Imprisonment should be punishment enough for them. Besides, you’re not sure you’re willing to condemn people to death at a moment’s notice. Such a decision should weigh more heavily on you, and shouldn’t be taken so hastily. You don’t want to be the kind of Crown who subjects people’s very lives to your mere whims. “They’ll be imprisoned,” you finally answer $aname, avoiding $atheir eyes. $aname remains quiet. When you glance at $athem from the corner of your eyes, $atheir expression appears impassive. You can’t tell what $athey’s thinking. “I don’t imagine anyone in the Imperial Court would disagree,” is all $athey offers. Before you can respond, one of the Imperial Guards returns with your horses. It’s time to head back to Marabad. [[Continue|11.d9]]<<if visited("11.d8d") is 1>><<if $dpoints gte 17>><<set $drelationship to 'high'>><<set $dhighcount += 1>><<else>><<set $drelationship to 'low'>><<set $dlowcount += 1>><</if>><</if>><<if $calc gt $kind>>Executing what is clearly a very skilled group of mercenaries strikes you as somewhat of a waste. Perhaps you might need to know something more in the future, or perhaps there could be other uses for cutthroat sellwords at your command. Whichever the case, executing them seems a bit hasty. Especially when $aname hasn’t even had a chance to interrogate them yet.<<else>>Thinking of how to use people to your advantage does not come naturally to you, but it’s the kind of mindset you might need as the Crown in circumstances like these. Though you can’t deny that part of your reluctance to commit to executing them is because it goes against your nature, as well. Still, $aname hasn’t even had the chance to interrogate them yet, and you might need to know something more from then in the future.<</if>> “They’ll be imprisoned,” you finally answer $aname, avoiding $atheir eyes. $aname remains quiet. When you glance at $athem from the corner of your eyes, $atheir expression appears impassive. You can’t tell what $athey’s thinking. “I don’t imagine anyone in the Imperial Court would disagree,” is all $athey offers. Before you can respond, one of the Imperial Guards returns with your horses. It’s time to head back to Marabad. [[Continue|11.d9]] Your journey back to the palace is short and uneventful, taking the same passageway in the tunnels you did on your way to the outpost. Though this time, you’re not rushing in near-panic, so the walk back is almost peaceful. That is, until you make it back up the stairs that lead into the palace, and find $rname waiting for you at the top with a troubled look on $rtheir face. “There you are!” Relief flickers briefly in $rtheir eyes at the sight of you and $aname. “The Imperial Court has heard the news. They’ve already gathered in the smaller throne room.” “What are the court officials saying?” you ask as you reach the top of the stairs, tension already building in your posture. $rname’s lips press together in a hard line. “They want to strip $dname of $dtheir title, and replace $dthem with someone else. Mîr Behram’s representative is pushing for it.” For a moment, you see red. You’re hardly aware of the way your body moves before your mind has even caught up. Before you know it, you’re already stalking down the hallways, the pulse in your neck and forehead throbbing as blood rushes to your head, jaw clenching so tight your gums start to hurt from the pressure. $aname and $rname quickly follow on your heels, but they both seem to have decided to leave you be—wise, since in you’re no mood to be talked down. Once you turn a corner and the tall, heavy doors to the smaller throne room appear in the subsequent hallway, you feel your magic well up inside you in response—either to your intent or your emotions. Before the guards by the doors can so much as twitch, <<if $magicpref is 'inner'>>you use both hands to throw them open. The wood gives as much weight and resistance as sheets as paper, slamming against the inner walls of the throne room with such force it startles all of the nobles and officials inside. It’s the added strength to your muscles fueled by your magic, a form physical enhancement you have not truly practiced yet. When one’s feelings are heightened, however, this kind of magic tends to come out naturally, instinctively.<<else>>you lift a hand in a quick cutting motion, briefly connecting with the air around you and yanking at its threads. It bursts through the doors like a physical force, the wood slamming against the inner walls of the room with such power it startles all of the nobles and officials inside. Usually it would take you some time to get in the right frame of mind to perform such magic, similar to a physical warm-up. When one’s feelings are heightened, however, this kind of magic tends to come out naturally, instinctively.<</if>> The fury pounding between your ears certainly qualifies as a heightened state. As you enter, court officials turn around or look over their shoulders at you with arched brows and wide, surprised eyes. Whatever chatter filled the chamber before is instantly quieted as you head down the center of the room towards the small set of stairs leading up to your throne, not dignifying a single person with so much as a glance. Atop the steps, you turn around to face the court, <<if $clothing is 'dress' or $clothing is 'shalwar'>>whipping the edge of your coat back behind you in a curt motion<<else>>whipping the hem of your robes behind you in a curt motion<</if>> before you sit down. Your Sorcerer and your Royal Protector have both followed you up, $rname on your right and $aname on your left as you stare down at the Imperial Court. Now that all the positions have been filled, they won’t have to interfere as much on your behalf, but that also means it is entirely up to you to lead the court meetings now. Blood thrumming through your hands, you clasp them around the armrests of your throne, knowing you should compose yourself before you speak. Many new faces fill out the throne room, a little over a hundred uniform robes in various colors denoting which office each official belongs to. Only half of those have legitimate votes to cast during discussions, while the other half are either junior officials or administrators keeping track of the meetings. The representatives of the Mîrs are all present as well, having been assigned during the same time you were appointing your own officials. Mîr Behram’s representative in particular stands near the front of the court in bright red robes, marked with the subtle embroidery of mountains along the hem. As you recall, having memorized everyone who has become part of your court, Behram’s representative is a noble lord named Samal. He, much like the rest of the officials, gaze up at you with expectation. They all watch and wait for the court meeting to begin. Their silence is deceptive, their demands sealed within their mouths like the fangs of a serpent, unleashed only at the moment of striking. You must be ready for it. [[Continue|11.d10]] You turn your gaze to the Voice of the Crown, the official who manages the court’s overall concerns and sets the agenda for each meeting, and also functions as your mouthpiece in your absence. Appointed to that position, on $rname and Keko’s recommendations, was Karwan Feylî. A veteran of politics and the oldest member of your court. He looks surprisingly fit at first glance, broad-shouldered and tall with a full head of thick, curly black hair. His face is the only thing that betrays his age: deep brown skin wrinkled so deep that its rolls nearly swallow his facial features. From his straight-backed posture, you get the sense he must have served as a soldier at some point. You’ve not yet seen him in action before, but you trust $rname’s and Keko’s judgment. “I heard there was commotion in the court,” you say to him, ignoring Lord Samal’s gaze from among the crowd. He will have to wait his turn, as is decorum. “What has been said, chief minister?” Minister Karwan bows with his neck as you address him. His hands are folded behind his back, standing across Lord Samal on the right side of the court. “The court has been made aware of the ambush that has incapacitated the High General,” Minister Karwan answers. His voice is roughened with his years but calm and clear in tone, naturally loud as it fills the chamber. “Concerns have been raised as to who will take control of the Imperial Army while $dthey recovers.” “Indeed?” You keep your expression impassive and relaxed, even while your hands clench around the armrests of your throne. “An official replacement, or a temporary substitute?” A quiet murmur travels through the court, one Minister Karwan ignores as he answers, “That is where the court is in disagreement, Your Imperial Majesty.” “Let me make myself clear to the court, then, so that I may spare them further squabbling.” Your gaze wanders the crowd of court officials, not a single one meeting your eyes<<if $nazaminister is true>> save for Lady Naza, who watches you with a faint smile<</if>>. “The High General will not be <em>replaced</em>. You may debate on a substitute, but as soon as $dthey is recovered, $dthey will resume $dtheir post. Any objections?” Several glances are exchanged, more whispers traveling through the room. Finally, Lord Samal steps forward. Against your will, you give him a turn to speak: “Lord Samal.” “Your Imperial Majesty.” He bows customarily before speaking. “There have always been doubts about General $dname’s appointment. If you’ll recall, $dthey took the title only because $dtheir predecessor, $dtheir mother<<if $blunt gt $charm>>—” “I’m aware of the circumstances of $dtheir appointment,” you interrupt coldly. “Make your point, and do it quickly.” If your words startle him, he doesn’t show it as he continues. “It is Mîr Behram’s suggestion that the court might consider other candidates. Ten years have passed. In the interest of fairness, and the Empire’s security, should we not consider who would be best suited?”<<else>>, resigned and General $dname was best suited for the position at the time.” “And your master thinks that having ten years of experience has made General $dname <em>less</em> suited, somehow?” you say, your words all but a sneer as you quirk an eyebrow. “Is that what I’m supposed to take away from this, Lord Samal?” Lord Samal gives a thin smile. “Not at all, Your Imperial Majesty. Mîr Behram only wonders whether there aren’t better candidates for the position now that so much time has passed, that is all. He thinks only of the welfare of the Empire.”<</if>> A sugar-coated speech to try and disguise Mîr Behram’s true ploy: to deprive you of an ally. <<if $law isnot 'outwitted'>>[[Continue|11.d11besna]]<<else>>[[Continue|11.d11zn]]<</if>> Returning your attention to the entirety of your court, you gaze back out over the crowd of officials gathered in the chamber. “What do the rest of you have to say on this matter?” As expected—and perhaps, dreaded—Minister Besna steps forward. <<if $law is 'rejected'>>You keep your expression devoid of emotion, forcing a blankness to settle over your mind. She will not rattle you this time.<<else>>You keep your expression carefully neutral, not wanting to have any of the wariness you feel filter through your words.<</if>> “Minister Besna?” She bows, then says, “Mîr Behram’s proposal has merit, Your Imperial Majesty. We must not allow the Empire’s hierarchy to go stale when there are potential prospects who could perform even more admirably than High General $dname. I must add, inheriting the position from $dtheir mother as $dthey did, does that not give an appearance of nepotism?” You feel your blood pressure spike, your head hot as you stare at the minister, a muscle in your jaw jumping as you clench it. The gall of these people, to speak of nepotism—to pretend to be champions of merit—when their very lives are enriched by inherited, unearned wealth. Furthermore, they’re using this scheme as a way to try and rip $dname’s title from $dtheir hands, one $dthey has proven worthy of ten times over, solely to get at you. They don’t actually care whether there is anyone more qualified than $dname. The sheer hypocrisy of it all is making your head spin with rage. You have to wrangle your magic, <<if $magicaffinity is 'sun'>><<if $magicpref is 'inner'>>light sparking at your fingertips as if trying to break free<<else>>the light falling into the room seeming to brighten almost harshly, as if the sun were shining directly inside<</if>><<else>><<if $magicpref is 'inner'>>the shadows cast by your hands on the armrests reaching up and curling around your fingers like smoke<<else>>the light falling into the room seeming to dim, as if clouds had suddenly blocked out the sun<</if>><</if>>. Some of the court officials start appearing concerned, and you can feel $rname and $aname’s looks on you, the former shifting a little closer towards your throne. <<if $nazaminister is true>><<set $tempreplacement to false>>Before you can respond to Minister Besna’s argument, however, someone else steps forward. You take a breath, trying to calm yourself. The interference is welcome, as you’re not sure you would’ve been able to keep from shouting down the court otherwise. “Lady Naza,” you greet, which draws several surprised looks from the court while Lady Naza herself smiles at you. What is she planning? You did not anticipate she would so boldly attend the meeting before you had even confirmed her appointment. Did she already anticipate what you would decide based on your discussion with her earlier? Minister Besna scowls, looking over at Lady Naza standing on the other side of the room. “Your Imperial Majesty, if I may, Lady Naza is not a court official. As an outsider, she should not have any part in official court meetings.” You meet Lady Naza’s eyes once more, and she gives you a slight, imperceptible nod. As if telling you to trust her. You <em>did</em> decide you wanted to appoint her before, but thought you would have some time to confirm her words first. Glancing over at $rname, you see the troubled expression painted across $rtheir face. However, to your great surprise, when $rthey notices you looking $rthey whispers: “Give her a chance.” The alternative is allowing Minister Besna and Lord Samal to rally the court in favor of replacing $dname. $rname must have realized this as well, despite $rtheir personal dislike of her. You’ll have to trust your judgment that having Lady Naza as your Minister of Defense will work in your favor. “Lady Naza will be Minister of Defense,” you finally state, and take some satisfaction from the way Minister Besna and her allies look taken aback by the statement. Only Steward Welat seemingly remains unaffected by the news, stoically facing forward. “As such, she is far from an outsider, as she has the obligation to partake in court meetings. Lady Naza, you wished to speak?” “I did.” Naza inclines her head towards you, then turns to face Minister Besna. “As for your proposal, Minister Besna and Lord Samal, you and Mîr Behram are both overstepping your authority. It is not the purview of the Office of Law or a Mîr to propose changes to the Imperial Army. That right is reserved solely for the High General and the Minister of Defense.” “The High General is evidently absent, not to mention the subject of evaluation,” Lord Samal interjects irritably, seeming to cover for Minister Besna. “Furthermore, you are not yet officially appointed by the Crown. In the absence of a proper Minister of Defense and the High General, other ministers should be allowed to make their recommendations.” This is quickly devolving into a political battle. <ul class="a"> <li>[[Let Naza handle it herself.|11.d12nazaa][$nazapoints -= 4]]</li> <li>[[Interrupt and solidify Naza’s position in court.|11.d12nazab][$nazapoints += 4]]</li> </ul><<else>><<if $lawminister is 'patient game'>>Noble Nûdem is not yet among the law officials, as you didn’t have time to officially appoint them before this emergency meeting was called. Neither is the position of Minister of Defense filled yet, though you already have a candidate in mind<<if $nazapoints gt 0>> after having rejected Lady Naza’s proposal<</if>>.<<else>>The position of Minister of Defense is not filled yet, though you already have a candidate in mind<<if $nazapoints gt 0>> after having rejected Lady Naza’s proposal<</if>>.<</if>> There is no one else to speak on matters of the army with any actual authority. Which means you need to handle this issue yourself. <<if $intel gt $intu>>“On the basis of which laws are you making this recommendation, Minister Besna?” you ask, deciding to meet her on her own playing field. If it’s a battle of wits and reasoning she wants, you’re not afraid to give it to her—though it will be fought uphill on your end. “It is the obligation of a ruler, Your Imperial Majesty,” Minister Besna replies, even inclining her head towards you in a show of gracious respect. It is all a performance. “As the Imperial Court, we cannot shirk in our duty to advocate for the Empire’s best interests.” “What makes you think there would be better candidates for the position?” you demand with a frown. “High General $dname has warded multiple attempts of invasion from the Sacati tribes in the north. $cdtheir record of service is unimpeachable.” “Yet $dthey is now incapacitated, and no one knows whether $dthey will be able to continue serving,” Minister Besna replies, mentioning the possibility of $dname being crippled almost offhandedly. “Surely you one cannot begrudge an exploration of options, should the worst come to pass—unless you have some other reason you do not wish to remove $dthem from $dtheir position, Your Imperial Majesty?”<<else>>“If you have any potential candidates for the position, by all means, send me a list,” you reply in an unbothered air. You don’t know enough about Arsur’s laws to argue with her about them, so depending on a show of theater gives you a better fighting chance. “But surely you are not suggesting that I should remove $dname from $dtheir post when $dthey hasn’t even had time to recover?” “With all due respect, Your Imperial Majesty, the Empire’s security is paramount,” Minister Besna replies, even inclining her head towards you in a show of gracious respect. It is all a performance. “And who can say whether the High General will recover or not?” She mentions the possibility of $dname being crippled almost offhandedly, completely unconcerned about $dtheir health. You narrow your eyes. “That remains to be seen, but it appears that you have no patience to spare. One must wonder why you are trying to rush this process, Minister Besna.” The minister gives you a questioning look, eyes narrowing slightly in return even as the smile lingers on her face. “One also wonders why you are so set against the idea, Your Imperial Majesty. Is there a reason why you do not wish to consider removing High General $dname from $dtheir post?”<</if>> Your heart nearly stops. You remember $dname’s words, $dtheir reluctance—<em>if the rest of the court believes that I am biased in your favor, it could cause issues</em>—and you finally understand exactly why $dthey has been so distant. Why $dthey didn’t want to risk it. You don’t think Minister Besna knows, how could she? But she’s clearly needling you for anything she can use. If she knew about your fondness for $dname, she would use it to remove $dname from $dtheir post in a heartbeat. Furthermore, the specter of $dname’s mother’s disgrace still haunts $dthem, you realize. While no one is digging into it explicitly, everyone knows about the circumstances of her resignation, enabling the court to attack $dname’s position in turn. Despite $dtheir stellar reputation, and all $dtheir accomplishments, it matters little in the eyes of the nobility. They only see a target, one that would allow them to impede you. <<if $historyalliance is true>><<set $tempreplacement to false>>As you struggle to come up with a response, Minister Awir steps forward to speak. [[Continue|11.d12hawir]]<<else>>[[Continue|11.d12halone]]<</if>><</if>><<set $tempreplacement to false>>Returning your attention to the entirety of your court, you gaze back out over the crowd of officials gathered in the chamber. “What do the rest of you have to say on this matter?” As expected, Steward Welat steps forward. Unlike your last confrontation with him, however, this time you do not feel threatened. He is a mere city steward, which affords him very little authority when it comes to matters of the Imperial Court now that all its vacant seats have been filled. Even his presence in your court now is a mere courtesy. “Steward Welat?” He bows, then says, “I would like to point out, Your Imperial Majesty, that Rojan’s provincial army commander was once considered for the position of High General. He came in second only to Vejan Sîdar in Crown Ferzan’s eyes.” That must be $dname’s mother’s name. <<if $calc gt $kind>>“You’re suggesting since Crown Ferzan considered him as a second choice, he should naturally take the role now?” you surmise, and Welat inclines his head in a nod. “It should be preferable, I would think, to someone who wasn’t appointed by any Crown and only took command for lack of other options.” He’s invoking Crown Ferzan’s name and reputation to lord it over you, who has little accomplishments of your own. It’s both to needle you as well as to put you in your place.<<else>>You arch your brows. “Your point being?” “Crown Ferzan was a great ruler, with particular insight in matters of the military as he was a decorated veteran himself,” Steward Welat elaborates. “No one appointed High General $dname, but Rojan’s army commander was esteemed enough to considered by Ferzan the Bold himself.”<</if>> “Has the High General not performed admirably, despite not being appointed?” you argue in return, frustration thickening in the lines between your brows. “Perhaps,” Steward Welat says, “but does our Empire not promote those based on merit? You must consider how this looks, Your Imperial Majesty. To have essentially inherited the title from $dtheir mother, it carries an appearance of nepotism.” You feel your blood pressure spike, your head hot as you stare at the steward, a muscle in your jaw jumping as you clench it. The gall of these people, to speak of nepotism—to pretend to be champions of merit—when their very lives are enriched by inherited, unearned wealth. Furthermore, they’re using this scheme as a way to try and rip $dname’s title from $dtheir hands, one $dthey has proven worthy of ten times over, solely to get at you. They don’t actually care whether there actually is anyone more qualified than $dname. The sheer hypocrisy of it all is making your head spin with rage. You have to wrangle your magic, <<if $magicaffinity is 'sun'>><<if $magicpref is 'inner'>>light sparking at your fingertips as if trying to break free<<else>>the light falling into the room seeming to brighten almost harshly, as if the sun were shining directly inside<</if>><<else>><<if $magicpref is 'inner'>>the shadows cast by your hands on the armrests reaching up and curling around your fingers like smoke<<else>>the light falling into the room seeming to dim, as if clouds had suddenly blocked out the sun<</if>><</if>>. Some of the court officials start appearing concerned, and you can feel $rname and $aname’s looks on you, the former shifting a little closer towards your throne. <<if $nazaminister is true>><<set $tempreplacement to false>>Before you can even think of a response, someone unexpected steps forward. “Lady Naza,” you greet her, which draws several surprised looks from the court while Lady Naza herself smiles at you. What is she planning? You did not anticipate she would so boldly attend the meeting before you had even confirmed her appointment. Did she already anticipate what you would decide based on your discussion with her earlier? Steward Welat frowns deeply at Lady Naza’s interference before looking back at you. “Your Imperial Majesty, I beg for clarification. Lady Naza is not a court official, what is the purpose of her attendance?” You meet Lady Naza’s eyes once more, and she gives you a slight, imperceptible nod. As if telling you to trust her. You <em>did</em> decide you wanted to appoint her before, but thought you would have some time to confirm her words first. Glancing over at $rname, you see a thoughtful expression painted across $rtheir face. To your great surprise, when $rthey sees you looking, $rthey whispers: “Give her a chance.” While you feel confident that you could handle the steward on your own, perhaps this is a good opportunity to test where Lady Naza’s loyalties lie. “Lady Naza will be Minister of Defense,” you state, noting the way Steward Welat seemingly remains unaffected by the news. Perhaps he already anticipated as much. “As such, she is far from an outsider, as she has the obligation to partake in court meetings. Lady Naza, you wished to speak?” “I did.” Naza inclines her head towards you, then turns to face Welat. “As for your proposal, Steward Welat, it is obvious to everyone that you are overstepping your authority. Since when can the steward of a city make recommendations on matters of the Imperial Army? It is laughable!” “Such unique circumstances call for it,” Lord Samal interjects irritably, seeming to cover for the steward. If Welat is in Mîr Behram’s camp, then of course it would make sense the two would be allied. “Furthermore, you are not yet officially appointed by the Crown. In the absence of a proper Minister of Defense and the High General, others should be allowed to make their recommendations.” This is quickly devolving into a political battle. <ul class="a"> <li>[[Let Naza handle it herself.|11.d12nazac][$nazapoints -= 4]]</li> <li>[[Interrupt and solidify Naza’s position in court.|11.d12nazad][$nazapoints += 4]]</li> </ul><<else>>Even without a Minister of Defense present, having not yet been officially appointed, you have little to fear from the steward’s pressuring. You are more than capable of handling this issue yourself<<if $historyalliance is true>>—but it is at that moment Minister Awir steps forward. [[Continue|11.d12znawir]]<<else>>. [[Continue|11.d12znsolo]]<</if>><</if>> You decide not to interfere, curious to see how Lady Naza will respond. She looks unimpressed by Lord Samal’s line of reasoning. “Is the lack of my official appointment the only problem, then?” Lord Samal frowns, looking hesitant to respond as he perhaps senses her intent. Not bothering to wait for his reply, Lady Naza turns to you. “Your Imperial Majesty, may I approach the throne?” You raise your brows, and it takes a moment before you realize her intent. She wants you to appoint her on the spot. “You may.” Lady Naza steps out from among the crowd and walks forward, coming to a halt in front of the steps leading up to your throne. “Lady Naza of House Ishtal,” you speak, “I wish to appoint you as Minister of Defense in official capacity. Will you serve?” She inclines her head. “With honor, Your Imperial Majesty.” “Then henceforth, you are appointed as the Minister of Defense.” Looking back at a stunned Lord Samal and resigned Minister Besna, you ask, “Does that satisfy the court?” Lord Samal swings his head around from right to left, as if searching for a way to prevent what has already come to pass. No one else wants to meet his eyes, sensing the tides have turned, until his gaze finally lands on Minister Karwan. “Chief minister, is this allowed? There must be procedure for the appointment of officials—” “It is all at the Crown’s discretion,” Minister Karwan states simply, turning away from the representative again to face forward instead. “But this is highly unusual!” Your Voice breathes an exasperated sigh. “Oh, quiet down! Were you not using the same technicalities to get your way a moment ago, you insolent dog?” “Do not speak to me that way!” Lord Samal erupts. “I serve Mîr Behram!” “And I was already serving the Crowns of this Empire when your master was still suckling at the teat!” the chief minister snaps. “Now be a good boy and come to heel, we have many more matters to discuss.” Lord Samal’s face burns red with such anger and humiliation you suspect it is preventing him from speaking. To you, however, it is a most welcome development. Every other time you’ve had to face the nobility and the Imperial Court so far, you were essentially on your own. Now, you actually have allies in your corner. Lady Naza grins and winks at him as she saunters back to her previous position—though it is <em>Minister</em> Naza now. Once she is back in line, she resumes her previous line of reasoning. “May I make my official recommendation regarding the replacement of High General $dname, Your Imperial Majesty?” You suspect you’re going to like what she has to say. “Go ahead.” Minister Naza smiles wide. “As Minister of Defense, I should serve as an administrative substitute until the High General recovers. Unless we have reason to believe $dthey will not be able to return to $dtheir post, there is no point in looking for a replacement.” Lord Samal looks as if he wishes to protest, but after exchanging a look with Minister Besna a few rows behind him, he remains silent. There’s very little he could say, after all, seeing as a Mîr should have no influence on matters of the Empire’s military. “I agree with your sentiments, Minister Naza.” You give her a small smile, glad that your decision to trust her paid off. “Once the High General is fully recovered, $dthey will resume $dtheir post. We will not discuss replacements unless $dthey is judged unfit to serve—until then, Minister Naza can handle the army.” [[Continue|11.d13]]<<if $intel gt $intu>>So it seems the rules of the court exist solely to be bent for political convenience. In which case, as master of the court, why should you not be able to do the same?<<else>>The thought pops into mind the moment protest passes Lord Samal’s lips. As the Crown, can you not solve the issue on the spot?<</if>> <<if $blunt gt $charm>>“Lady Naza,” you interject before the argument can continue, “approach the throne.”<<else>>“Is her lack of official appointment the only reason for your protest?” you ask Lord Samal. He looks a little startled when you address him, hesitating before answering. “Yes, Your Imperial Majesty.” “Let’s resolve that right now, then.” You look back at Lady Naza, gesturing with a hand. “Approach the throne, Lady Naza.”<</if>> Silence falls in the chamber. Appearing intrigued, Lady Naza steps out from among the crowd and walks forward, coming to a halt in front of the steps leading up to your throne. “Lady Naza of House Ishtal,” you speak, “I wish to appoint you as Minister of Defense in official capacity. Will you serve?” You catch the glimpse of a sharp smile crossing Lady Naza’s lips, before she bows deeply before you. “With honor, Your Imperial Majesty.” “Then henceforth, you are appointed as the Minister of Defense.” Looking back at a stunned Lord Samal and resigned Minister Besna, you ask, “Does that satisfy the court?” Lord Samal swings his head around from right to left, as if searching for a way to prevent what has already come to pass. No one else wants to meet his eyes, sensing the tides have turned, until his gaze finally lands on Minister Karwan. “Chief minister, is this allowed? There must be procedure for the appointment of officials!” “It is all at the Crown’s discretion,” Minister Karwan states simply, turning away from the representative again to face forward instead. “But this is highly unusual!” Your Voice breathes an exasperated sigh. “Oh, quiet down! Were you not using the same technicalities to get your way a moment ago, you insolent dog?” “Do not speak to me that way,” Lord Samal erupts. “I serve Mîr Behram!” “And I was already serving the Crowns of this Empire when your master was still suckling at the teat!” the chief minister snaps. “Now be a good boy and come to heel, we have many more matters to discuss.” Lord Samal’s face burns red with such anger and humiliation you suspect it is preventing him from speaking. To you, however, it is a most welcome development. Every other time you’ve had to face the nobility and the Imperial Court so far, you were essentially on your own. Now, you actually have allies in your corner. Lady Naza grins and winks at him as she saunters back to her previous position—though it is <em>Minister</em> Naza now. Once she is back in line, she resumes her previous line of reasoning. “May I make my official recommendation regarding the replacement of High General $dname, Your Imperial Majesty?” You suspect you’re going to like what she has to say. “Go ahead.” Minister Naza smiles wide. “As Minister of Defense, I should serve as an administrative substitute until the High General recovers. Unless we have reason to believe $dthey will not be able to return to $dtheir post, there is no point in looking for a replacement.” Lord Samal looks as if he wishes to protest, but after exchanging a look with Minister Besna a few rows behind him, he remains silent. There’s very little he could say, after all, seeing as the Mîr should have no influence on matters of the Empire’s military. “I agree with your sentiments, Minister Naza.” You give her a small smile, glad that your decision to trust her paid off. “Once the High General is fully recovered, $dthey will resume $dtheir post. We will not discuss replacements unless $dthey is judged unfit to serve—until then, Minister Naza can handle the army.” [[Continue|11.d13]]“Minister Awir,” you speak with some measure of relief, remembering the deal you struck with him before the court meeting. You’re hopeful that he will offer you some way out of this. Awir does not disappoint. He bows shortly before you, before he turns to address Minister Besna. “I must point out, Minister Besna, that it is unprecedented for a Minister of Law to involve themselves in matters of military and defense, when no laws have been broken.” For the first time, Minister Besna’s composure slips, expression marred with distaste as her lips thin into a tense line, before smoothing out again. “We live in unprecedented times—” “An excuse that may have worked in the absence of the Crown,” Minister Awir counters briskly, “but $ctheir Imperial Majesty is here now. Need I remind you who the Imperial Army answers to? It is the High General and the Minister of Defense, and they serve only the Crown, not the Imperial Court. In their absence, it is the Crown whose judgment reigns supreme. Surely you are not questioning $ctheir Imperial Majesty’s sovereignty?” It is a scolding that works much better coming from another minister than from you. If you had been the one to make this argument, it would’ve made you look power-hungry at best. With another minister stating such, especially the chief official who leads the royal historians, it is much more credible. “Is your suggestion that nothing should be done, then?” Lord Samal interjects, having realized the discussion is no longer going his master’s way. “It would not be my place to make any suggestions on the matter,” Minister Awir replies coolly. “Because unlike some in this court, I know my place. It is only for our Crown to decide on. Unless you are implying you would know better than the Crown, Lord Samal? Would you prefer to sit on the throne, perhaps?” “What an outrageous- you cannot simply accuse—” Lord Samal sputters, anger veiling the hint of fear you see in his eyes. The officials around him refuse to meet his eyes, a few even taking subtle steps away from him. To be suspected of disloyalty to the Crown, especially in the Imperial Court, can ruin one’s reputation forever. Minister Awir turns back to you. “I am sure the Imperial Court has the good sense to agree that you are the only one who should have a say in this matter, Your Imperial Majesty. The Imperial Army serves at your command, and its leader may only be decided by you.” Minister Besna, as well as her supporters, remain silent. You allow yourself to ease a little in your seat, thankful for Awir’s assistance. Offering that alliance to him truly has worked in your favor. “It is settled, then,” you speak when no one else objects. “I will keep the Imperial Army stationed in Rojan while High General $dname recuperates—one of $dtheir lieutenants will take temporary control. Once the High General is fully recovered, $dthey will resume $dtheir post. We will not discuss replacements unless $dthey is judged unfit to serve.” [[Continue|11.d13]] <<set $tempreplacement to true>>Seeing you struggle in your argument with Minister Besna, $rname tries to assist you. “It is not for the Minister of Law to make proposals relating to the Imperial Army,” $rthey says, keeping $rtheir tone steady though you can see the frustration you feel has built up with $rthem as well. $rname’s gaze is sharpened to a glare. Minister Besna appears unruffled, even going so far as to address <em>you</em> rather than respond to $rtitle $rname directly. “Perhaps it is unusual, Your Imperial Majesty, but it is even less the business of the inner court to speak on such matters. Exceptions were made when the Imperial Court was still incomplete, but now the Crown’s Sorcerer may return to their regular duties.” $rname scowls, and you cut in before $rthey has a chance to berate the Minister. “Mind your manners, Minister Besna!” you snap, giving her a look of warning. “Even if $rtitle $rname belongs to the inner court, you will address $rthem with the respect that $rthey is due. Need I remind you how replaceable a mere minister is, compared to the Crown’s Sorcerer?” Minister Besna’s gaze cools, clearly not appreciative of being scolded, but it isn’t enough to disturb her composure. She inclines her head toward $rname. “My apologies, my <<if $rgender is 'male'>>lord<<else>>lady<</if>>.” “We will not be replacing the High General.” You draw a clear line in the sand. “Seek a temporary substitute if you must, but I will not allow $dtheir service to be put into question.” Silence reigns in the court room, and for one long, anxious moment, you wonder if you were too transparent. If you defended $dname too vehemently, and the court can tell that your heart is involved. “So then,” Minister Karwan mercifully speaks up, addressing the court and breaking up the uneasy silence. “Is the Imperial Court in agreement on this issue? Does the majority wish to recommend temporary substitutes for High General $dname?” “With the customary transference of title and rank,” Minister Besna pipes up, and your fingers twitch with a rare urge to commit violence. “So that the substitute may use their full authority as High General should an emergency arise, of course.” You see looks exchanged, officials muttering briefly amongst each other, until the ministers voice their agreements one by one. “I cannot see how we can let the Imperial Army languish without a leader in such dire times,” Minister Ramyar, from the Office of Diplomacy, states. “Should another crisis arise in Şevan, it will cause chaos.” “Agreed.” Minister Çinar, from the Office of Correspondence, supports Minister Ramyar. “It need not be a permanent replacement, but there must be one.” “The court seeks to name a substitute when any single one of the High General's lieutenants could take temporary control,” Minister Senger, the Wisdom of the Crown, voices as a lone opponent. It gives you some hope that you might have enough officials on your side to at least stall the proposal. “Stripping High General $dname of their title and rank, even if temporary, is nothing less than political theater. We vote against.” “We will abstain,” is all that Minister Awir states. You suppose you can’t be wholly surprised. <<if visited('10.34b') gte 1>>While you accepted his proposal to extend more votes in favor of information provided on the nobility, on occasions like these, his office has no true reason to support you. It is disappointing, but expected.<</if>><<if visited('10.34c') gte 1>>Even if you had decided to accept his proposal from earlier, his office has no true reason to support you on occasions like these.<</if>> “We vote for,” Minister Lerzan, from the Office of Personnel, says as the final minister to cast their vote. Her vote seals your fate. With that, there are two offices absent, one against, one abstained, and three in favor. You are outnumbered. $rname looks over to meet your eyes. Neither of you is keen to admit it, but there is little more you can do in this situation. Merely because you appointed some of these ministers yourself, does not mean they will blindly fight on your side. “That is the court’s recommendation, then,” the chief minister concludes, turning back to you. “Your Imperial Majesty, the court proposes to discuss temporary replacements for High General $dname as $dthey recovers and to have a temporary transference of title and rank during that time. Do you agree with the court’s advice?” Agree? As if there is any other choice. To throw out the court’s proposal, as tempting as the idea is, would portray you as unreasonable and irrational. Not to mention that it would no doubt damage your relations with newly appointed ministers, even though they did vote against you this time. You exhale a deep breath. “Very well. I will consider temporary substitutes, at my own discretion.” It is the only way to try and circumvent the court’s advice. Hopefully $dname will recover fast enough that a substitute need not be appointed. You don’t want to be the one to tell $dthem that $dtheir title has been stripped from $dthem, even if temporarily. With $dtheir history, you have no doubt it would hurt $dthem deeply. While the court accepts your judgment, Lord Samal smiles the widest of them all. He, along with the rest of the officials, bow deeply as they declare in unison: “Your wisdom is exemplary, Your Imperial Majesty!” As if they hadn’t just badgered you into this outcome. [[Continue|11.d13]] The court has little else to discuss, so you take the opportunity to extricate yourself and dismiss them all from the palace. To your immense frustration, the interrogation of the mercenaries—the Eagle's Talons, they call themselves— offers nothing you did not already know. $aname reads their minds and memories one by one, and cannot come up with anything new. They were hired by someone anonymous to assassinate $dname in exchange for a large sum of coin, and did not inquire to the asker’s reasons. Furthermore, they were informed of $dname’s particular magic core, and took advantage of it by procuring items from a black market dealer capable of damaging $dthem. “Their weapons were soaked in the essence of death,” $rname explains to you after the interrogation, which does nothing to cool your anger. “Death creates magic just as life does. These weapons would have no effect on humans that do not have peri heritage, as we do not absorb magic the way peris do. For a peri-born human, however, it is the surest way to kill them.” $aname takes it upon $athemselves to track down where the mercenaries got their weapons from, but other than that, there is nothing you or anyone else can do. Nothing but visit $dname at the outpost whenever you are able, and wait. A week passes before $dthey finally wakes. [[Continue|11.d14]] You decide not to interfere, curious to see how Lady Naza will respond. She looks unimpressed by Lord Samal’s line of reasoning. “Is the lack of my official appointment the only problem, then?” Lord Samal frowns, looking hesitant to respond as he perhaps senses her intent. Not bothering to wait for his reply, Lady Naza turns to you. “Your Imperial Majesty, may I approach the throne?” You raise your brows, and it takes a moment before you realize her intent. She wants you to appoint her on the spot. “You may.” Lady Naza steps out from among the crowd and walks forward, coming to a halt in front of the steps leading up to your throne. “Lady Naza of House Ishtal,” you speak, “I wish to appoint you as Minister of Defense in official capacity. Will you serve?” She inclines her head. “With honor, Your Imperial Majesty.” “Then henceforth, you are appointed as the Minister of Defense.” Looking back at a stunned Lord Samal and resigned Steward Welat, you ask, “Does that satisfy the court?” Lord Samal swings his head around from right to left, as if searching for a way to prevent what has already come to pass. No one else wants to meet his eyes, sensing the tides have turned, until his gaze finally lands on Minister Karwan. “Chief minister, is this allowed? There must be procedure for the appointment of officials—” “It is all at the Crown’s discretion,” Minister Karwan states simply, turning away from the representative again to face forward instead. “But this is highly unusual!” Your Voice breathes an exasperated sigh. “Oh, quiet down! Were you not using the same technicalities to get your way a moment ago, you insolent dog?” “Do not speak to me that way!” Lord Samal erupts. “I serve Mîr Behram!” “And I was already serving the Crowns of this Empire when your master was still suckling at the teat!” the chief minister snaps. “Now be a good boy and come to heel, we have many more matters to discuss.” Lord Samal’s face burns red with such anger and humiliation you suspect it is preventing him from speaking. To you, however, it is a most welcome development. Every other time you’ve had to face the nobility and the Imperial Court so far, you were essentially on your own. Now, you actually have allies in your corner. Lady Naza grins and winks at him as she saunters back to her previous position—though it is <em>Minister</em> Naza now. Once she is back in line, she resumes her previous line of reasoning. “May I make my official recommendation regarding the replacement of High General $dname, Your Imperial Majesty?” You suspect you’re going to like what she has to say. “Go ahead.” Minister Naza smiles wide. “As Minister of Defense, I should serve as an administrative substitute until the High General recovers. Unless we have reason to believe $dthey will not be able to return to $dtheir post, there is no point in looking for a replacement.” Lord Samal looks as if he wishes to protest, but after exchanging a look with Minister Besna a few rows behind him, he remains silent. There’s very little he could say, after all, seeing as the Mîr should have no influence on matters of the Empire’s military. “I agree with your sentiments, Minister Naza.” You give her a small smile, glad that your decision to trust her paid off. “Once the High General is fully recovered, $dthey will resume $dtheir post. We will not discuss replacements unless $dthey is judged unfit to serve—until then, Minister Naza can handle the army.” [[Continue|11.d13]]<<if $intel gt $intu>>So it seems the rules of the court exist solely to be bent for political convenience. In which case, as master of the court, why should you not be able to do the same?<<else>>The thought pops into mind the moment protest passes Lord Samal’s lips. As the Crown, can you not solve the issue on the spot?<</if>> <<if $blunt gt $charm>>“Lady Naza,” you interject before the argument can continue, “approach the throne.”<<else>>“Is her lack of official appointment the only reason for your protest?” you ask Lord Samal. He looks a little startled when you address him, hesitating before answering. “Yes, Your Imperial Majesty.” “Let’s resolve that right now, then.” You look back at Lady Naza, gesturing with a hand. “Approach the throne, Lady Naza.”<</if>> Silence falls in the chamber. Appearing intrigued, Lady Naza steps out from among the crowd and walks forward, coming to a halt in front of the steps leading up to your throne. “Lady Naza of House Ishtal,” you speak, “I wish to appoint you as Minister of Defense in official capacity. Will you serve?” You catch the glimpse of a sharp smile crossing Lady Naza’s lips, before she bows deeply before you. “With honor, Your Imperial Majesty.” “Then henceforth, you are appointed as the Minister of Defense.” Looking back at a stunned Lord Samal and resigned Steward Welat, you ask, “Does that satisfy the court?” Lord Samal swings his head around from right to left, as if searching for a way to prevent what has already come to pass. No one else wants to meet his eyes, sensing the tides have turned, until his gaze finally lands on Minister Karwan. “Chief minister, is this allowed? There must be procedure for the appointment of officials—” “It is all at the Crown’s discretion,” Minister Karwan states simply, turning away from the representative again to face forward instead. “But this is highly unusual!” Your Voice breathes an exasperated sigh. “Oh, quiet down! Were you not using the same technicalities to get your way a moment ago, you insolent dog?” “Do not speak to me that way!” Lord Samal erupts. “I serve Mîr Behram!” “And I was already serving the Crowns of this Empire when your master was still suckling at the teat!” the chief minister snaps. “Now be a good boy and come to heel, we have many more matters to discuss.” Lord Samal’s face burns red with such anger and humiliation you suspect it is preventing him from speaking. To you, however, it is a most welcome development. Every other time you’ve had to face the nobility and the Imperial Court so far, you were essentially on your own. Now, you actually have allies in your corner. Lady Naza grins and winks at him as she saunters back to her previous position—though it is <em>Minister</em> Naza now. Once she is back in line, she resumes her previous line of reasoning. “May I make my official recommendation regarding the replacement of High General $dname, Your Imperial Majesty?” You suspect you’re going to like what she has to say. “Go ahead.” Minister Naza smiles wide. “As Minister of Defense, I should serve as an administrative substitute until the High General recovers. Unless we have reason to believe $dthey will not be able to return to $dtheir post, there is no point in looking for a replacement.” Lord Samal looks as if he wishes to protest, but after exchanging a look with Minister Besna a few rows behind him, he remains silent. There’s very little he could say, after all, seeing as the Mîr should have no influence on matters of the Empire’s military. “I agree with your sentiments, Minister Naza.” You give her a small smile, glad that your decision to trust her paid off. “Once the High General is fully recovered, $dthey will resume $dtheir post. We will not discuss replacements unless $dthey is judged unfit to serve—until then, Minister Naza can handle the army.” [[Continue|11.d13]]“Minister Awir,” you speak, curious to see what he will do. He does not disappoint. The chief official of the royal historians bows shortly before you, before he turns to address Steward Welat. “I must point out, Steward Welat, that it is unprecedented for a city steward to involve themselves in matters of military and defense.” Steward Welat does not look surprised by this line of reasoning, arguing back calmly, “I do not speak of military or defense. Merely to follow Crown Ferzan’s own wisdom.” “It is good of you to speak of it,” Minister Awir replies, his own manner much more cold. “Allow me to refresh the court’s memory about exactly what Crown Ferzan’s wisdom was: the reason Rojan’s army commander did not pass muster was because Crown Ferzan discovered that he took bribes—” “Rumors,” Steward Welat interjects, voice raising for a rare moment as he casts Awir a sharp look, yet Awir continues. “That he took <em>bribes</em>,” Minister Awir repeats, even louder to drown out the steward’s protest, “from nobles who belonged to the previous Mîr of Rojan’s very court!” Agitated murmurs fill the chamber as the court becomes restless at the confrontation. Minister Awir has revealed something most intriguing. You’ve never heard of this army commander before, nor of the accusations of briberies leveled against him, but now it makes sense why Steward Welat would suggest him. The steward is Mîr Behram’s ally, and a military official willing to take bribes from a Mîr’s court would no doubt be an invaluable asset to Behram. Putting him in charge of the Imperial Army could lead to the army answering to Behram as a result. And now that political play is put transparently on display for the whole court to see, including the historians who quickly transcribe the entire encounter to spread among the populace. Lord Samal clears his throat, quickly stepping forward as he nervously glances toward the steward. You’re almost tempted to ignore him to see where the argument goes, but it’ll be better for you to wrap this meeting up as soon as possible so you can return to $dname’s side. “What is it, Lord Samal?” “I would ask the court not to dredge up unfounded gossip.” Lord Samal scowls briefly in Minister Awir’s direction. “Whatever happened at that time is neither here nor there. The fact remains that the Imperial Army must have a leader.” “And who decides who that leader should be?” Minister Awir replies, unruffled by Samal’s intervention. “The Minister of Defense is not present to function as a substitute, or to make a recommendation. Only $ctheir Imperial Majesty can say what must be done.” Now, at last, you have all arrived to the conclusion you knew was inevitable from the moment you walked in. Welat has no more allies in court, no influence to wield. You’re certain he will find other ways to try and get his way in the future, but at least in this one instance you can prevent him from getting what he wants. “It is settled, then,” you speak when no one else objects. “I will keep the Imperial Army stationed in Rojan while High General $dname recuperates—one of $dtheir commanders will take temporary control. Once the High General is fully recovered, $dthey will resume $dtheir post. We will not discuss replacements unless $dthey is judged unfit to serve.” [[Continue|11.d13]]“Is this a formal proposal, Steward Welat?” you ask, easing back into your throne with your forearms draped over the armrests in an almost lackadaisical pose. “A mere suggestion, Your Imperial Majesty,” Steward Welat replies. “As a steward, I realize it is not my place to make proposals of any kind.” <<if $blunt gt $charm>>“What is the material difference between a proposal and a suggestion?” While the steward’s face remains as solid as stone, he doesn’t reply immediately. You note the pause. “It is not something the Imperial Court need vote on.” You tilts your head, leaning your temple against your knuckles as you stare down at the steward. “You are leaving it entirely to me, then?” He has no way to enforce it. No true allies in court since you removed the former minister from her post in the Office of Law, and no one willing to back him to turn this ‘suggestion’ into a ‘proposal’. Steward Welat begins to incline his head in response, but before he can fully bow you make your statement. “I reject your suggestion.” The way Welat’s head snaps up to look at you again, the only indicator of his surprise, makes you smile with satisfaction. No doubt he expected you would at least pretend to consider it, perhaps giving him an opportunity to make another argument for it, but you have no interest in playing such games. You meet his gaze with the single arch of a brow. He can say nothing in response, and everyone knows it. <<else>>“How generous of you,” you mock, tilting your head to lean your temple against your knuckles. “Allowing me to decide on matters of government in my own court!” Steward Welat averts his eyes to the floor, and you enjoy the gesture of submission. He has no other choice. No true allies in court since you removed the former minister from her post in the Office of Law, and no one willing to back him to turn this ‘suggestion’ into a ‘proposal’. “I beg for your forgiveness, Your Imperial Majesty,” he says to the stone floor tiles. “This humble servant only wished to be of assistance.” “I’m sure you would be happy to assist from my throne if I allowed you to sit on it.” You enjoy the indignant looks from Welat’s faction in the chamber, though they take their cues from their leader as Welat remains silent. There is nothing they could say, either way. “Your Imperial Majesty,” the Minister Karwan speaks in a respectful tone, perhaps taking pity on the steward’s humiliation. “Are you ready to cast your judgment on this matter?” “Yes, chief minister, I think I’ve decided,” you announce with a cheery smile, feeling much better about this court meeting than you thought it would. It helps, being able to take out some of your frustration and anxiety on a deserving target. “Steward Welat’s <em>suggestion</em> has been rejected.” You meet the steward’s eyes again with a challenging look, daring him to protest.<</if>> “I see.” This time, when Welat bows, you suspect it is to hide his expression. “As you say, Your Imperial Majesty.” Now, at last, you have all arrived to the conclusion you knew was inevitable from the moment you walked in. Welat has no more allies in court, no influence to wield. You’re certain he will find other ways to try and get his way in the future, but at least in this one instance you can prevent him from getting what he wants. “It is settled, then,” you speak when no one else objects. “I will keep the Imperial Army stationed in Rojan while High General $dname recuperates—one of $dtheir commanders will take temporary control. Once the High General is fully recovered, $dthey will resume $dtheir post. We will not discuss replacements unless $dthey is judged unfit to serve.” [[Continue|11.d13]]<<set $day to 14>>It happens during one of the more frustrating days you have in dealing with the court. <<if $tempreplacement is false>>Lord Samal continues to pester you during meetings to reconsider your decision in regards to $dname’s replacement. There’s little he can do beyond complain, considering your allies all follow your example and hold the line on the matter. That doesn’t mean your meetings with the Imperial Court have become easy to handle. Even the officials you handpicked for their new positions will argue with you on various matters, so long as they have a personal stake in it.<<else>>Lord Samal has quieted now that you’ve given him and his master most of what they wanted. He continues to pester you to speed the process to name $dname’s replacement, but you continue to stall as best you can. It exemplifies what you’re beginning to understand is an inherently antagonistic relationship with the Imperial Court. Even the officials you handpicked for their new positions will argue with you when they have a personal stake in it.<</if>> “Raising taxes on the farmers?” you repeat incredulously, thinking your court must be playing a joke on you. “They have been paying taxes to the Mîrs in your absence, Your Imperial Majesty,” the Minister of Diplomacy puts forward, “but not to the Imperial Household.” You frown. “Then I will ask for an account from the Mîrs.” <<if $law isnot 'outwitted'>>“The Mîrs have already offered their share in tithes upon your coronation, Your Imperial Majesty,” Minister Besna replies. “You cannot force them to pay a surplus, it is not lawful.”<<if $security is 'both' and $festivities is 'both'>> She casts a look around her as she appeals to the other court officials: “We should also take into account the expenditure made on behalf of the Crown during $ctheir Imperial Majesty's coronation. It is undeniable that it contributed to the current shortage.” You glare back at her as the court erupts in a small commotion. “The coronation was already much smaller than those of previous Crowns,” Chief Minister Karwan points out irritably. “It is disingenuous to imply it has caused the shortage of gold. If nothing had been spent, you would be standing here complaining about that instead!” “Again, I never said it caused it,” Minister Besna retorts coldly, unaffected by his accusation. “But it certainly didn't help, either. The point is that the Mîrs should not be expected to pay the price for it.”<</if>><<else>>“The Mîrs have already offered their share in tithes upon your coronation, Your Imperial Majesty,” Minister Lerzan, head of the Office of Personnel, replies. “You cannot force them to pay a surplus, it is not lawful. Is that not so, Minister of Law?” You look at <<if $lawminister is 'nudem'>>Minister Nûdem, who scowls back at Minister Lerzan. “That is a very broad interpretation of the law, Minister Lerzan,” they reply coolly. “It exists to ensure the Crown does not exploit the Mîrs, but this situation concerns an oversight in taxation. I do not think it ought to be applied here. We should prioritize the principle of fairness instead.” “Efficiency must take precedence over ‘fairness’, as you call it,” Minister Lerzan shoots back. “If the Imperial Household goes bankrupt, who will pay to maintain the roads, the public buildings, the Imperial Army that protects us all? We must find the gold for it, sooner rather than later, and we cannot pressure the Mîrs to pay double what they already have.”<<if $security is 'both' and $festivities is 'both'>> She casts a look in your direction. “The expenses made for the coronation certainly didn’t help, in that regard.” You glare back at her as the court erupts in a small commotion. “The coronation was already much smaller than those of previous Crowns,” Chief Minister Karwan points out irritably. “It is disingenuous to imply it has caused the shortage of gold. If nothing had been spent, you would be standing here complaining about that instead!” “I did not say it was the main cause for the shortage,” Minister Lerzan retorts hotly, scowling back at Karwan. “But it has contributed, as have many other things! The point is that the Mîrs should not be expected to pay the price for it.”<</if>><<else>>Minister Zar, whose brows furrow with some uncertainty, but he does not outright contradict her. “It is perhaps a somewhat broad interpretation of the law,” he admits to you upon seeing your questioning look, “but Minister Lerzan is correct about the letter of it. Asking the Mîrs to pay more on behalf of their provinces could be considered unlawful, in theory.”<<if $security is 'both' and $festivities is 'both'>> Minister Lerzan's lips twitch with a triumphant smile before she casts a look back in your direction. “Not to mention, Your Imperial Majesty, that the expenses made for the coronation certainly didn’t help.” You glare back at her as the court erupts in a small commotion. “The coronation was already much smaller than those of previous Crowns,” Chief Minister Karwan points out irritably. “It is disingenuous to imply it has caused the shortage of gold. If nothing had been spent, you would be standing here complaining about that instead!” “I did not say it was the main cause for the shortage,” Minister Lerzan retorts hotly, scowling back at Karwan. “But it has contributed, as have many other things! The point is that the Mîrs should not be expected to pay the price for it.”<</if>><</if>><</if>> <<if $publicfavored gt $elitefavored>>“But I can force the farmers to pay instead?” you speak with frustration, shifting in your seat as you can feel your temper building. Notably, the representatives of the Mîrs are remaining silent during this discussion. Satisfied, perhaps, to let others fight their battles for them. “How do you expect them to make up for the shortage in the Imperial Vault?” “We do not suggest this because it pleases us, Your Imperial Majesty,” the Minister of Correspondence chimes in, bowing her head. “We only make the point because of how severely underfunded many of our offices are. The treasury is lacking such that we will not be able to pay our government officials in the long run, let alone maintain utilities such as the Crown’s Road. This would be especially disastrous in the case of the Imperial Army.<<if $nazaminister is true>> Is that not so, Minister Naza?” Naza glances in your direction, but then agrees with Minister Çinar. “Yes, that is true.” She turns to address you next. “Frankly speaking, Your Imperial Majesty, I do not care where you get the gold from. Be it the Mîrs or the farmers or Şahmaran herself, the situation will soon become dire. As it stands, it is a struggle to find the coin even for the most basic repairs to equipment.” Perhaps it was too much to hope for her to openly side with you on this issue. It seems Naza does not care how you accomplish it, so long as you do.<</if>> “I understand that,” you speak, forcing your jaw to unclench so that you do not speak through gritted teeth, “but the solution cannot be to put the pressure on the common folk to fund it all.” “Respectfully speaking, Your Imperial Majesty,” the Minister of Diplomacy says, though he does not sound all that respectful, “how else do you suggest we get the necessary gold? Even if we tax the Mîrs additionally, would they be able to fund everything we need?” “Perhaps I’ll have the Mîrs pay with one of their palaces,” you sneer. “Surely that would be sufficient.” The Imperial Court erupts in protests, and the meeting—as well as the rest of your afternoon—devolves into chaos.<<else>>You are loathe to give in on this point, but it seems most of the court is set against you, and even your usual allies decide to abstain from the decision. You don’t arrive at an agreement during that meeting, the stalemate between you and the court lasting for hours, until you finally decide to end the discussion. Perhaps with time, you’ll be able to find a different solution, and if not, you may have to give in to your court’s wishes. That, more than anything, aggravates you immensely. What are you the Crown for, if you do not have the authority to enforce your will?<</if>> <<if $adven gt $caut>>“You are moving too rashly, Majesty,” $aname comments from the sidelines as you circle your opponent in the training yard with your practice dagger in hand. Another young palace guard faces you. Though, unlike Evdal, this one knows what they’re doing as they circle you in turn, watchful of your movements. $aname continues to call out advice: “Use your anger, but do not let it lead you.” “I’m not letting anyone <em>lead me</em> in anything!” you reply with frustration, launching into a lunge. You overreach, your opponent easily evading the blow and driving their knee into your gut instead. Letting out a wheeze at the harsh impact, you sink onto your knees,<<else>>“You are hesitating too much, Majesty,” $aname comments from the sidelines as you circle your opponent in the training yard with your practice dagger in hand. Another young palace guard. Though, unlike Evdal, this one knows what they’re doing as they circle you in turn, watchful of your movements. $aname continues to call out advice: “You have to act eventually.” “I cannot act if I do not see an opening!” you say with frustration, your distraction in replying to $aname giving your opponent an opening instead. You see them lunging towards you and try to step back, managing to deflect the initial strike of their practice dagger only barely. They use your flustered response to push you back further. Their foot hooks around your ankle—already off-balance, it doesn’t take them much to trip you backward. You fall onto the ground,<</if>> though you manage to keep hold of your dagger as $aname taught you. Not that it matters, considering the palace guard holds theirs to your throat before you can recover. You exhale a short breath, heated from the exertion of your training. “I yield.” The palace guard offers you an arm, giving you a look of apology. “Please forgive my forcefulness, Your Imperial Majesty.” “It’s fine.” You take the offered arm, letting the guard pull you back up to your feet, and sigh as you wipe the dirt from your clothes. “I got in my own way. You did well in teaching me that lesson.” [[Continue|11.d15]]<<if $afriendship gt 1>>“Do you need a break?” $aname asks as $athey approaches from the sidelines, idly brushing some dust off your shoulders. You smile a little at the gesture. “Fussing over me already? I’m not that frail.” “I meant a break for <<if $adven gt $caut>>your temper<<else>>your peace of mind<</if>>,” $aname replies dryly. “If you keep <<if $adven gt $caut>>wasting energy like that<<else>>being paralyzed by your own thoughts<</if>> you’ll end up black and blue all over.” <<if $blunt gt $charm>>“Too late for that,” you reply, patting your behind, then immediately regretting it when a dull stab of pain makes you wince. “My ass has already kissed the ground more than Lord Samal has been kissing Mîr Behram’s.” $aname lets out a deeply amused laugh while the palace guard’s eyes go wide, quickly averting their gaze as if merely overhearing the words is a scandalous thing. The people here are so uptight. “Should I tell the guards to trip you less?” $aname suggests teasingly. “For the sake of your royal behind.” “My royal behind does not need to be coddled.”<<else>>“There are worse things,” you reply, rolling your shoulders and stretching your arms. “I’d rather my body get bruised in the training yard than have my sanity rot away on the throne.” “You’ve handled the court as well as can be expected,” $aname remarks, perhaps trying to make you feel better. “Certainly better than most would in your circumstances.” You huff as you adjust your clothes, grumbling, “Wish they’d handle themselves off a cliff.” $aname lets out a deeply amused laugh while the palace guard’s eyes go wide, quickly averting their gaze as if pretending not to have heard that.<</if>><<else>>“Do you need a break?” $aname asks as $athey approaches from the sidelines. “I’m fine,” you say, though you don’t feel it. $aname doesn’t look any more convinced by your words than you are, though $athey doesn’t seem inclined to contradict you, either. “Just don’t push yourself to the point of injury. That won’t do anyone any good.”<</if>> Squinting against the sun above, you wipe some sweat from your brow. It has nearly been an hour since your training started, and you’ve spent the better part of it like this, caught up in your agitated mood. Maybe a break <em>would</em> do you some good. “Your Imperial Majesty!” The three of you turn towards Siham, quickly hurrying over from across the training yard. They don’t look panicked, at least, quickly bowing before you as you greet him. “What is it, Siham?” “News from the imperial soldiers,” Siham announces. “The High General has awoken.” [[Continue|11.d16]] The royal physicians meet you at the outpost building as they usually do whenever you came to visit over the past couple of days, though this time, they greet you with smiles. “Is $dname still awake?” you ask before you’ve even dismounted from your horse, halfway out of breath as $rname accompanies you this time, having not yet found the opportunity to visit $dname until now. “$cdthey appears to be drifting in and out of sleep,” the head physician informs you. “Perhaps you might encourage $dthem to stay awake by your presence, Your Imperial Majesty. If $dthey does wake, it is advisable that you reapply some poultice to $dtheir neck and wrist. It should be more effective once $dthey’s conscious.” You’re too energized with anticipation to be diverted by the physician’s remark, uncaring whether there are any hidden implications behind it. $rname follows you as you both head into the outpost building, the physicians lingering behind. Once you return to $dname’s room, to your disappointment, you find $dthem slumbering. You settle down on the chair that has been kept by $dtheir bedside as you’ve been visiting $dthem every day, and $rname comes to stand beside you, peering down at $dname with worry. “I’ve never seen $dthem like this before,” $rthey muses, gaze trailing over the blanket covering $dname’s upper half. “So vulnerable. Have you seen the full extent of $dtheir wounds?” “No.” You didn’t want to look, and you still don’t, preferring instead to regard the shadows cast by $dname’s eyelashes falling over the tops of $dtheir cheeks. “But from the little I observed, there was a lot of damage. I honestly didn’t expect $dthey would be waking up so soon.” You feel $rname’s hand settle on your shoulder, giving a comforting squeeze—but then a familiar voice interjects, coming from behind you. “$dname is resilient.” Both you and $rname turn your heads to see none other than $xname lingering in the open doorway, greeting you with a faint smile. “More than anyone I know. $cdthey will be fine.” [[Continue|11.d17]]“$xname, when did you get here?” you say, unable to hide your surprise, though you remember to keep your voice down. $cxthey walks into the room, closing the door behind $xthem as $xthey comes to stand on your other side, peering down at $dname with a complicated expression. $cxtheir brows twitch, and for a moment you can’t quite tell whether $xthey’s concerned, or angry. “Only an hour ago,” $xthey replies, eyes lingering on $dname’s face. “I rode ahead of the rest of the Crescent Blades when I heard the news. Honestly, I could hardly believe it.” $cxthey finally looks up, glancing between you and $rname. “What happened?” $rname does you the favor of filling $xname in on the most important details as you watch the movements of $dname’s chest, steadily lifting up and falling down with $dtheir quiet breaths. You think you can see $dtheir eyes move beneath $dtheir lids—is $dthey dreaming? “I’ve heard of these mercenaries before,” $xname says, drawing your attention back to $xtheir and $rname’s hushed conversation. “The Eagle’s Talons. Never met any of them, but there were plenty of rumors circulating of the high-paying, unsavory jobs this particular group liked to take on.” “How well-known are they?” you ask. $xname appears thoughtful, crossing $xtheir arms over $xtheir chest. “To the average person? Unheard of. To the nobility? One of their favorites to employ, I’d say. They earned their infamy in the upper circles of Zerat’s high society—for a while, whenever you heard of a noble being assassinated, you could bet safe coin that the Talons were behind it.” $cxthey shrugs. “It’s also why I didn’t concern myself with them before. If the nobles insist on killing each other over petty grievances, who am I to disagree?” $rname huffs, the ghost of an amused smile passing over $rtheir lips. “That’s fair.” “But clearly, they’ve overreached.” $xname casts another look at $dname, before seeming to make up $xtheir mind. “If you don’t mind, $name, I’ll head on to the Royal Palace and wait for you there. This isn’t the best place for me to give you a report on what the Blades have been up to.” $cxthey means the bait you put out for the Followers of Vidarna, to see if they would bite at a supposed excursion to the Armas Mountains. “Besides, I shouldn’t keep $aname waiting.” $xname grins, clapping you on the shoulder. “Be honest! $cathey’s missed me, hasn’t $athey?” <<if $charm gt $blunt>>“Oh, $athey’s been <em>inconsolable</em> in your absence,” you reply wryly, drawing a chuckle from $xname. “Crying $athemselves to sleep every night, I wager.” $cxthey dramatically presses a hand to $xtheir chest. “Ah, my poor heart!”<<else>>“Do you actually want me to be honest, or continue to feed into your fantasy?” you reply wryly, drawing a chuckle from $xname. “Or maybe it’s just projection?” $cxtheir eyes narrow with amusement. “Why can’t it be both?”<</if>> “Before you go, I’d like to ask you something,” $rname says to $xname. “Namely about anything you might have heard regarding the black market the Talons procured their weapons from.” $xname glances at you, then at $dname. “Sure, let’s take it outside.” It’s a transparent attempt to give you some time alone with $dname, but you appreciate it all the same as $rname and $xname leave the room. [[Continue|11.d18]] You’re not sure of how much time passes as you sit and wait, hoping that $dname might stir back to consciousness again. Yet, once $dthey does, it takes you completely by surprise. One moment you’re staring out the window on the far side of the room, watching the distant figures of imperial soldiers training out back, and the next you hear a soft noise coming from the bed. Your head snaps back to look at $dname, seeing $dtheir eyelids crack open as $dthey stares blankly up at the ceiling, letting out a deep hum before closing $dtheir eyes again. “$dname?” You lean forward on your chair, reflexively reaching for the shape of $dtheir hand underneath the blanket. “Hmm?” $dname blinks a few times, but appears disoriented at best, seeming unable to even turn $dtheir head to look at you. $cdthey appears not fully awake, perhaps an aftereffect of the poultices $dthey was given; they contain magic essences of life distilled from nature, an obvious counter to the poison $dname consumed. The royal physician said it would make $dthem fatigued, as $dtheir body has to expend large amounts of energy in order to absorb so much magic. You move from your chair to sit down on the edge of $dname’s bed, drawing $dtheir hazy attention to you now that you’re in $dtheir line of sight. $cdthey stares up at you, dark eyes unfocused as they drift over your face. “$name?” $dthey mumbles through cracked lips, as if confused to see you here. $cdtheir voice scrapes like sandpaper through $dtheir throat, barely a croak when it leaves $dtheir lips. “Yes, it’s me,” you reply softly. “Can you sit up a little? I should reapply your poultice.” $dname hums, eyes slipping shut, and you fear $dthey’s about to fall asleep again. Thankfully, $dthey opens them once more, and then peers at you for a long moment. “Am I dreaming?” $dthey asks. The earnest yet dazed question startles a laugh out of you. “No, you’re not dreaming.” You shift a little closer to $dname and sit at $dtheir bedside, though it’s to reach the jar of poultice on the nightstand beside it. “I’m here.” “To apply medicine?” $dname snorts, closing $dtheir eyes once more. “A likely story.” Your hands, reaching out for the poultice, still in mid-air. You cast a glance at $dname’s face before slowly taking the jar from the nightstand. “What do you mean?” “You’re here because I long for it,” $dname mutters, eyes still closed, oblivious to the effect of $dtheir words on you. “A dream to soothe me.” Your fingers clench around the clay jar, cold against the skin of your palms that seem to be burning. You glow with sudden warmth, from your hands to your whole body, radiating from deep within your chest. $cdthey <em>longs</em> for you. If it were not for the weight of your bones keeping you grounded, you’re certain your spirit would slip out of you and soar into the sky. After the way you parted, it feels like a victory—yet only won after days of fear and dread, of true danger to $dname’s life. One you’re reminded of when $dname shifts on the bed, trying to get comfortable and wincing in pain when $dthey jostles $dtheir injured side. $cdtheir brows twitch into a frown, drawing attention to the thin sheen of sweat on $dtheir forehead. You refocus on your task, opening the jar and scooping up a bit of of deep green poultice with your fingers. “Here, let me help.” Reaching beneath the blanket, you gently take $dname’s right wrist, pulling it towards you and turning it over with the inner side of it facing you. $dname’s eyes crack open, peering at you from beneath $dtheir lashes as you rub the poultice into the skin onto $dtheir pulse in soft, circular motions. Its effect is almost immediate. [[Continue|11.d19]] The thin vines wrapped around $dtheir forearm absorb the magic essence of the poultice quickly. Shriveled parts are rejuvenated, becoming a brighter, healthier green as the dark veins in $dname’s skin gradually disappear. The withering bulbs along the vines begin to open, blooming into tiny flowers differing in shades of vivid red, pure white, and bright yellow. Your breath almost catches with the sight of it, resembling a field of wildflowers. You almost reach out to caress one, but then stop yourself, uncertain how much the blooming vines are part of $dname’s body. $dname inhales a deep breath, arm shifting on the bed as $dthey lifts to look at it, seeming almost as surprised as you are. The movement reveals the upper half of $dtheir arm, where the flowering vines continue to wrap up $dtheir shoulder up to where the rest of $dtheir body is covered by the blanket. $cdthey meets your eyes, murmuring a quiet, “Thank you.” “I only did as the physicians instructed,” you reply quickly, scooping up more of the poultice with the tips of your fingers. “You should thank them first. Can you move your head up for me?” $dname hums, pressing a hand down onto the mattress to try and push $dthemselves up, but $dthey can’t seem to move at all. $cdthey gives up with a tired sigh. “I’m still too weak.” You stand up to lean over $dthem. “Here, let me—” $dname’s dazed eyes grow wide, regaining some of their clarity when $dthey notices your hand reaching down toward the back of $dtheir neck, fingers slipping beneath. “Wait—!” Your reflexes are too slow to react to $dtheir warning. As soon as the edges of your fingers touch the back of $dtheir neck to lift $dtheir head—the ridges of a thin scar prominently raised in the skin—your vision goes black. [[Continue|11.d20]] You are on your knees, hands tied behind your back, facing the dirt. “The High General is approaching!” someone calls from above you. One of your captors. You lift your head, eyes going wide at the warning. She can’t be here. If she’s here, then who is protecting the Crown? “No!” You half-lift to a foot before a hand grabs you by the shoulder and shoves you down. The chains around your wrists make you feel weak—draining your magic. “Take care of this one,” one of your captors commands. “An axe should do.” The hand on your shoulder shoves you face-down into the dirt. It’s cool against your cheek, slightly wet. From the corner of your eye, you see a shadow loom above. The glint of steel on a sharpened edge, raised high above. “$dname!” Your mother cries out—the axe comes down. [[Continue.|11.d21]] First, you think you might be dead. But you can still see. The ground, the grass, the trees in the distance, feet that move through your line of sight in a rush. Sound still reaches your ears, metal clashing, shouting and screaming. The only thing you can’t do is move. Can’t even twitch your fingers. You’re not dead, you realize, but now you think your spine might be severed. “$dname, hold on!” Your mother’s knees hit the ground beside you, the golden scales of her armor bloodstained. “General, we have to pull the axe out,” someone else says. You realize the axe is still buried in the back of your neck, the skin around it hardened with magic having saved your life, yet keeping it stuck there as well. Your breaths come heavy, panic seizing your heart. Are you going to die here? Slowly, painfully? Or remain paralyzed like this, for the rest of your life? “Yadê,” you gasp, feeling a hot tear slip from the inner corner of your eye and slip down the side of your nose. “I’m sorry.” Moments later a leather glove is pressed to your cheek. “Hush, I’m here,” your mother says, her voice trembling. “I’m here now. Be brave for me, little stone. Can you do that?” You squeeze your eyes shut, and then your mother gives the command. “Pull it out.” [[Continue.|11.d22]]“$name!” When you come to—in your own body again, this time—you find yourself on the floor, wheezing and sucking in desperate breaths. $dname is leaning out over the edge of $dtheir bed, arms shaking trying to hold $dthemselves upright. Were this any other moment, you might’ve stopped to stare at the expanse of $dtheir bare chest<<if $dgender is 'female'>> and breasts<</if>>, similarly wrapped in vines, though these are withered compared to the revived ones along $dtheir right arm and shoulder. At the moment, though, you’re too busy trying not to hyperventilate to spare it much thought. “What—” You take a moment to swallow, your body feeling heavy as you stare up at $dname with realization. “That- I saw your memory, from back when—” “Catch your breath first,” $dname says, offering you a hand. You take it, your other hand clinging to the edge of the bed’s wooden frame. While $dname pulls, you push up, until you manage to shift up to your knees, breathing hard against the mattress. $dname’s hand settles on your upper back, warm and steady. “Forgive me, $name, I should have warned you sooner.” “It’s fine.” You slowly push yourself up to your feet. “You weren’t all there, I should’ve…” The fact that $dname is sitting half-naked on $dtheir bed finally registers to your eyes. “What is it?” $dname asks at your staring—distracted as you are by the vines that curve around and between <<if $dgender is 'male'>>his large pecs<<else>>her breasts<</if>>, trailing down $dtheir navel and running along either side of $dtheir <<if $dgender is 'male'>>dark<<else>>thin<</if>> happy trail. The vines are only interrupted by a bandage wrapped around the lower end of $dname’s ribs—likely where $dtheir main injury was, on $dtheir side. $dname glances down at $dthemselves, finally realizing $dtheir state of undress. $cdthey meets your eyes again, the look in $dtheirs one you can’t place, but $dthey doesn’t appear averse to your staring. Conflicted, perhaps. “Sorry,” you say reflexively as you quickly sit back down on your chair, unsure of what you’re even apologizing for as you avert your eyes. $dname clears $dtheir throat. “I suppose this is the first time you’ve seen the vines.” You glance back at $dthem as $dthey slowly lowers to lie down again, exhaling a breath of relief once $dtheir head rests on the pillow and $dtheir body can relax again. $cdthey draws up the blanket, too, covering up to $dtheir collarbones. You feel a mixture of relief and disappointment. “You never mentioned you were peri-born,” you remark, grasping for something to safe to speak of. “It never came up,” $dname answers, eyes closing as $dthey speaks. “I didn’t think it was relevant to mention.” “Until now.” You look down at your fingers, stained with the poultice you gathered up before you fell off the bed, parts of it smeared over your sleeve. “I should apply the rest of the poultice. Does that happen a lot, by the way? The memory, I mean.” $dname is silent for a short while as you busy yourself with getting another small scoop of the green poultice, this time only touching $dname’s pulse as you diligently avoid the back of $dtheir neck. You start to think $dname has fallen back asleep before $dthey finally speaks. “Not usually.” $cdthey opens $dtheir eyes again, looking up at you as you hover over $dthem, gently massaging the side of $dtheir neck. “But that scar is particularly sensitive. My magic tends to concentrate there, and my spirit along with it. I’m sorry you had to see it.” Your fingers pause on $dtheir neck as you gaze down at $dthem, brows furrowing. “Don’t apologize for that, $dname. <em>I’m</em> sorry you had to live through it. That was… it was horrible.” The fingers on $dname’s pulse shift, and for a moment, you’re almost cupping the side of $dtheir neck within your hand. $dname’s lips part slightly to exhale a soft breath, your eyes briefly drawn down to them. Something flickers in $dtheir eyes when $dthey sees you staring at $dtheir mouth—a spark among coals—but then $dthey turns $dtheir face away. You get the hint, retracting your hand and returning to your seat. [[Continue.|11.d23]] A knock on the door interrupts any further conversation you could’ve had, and when you call them in, one of the royal physicians enters. “Ah, you’re awake!” The physician looks pleased as they approach the bed, and you’re thankful you moved back to your chair moments earlier. No doubt it would’ve appeared odd to see the Crown sitting so comfortably close. $dname meanwhile merely watches as the physician comes closer, until a realization lights up in $dtheir eyes. “Were you the one who undressed me to treat my wounds?” “Yes, one of two physicians as well as two servants.” The physician folds their hands in front of them. “My sincerest apologies if that has caused you discomfort, but with your health in such a dire state—” “It’s not about that,” $dname interrupts, tension seeming to grow in $dtheir posture as $dthey shifts a little against the pillow. “Did you recover a letter from among my belongings?” “A letter?” The physician looks puzzled. “Not that I know of, but I will inquire with my colleague and the servants.” $dname suddenly looks even more ill than $dthey already is. $cdthey begins to sit up again, arms straining with the effort. “I must—” “We will find the letter, $dname!” You stand up and reach over, pushing $dthem back down by $dtheir shoulders. “You have not recovered yet. Please, rest a little?” “If it is that important to you, then I will go ask now,” the physician reassures. “I’ll be back shortly.” You give $dname a questioning look as $dthey covers $dtheir eyes with the back of $dtheir hand. “What was in the letter?” $cdthey doesn’t answer. “$dname.” You shift closer, sitting on the edge of your chair. Finally, $dthey puts $dtheir hand down to meet your stare, and $dthey looks exhausted. “If you tell me, maybe I can help.” “You can’t.” $cdthey averts $dtheir gaze to the ceiling. “You’re the cause of the problem.” “I beg your pardon?” $cdthey sighs, closing $dtheir eyes. “My apologies, that wasn’t fair to you. I’m the only cause of this problem. Me and my fool heart.” Your pulse beats unsteadily in your wrists. “What do you mean?” “I’ve already said too much.” $dname’s brows furrow. “Please, leave it be.” It’s at that moment there’s another knock on the door, heralding the physician’s return and giving $dname a reason to open $dtheir eyes again. As soon as the door swings open, the apologetic look on their face is the first thing you and $dname see. “I regret to inform you, general, it appears your letter is missing.” $dname doesn’t speak. $cdtheir lips part, then close again soundlessly, seeming to be in a state of shock. The first words to leave $dtheir mouth are foreboding ones, barely a whisper: “Someone stole it.” [[Continue|11.d24]]<<set $progress to "11">><div id="11.1">@@.chaptertitleact1;CHAPTER ELEVEN@@</div>@@.titleblack;Blood of Gold@@ <em>Where is $athey</em>? It echoes in your head like a twisted mockery of the words the Earth spoke to $aname during the coronation. You vividly remember the look on $atheir face back then, the anger you saw at having an old wound forcefully reopened, as well as the fear beneath it that you couldn’t quite recognize back then. You realize it only now that you are where $athey once stood, and $athey is the one lost to you. “When was $athey last seen?” $rname says as you are all still standing in the smaller throne room. $crthey maintains $rtheir composure while you are rooted to the spot, trying to keep yourself calm and swallowing down a sudden, nauseating fear welling up in the back of your throat, your stomach turning with it. “The person $athey rescued—” You see Ziryan’s mouth form the rest of the sentence, but it’s as if the sound is sucked out of the air. Your heart is pounding so hard it makes your chest ache, yet it’s such a dim, distant noise, like a thud, like— Somewhere, a basket of handpicked fruit drops to the ground, berries scattering over the grass. Somewhere, hooves beat across the earth in a thundering rhythm. Somewhere, the roof of a farmhouse caves in. You’re going to suffocate. Choke on a cloud of smoke from a fire that burns inside your own mind. The thought makes no sense. You’re safe, in the palace, surrounded by guards who will protect you, but fear does not need to be a rational thing and now it shortens the breath in your lungs. You’ve been here before, you know how it goes—sometimes it happens in your nightmares, and sometimes it happens when you’re wide awake. Fighting it only makes it worse. [[Continue|11.a2]]“$name?” $rname, Keko, Ishrah and Ziryan are all watching you with concern. The former steps a little closer, eyes flitting over you with realization, $rtheir voice softening. “Try to slow your breaths, $name,” $rthey says, glancing at the chair behind you. “You should sit. Come, let me help.” <<if $rfriendship gt 1>>$crthey holds out $rtheir hand to you and you take it without hesitation, desperate to ground yourself with something. You try not to squeeze too hard, but $rname doesn’t seem to mind either way as $rthey guides you to lower yourself down onto your throne.<<else>>$crthey lightly touches your shoulder to guide you to your throne, and you lower yourself down onto it.<</if>> Are you still breathing? You must be, if you haven’t passed out yet. “In and out,” $rname reminds you<<if $rfriendship gt 1>>, clasping $rtheir other hand over your two linked ones<</if>>. “Would it help to keep talking to you, Your Imperial Majesty?” Keko asks kindly. <<if $rfriendship gt 1>>You focus on the feeling of $rname’s hand around yours, noticing the tips of $rtheir fingers are very faintly colored a paler shade than the rest of $rtheir hands. Marks common to outer magic types, like the ones your mother had. The sight of them is soothing: it’s as if she were there, holding your hand. You nod to Keko’s question, unable to speak. Focusing on $rname’s hands, reminding yourself that you’re safe here, you try to let the fear wash over you.<<else>>You nod, unable to speak. Reminding yourself that you’re safe here, among people who would protect you, and you try to let the fear wash over you.<</if>> Keko begins to tell you about his day, the goings-on at the palace, and the routines and challenges faced by the servants. The newly appointed Court Steward arranged to have parts of the governmental wing of the palace renovated, and the laborers that worked on the walls and columns left a mess of dust and dirt in their wake that needed to be cleared up. You close your eyes and listen to him narrate the day’s cleaning<<if $rfriendship gt 1>> as you keep hold of $rname’s hand<</if>>. Keko maintains a calm, almost monotonous tone, and in a strange way, it seems to help. Your fear gradually dissipates, your heartbeat slowly calming. <<if $rfriendship gt 1>>Releasing $rname’s hand once you feel steady enough, you give $rthem and Keko a grateful look. “Thank you, both of you. I’m alright now.” “If you’re sure,” $rname says, before turning to Ziryan. “Could you repeat what you were saying earlier about $aname’s whereabouts?”<<else>>During a pause in Keko’s narrating, you speak, giving him a grateful look. “Thank you, Keko. I’m alright now.” Keko inclines his head. “So long as you are well, Your Imperial Majesty, that is thanks enough.” You turn to Ziryan. “Could you repeat what you were saying earlier about $aname’s whereabouts?”<</if>> Ziryan and Ishrah both look as relieved as you feel that the panic has passed, the former bowing their head and stating: “The victim Captain $aname saved from the attempted kidnapping stated she last saw $athem engaging the attacker in the Half Moon District. Unfortunately, she didn’t see where the captain went next as she escaped shortly after.” “So $aname simply disappeared?” you repeat, brows furrowing with incredulity. “No one else has seen $athem?” “No, Your Imperial Majesty.” “How is that possible?” “Could it be that there was an ambush after the victim fled?” $rname suggests. “$aname clearly had the situation in hand, but perhaps if $athey were outnumbered…” “It would take a hundred soldiers to pose a problem for the captain, my <<if $rgender is 'male'>>lord<<else>>lady<</if>>,” Ziryan argues, their belief in $aname sounding absolute judging by the complete lack of doubt in their tone. “Regular soldiers, perhaps.” $rname does not look as convinced. “But what about a dozen highly skilled magi? We have enemies that are capable of terrifying feats of magic.” Whoever is behind the mental wards, for one. You can grant that $rname has a point, though you wish $rthey didn’t. “Wouldn’t a battle involving magic have drawn attention?” you question. $rname’s lips twist downwards. “If it were prolonged, yes.” $crthey leaves the implication unspoken. [[Continue|11.a3]]“The Imperial Guards and the city guards have already started a search,” Ziryan continues to inform you. “So far, we’ve not received word of any leads.” “There are also guards capable of sensory magic, aren’t there?” you ask, and Ziryan nods. “None of them have reported anything so far.” Then there are two possibilities: either $aname was abducted, or for whatever reason, $athey has decided to lay low. You can’t imagine what the reason for the latter could be, but the former is a horrifying prospect to consider. One you can’t linger on for long, in case the fear returns, so you divert your attention. “Who is leading the search efforts?” “Kaja is coordinating with the captain of the city guard.” “Is the Imperial Court aware of this situation?” “Not yet.” No doubt it will only be a matter of time. “Keep me apprised of the latest developments, should anything come up.” You turn to $rname with an apologetic look. “If any of the court officials come asking questions, could you delay them? I don’t want this situation to be announced to the public before we’ve gotten a handle on it.” “Of course.” $rname gives you a reassuring smile. “It’ll be my pleasure to stonewall them.” “Should we ask some of the magi from Marabad’s school to assist?” you suggest, directing yourself to look for solutions. “On the condition of swearing them to secrecy, it might not be a bad idea,” $rname considers. “They have too many ties to high-ranking nobility and court officials to ask them in good faith. Doubtlessly at least one of them would let $aname’s disappearance slip.” “I could reach out to some of my old acquaintances,” Keko proposes, exchanging a look with $rname. “That way $rtitle $rname can concentrate on keeping the Imperial Court placated.” “That would be helpful.” You fall silent, realizing that now $rname, Keko, and Ziryan all have their tasks, there is nothing else you can do but wait. Wait and hope $aname returns to you. “We’ll find $athem, <<if $rfriendship gt 1>>$name<<else>>my Crown<</if>>,” $rname promises you, and wish with all your heart to believe it. [[Continue|11.a4]] Hours pass with no word. You spend your time in the training yard of the palace, restlessness begging to be released <<if $weapon is 'sword'>>through the swings of your sword<</if>><<if $weapon is 'spear'>>through the thrusts of your spear<</if>><<if $weapon is 'bow'>>through the arrows shot from your bow<</if>>. $rname has to ask you, firmly, to take a break—it is only then you realize you’ve blistered <<if $weapon is 'sword' or $weapon is 'spear'>>your <<if $weapon is 'spear'>>main <</if>>$weapon-wielding hand<<else>>the side of the finger you release your arrows with<</if>>. $rname asks a servant to fetch a curative poultice, rubbing its herbal paste onto the blistered skin. Its effect is almost immediate in soothing the pain. “You should’ve worn a glove,” $rthey says, a very mild scolding for what was thoughtless behavior on your part. “The guards won’t find $aname any faster from you injuring your hand.” “Blisters are normal when you’re starting out,” you reply, though your defense wilts quickly at the look $rname gives you. “That doesn’t mean you should go out of your way to get them.” $crthey wraps your <<if $weapon is 'sword' or $weapon is 'spear'>>palm<<else>>finger<</if>> with a bandage after applying the poultice. “There. It should heal by tomorrow.” You stay silent, your thoughts inevitably straying back to $aname without your training to keep you busy. The yard is practically deserted as well since nearly every soldier and guard in the city has joined the search for $athem. Only a few guards remain in the palace together with your Imperial Guards, but all they do is stand watch. “$cathey’ll turn up again, $name,” $rname says, having noticed the frown on your face, but $rthey can’t fully understand what has you so on edge. To have this happen, not even hours after $aname told you about $atheir missing sister only to go missing $athemselves? The similarity is foreboding, unease heavy in your gut as your head is filled with possibilities of what might’ve happened. You don’t intend on telling $rname anything about $aname’s father, or even $atheir sister—$aname explicitly asked you to keep the former a secret, after all—but you wonder how much $rname has picked up on it over the years. $crthey has known $aname for a lot longer than you. “$rname, what do you know about $aname’s family?” $crthey appears surprised by the question. “$catheir family? $catheir parents both passed away, but $athey still has grandparents who live in Avdin. Aunts and uncles too, I think—I met a few of $atheir cousins once. Why?” Admittedly, you didn’t know that part. $aname only spoke of $atheir parents and sister, but it seems $athey has plenty of relatives aside from them. Likely they took care of $athem after $atheir mother passed away. It appears $athey hasn’t told $rname about $atheir sister, though, probably because $athey didn’t want to risk having to explain anything about $atheir mother and father. “No reason,” you reply, as casually as you can. $rname doesn’t buy it, narrowing $rtheir eyes at you. “Really? You were simply curious, I suppose?” “It has nothing to do with $aname’s disappearance,” you say, mostly hoping that is the case. “But if $aname doesn’t turn up soon, then…” You hesitate, exhaling a quiet breath before finishing your sentence. “I will have to inform $atheir closest relatives.” That much is the truth. $rname’s suspicion falls away from $rtheir face. $crthey averts $rtheir eyes, for once seeming unable to muster up any reassurances at the thought. From the corner of your eyes, you spot someone in white servant’s robes appear from the other side of the training yard, spotting you and quickly rushing across the field. “Siham?” you say, recognizing his shaved head from a distance as he frantically waves his arms. Your whole body tenses—you’ve never seen Siham this panicked before. “Your Imperial Majesty!” they shout before they’ve even reached you. “A fire! There’s a huge fire in the city!” “What?” $rname exclaims beside you in shock, the two of you exchanging wide-eyed looks before you both hurry to meet Siham halfway. [[Continue|11.a5]]“It’s- total chaos—” Siham speaks through heaving breaths, sweat gathered on their forehead. He must have rushed from across the palace to deliver you the news. “Total chaos! A large warehouse in the Half Moon District caught on fire, and it—” “That’s the district where $aname went missing,” you cut in, the back of your neck prickling with growing unease. “Has anyone spotted $athem?” “Don’t know.” Siham shakes his head, sucking in another deep breath. “Haven’t heard, only know about the fire.” Ezo appears beside you, her invisibility fallen away. “Your orders, Your Imperial Majesty?” You look back at $rname. “Can I leave the palace to you?” “You want to go out into the city?” $rname frowns at you. “Even with the Imperial Guards—” “$rname, I’ll be frank.” You can’t reveal $aname’s history, but it’s important that $rname understands why you have to take this risk. “There’s a sizable chance that the Followers of Vidarna are involved in $aname’s disappearance. I can’t tell you why, but trust me, I would bet on it with my life.” $rname’s skepticism shifts into open worry. “Isn’t that even greater reason for you to stay behind?” <ul class="a"> <<if $agender is 'male'>><li>[[“Azad needs me, I can’t just abandon him for fear of my own safety.”|11.a6a][$apoints -= 2]]</li> <li>[[“It’s not just about Azad, the whole city could be in danger. It’s my duty to protect its citizens.”|11.a6b][$apoints += 2]]</li><<else>><li>[[“Ashti needs me, I can’t just abandon her for fear of my own safety.”|11.a6a][$apoints -= 2]]</li> <li>[[“It’s not just about Ashti, the whole city could be in danger. It’s my duty to protect its citizens.”|11.a6b][$apoints += 2]]</li><</if>> </ul><<if visited("11.a6a") is 1>><<if $apoints gte 15>><<set $arelationship to 'high'>><<else>><<set $arelationship to 'low'>><</if>><</if>>$aname could be getting further and further away from you the more time you waste. This fire can’t just be a mere coincidence, which means either fighting broke out, or it’s a distraction to throw the search party off $aname’s trail. Whichever the case, if $aname is in danger, you have to save $athem. “Then we should both go,” $rname says, no doubt able to see $rthey won’t be changing your mind on this matter. “If nothing else, I’ll be able to help manage the fire—and you should take a weapon with you, $name. Just in case. How big is the fire, Siham?” Siham looks down at the ground. “A quarter of the district is already engulfed.” “But that’s—” Ezo looks as shocked as you feel. “That’s hundreds of people! When did the fire break out? How could it have spread so quickly?” “Clearly it was instigated,” $rname says, scowling. “Perhaps even through magical means.” You make your decision. “We need to get there, right away. Ezo, do you know which tunnels we can take?” Ezo nods, already turning to lead you towards the city’s underground passageways. “Follow me!” [[Continue|11.7a]]<<if visited("11.a6a") is 1>><<if $apoints gte 15>><<set $arelationship to 'high'>><<else>><<set $arelationship to 'low'>><</if>><</if>>None of the regular guards and soldiers have any idea about the Followers or what they’re potentially capable of. You’re not sure how this fire and $aname’s disappearance are connected, but innocent people are getting caught up in the chaos, and the Imperial Guards are your best bet to keep everyone safe. “Then we should both go,” $rname says, no doubt able to see $rthey won’t be changing your mind on this matter. “If nothing else, I’ll be able to help manage the fire—and you should take a weapon with you, $name. Just in case. How big is the fire, Siham?” Siham looks down at the ground. “A quarter of the district is already engulfed.” “But that’s—” Ezo looks as shocked as you feel. “That’s hundreds of people! When did the fire break out? How could it have spread so quickly?” “Clearly it was instigated,” $rname says, scowling. “Perhaps even through magical means.” You make your decision. “We need to get there, right away. Ezo, do you know which tunnels we can take?” Ezo nods, already turning to lead you towards the city’s underground passageways. “Follow me!” [[Continue|11.7a]] The journey through the palace’s tunnels is a short one, but the sight that awaits you on the other side looks like one that originated from one of your nightmares. Dark plumes of smoke rise into the sky, blocking out the setting sun. In the twilight hour the fires that have overtaken the district radiate like massive beacons in the near distance, an almost eerie orange glow that grows brighter as evening falls upon the city. As you set upon the streets, heading towards the fires, throngs of people pass you by in a panicked rush to escape them instead as they’re evacuated by city guards. Most don’t even seem to notice you in the chaos, even with your golden eyes plainly visible—the fear is that thick. You remind yourself of the dagger tucked into your belt and <<if $weapon is 'bow'>>the weight of your bow and arrows on your back<</if>><<if $weapon is 'spear'>>your spear that you hold in your hand, using it as a walking staff for lack of a better way to carry it<</if>><<if $weapon is 'sword'>>the weight of the straight sword hanging from your belt, sheathed inside its scabbard<</if>>. You have ample magic to defend yourself with now as well, should it be necessary. Yet even with these reassurances, your throat still nearly closes up at the sight of the burning buildings once you finally arrive at their point of origin. Your ears are filled with the screams of fleeing citizens and guards trying to control the fire, the horrible sounds echoing through the streets like a cacophony. This could become a worse disaster than even what occurred on the eve of your coronation. You’ve never had to contend with an emergency this large, especially not while it’s still happening. And all this, in the midst of looking for $aname. You look around the frantic scene, flanked on every side by Imperial Guards with $rname on your right. Your eyes fall upon the highest-ranking city guard present, barking orders and directing the flow of people trying to put the fires out. “Where are the magi?” they shout at a subordinate, not out of anger, but to be heard over the near-deafening din surrounding them. “They should be on their way!” “On their <em>way</em>?” The guard captain—so you assume—looks close to murderous. “They should have been here half an hour ago!” As you approach, the guard’s gaze falls on you, anger fleeing their features as they and their subordinate immediately bend into deep bows. “Your Imperial Majesty!” <<if $blunt gt $charm>>You raise your hand in a dismissive gesture. “There’s no time for that. If you need magi to put the fire out, $rtitle $rname and the Imperial Guards can help. Direct them where you need them most.” <<else>>“If it’s magi you need, $rtitle $rname and the Imperial Guards can aid you until they arrive,” you say. “Direct them where you need them most, captain. The citizens can’t afford to wait.”<</if>> $rname looks at you with furrowed brows, seeming reluctant to leave your side. You can’t blame $rthem, considering how chaotic the situation is. There’s no other choice if you wish to keep the citizens safe, however. The guard captain straightens up at your words, and after their momentary surprise, they quickly turn to your retinue, addressing $rtitle $rname foremost. “The area on the south quarter is where the fire is at its worst, there are still people trapped in the buildings…” While the captain continues, you turn your attention to their subordinate. “You there, have you seen the Royal Protector?” The guard stares at you for a moment, and you resist the urge to snap at them in impatience before they finally answer you. “Y-yes, Your Imperial Majesty.” “Where?” <<if $blunt gt $charm>>You resist the urge to grab the guard by the shoulders to shake them when they start to stammer. “Spit it out, for pity’s sake!”<<else>>You breathe a short sigh when the guard starts to stammer with nerves, keeping your temper suppressed as you grab them by the shoulders. The gesture quiets them in an instant. “This is important. I need you to tell me exactly where you last saw the Royal Protector, do you understand?”<</if>> “We- we were searching for $athem as we were ordered, Your Imperial Majesty,” the guard finally says. “I saw $athem in the warehouse, shortly before it caught on fire.” Your heart freezes over. [[Continue|11.8a]] “Take me there.” The words leave your mouth before you can think better of it, startling the guard. “I- Your Imperial Majesty- the fire—” <em>“Now!”</em> The guard can’t argue when you raise your voice, drowning out their protests. Ezo and a few more Imperial Guards remain with you while $rtitle $rname and the rest assist with putting the fires out. “Your Imperial Majesty,” Ezo says as you follow after the guard, circling around the biggest fires. “Is this wise? You’re putting your safety at risk.” “There’s no other choice.” You keep your eyes aimed ahead as the guard guides you into a street where the flames have already claimed their victims, leaving the skeletal remains of what’s left of the buildings in their wake. “This fire wasn’t an accident. $aname is in danger, I have to do something.” “You there!” The guard leading you on suddenly calls out to someone ahead of you. “What do you think you’re doing?” You shift to the side to look around the guard, then stare, unable to fully comprehend what you’re seeing. Someone has dragged a body out of the wreckage of a ruined building, and is trying to load it onto a wagon. “What kind of evil is this?” Ezo speaks from beside you, the sound of swords being drawn following her words. You immediately follow <<if $weapon is 'bow'>>by taking the bow off your back and drawing an arrow from your quiver<</if>><<if $weapon is 'sword'>>by unsheathing your own sword<</if>><<if $weapon is 'spear'>>by taking your spear in both hands<</if>>, eyes fixed on the suspicious stranger. You can’t make out their face, as they’re covered head to toe in dark robes. “Step away from the wagon!” the guard in front of you orders, pointing their own sword at the stranger. “You—” A flicker of movement in the air is all the warning any of you get. The guard suddenly gasps and stumbles back a few steps, an arrow lodged into their chest beneath their pauldron. Ezo leaps in front of you and catches them as they fall down, barking at the rest of your guards: “Shields!” A hand on your shoulder forces you to duck down as the Imperial Guards surrounding you raise their shields above you. A blue, translucent barrier sparks to life between the gaps, covering you moments before more arrows follow. They bounce off the barrier, but while you’re safe from attacks from above, the same doesn’t go for the ground below. You feel the earth beneath you shift moments before it cracks open beneath you, the stone bricks of the paved street splitting and raising to throw you off your footing. Your guards lose their balance, their shield formation failing as the barrier dissipates—across from you, the stranger you spotted before has closed in, an axe in hand. And they’re not alone. Several more of their comrades have appeared, each a weapon in hand, surrounding you and your guards. It quickly becomes apparent that Ezo and the others are outnumbered: the guards are five in total, while you count eight assailants. Using your magic in these circumstances could be difficult: <<if $magicpref is 'outer'>>you don’t have enough precision, which means you can’t be certain your spells won’t accidentally hit one of your guards, especially with them surrounding you from all sides.<<else>>to effectively use aura magic you would have to get close to the enemies, and that is too great a risk when your control is still so shaky.<</if>> Your $weapon is your best bet. [[Continue|11.9a]] While your guards are your first line of defense, you can’t sit idly by and expect them to keep you safe in a situation like this. <<if $weapon is 'bow'>>You quickly look around at the mysterious attackers surrounding you, searching for a clear line of sight on at least one of them. From a gap between two of your guards, you spot an assailant that’s a fair bit of distance away, wielding a bow of their own. That must be one of the archers who targeted you before. “Stay back!” you hear Ezo call out as you nock an arrow, the fighting around you starting in earnest. You’re not looking at what your guards are doing, however, keeping your gaze focused on your target. For a moment, the hand nocking your arrow trembles as you aim your bow. This is quite different from shooting at a practice dummy, or at phantom illusions. But you have no choice. The lives of your guards, and your own, are at stake. While the archer you’re aiming for aims at another, you take a deep breath, and on your exhale, you release the arrow. Its target strikes true, hitting the archer in the side. They fall backward onto the ground, incapacitated. Maybe even dead soon, if they don’t tend to the wound. Your arrow might kill them. The knowledge of it nearly has you lowering your bow as you feel bile rise in your throat, your heartbeat pounding between your ears.<</if>><<if $weapon is 'sword' or $weapon is 'spear'>>You quickly look around at the mysterious attackers surrounding you, keeping an eye on them as they circle around you and the guards. You hold your $weapon at the ready, in case any of them slip through. “Stay back!” you hear Ezo call out, right before the fighting around you starts in earnest. It’s a chaos of movement. You’ve never been in the midst of a battle before, and it’s hard to keep track of anything when so much is happening all around you. A flurry of sound and a constant clashing of weapons, magic spells flaring up around you and filling the air with a pressure so heavy it almost makes it hard to breathe. Before you even realize it, a gap widens between two guards who fend off four assailants at once. One of the enemies spots it—an open path leading them right to you. Your hand trembles around <<if $weapon is 'sword'>>the hilt of your sword<<else>>the shaft of your spear<</if>> as you raise it, intending only to defend yourself, but knowing that you may be forced to kill in order to do that. Yet, it’s over faster than you can blink. Your opponent lunges for the gap. You see the arc that their blade will follow before they have even completed their swing, and react just as $aname taught you. <<if $weapon is 'sword'>>You lift your sword, then cut down. The blade buries itself in the skin where their neck and shoulder meet, deep enough to split their collarbone. They drop their own sword, their own attack left unfinished, and crumple onto the ground in complete silence.<<else>>You draw your spear back, then thrust it forward. The tip of your spear finds a gap in their armor right beneath their pauldron, piercing them right beneath their collarbone. They drop their sword, their own attack left unfinished, and crumple onto the ground in complete silence.<</if>> That hit might have just killed them. The knowledge of it nearly has you lowering your $weapon as you feel bile rise in your throat, your heartbeat pounding between your ears.<</if>> Suddenly, everything happening around you—the fires, the fighting—all seems so surreal. Like your mind can’t wrap itself around what you might have just done, creating a strange, warped view of your surroundings. Almost like a dream. “Your Imperial Majesty!” Ezo suddenly appears in front of you. “Can you hear me?” You blink several times, then look around you. The assailants are all lying on the ground, some of them seeming dead, some of them seeming unconscious. How long have you been standing here, staring out blankly ahead? “Ezo, are they dead?” you ask. “The <<if $weapon is 'bow'>>archer<<else>>one lying over there<</if>>. Did I kill them?” Frowning, Ezo glances over at where your opponent is still lying on their back. <<if $weapon is 'bow'>>They clutch at the arrow in their side.<<else>>They clutch at the wound <<if $weapon is 'sword'>>on their shoulder<<else>>beneath their shoulder<</if>>.<</if>> “No, they’re still alive.” Ezo meets your eyes with concern. “The guards will tend to them. Are you alright, Your Imperial Majesty?” You take a deep breath, closing your eyes for a moment. You didn’t kill them. There is no blood on your hands. “I’m alright.” You open your eyes to look at where the city guard is being treated by one of the Imperial Guards, snapping the shaft of the arrow from where it’s embedded below their shoulder. “Did anyone else get injured?” “No, thankfully not.” Ezo’s jaw clenches for a moment in a flicker of tension. “What about the wagon?” You’d nearly forgotten, your eyes drawn to the wagon filled with bodies that the first attacker you saw was loading someone onto. “Are they all—” “Dead.” You turn your eyes away, hand pressing over your mouth as you try to keep a handle on your composure, breathing in through your nose. All you smell is smoke. You lower your hand and roll your shoulders, steeling yourself. “Can you send a signal from here?” you ask Ezo once you have recovered. “We can’t just leave them here, and the city guard needs a healer.” “I’m alright, Your Imperial Majesty!” the guard calls from where they still sit on the ground, pushing themselves up to their feet with a mild wince. “The arrow did not strike deep. I will stay here with the bodies and wait for reinforcements, you should keep looking for the Royal Protector! The place I last saw $athem is right up ahead.” You hesitate, but you can’t turn back and give up. Especially since there are enemies roaming around apparently trying to steal the corpses of the deceased, for unknown but undoubtedly sinister reasons. $aname could be in even graver danger than you initially feared. “Send a signal,” you order Ezo. “And leave someone behind with the guard. We have to keep moving.” [[Continue|11.10a]] It’s far from an ideal situation, and you can almost sense how on edge the Imperial Guards are as they move through the otherwise abandoned street, surrounding you on all sides. Ezo even keeps her sword unsheathed, eyes flitting over the collapsed houses. Some of the wreckage still burns, but most of the fire now rages at the other end of the block. “Did you not sense them before they appeared, Ezo?” you ask while you head toward where the city guard pointed you. The flare of magic Ezo sent up into the sky as a signal shines a vivid blue above you, contrasting with the dark smoke and the orange glow of the fires. “The enemies from earlier, you mean?” She shakes her head. “They hid their auras perfectly. Whoever they were, they seemed skilled—hopefully, an interrogation will reveal what they were intending on doing with the bodies.” Nothing good, you’d wager, but that doesn’t need to be said. As you continue to walk down the street, you start to see more buildings on fire in the near distance. You hurry your step, and as you approach, from among the roar of the flames you hear screaming. For a moment, the voice sounds like your mother’s. “Help!” The shrill word being cried out shakes you from your trance before you can fully submerge in it. As you and your guards approach, you see someone on the upper floor of one of the houses that have caught fire, frantically waving their arms at you. “Please help, I’m trapped!” “Get them down from there!” Ezo shouts, but then halts, her head suddenly turning towards one of the buildings further away that’s also ablaze. You draw your worried gaze away from the guards who approach the burning house. “Ezo, what is it?” “The captain is near,” she says, and your heart skips a beat. “A few buildings down—I can sense $atheir magical signature.” “Is $athey also trapped?” you ask, and Ezo looks at a loss. “I don’t… I can’t tell.” She scowls with frustration, nervously shifting her weight around from foot to foot as she glances back at the guards who have created a magical barrier in the air to catch the trapped citizen, encouraging them to jump out of the window. “$cathey might be, but there could also be more people trapped in these houses.” “Can you sense anyone from here?” Ezo furrows her brows, looking at the row of houses still on fire, but then shakes her head. “I’m not sure. The fire is interfering, we would need to enter the houses one by one to be certain.” She meets your eyes again. “What should we do, Your Imperial Majesty?” What should you prioritize? <ul class="a"> <li>[[Search for citizens first.|11.11aa][$apoints += 4; $ahighcount += 1; $arelationship to 'high']]</li> <li><<if $agender is 'male'>>[[Focus on finding Azad.|11.11ab][$apoints -= 4; $arelationship to 'low'; $alowcount += 1]]<<else>>[[Focus on finding Ashti.|11.11ab][$apoints -= 4; $arelationship to 'low'; $alowcount += 1]]<</if>></li> </ul><<set $citizens to true>>You know what your first inclination is, but it’s not one you can listen to in these circumstances. You’re the Crown, first and foremost—you have to trust that $aname can handle $athemselves while you help the citizens who cannot save themselves. Besides, it’s what $aname would want you to do, and it’s what $athey would choose $athemselves if $athey were in your shoes. Knowing that makes you more certain that this is the right decision. “Search for more survivors,” you instruct Ezo. “Make sure there aren’t any more people trapped in the houses.” The Imperial Guards get to work, two of them escorting the person they saved from the first house to sit down nearby. Their face is covered in soot, hands and feet suffering from burn wounds. “Do you know if any of your neighbors are still inside their houses?” one of your guards asks them. “I- I don’t know, they could be.” They chew on their lower lip. “The fire spread so fast, I was trapped before I realized it. My neighbor two houses down, he has two children, both still very young. I hope… Sky above, I hope they got out!” You tense with nerves as you turn your gaze to the guards entering the houses, protecting themselves with barriers. All you can do is wait and see. After what feels like an eternity, a few of the guards start to emerge from the houses, calling to the others that the first two houses are empty. Then only the third house is left, the one with a father and his two children that the first survivor worried for, and you move down the street to get a better view as Ezo and two other guards enter the building through the flames. You begin to pace as time passes, wringing your hands as you glance periodically at the entrance. The fire continues to lick away at the foundations of the house. Part of the roof suddenly caves in and you flinch, pulse fluttering in anxiety as the entire building seems to sway for one heart-stopping moment. Is there nothing you can do to help? You already left someone behind with the injured city guard and the wagon, and another is outside with you to guard you while the rest are all inside the burning house. <<if $adven gt $caut>>An impulse to rush into the burning building comes over you—it is surely insanity, but you start towards the entrance, ignoring the warning cry of the guard that remains with you and the lone survivor. “Your Imperial Majesty, please don’t—!”<<else>>“Ezo!” you call out, but only the roar of the flames answers. You would never think to enter the building yourself, unsure your magic would be enough to protect you, but you stray closer to the entrance, hoping that if Ezo and the others need help you might at least be able to hear them. “Ezo, can you hear me?” The guard that remains with you and the lone survivor is alarmed by your approach. “Your Imperial Majesty, please don’t—!”<</if>> A hand grabs you by the shoulder, yanking you back. “What do you think you’re doing?” Your mouth goes slack in shock, then immense relief as angry hazel eyes stare back into yours. [[Continue|11.12aa]]<<set $citizens to false>>You’ve already wasted so much time due to the ambush from earlier. Ezo also knows with certainty where $aname is, whereas she can’t sense anyone inside the houses. Your whole purpose in coming here was to find $aname—what if you waste time searching empty buildings while $athey needs your help? “Send another signal for the city guards to come search this place,” you finally decide, hoping you’re making the right choice. “We need to get to $aname as quick as we can. Leave someone behind with the survivor.” Ezo nods at your command, sending another flare of light up into the sky and instructing one of your Imperial Guards to stay behind. The rest of you move on, in the direction that $aname is in. You pass a row of ruined buildings, smoldering embers among the wreckage with the fires already having consumed everything they could. The streets are eerily silent, the sky growing darker and darker as the sun sets, and the urgency to find $aname increases with every step. “Right up ahead,” Ezo cautions from beside you as you approach a large, half-collapsed building, its left side still on fire while its right side is in ruins. “Inside?” you ask, and Ezo nods. “You should stay here, Your Imperial Majesty.” She unsheathes her sword. “We will—” Something tumbles off the roof of the building, falling down and hitting the ground with a dull thud. You jump back in surprise while Ezo and your other guards immediately move in front of you—but no further action is necessary. The thing that fell down is the body of a person, and it’s no longer moving. For one heart-stopping moment, you fear that it is $aname, but quickly see that they’re wearing the same robes as your attackers from before. And to make matters even clearer— “Ezo?” $aname’s voice comes from above, drawing all your eyes up to the edge of the roof three stories high where you find your Royal Protector with $atheir khopesh in hand. $cathey stares down at you with disbelief. “$name?” $catheir shock quickly turns to draw $atheir brows down into a scowl, and before you can speak another word $athey jumps off the roof. It takes you a moment to remember $aname is an inner magic user, yet you still find yourself gawking at the way $athey lands neatly on $atheir feet, as light as a cat. No broken ankles. $cathey steps over the body that fell down without even glancing at it, Ezo and the other guards quickly shuffling out of $atheir way as $athey steps right in front of you—anger in $atheir eyes. “Why are you here?” [[Continue|11.12ab]]“$aname, you’re safe!” “I wish I could say the same for you!” $aname exclaims, other hand grabbing your other shoulder, fingers holding you tight as $athey looks you up and down before meeting your eyes again. “Why are you here? Do you have any idea how dangerous it is out on the streets?” “I know you want to scold me, but there’s no time for that.” You look back toward the burning building. “Ezo and the other guards went in to look for survivors, but they should’ve been out by now.” $aname releases your shoulders, following your gaze to the house as $atheir frustration temporarily dissipates. “I’ll go in.” $cathey gives you a stern look. “Stay here, and don’t come even a <em>single step</em> closer to the house, do you understand?” You nod, your tension beginning to ebb away now that you now $aname is safe and sound, ready to help Ezo and the other guards. Unlike them, $athey doesn’t use a barrier to fight the flames: $atheir aura lights up instead, suffusing $atheir entire body in glimmering azure blue, wrapping around $atheir limbs like a stream of water twisting and turning through river bends. $cathey enters the house without hesitation, disappearing through the flames. You keep your eyes on the house and wait. Seconds pass, minutes more, but it doesn’t take long at all for $athem to emerge again. One of the guards is slung over $atheir shoulder. Ezo follows, holding a small child in her arms, and then a person carrying another child appears—likely the father. The third guard follows at the very end. While the children are crying and the father looks distressed, they all appear relatively unscathed. “What happened to them?” you ask as $aname carries the guard onto the street, carefully laying them down on the ground. The guard groans in pain, but appears otherwise conscious. You see burn wounds and bleeding cuts on their legs, their armored boots blackened. “He was hit by debris when the roof caved in,” $aname explains, looking over the guard’s injuries, patting him on his chest plate. “You’ll be alright, the wounds are superficial.” “Ashadūna’s sweet mercy, it hurts far too much to just be superficial, captain,” the injured guard complains. “This is all the steward’s fault, him and his people should’ve evacuated this whole street already!” “Just try not to—” The guard shifts his leg, then erupts into a tirade of expletives. The father you rescued from the house covers his eldest child’s ears, while you’re mostly impressed that the guard is clear-headed enough to string his swearing together. “I’ll spit on the steward’s ancestors, I’ll shit on their graves!” the guard howls, clutching at his upper thigh. “Him and his whole line of sheep-loving, goat-molesting, dog-f—” $aname promptly puts $atheir hand over the guard’s mouth, smothering whatever else he was going to say. [[Continue|11.13aa]] Ezo sends another flare above your position, having concluded the search of all the houses that are left, while $aname lets another guard handle looking after the injured. $catheir attention is once again on you, as yours is on $athem. Before $athey can say anything, you beat $athem to it. “Where were you?” You don’t mean to make it sound like a demand, but you can’t fully conceal the emotion in your words as you look $aname over like $athey did you. $cathey doesn’t have any visible injuries, and save for some damage from the fire to the leather parts of $atheir armor, $athey looks fine. $aname frowns and looks away, glancing at the people the guards rescued from the buildings. “I can’t talk about it right now. Just know that I was safe.” It’s not an answer that satisfies you. “The whole city was searching for you, $aname. Do you have any idea how—” You pause when you notice the two adult survivors glancing your way, and tamp down on your urge to speak. “Fine.” Your shoulders deflate with the sigh you exhale. “We’ll discuss this later.” It isn’t long after that when a group of city guards arrive to take the survivors and the injured guard off your hands. While they handle that, you take the time to fill $aname in on the attack from before, as well as the bodies you saw loaded onto the wagon. Unlike what you expected, $aname doesn’t look surprised. Before you can question $athem on it, one of the city guards approaches you to give a report on what happened to your assailants from earlier. “They all swallowed poison, Your Imperial Majesty.” The guard bows their head. “None survived.” At least now you won’t have to worry about having someone’s death on your conscience, but this means interrogating them will not be possible. “We should return to the palace,” $aname says while motioning Ezo to come over with a hand. “You shouldn’t linger out in the open like this.” That suits you fine, considering you’re still waiting on an explanation for $aname’s disappearance. “Lead the way, then.” $aname tells Ezo to find $rname and bring $rthem back as well, before the two of you and the rest of your remaining Imperial Guards set out to return to the palace’s underground tunnels. [[Continue|11.14aa]] Neither you nor $aname speak to each other for the entirety of the walk back to the palace. The tension between you is a palpable weight in the air, a physical wall as you try not to glance at $aname from the corner of your eyes. Once you arrive back at the palace, Keko and two more servants are there to receive you, immediately ushering you to your chambers to get refreshed. The scent of smoke clings to your clothes. $aname follows along silently, wandering over to the windows of your quarters while you retreat to the bathing room. $cathey’s still there once you return, after giving your body a quick rinse and in a fresh change of clothes. $cathey doesn’t turn to face you, continuing to gaze towards the dark clouds from the fires that are just barely visible in the distance, rising slowly into the sky. The sun set a while ago, leaving only a stretch of darkening blue in its wake. A few of the stars are blocked out by the smoke. “You may leave us,” you tell Keko and the servants, who bow and depart your room as you quietly pad over to the windows as well, though your eyes are aimed at the side of $aname’s face instead of the gloomy view. $catheir brow is furrowed, a quiet tension held in the corner of $atheir mouth. $cathey looks lost in thought, until $atheir lips part to speak. “It is a good thing you were there.” <<if $arelationship is 'low'>>$cathey finally turns $atheir head to look at you, eyes trailing over your face with a feeling you can’t quite decipher. It seems almost unsure.<<else>>When $athey turns $atheir head to look at you, all the tension in $atheir features seems to release, eyes trailing over your face with a softness you did not expect.<</if>> “Really?” You can’t keep your surprise from showing. “You didn’t seem to think it was a good thing when you were scolding me earlier.” $aname breathes out a quiet sigh, shaking $atheir head. “It was still a risk you took—a foolish one. But if you and the guards hadn’t been there, the people trapped in those houses might’ve died before I could get to them.” Which means $athey can’t wholly admonish you for it, considering the end result turned out well. “Then you agree the risk was worth it?” A smile slips into $atheir mouth to dimple $atheir cheeks for a brief moment, like a wave washing ashore before it is inevitably pulled back into the sea. “Are you that desperate for my approval?” <<if $pass gt $ass and $flirt gt $res>>Your lips part, but you pause, having to gather your courage before being able to speak the bold response that takes up all the air in your mouth: “I thought I already made that obvious.”<</if>><<if $ass gt $pass and $flirt gt $res>>“I thought I already made that obvious,” you speak reflexively, honesty burning sweet on your tongue, like a reward in and of itself for having the courage to express it.<</if>><<if $ass gt $pass and $res gt $flirt>>“I wouldn’t say <em>desperate</em>,” you reply, glancing away as you feel that your eyes reveal too much of what’s in your heart. Instead, you offer only a glimpse, “But it does matter to me.”<</if>><<if $pass gt $ass and $res gt $flirt>>You’re silent for a short moment, looking away as you feel that your eyes might betray the truth. Even once you gather all your courage, you offer only a glimpse, “I do value it.”<</if>> [[Continue|11.15aa]]$aname doesn’t <<if $res gt $flirt>>tease you like $athey usually does<<else>>pull away from shyness like $athey usually does<</if>>, something more sincere in $atheir face as $athey looks at you. “I’m merely your Royal Protector, $name,” $athey says, the brown in $atheir eyes as soft as the shadows that play across $atheir face. “You shouldn’t take your lead from me.” “Why shouldn’t I?” <<if $pass gt $ass>>Now that you’ve already come this far, the words keep spilling from your mouth.<<else>>You frown back at $athem<</if>>. “Back when I first started searching for you, Ezo told me she could sense your presence nearby, but that there might be more people trapped in the houses as well. I truly thought you could be in danger, but…” “But you figured I’d be alright?” $aname finishes. “No.” You avert your gaze, returning it to the view outside. The smoke on the horizon looks to have lessened. “I had no idea whether you’d be alright. I was scared that you weren’t, but then I thought: in a situation like this, what would $aname want me to do? What would $athey do, if $athey had to make the call?” From the corner of your eyes, you can see $aname turn fully to face you, a hand lingering on the windowsill. “I trust your judgment more than anyone else’s, $aname.” You finally look back at $athem, smiling at how surprised $athey appears by your words. “You see what is right and what is wrong so clearly, I know you would not lead me astray.” “You think too highly of me.” $catheir eyes flit away when you try to meet them. “I make mistakes like anyone else.” “Of course, but you also hold yourself accountable for them.” You now turn to face $aname fully as well, voice lowering as you tread into more sensitive territory. “Even for mistakes that weren’t yours. It would’ve been so easy for you to wash your hands of your father’s misdeeds, but you carry them with you even now.” “$name,” $athey starts, and you can already feel a protest coming, <<if $ass gt $pass>>so you hold up a hand. “All I’m trying to say is that I admire you for it.”<<else>>so you speak before $athey can interject. “I only mean that I trust you because of it.”<</if>> $aname still doesn’t look at you, and you wonder if you’ve made $athem uncomfortable. It doesn’t seem like $athey’s used to being praised like this. “You have enough good judgment of your own, you don't need to rely on mine.” “Shall we make a pact, then?” Your suggestion finally draws $atheir eyes back up to your face, hesitance replaced by curiosity. You extend your hand to $athem<<if $pass gt $ass or $res gt $flirt>>, trying to ignore the way your pulse pounds in your wrist<</if>>. “To be honest with each other, both about our mistakes and our good deeds.” $aname tilts $atheir head slightly, seeming somewhat puzzled. “You want me to hold you to account?” “Is that so strange?” $cathey hesitates, looking between your face and your hand, before $athey finally reaches to place $atheir palm against yours. Your fingers wrapped around each other, the warmth shared between skin reflected in the one that wells up in your chest, a glow that suffuses you from the inside out. “A north star,” $aname quietly muses, something seeming to lighten in $atheir shoulders as your gazes find each other again. “Can’t say I’ve had one before.” There is something in the way $athey says it, the way $athey looks at you, the poetry in the comparison itself—it reminds you of the moment you shared in the temple. Quiet, lovely and dark, just the two of you to fill the room with your words, to stir the air with your breaths. But as much as you want to lean into it, there is still more to talk about. “$aname,” you say, the shift in your tone pulling $athem out of the moment as well, “what happened, earlier? Why did you disappear?” $catheir hand lingers around your for just a moment longer, before $athey sighs and releases you. “$rname should be here for this,” $athey says, $atheir expression hardening. “I finally have a lead on what happened to the missing citizens.” [[Continue|11.16a]] Despite the way $athey glares at you, all you feel is immense relief at the sight of $athem. “$aname, you’re safe!” “I wish I could say the same for you!” $aname exclaims, hooking $atheir khopesh back onto $atheir belt as $athey looks you up and down, before meeting your eyes again. “Do you have any idea how dangerous it is out on the streets?” “We handled it,” you try to reassure $athem, but this only seems to make $athem suspicious. “Handled what, exactly?” You’re not very inclined to tell $athem about the ambush right here and now, especially since $athey already appears upset at you being here in the first place. Before you can figure out a response, Ezo cuts in. “I don’t meant to interrupt, Your Imperial Majesty,” she starts, appearing restless as she shifts her weight from foot to foot, “but should we not head back? Now that we know the captain is safe, we can search the houses.” “The houses?” $aname looks between the two of you, alarm growing in $atheir expression. “You haven’t looked for survivors on your way here?” Your lips open, then close, suddenly finding yourself without a way to justify your decision with the way $aname looks at you then—<<if $arelationship is 'high'>>with sheer disappointment<<else>>with utter disgust<</if>>. $cathey turns to Ezo. “Show me which houses. Quickly!” All you can do is follow in silence as $aname and the rest of the Imperial Guards return to the burning houses you left behind earlier. Shame presses down on you like a physical weight, still able to sense $aname’s disapproval even with $atheir back facing you. If you had any hope that the houses you abandoned were empty, that hope is immediately crushed when you see city guards emerge from one of them in the near distance. Two of them carry a small child each, one of them wailing while the other clings to the guard carrying them with wide eyes, seeming to be in shock. The last guard that emerges from the flames carries an adult in their arms who appears to be unconscious. $aname halts in $atheir tracks as soon as $athey spots what’s happening. $cathey turns to Ezo, $atheir posture stiff and $atheir voice low, “Assist the city guards.” Ezo glances at you, but then nods, taking the rest of the Imperial Guards to lend their assistance in taking care of the survivors. You feel as if a sword hangs above your head, ready to fall down at any moment as $aname turns around to face you. $catheir eyes are cold, expression hard with simmering fury. [[Continue|11.13ab]]“I…” Your voice nearly fails you. <<if $arelationship is 'low'>>“I didn’t think there was anyone left inside. Ezo said she couldn’t sense anyone!”<<else>>“I’m sorry. I didn’t…”<</if>> $aname closes $atheir eyes, taking a deep breath, and exhaling it just as deeply. You realize $athey’s trying to control $atheir temper. “We’ll talk about this later,” is all $athey says, before walking off towards the guards and the survivors. Leaving you behind. You remain at a distance and look on as the guards render aid to the people they rescued from the burning buildings. There are a few healers present among the guards, able to rouse the person who was passed out and calm down the children, both of which have arms and legs covered in burn wounds. It’s hard to keep watching as they treat the children, one crying hysterically while the other is completely silent as poultices are applied to their injuries. You can hardly swallow, a ball of shame lodged in your throat. They could’ve died, all because of you. Averting your gaze, you turn your attention to $aname and Ezo, the latter of which is recounting the ambush you experienced earlier. Unlike what you expected, $aname doesn’t look surprised by the tale at all. While you take note of that, one of the city guards approaches you to give a report on what happened to your assailants. “They all swallowed poison, Your Imperial Majesty.” The guard bows their head. “None survived.” At least now you won’t have to worry about having someone’s death on your conscience, but this means interrogating them will not be possible. “We should return to the palace,” you overhear $aname say to Ezo, refusing to so much as glance in your direction. “The Crown shouldn’t linger out in the open like this.” $cathey proceeds to tell Ezo to find $rname and bring $rthem back as well, before finally turning to meet your eyes. Still, $athey doesn’t say a word to you, instead beginning the walk back to the palace. You follow quietly, the rest of the Imperial Guards in tow. [[Continue|11.14ab]] Neither you nor $aname speak to each other for the entirety of the walk back to the palace. The tension between you is a palpable weight in the air, a physical wall as you try not to glance at $aname from the corner of your eyes. Once you arrive back at the palace, Keko and two more servants are there to receive you, immediately ushering you to your chambers to get refreshed. The scent of smoke clings to your clothes. $aname follows along silently, wandering over to the windows of your quarters while you retreat to the bathing room. $cathey’s still there once you return, after giving your body a quick rinse and in a fresh change of clothes. $cathey doesn’t turn to face you, continuing to gaze towards the dark clouds from the fires that are just barely visible in the distance, rising slowly into the sky. The sun set a while ago, leaving only a stretch of darkening blue in its wake. A few of the stars are blocked out by the smoke. “You may leave us,” you tell Keko and the servants, who bow and depart your room as you quietly pad over to the windows as well, though your eyes are aimed at the side of $aname’s face instead of the gloomy view. Taking a quiet breath, you find the courage to address $athem. “Will you not speak to me?” “What is there to speak of?” $aname replies without any inflection to $atheir words. $catheir arms are crossed over $atheir chest, eyes unmoving from the distant smoke. “You’re clearly upset with me.” <<if $arelationship is 'low'>>When $atheir gaze finally turns to you, you almost wish it hadn’t. “If you had any shame, you would be too upset with yourself to worry about what I was feeling.” Guilt turns into hurt turns into anger. “I made a mistake!” Your voice raises before you can control it, composure slipping before you rein it back in with a sharp intake of breath, looking away from $athem. “Of course I’m ashamed, but I didn’t think there was anyone left in those houses. I told you, Ezo said—” “Ezo said she couldn’t sense anyone because the fire was interfering,” $aname snaps, ripping the excuse from your mouth. “Not that the houses were empty! She told you there could still be people trapped inside, and you <em>chose</em> to ignore it.” $aname must have asked Ezo exactly what she told you when Ezo was filling $athem in about the ambush in the city. And $aname is right, Ezo did tell you that. You simply chose not to heed her words—and if that’s the truth, then you should claim it. Even while $aname looks at you with anger, you steel yourself to look back at $athem and say, “You’re right. I chose to ignore it because you were what was most important to me, in that moment.”<<else>>“Upset,” $aname repeats, the scoff leaving $atheir lips with venom. “I wish it were that straightforward. No, the person I’m most upset with is myself.” When $atheir gaze finally turns to you, you almost wish it hadn’t. “For ever thinking I could trust you as my Crown.” You physically wince at the barb, hand reaching for the windowsill to have something to hold onto. There’s no rebuttal you can make, no defense you could offer that wouldn’t be self-serving. $aname is right, what you did could’ve very easily killed the family that was pulled from the burning house. All because you prioritized one person’s life, because of what $athey meant to you personally. “Do you have nothing else to say?” $aname speaks again when you remain silent. “You were so eager to talk a moment ago.” There is nothing you have left now but honesty, as painful as it may be. “If you want the truth of it, $aname,” you say, finding the courage to meet $atheir eyes, “I chose not to search through the houses because I was worried for you. In that moment, your life was more important to me than theirs.”<</if>> [[Continue|11.15ab]]$aname’s eyes grow wide, staring at you in a numbed sort of shock. $cathey slowly turns to face you fully as $atheir composure crumbles in front of your very eyes. “You think—” $catheir words leave in a hiss of breath, visible pain flickering across $atheir face before $athey locks it away with an incredulous laugh. “You think that makes it better? That you did it for me?” “Not <em>for</em> you, just…” You search for the words, your heart pounding with anxiety as you can feel the conversation starting to spiral. Your eyes meet $atheirs in barely-concealed desperation to make $athem understand. “I thought you were in danger.” “I’m a trained soldier.” $aname’s jaw sets, and $athey has to forcefully relax it before continuing to speak. “Those people you left behind were defenseless citizens.” You’re starting to feel cornered. “They were rescued in the end, they—” “They could’ve died!” $aname erupts, $atheir sudden anger taking you aback as $atheir voice fills the room in a shout. Even when you argued before, $athey never reacted so intensely, instead choosing to freeze you out. “They very nearly did die!” You don’t understand this reaction, your own voice raising in offense at being shouted down for being honest with your feelings. “I couldn’t risk your life! What would you have had me do?” “Trust that I could handle myself, and save the people you swore to protect!” $aname shoots back, pointing at the smoke in the distance. “They could have suffocated in there, they could’ve <em>burned to death</em> all because you judged my life worth more than theirs.” “But you are—” $aname’s anger disappears as quickly as it came. Now, $athey recoils, stepping away from you physically. It is so much worse than $atheir anger. “Don’t. Please, just don’t.” $cathey averts $atheir gaze, breathing heavily as $athey wipes away some soot from $atheir cheek with $atheir sleeve. $catheir voice is much quieter when $athey speaks again. “You’re the Crown, $name.” $cathey exhales a deep breath, weariness settling in the weight of $atheir brows as $athey meets your gaze once more with a deeply troubled frown. “You can’t act solely on your own desires anymore.” The way $athey looks at you then—is it you $athey sees, or is it $atheir father? “$aname,” you start, but any further words you could’ve given die before they can leave your tongue. Shame settles like a stone in your gut, and regret squeezes your throat shut. There is nothing you could say that could rectify this, because $aname is right. You put $atheir life before those of others. It wasn’t a decision made in blind fear or desperation. Your judgment was fully intact, your mind sound, and yet you still chose one person over many solely because of your own attachment to $athem. You did not act as the Crown should. You acted as $name, and it nearly cost you the lives of an entire family. At that moment, you realize with a sinking horror that you could’ve inflicted the same fate that still torments you on another child by letting their parent die. Or possibly even worse. <<if $ahighcount gt 0>>“I thought you understood,” $aname says, not even looking at you anymore as $athey speaks, staring off into the darkness of the gardens. “Perhaps I misjudged you.” $catheir disappointment pierces you like an arrow.<<else>>“At first I thought you ignored the houses because you were apathetic,” $aname says, not even looking at you anymore as $athey speaks, staring off into the darkness of the gardens. “But this? This is almost worse, $name. I don’t know what to do with this.” The pain in $atheir words makes your chest feel tight.<</if>> “I’m… $aname, I’m truly sorry.” Your voice is hoarse, and you swallow thickly as you look away. “I never wanted….” You hesitate, the words clinging to your tongue until you finally find the strength to push them out: “All I could think of was you. I was so afraid of what might’ve happened to you, but I know it’s no excuse. I know I should’ve never abandoned my duty to the city.” $aname is silent for a long time. $cathey doesn’t move from $atheir spot in front of the windows, doesn’t twitch a single muscle, gaze fixed ahead, as still and cold as a statue. When $athey finally speaks, it’s not to offer the forgiveness you were hoping for. “I’m not the one you should apologize to.” [[Continue|11.16a]]<<set $progress to "11">><div id="11.1">@@.chaptertitleact1;CHAPTER ELEVEN@@</div>@@.titleblack;Lost to the Storms@@ The corridors of the palace pass you by in a haze of fear. The only reason you do not run is because you don’t know where to go. You follow right behind Ziryan, with $aname and Master Zîn on either side of you. Their presence keeps you calm, as well as the knowledge that panicking won’t be of any use to $rname. Whatever has happened to $rthem, you have to find a way to wake $rthem. You can’t be without your Sorcerer—you can’t be without $rthem, you realize. $crthey has been here with you through every step of your journey so far, standing by your side when you became the Crown and remaining there, the two of you facing down the nobility together. What will you do if $rthey does not wake? You push the thought down forcefully, a spike of dread making your heart throb with anxiety. Keeping your gaze fixed on Ziryan’s back, you follow them into a corridor that ends in a pair of large, silver doors. Mirrors of the golden ones that lead to your own bedchambers. These must lead to $rname’s quarters. Inside, $rname’s chambers are similar in size and interior to yours, though it’s decorated with different, darker colors. You might have taken a moment to look around if it were another time. Instead, your gaze falls instantly upon the bed, dimly lit by the candles placed on the nightstand. Perjin, seated at $rname’s bedside, rises to her feet when you enter, but you have no attention to spare for her. You pass her by, heading straight to $rname’s side. At first glance, it almost looks as if $rthey’s sleeping, but as you take $rthem in you notice otherwise. $crtheir breaths are shallow and uneven, a sheen of sweat glistening across $rtheir forehead and between $rtheir furrowed brows. $crtheir hands are clenched into the sheets, and as $rthey inhales a breath, you hear a small, pained noise smothered in the back of $rtheir throat. Your hands reach for $rthem, but then halt and hover in mid-air, uncertain of whether you should even touch $rthem while $rthey’s in this state. “It’s alright,” Perjin speaks quietly from beside you. “You can hold $rtheir hand if you wish. Your magic won’t cause any problems.” You take a slow, deep breath, calming yourself as you sit down on the edge of the bed and gently take $rname’s hand in yours. “$crtheir fingers are cold.” Alarmed, you rub $rtheir hand, feeling how clammy and cool $rtheir skin is. You turn to Perjin and Master Zîn. “What’s happening to $rthem?” “All $rtheir magic has been pulled inward, into $rtheir chest,” Master Zîn replies, speaking in a steady voice, but her troubled gaze betrays her worry. “It is $rtheir body’s way of trying to protect its core when it is under duress. It’s normal for the temperature of $rtheir limbs to cool a little.” You hold $rname’s hand with both of yours, overcome with an immense sense of helplessness. Turning to Perjin and Master Zîn, you ask, “What can we do?” “I’ve already asked the Imperial Guards to bring Marabad’s head priest to the palace,” Perjin says, glancing at $aname who gives a small nod. “What has happened to $rname is neither within my nor Master Zîn’s expertise. As an alchemist, I’ve never encountered anything like this before.” Master Zîn frowns as she looks down at $rname, sleeping restlessly. “My pursuits as a magus were centered around the enhancement of the body, rather than the spirit. A fact that tends to haunt me during moments like these.” “$crthey is stable,” Perjin says, no doubt meaning it to be comforting, but it does little to reduce your anxiety when none of you know why $rname remains asleep. “There is nothing any of us can do, Zîn. Blaming ourselves won’t help $rname wake any faster.” Master Zîn also doesn’t seem convinced, folding her arms and remaining standing by $rname’s bedside. As if, were she to wait there long enough, $rname might spontaneously awaken. You suppose you’re sitting by $rtheir bedside for the same reason. “When you mentioned the head priest, did you mean High Master Afrîn of the Sky Temple?” you say to Perjin, remembering the priest from your coronation, though you haven’t seen him since. “Would he be able to help?” “Perhaps.” It isn’t as optimistic an answer as you wanted to hear, but it is better that Perjin is truthful with you. False hope is the last thing you want. “He is from the Sky Temple, so he would connect well with $rname’s affinity. I believe he also has training as a healer, and more importantly, a summoner.” You suppose that would be more helpful than alchemy. Priests tend to have strong connections with spirits, and learning how to summon them and communicate with them is a prerequisite for entering in service of a temple. Even if Afrîn himself cannot heal $rname, perhaps he knows of spirits who could. [[Continue|11.r2]]“I need to understand what happened,” you speak at length, breaking the brief moment of silence within the bedchambers as you address Perjin and Master Zîn. “Master Zîn, you said the Void touched $rtheir mind?” “Yes, we…” She exchanges a look with Perjin. “$rname was looking around the room, searching the walls for any traces of the Void left that $rthey could examine. We all assumed the effect would be less potent than what happened to the Pale Sword.” “Evidently, you thought wrong,” $aname remarks sharply, no doubt still displeased with $rname doing this without $aname being informed of it. You certainly can’t blame $athem, considering how this ended up. $cathey must feel frustrated most of all, being that $atheir duty is to protect you and $rname, yet you both decided to keep this from $athem. “We were careless,” Perjin admits, shoulders slumping as she looks at $rname’s face. “Blinded by our own excitement. There’s so little we know about the Void, it was an unprecedented opportunity. We should have known better.” <<if $rrelationship is 'high'>>“And I should have told you,” you say to $aname. $rname asked you not to, but that doesn’t matter. It would’ve been the responsible thing to do. “I trusted that $rthey would be fine.” $aname’s frustration softens in the face of your and Perjin’s remorse, and $athey sighs. “Perjin is right, this is unprecedented. Even if I were there, I can’t say with certainty that I could have prevented this. My skill in magic doesn’t compare to $rname’s.” You reflect on your own decision, and… <ul class="a"> <li><<if $rgender is 'female'>>[[…you can’t help but think that you should not have let Rozerîn go.|11.r3][$rpoints -= 2; $rtrust to false]]<<else>>[[…you can’t help but think that you should not have let Rêzan go.|11.r3][$rpoints -= 2; $rtrust to false]]<</if>></li> <li><<if $rgender is 'female'>>[[…you don’t think you were wrong to listen to Rozerîn, even though it ended up going wrong.|11.r3][$rpoints += 2; $rtrust to true]]<<else>>[[…you don’t think you were wrong to listen to Rêzan, even though it ended up going wrong.|11.r3][$rpoints += 2; $rtrust to true]]<</if>></li> <li><<if $rgender is 'female'>>[[…you’re not sure what you should’ve done, whether it was right or wrong to trust Rozerîn.|11.r3][$rtrust to 'uncertain']]<<else>>[[…you’re not sure what you should’ve done, whether it was right or wrong to trust Rêzan.|11.r3][$rtrust to 'uncertain']]<</if>></li> </ul><<else>>“I should not have let $rname go,” you say to $aname. $rname asked you to trust $rthem, but it doesn’t matter. Keeping $rthem safe is more important. “We both knew it could be dangerous, but…” $aname frowns at you. “It isn’t your trust in $rname that I disapprove of. If $rthey insisted on going, you hardly could have stopped $rthem. I only wish you would have informed me. I can’t say with certainty that I could’ve prevented this from happening, but there is a chance I might have.” You reflect on your own decision, and… <ul class="a"> <li><<if $rgender is 'female'>>[[…you do think you could have, and should have, stopped Rozerîn from going.|11.r3][$rpoints -= 2; $rtrust to false]]<<else>>[[…you do think you could have, and should have, stopped Rêzan from going|11.r3][$rpoints -= 2; $rtrust to false]]<</if>></li> <li><<if $rgender is 'female'>>[[…perhaps you weren’t entirely wrong to listen to Rozerîn, even though it ended up going wrong.|11.r3][$rpoints += 2; $rtrust to true]]<<else>>[[…perhaps you weren’t entirely wrong to listen to Rêzan, even though it ended up going wrong.|11.r3][$rpoints += 2; $rtrust to true]]<</if>></li> <li><<if $rgender is 'female'>>[[…you’re not sure what you should’ve done, whether it was right or wrong to trust Rozerîn.|11.r3][$rtrust to 'uncertain']]<<else>>[[…you’re not sure what you should’ve done, whether it was right or wrong to trust Rêzan.|11.r3][$rtrust to 'uncertain']]<</if>></li> </ul><</if>><<if visited("11.r3") is 1>><<if $rpoints gte 15>><<set $rrelationship to 'high'>><<else>><<set $rrelationship to 'low'>><</if>><</if>><<if $rrelationship is 'high'>><<if $rtrust is false>>While you’re not sure how you could have stopped $rname from going without outright ordering $rthem not to—which doesn’t sit right—you do regret agreeing so easily. It’s not that you doubt $rname’s capabilities as a magus, but clearly, $rthey took on more than $rthey could handle.<</if>><<else>><<if $rtrust is false>>If you ordered $rthem not to go, you’re sure $rname would have listened. It might seem a bit extreme, but clearly, it would’ve protected $rname from ending up in this situation.<</if>><</if>><<if $rtrust is true>>You both took a risk and it didn’t pay off. There’s no reason to start doubting $rname’s abilities, especially considering the risk was warranted: you have to find out more about the Void if you wish to combat it. The only thing you truly regret is not informing $aname of your plan so that $athey could accompany $rname.<</if>><<if $rtrust is 'uncertain'>>If you asked $rthem not to go, then $rname wouldn’t be in this situation right now. On the other hand, doubting your own Sorcerer doesn’t seem like a path you want to go down either. The only thing you’re sure of is that you should have told $aname about it.<</if>> Not that any of these musings will help $rname wake up. You push your regret aside, redirecting your attention to the problem at hand. “You said $rname was in a state of shock,” you say to Master Zîn. “It doesn’t look like shock to me. It looks like $rthey passed out.” “$crthey lost consciousness when Master Zîn left to fetch you,” Perjin explains. The concern on Master Zîn’s face appears to grow at Perjin’s explanation, though she elaborates on what happened to you. “Initially, $rname was in shock right after connecting to the Void. As I said before, $rthey told us that the Void consumed a mental ward that was placed on $rthem by $rtheir parents.” “Presumably, that unlocked some hidden memories,” Perjin adds, and your grip on $rname’s hand tightens. Your tutor’s voice lowers, her gaze a sad one as she looks at $rname. “It may very well be that $rtheir mind and spirit need time to absorb it all, and $rthey will wake on $rtheir own.” “And if $rthey doesn’t wake on $rtheir own?” you ask, despite not wanting to. You need to know. Perjin does not meet your eyes. “Then we can only hope that the priest will help.” This is exactly what $rname feared might be the case, yet even hearing it confirmed, you can still hardly believe it to be true. Your view is admittedly colored by your experiences with your own parents, who were the complete opposite of what $rname’s parents sound like they were. There are many faults you can lay at your mother and father’s feet—deceit being foremost—but one thing you could never accuse them of is abandoning you, or not loving you. It was their sincere desire to protect you that lead them to shelter you, in a misguided attempt to keep you safe. This is why, even now, <<if $mood is 'rage'>>your anger towards them is always accompanied by pain, longing, and grief. As much as you want to resent them, you can’t. Not truly.<<else>>your grief is ever present whenever you think of them. Dulled, perhaps, but always there in the back of your mind, accompanied by pain and longing in equal measure.<</if>> You would give anything to see them again, just as they gave their lives for you. They sacrificed Arsur itself by depriving it of a ruler, costing its safety and stability, so long as it meant that you would survive. That is what makes it so incomprehensible to you that someone would ever abandon their own child. Let alone go so far as to alter their mind and lock away their memories, cast them aside as if they never mattered. It is a completely foreign notion, one you do not think you will ever be able to understand. “Master Zîn,” you ask, suddenly remembering something the master magus mentioned before. “Did Lady Zerya know about this?” She knew that $rname was abandoned, after all, and she knew the name of at least one of $rname’s parents. Master Zîn looks distinctly ill at ease with the question. She and Lady Zerya used to be friends, so the possibility must also trouble her. “It’s very possible. No, I would say it’s almost certain that she knew about it. She would have done a thorough examination of $rname’s magic after taking $rthem on as a student.” A magus of her caliber would have noticed—so she <em>chose</em> not to do anything about it. Not even to tell $rname of it. “Then why didn’t she do anything?” you ask, feeling indignation on $rname’s behalf. “How could she be content to simply let it be?” “Even if she wanted to, there is little she could have done,” Master Zîn replies, though she frowns deeply as she considers what must have been Zerya’s reasoning. “You have seen the power of the mental wards firsthand. $rname’s in particular has lasted nearly two decades, and it clearly didn’t have any noticeable side effects. Whatever ward was placed on $rthem was frighteningly powerful. Trying to remove it very likely would have caused damage to $rname’s memories, or even $rtheir very mind.” “Is it—” You halt, the realization striking you silent. Your mouth closes again as you turn your gaze to $rname’s sleeping face, feeling like a hole suddenly opened inside your chest. “Majesty, are you well?” $aname asks, $athey and the two magi looking at you with concern. The muscle in your jaw jumps, clenched so tightly you start to feel your gums aching from how hard you press your teeth together. You force yourself to take a deep breath, trying to ease the tension gripping your chest and shoulders, as you quietly ask your question. “Could $rname’s parents be involved with the Followers of Vidarna?” [[Continue|11.r4]] No one answers. None of them want to answer, you can see it in their faces. Master Zîn and Perjin both look away, no doubt the possibility having already occurred to them, something they don’t even want to think about. In comparison, $aname’s expression shifts from alarm to a fury burning bright in $atheir eyes, a rare loss of composure. You start to see thin wisps of <em>steam</em> rising from the skin of $atheir neck and $atheir hands, and you can almost feel the heat $athey radiates even from across the room. It’s different from the way $xname’s inner flames feel. $aname’s heat is sweltering and suffocating, like a summer storm sweeping across the coast. After a moment, $athey manages to reel $athemselves in. $catheir restraint is visible in the way $athey folds $atheir arms and closes $atheir eyes, inhaling deep through $atheir nose to calm down. The steam and its heat gradually dissipate. You remember $aname has $atheir own grudge against the Followers. While you don’t know what it is, you share $atheir anger. If $rname’s parents truly do belong to the Followers, then it’s more important than ever that you find them. $rname deserves to know the truth, and $rtheir parents should answer for what they’ve done. The silence in the room lingers after that, none of you feeling the urge to keep talking. You don’t know how much time passes as you wait for Afrîn to arrive, at one point releasing $rname’s hand when your palms begin to grow clammy with your nerves. You can’t bring yourself to move away from $rtheir side, yet equally, you feel useless. Meanwhile, Perjin moves to sit on the other side of $rname’s bed. Every now and then she puts her fingers to $rname’s pulse, to sense any fluctuations in $rtheir magic. She never reports any changes. Master Zîn takes to wandering the room instead, sometimes standing in front of the windows, other times lingering at the foot of $rname’s bed and watching Perjin keep track of $rname’s magic. $aname remains rooted in place by the door. When $athey finally moves, it feels like days have already passed, though it must have been half an hour at most. Quietly but quickly, $athey pushes the doors to the chambers open. You sit up with interest, and sure enough, you hear hurried footsteps jogging outside in the hallway shortly after. The noise is followed by Ziryan’s voice calling, “We have the head priest!” The sight that greets you when it comes barreling through the doors would be a comical one, were it not for the urgency of the situation. Ziryan jogs into the room with High Master Afrîn slung over their shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Their helmet is off, their curls freely bouncing around the red bandana on their head as they set the priest down, then immediately bend over with their hands on their knees, breathing hard. They bring with them an unusual gust of wind, blowing coolly through the room—you sense magic within it, spotting telltale sparks around the priest’s shoulders. Air spirits? Kaja and Ezo linger in the doorway, peering inside as if to make sure the priest arrived safely. They meet your dumbstruck gaze, both quickly inclining their heads, and then quickly push the doors closed again to give you privacy. Afrîn clears his throat, looking a little awkward as he smooths out his long white robes before turning around to face you and bowing deeply. “Your Imperial Majesty, I came as soon as I could. Your Imperial Guards were, ah, kind enough to help me along.” “I can see that,” you say mildly, looking at Ziryan and arching your brows at the way they wheeze. “Are you alright, Ziryan?” “Fine, Y’r ‘mperial Ma’sty,” they gasp out, barely able to pronounce the words. “I’ll just… take a moment… to rest…” They must have run the whole way here with Afrîn on their shoulder to get him to you as quickly as possible. “Take a seat, if you want,” you say, grateful for Ziryan’s efforts. The sooner the head priest can examine $rname, the sooner you will find a way to wake $rthem. You rise to your feet. “Head priest, were you informed of the situation?” “Only briefly,” Afrîn replies, gaze flitting to $rname’s form on the bed. “I understood that the Sorcerer came into contact with the Void?” [[Continue|11.r5]]<<if $pass gt $ass>>You turn to Master Zîn and Perjin, who both take the lead in filling the head priest in on what exactly occurred. They are sensible in not mentioning the assassin or $rname’s mental ward, instead crafting a believable lie about a magical artifact malfunctioning, leaving an essence of the Void behind in trace amounts that then poisoned $rname.<<else>>You take the lead in filling the head priest in on what occurred, as there is sensitive information—such as the presence of the assassin or $rname’s mental ward—that you don’t wish to divulge. Crafting a believable lie, you tell the priest the cause of $rname’s slumber was the malfunctioning of a magical artifact that left behind traces of the Void in the room $rname searched.<</if>> The grave look on the priest’s face does nothing to reassure you, his bushy brows drawn down into a frown as he approaches $rname’s bedside. He glances at you, asking for permission, and you give a subtle nod. “Asman, our eternal protector, shield me,” the priest murmurs, a quiet prayer to the great divinity of the Sky that stirs the spirits attached to him. A veil of silver forms around his hand, slowly fitting around the contours of his skin like a glove while he reaches for $rname’s wrist. You hear a low hum in the air, as if it trembles at the power of the spirits concentrating around the priest. Cautiously, he presses two fingers against $rname’s pulse. You notice the priest’s eyes begin to glow, dark brown lightening into a brighter, colder gray. The rest of you can do nothing but watch. You count your heartbeats as they pass in a flutter of nerves, jaw tensed in anticipation as the priest remains silent and unmoving, eyes shining unnaturally. Suddenly, he pulls away. The magic breaks apart with an audible crackle that sounds not unlike the vibrations of lightning you’ve heard whenever $rname wielded it in $rtheir hands. The priest turns to you, the glow in his eyes fading as the air spirits release his hand. His conclusion, however, is not one you expected: “We will need water spirits for this, Your Imperial Majesty.” <<if $blunt gt $charm>>You frown at him. “Elaborate.”<<else>>“Why?” you ask, confused. “I thought the air spirits…”<</if>> “While the elements of the Sky are best used to combat the Void, that is no longer applicable here.” The priest glances at $rname. “The Void has already run its course, I cannot detect any of its presence left within $rthem. It is the aftereffects we must resolve.” Unlike the first time you met the head priest, he is rambling far less now and straight to the point. Perhaps he is sensible enough to know the situation is urgent, or perhaps it means things are simply that dire. “You know what has caused $rname’s shocked state?” you ask, putting your worries aside as you remind yourself that anxiety will not benefit $rname. You must be calm and in control. “Memories.” The head priest looks troubled. “It appears the Void has resurfaced, or uncovered, some things our $rtitle Sorcerer does not wish to recall. $crtheir own magic is attempting to repress them subconsciously, but is failing. The only way to wake $rthem is acceptance, something the water spirits will be of more help with than my air spirits.” It is the mental ward, or rather, its destruction. You and the others hoped $rname would wake on $rtheir own after coming to terms with the memories that were locked away, but from the way the priest described it, $rtheir subconscious is fighting $rtheir memories instead. Thankfully, you have water spirits very near at hand who should be able to help. They tried to help you, too, though you refused. “There are water spirits in my personal temple,” you say to the priest, who looks relieved. “That is good.” He nods to himself. “I could have summoned them if necessary, but this will take less time.” You turn to $aname and Ziryan, the latter of which has recovered from their sprint to the palace. “Ensure the path to the temple is free of any onlookers. I don’t want the nobles or court officials to see $rname in such a state.” It would cause unrest and opportunism, neither of which $rname needs. [[Continue|11.r6]] Ziryan dutifully goes on ahead, and you wait until the Imperial Guards confirm the hallways and the gardens are vacant before you decide to move $rname again. <<if $height is 'very short' or $height is 'short'>>$aname approaches the bed, taking it upon $athemselves to carry $rname to the water temple. You would’ve liked to do it yourself, but with your stature, you’re not sure you could manage it. <<if $magicpref is 'inner'>>You haven’t learned enough aura magic to reliably enhance your strength just yet<<else>>You haven’t trained your body for long enough yet to see any substantial growth in strength and muscle<</if>>. Still, you hover close as $aname bends down, sliding one arm beneath $rname’s upper back and another beneath $rtheir knees. Carefully, $athey lifts $rname up, though $atheir caution seems more because $athey doesn’t want to jostle $rname rather than any strain. $aname might as well be carrying a feather with how easily $athey picks $rname up. “Wait,” you say before $aname can head out. Leaning over, you carefully adjust $rname’s head, resting it against $aname’s shoulder so $rthey won’t strain $rtheir neck.<<else>>When $aname starts to approach the bed, intending to carry $rname, you step out ahead of $athem. “Let me do it.” $aname looks briefly surprised, but stands back without protest as you turn to the bed. You bend down, sliding one arm beneath $rname’s upper back and another beneath $rtheir knees. <<if $height is 'average'>>You take a breath, bracing yourself before you lift $rname up in your arms with some effort. The initial motion of it is the hardest part, however, and once $rthey’s settled you have an easier time carrying $rthem.<<else>>You take a moment to brace yourself before you lift $rthem, but $rthey’s fairly light compared to you—your stature makes it easier to carry $rthem.<</if>> Looking $rname over, $rtheir head tilted backward, you say to $aname, “Can you adjust $rtheir head for me? I don’t want $rthem to strain $rtheir neck.” $aname does as you ask, gently moving $rname’s head to rest against your shoulder. While $rname’s hands felt cold, you notice the rest of $rtheir body does feel warm, tucked against your chest. It reassures you, though not enough to quell the protective instinct inside of you.<</if>> When you glance up at $aname, incidentally meeting $atheir eyes, $athey gives you a knowing yet kind look. “We’ll find a way to wake $rthem, $name,” $athey reassures you, and suddenly you feel utterly bare. <<if $rrelationship is 'high'>><<if $res gt $flirt>>You avert your eyes—only mere hours ago you were kissing $rtheir hand, giddy with a feeling of newly found affection.<<else>>You don’t deny the unspoken assumption in $aname’s eyes, remembering how you were kissing $rtheir hand only mere hours ago, giddy with a feeling of newly found affection.<</if>><<else>><<if $res gt $flirt>>You avert your eyes—only mere hours ago $rthey kissed your hand, leaving you giddy with a feeling of newly found affection.<<else>>You don’t deny the unspoken assumption in $aname’s eyes, remembering how $rthey kissed your hand only mere hours ago, leaving you giddy with a feeling of newly found affection.<</if>><</if>> “I know.” [[Continue|11.r7]] As you arrive at your personal temple, you can feel how disturbed the water spirits are before you’ve even stepped foot through its doorway. The air surrounding the temple is restless, the wind blowing erratically as it does before a storm. <<if $height is 'very short' or $height is 'short'>>Ziryan and another guard push the doors open for you and $aname right behind you, carrying $rname over the threshold.<<else>>Ziryan and another guard push the doors open for you as you carry $rname over the threshold, $aname leading the way inside.<</if>> Afrîn, Perjin, and Master Zîn follow, the guards closing the doors again once you’re all inside. The usually tranquil pool within the temple sloshes unsteadily, water spilling over the edges. Whether the spirits themselves are concerned for the state $rname is in, or are simply reflecting your own distress back at you, they are agitated all the same. “How do we proceed, head priest?” you ask<<if $height is 'very short' or $height is 'short'>>, glancing with worry at $rname who hasn’t stirred at all in $aname’s arms<<else>>, carefully readjusting your hold on $rname<</if>>. “We must lower $rthem into the pool to let the water spirits do their work,” Afrîn advises you. “I will guide them to ensure they do not become overzealous in their eagerness to aid $rthem. It would be helpful to have a familiar presence during the ritual, to comfort $rtitle $rname.” $aname meets your eyes. “It should be you.” “Are you sure?” You’re more than willing to be the one to help, but you’re not certain if you’re the best person for it. “You’ve known $rthem for much longer than I have.” “Yes, but I…” For a rare moment, $aname seems uncertain as $athey looks away, gaze flitting down to $rname’s sleeping face. “I haven’t been as open with $rthem as you have been, even in such a short time.” You’re a little surprised to hear that since $rname and $aname have always seemed very comfortable with each other. It’s not the right time to question $aname about it, however, so you trust $atheir judgment. Besides, you’re more than happy to be there for $rname. <<if $height is 'very short' or $height is 'short'>>As Afrîn leads the way, entering the shallow pool, you and $aname follow. $aname goes first, carefully stepping into the water. The ripples around $atheir legs light up in vivid blues as the spirits gather with anticipation, the same happening to you when you go next.<<else>>Afrîn leads the way, entering the shallow pool first while you follow right behind with $rname steady in your arms. The ripples around both of your legs light up in vivid blues as the spirits gather with anticipation.<</if>> <<if $clothing is "robes" or $clothing is "dress">>The fabric of your $clothing billows and floats in the water, a blue ring of light silhouetting its outline where the spirits circle around you<<else>>The fabric of your shalwar floats up a little, blue rings of light around your knees silhouetting their outlines where the spirits circle around you<</if>>. The water itself is cool, but not unpleasantly so. You feel a tingling through your feet and lower legs where they are submerged, spreading up to your thighs and the rest of your body. Your own magic reacts, <<if $magicaffinity is "eclipse">>the blue light in the water fading as if swallowed up by the golden glow that begins to shimmer from your body, outlining you like a halo. <em>Black sun,</em> the water spirits say, speaking with feeling rather than sound. <em>Do not fear the Void. You were born from it, and will someday return to it</em>.<<else>>the blue light in the water overpowered by the golden glow that begins to shine from your skin, radiating through your clothes. <em>Golden sun,</em> the water spirits say, speaking with feeling rather than sound. <em>Do not fear the Void. It is your home, and it will welcome you when you return to it</em>.<</if>> It is a cryptic message at best. Does your affinity have an elemental relation to the Void, or do the spirits mean it in a more philosophical sense, where the Void is a metaphor for cosmic death? Both the beginning and the inevitable end of all things? Regardless of their meaning—you’re sure your philosophy tutor would be pleased by your questions—the water spirits are trying to reassure you. As always, they can sense your distress and they wish to help. “It isn’t me that I fear for,” you murmur as you <<if $height is 'very short' or $height is 'short'>>watch $aname kneel with $rname in $atheir arms.<<else>>slowly kneel down to the floor of the pool.<</if>> $rname’s hair spills through the water like black ink, $rtheir head supported by $aname as $rthey floats gently, only $rtheir neck<<if $rgender is 'female'>>, the top of her chest and her face<<else>> and his face<</if>> lifted above the unnaturally still surface of the pool. Even the smallest ripples immediately dissipate, as if it were a liquid mirror. <<if $height is 'very short' or $height is 'short'>>You move to $rname’s other side and kneel down as well, the water gently lapping at your waist. $aname carefully shifts $atheir grip so you can hold $rname instead, moving with such gentleness you’d think $athem afraid of so much as twisting a single strand of $rname’s hair.<<else>>The water laps gently at your waist as you carefully shift $rname to keep $rthem comfortable, hoping the water isn’t too cold for $rthem considering $rtheir temperature is already so low in their limbs.<</if>> All you really need to do is to keep the back of $rtheir head lifted so $rthey can breathe. The rest of $rtheir body feels completely weightless, surrounded by blue radiance. The soothing sensation of the pool and the presence of the water spirits must get through to $rname even in $rtheir sleep, because $rtheir facial features slowly but surely ease. Tension ebbs out of $rtheir body, almost going completely limp in your hands. <<if $height isnot 'very short' or $height isnot 'short'>>$aname, <</if>>Perjin and Master Zîn watch from the edge of the pool, their expressions of concern and watchfulness reflected in the water below. <<if $height is 'very short' or $height is 'short'>>After handing $rname over to you, $aname steps out of the pool to join the two of them, quietly standing guard. <</if>>All they can do from this point on is watch, and hope the water spirits succeed. [[Continue|11.r8]]“What now?” you ask the priest. High Master Afrîn nods down to the water spirits below, circling the three of you in flickers of blue, like the scales of fish glinting in sunlight. “Now, we let the water spirits do their work. Though, as I said, I will restrain them where necessary. When one isn’t willing to reflect, holding up a mirror will do more harm than good. Water spirits are quite famous—or should I say, infamous—for getting carried away.” You know that sensation all too well. It almost went wrong for you before, when you entered their empty water temple back in the city. You mention as much to the priest when you remember the incident, concerned something might go wrong here as it did for you back then. Afrîn looks at you with surprise, but then, understanding. “I see.” He gazes down at the water spirits with a pitying expression. “They were abandoned. It is no wonder they were so desperate to help. Do not take it as a failing on your part, Your Imperial Majesty, it was likely a long time since they last were able to interact with people. I do not sense any such desperation now, however. You did well to give them a home.” You look down at the water spirits with a sudden, deep feeling of kinship. They were lost, just like you. <em>Better now,</em> they say with reassurance. <em>We will not hurt $rthem. We’re sorry we hurt you.</em> <em>It’s alright,</em> you think back. <em>You were lonely. I understand, and I forgive you.</em> The water spirits seem to glow a little more brightly. “They will connect to $rtitle $rname’s spirit,” Afrîn explains as you remain silent, and you wonder if he can hear your conversation with the water spirits. “Ideally, they should gently guide $rtitle $rname to accept the memories $rtheir magic is trying to erase—though, ultimately, that will be up to the Sorcerer to decide. Your presence will function as an anchor for $rthem during such a process, as it will be a painful one. There may even be some, ah, bleed-through.” You frown. “You mean I might see some of $rtheir memories?” “Indeed.” Afrîn does not look concerned, merely apologetic. “I’ve done this ritual with many others before. Friends and family who enter the water to support their loved ones sometimes experience such a bleed-through. Usually, the person communing with the water spirits would be aware of this and have given permission, but with things as they are…” He sighs. “It is unfortunate, but we will have to ask for $rtitle $rname’s forgiveness later. The longer we wait, the more we risk $rtheir magic damaging $rtheir own mind.” This is it, then. You gaze down at $rname’s peacefully slumbering face, reaching out and gently brushing back strands of $rtheir long hair from $rtheir forehead. They join the rest of $rname’s silk-like tresses in the pool, gently floating around the both of you. “Let’s begin,” you say, more to the water spirits than the priest, and they react instantly to your permission. Converging in the water, they become as one, a single spirit that circles around you and $rname. You notice they start to take the shape of a large, unusually flat fish with a short tail, made of blue light, embodying life born from the water just as they were. Or perhaps they <em>were</em> once one and the same, in a past life. No one knows how spirits are born. Only that they come from nature and that they appear and disappear, as constant yet as changing as the seasons. Above you, the head priest begins to recite a chant, his voice echoing serenely in the wide chamber of the temple. “O ye Sacred Waters! Ye that are showered down to kiss the Earth and grant it life, ye that sustain us and bathe us and serve us all in helpful ways, we come on hands and knees to seek thy wisdom.” The chant is almost monotonous, but you suspect it must be purposeful as you slowly feel your body ease in the water as you listen to it. “O Waters, ye who are productive, ye with heat that suckles the frail and needy before birth, ye waters that have once been rulers of us all, ye long of arm to reach our sickness and misfortune…” Before you know it, your eyelids start sliding shut. “We come to you with humility, to seek thy mercy.” You feel a familiar pull. A gentle embrace from your memory, coaxing you to a soft slumber. The last thing you see is the light of the water spirits, still ever-circling in the same pattern as they flit through your line of sight and then they are gone, as are you. [[Continue|11.r9]] Your hands are not your own. They are much smaller, <<if $skincolor is 'olive beige' or $skincolor is 'tanned beige' or $skincolor is 'bronze beige' or $skincolor is 'golden brown'>>their complexion a darker brown than yours<</if>><<if $skincolor is 'russet brown' or $skincolor is 'dark brown'>>their complexion a lighter brown than yours<</if>><<if $skincolor is 'warm black' or $skincolor is 'cool black' or $skincolor is 'deep black'>>their complexion a much lighter shade than yours<</if>>. Fingertips and nails stained with dirt, bony knuckles poking up from beneath warm brown skin that seems as thin as a delicate veil. Without your permission, they reach up, towards the surface of a counter that’s taller than you. Your fingers curl around the edge of a book—a voice drifts in from beyond a hallway, words too soft to make out. You freeze, holding your breath, hands still clinging to the spine of the old tome. Your heart is pounding in your chest. The voice goes silent. Quietly, quickly, you pull the book off the counter. You hold it to your chest, encircled within your arms that are covered in dirt-stained sleeves of simple white linen, and you hurry out of the building. The tunic is too large for your frame as its hem reaches your knees while you rush, likely passed down from someone else or—judging by your circumstances in this dream—found on the streets. Ducking beneath a thick curtain, you find yourself on a familiar street. Not only familiar to the child’s body you inhabit in this strange dream, but familiar to <em>you</em>. This is where you found Perjin’s shop. With a suddenness that nearly startles you awake, you remember the priest, the water spirits, and the temple where you held—still hold—$rname within it. This is one of $rname’s memories, and this is what High Master Afrîn must have meant when he spoke of “bleed-through”. A passenger in the memory, you watch through $rname’s eyes as $rthey quickly darts through Marabad’s alleyways, book clutched tightly to $rtheir small body. $crthey leads you to a small, abandoned house in the poorer parts of the district. Its roof is caved in, some of the walls crumbling from disuse, but it is better than no shelter at all. Its doorway is covered by a thin dirtied sheet, and little else as $rname ducks through it. $crthey told you before that $rthey used to live on the streets as an orphan, but to see it firsthand is much more painful. Judging from how small $rthey is, $rthey cannot be older than seven or eight years. Inside the derelict building, there is little furniture. Some cushions and sheets that function as a bed, a rickety table, and a makeshift fireplace cobbled together with some stones and half-burned blocks of wood. Three more large books sit on top of the table, likely similarly stolen as this one was. $rname sits in front of the small pile of wood and casually flicks $rtheir wrist, sparks jumping from their fingers onto the wood. $crthey waves $rtheir hand and a bright, warm fire bursts to life. Once that is done, $rthey opens $rtheir stolen book and begins to read. Magic so easily done at such a breathtakingly young age. <<if $magicpref is 'inner'>>You, being an inner magic type, still struggle to control a basic fire-making spell,<<else>>You were several years older when you finally mastered the basic fire-making spell,<</if>> yet here $rname is doing it instinctively and effortlessly. You are so busy marveling at $rname’s talent that the both of you are equally caught by surprise when a person suddenly blinks into existence in the corner of the room. $rname shrieks out loud, dropping the book to the ground and jumping up to $rtheir feet. You, however, recognize the stranger. It is Perjin, smiling reassuringly as she lifts her hands in a placating gesture, lowering herself to $rname’s eye level. “Don’t be afraid, I don’t mean you any harm.” $rname’s heart pounds in your throat, fear trembling through $rtheir and your small frame. $crtheir back is pressed to the cold stone wall, and you feel the way magic heats $rtheir palms in preparation. $crtheir caution is not a natural one, but one that was learned. You feel its experience etched into $rtheir mind, the cruelty of strangers that have taught $rthem to be guarded, to be distrustful, and your heart aches for $rthem. Up until now, $rthey had no one to protect $rthem. “I noticed my books were going missing,” Perjin says, speaking softly and kindly, and now you remember you’ve been told this story before. Perjin mentioned it when she first visited you at the palace, how she caught $rname stealing one of her books, and that’s how they met. “I’m not angry. I only wanted to know who was taking them.” You feel $rname’s cheeks burn with shame as $rthey looks away, murmuring a quiet, “I’m sorry.” “It’s alright.” You see Perjin glance at the bonfire from your periphery, then look back at $rname, no doubt thinking the same thing about $rname’s talent in magic as you were. “My name is Perjin. You may address me as she. What about you?” It takes $rname a long moment to respond, still wary of this stranger. “I’m $rname. I go by $rthey.” “A pleasure to meet you, $rname.” Perjin looks at the books on the table. “You’re very good at magic.” “I know,” $rname says more quickly this time, very matter-of-fact, causing Perjin to smile again. “I’ve been trying to teach the others, but they say it’s too difficult.” “The others?” “The other children.” Perjin furrows her brows, and you would have done the same, had you control of your own body. Other orphaned children. An unpleasant thing to think about, and now you wonder why you did not consider it before. As the Crown, surely you could do something about it? But there are <em>so many</em> problems you could do something about, you get tired merely thinking of it, unsure of where to even start prioritizing one over the other. One thing at a time, you remind yourself. While you ponder this, Perjin changes the subject. “Were you reading those books to learn more?” Perjin disappears briefly from your view as $rname averts $rtheir eyes, nodding shyly. “Who taught you how to read?” $rname peeks at Perjin, peering through $rtheir lashes as you feel some of $rtheir fear gradually seep away. $crthey still wants to trust people, even though it’s difficult. “The old cartographer,” $rname says, then frowns down at the floor. “I used to look at his maps. But he… he died, and the new owner doesn’t like me being there. She said I’ll chase customers away.” “I’m very sorry to hear that.” You wonder if the new owner of the shop is still around, so you can personally banish her from the city. “You shouldn’t have been treated that way,” Perjin continues to speak. “The old cartographer, was his name Essam, by any chance?” “Yes.” $rname gives her a curious look. “Did you know him?” “No, but I know his younger brother, Faraj.” Just as you realize this must be how $rname found a new family, the memory warps. Your vision twists and blurs, as if looking through distorted glass, until the face of a stranger blinks suddenly into view, hovering over you. It is a kind face, with a kind smile. “Wake up, little lamb!” they say in a sing-song voice, sunlight falling across warm brown skin and glowing across their cheeks into shades of gold. You see wisps of gray hair curling along the top of their head, and a few hints of crow’s feet in the corners of their deep brown eyes. “You’ve slept in long enough this morning.” Your lips—$rname’s lips, you remind yourself—exhale a deep sigh. “A little while longer, Uncle, please?” [[Continue|11.r10]] The memory becomes a little hard to follow after that. It is as if multiple images overlap, multiple memories blend together—<em>good morning, good morning, the sun greets you, good morning</em>—into many days where $rname has been woken like this by $rtheir adoptive family. Uncle Faraj most of all, but $rtheir cousins as well. Your vision finally settles on one such occasion. “Good morning!” One of the cousins jumps onto $rname’s bed one morning—not a great feat, as it’s little more than a pile of straw on the ground covered with some animal hide for meager comfort. A far cry from the one $rthey owns now in the palace, its bedding stuffed with feathers and laying upon a carved hardwood frame inlaid with ivory and silver. $rname groans with your mouth, and tries to swat their cousin away. You notice $rtheir hand is bigger now, arm longer, voice a little bit deeper. It must be several years since the last memory, then. “Go bother your brother, Farida, the sun hasn’t even risen yet.” “She already bothered me,” a voice outside of your view quips dryly, sounding older than $rname, and certainly older than Farida. As for the latter, she looks to be around ten years old, if you had to guess, with a striking similarity to Faraj. They have the same exact unrestrained smile, wide across the face in a way that emphasizes their cheeks. “Tariq was already awake anyway,” Farida says with a grin, shaking $rname’s shoulder. “Come on, please, I have something to show you!” You recall $rname mentioning that Uncle Faraj lived together with his niece and nephew. Farida and Tariq must have been Essam’s children. Reluctantly, $rname pushes up, bringing Tariq into view as well. In the murky shadows of the morning, he holds a single candle to light the room, his hair darker than Farida’s but curling more like that of Faraj, falling around his neck. He’s visibly the oldest of the three, looking about fifteen or sixteen, as $rname only reaches his shoulders. “Indulge her, please?” Tariq asks, though he looks more amused than anything despite the early hour. “The sun will rise in a few moments anyway.” Your vision wavers oddly, until you realize it’s because $rname rolled $rtheir eyes with a put-upon groan. “Fine.” $crthey rises to $rtheir feet. “Can I at least wash my face first?” “I’m sure we can spare the time.” “Hurry up!” Farida says, all but bouncing in place from excitement. “Speak quietly,” her brother scolds while $rname approaches a small bowl of water in the corner of the room, sitting on a wooden stand. “You’ll wake uncle. He went to sleep late yesterday, we should let him rest.” “I have it right here with me,” Farida whispers, marginally heeding Tariq’s words, then promptly darts out of the room with all the ruckus that goes with creaking floorboards. [[Continue|11.r11]] Tariq sighs, and your vision briefly blacks out as $rname washes $rtheir face, the cool touch of water refreshing on your skin, even though it’s a phantom sensation. Once $rname has finished washing, reaching for a soft cloth to dry with, $rthey casts Tariq a worried look. “Is uncle’s back still hurting?” Tariq nods sadly. “I told him to stop carrying so many heavy things, but he wouldn’t be allowed to work otherwise. No use for a laborer who can’t haul some wood around. Won’t let me carry any of it, either. Says I’m too young to ruin my back.” You glance down at Tariq’s hands, for the first time noticing how stained and callused they look. $rname remains silent, $rtheir distress weighing heavy in $rtheir gut. It doesn’t take Farida long to return after that. $rname is in the midst of drying $rtheir face when the sight of what Farida carries with her freezes $rname mid-movement. “Look!” Farida unwraps the cloth bundle in her hands, revealing a book. Expensively bound with a leather spine, decorated with silver threads across its cover. Tariq’s eyes are wide with surprise, but you don’t feel a similar expression on $rname’s face. If anything, it is perfectly still. “Where did you get that?” $rname asks calmly, lowering the cloth from $rtheir face. Farida glances down at the book, then back up at $rname. The excitement falls from her expression. “Um… I found it.” It’s a bare-faced lie. “Farida,” $rname says, more sternly. “Did you steal that book?” A look of guilt crosses Farida’s face, but then she scowls. “So what? The stupid inkweaver wasn’t even using it!” “Farida!” Tariq hisses. “Do not say such things.” Personally, <em>inkweaver</em> hardly struck you as the most vicious term for magi among common folk, as you have heard hundreds of variations involving papyrus and orifices over the course of your travels. Yet, being overheard using the benign insult within earshot of a city guard—or worse, a magus—could land one in serious trouble. “It’s true!” Farida replies hotly to her brother. “It was just collecting dust on the shelf! $rname could use it a lot more than some—” Tariq scowls before Farida can let another insult fly, and she morosely snaps her mouth shut. “Farida, I appreciate the thought,” $rname says slowly, and you even feel a hint of amusement between the tendrils of concern, “but you shouldn’t take such risks. If I need a new book, I can ask Perjin.” “You never ask, though,” Farida points out. “I get it, you don’t want to bother her, but how else will you study enough magic? You couldn’t get into the school, so I thought…” She trails off, freezing as she realizes the mistake in her words that make $rname tense up. Shame weighs down on $rname’s shoulders, face burning with heat as $rthey looks away. This is after $rname has already been rejected by the School of Marabad. “I’m sorry, $rname,” Farida says with sincere regret. “I didn’t mean- I just wanted to help. I’m sorry.” “We all know they didn’t reject you because you lacked talent,” Tariq adds quickly. “You know how it is, they—” “They don’t want some filthy orphan dirtying their lecture halls,” $rname speaks bitterly, the venomous words hiding the hurt you can feel hidden deep beneath. “I know.” “That’s not—” “I’m heading out.” $rname doesn’t listen any further, walking right past Farida near the doorway. In the small corridor outside of the small bedroom, another door across from theirs opens as soon as $rname steps out, revealing Uncle Faraj. He looks at $rname with open concern on his face. “Will you not have breakfast first?” he asks gently, and for a moment, $rname feels tempted. But then $rthey shakes $rtheir head. “I’ll pick something up outside,” $rthey mutters, then keeps walking, head held low. [[Continue|11.r12]] You almost expect the memory to fade, but it doesn’t. At least, you don’t feel that it does, not fully. If anything, time seems to skip ahead to the afternoon. One moment the sky is still dark as $rname steps out into the street, a brightening blue on the horizon with the coming sun, and the next moment the sun is high in the sky while you and $rname suddenly stand before a crowd of onlookers. There’s sweat gathered on $rtheir forehead and the back of $rtheir neck as it clings to your skin in the same way, $rtheir long hair gathered up in a bun atop $rtheir head to try and keep cool. Your fingers tingle with the sensation of $rtheir magic, shaking slightly, the tips feeling numb. $rname takes a deep breath, then draws upon $rtheir magic once more. $crthey conjures sparks of light in the air, floating like fireflies, and maneuvers them into the shape of a large, coiling serpent. Arms straining with fatigue, $rthey commands the light-made snake to fly through the air above the crowd that watches with amazement, clapping and throwing bronze coins at $rtheir feet. A sense of vertigo comes over you, at which point $rname releases the spell, sucking in a deep breath and forcing a smile on $rtheir face as the onlookers applaud $rthem and ask for more. All $rthey thinks of is $rtheir uncle—then, the unfamiliar face of another. Someone who bears some resemblance to Faraj. The old cartographer, Essam. $crthey’s scared to death $rthey will lose Faraj, too. If $rthey works hard enough, if $rthey makes enough coin, then $rtheir uncle won’t have to work as much. Won’t have to risk breaking his back to keep putting food on the table. You realize that being rejected from the school was much more than solely about $rname’s self-esteem. It would’ve lifted $rtheir whole family out of poverty. How long has $rthey been standing here, performing these spells? Has no one noticed how exhausted $rthey is? You look around, seeing that the area appears much nicer than where $rname lives, reminding you of the Crown’s District where the palace is located. The people here are dressed with more expensively made fabrics, dyed and embroidered luxuriously. They look at $rname with a mixture of amusement and fascination. As if $rthey’s an entertaining little novelty, a dancing monkey instead of a child working $rthemselves to the bone to provide for $rtheir family. You stare back at the crowd, laughing and cheering carelessly as $rname casts another spectacle of light to conjure butterflies until $rthey’s nauseated. The onlookers reward $rthem with a few rare silver coins among the bronze this time, throwing them at $rtheir feet like before. Suddenly, you feel ill, too. Sick with a fury you can’t express, because this happened in the distant past and there is nothing you can do in what is merely a memory. The thought should offer you some comfort, knowing $rname and $rtheir family are in a much better place now, but how many others still suffer like this? Some suffer even worse. You’ve seen it, caught glimpses of it while walking through Marabad. Beggars on the streets, pleading for scraps of food to feed their children, ignored and treated worse than animals by those more fortunate than them. $rname worked hard for $rtheir skill in magic, that much is undeniable, but $rthey was also naturally gifted and blessed with the benevolence of strangers. Able to develop $rtheir talent further due to the kindness of an old cartographer, and later Perjin who helped $rthem find a home. There are many who aren’t so lucky. [[Continue|11.r13]] $rname takes a short rest, bowing politely to the crowd and gathering up the donated coin as the spectators begin to wander off now that the show is over. You wonder if there is any reason why the memory continues to draw on unlike the others after it has already made its point, or rather, why $rname’s mind lingers on it. Your answer arrives unexpectedly. “Pardon me.” A voice behind you draws your attention. $rname pauses only briefly in $rtheir coin collecting to glance over $rtheir shoulder— It’s a black void. If you had any control over your body, you would’ve blinked to try and clear up your vision, certain you couldn’t be seeing what you’re seeing. $rname looks away too quickly for you to make certain, however. “Can I help you?” $rthey asks, bending down to scoop up a small handful of bronze and silver coins. It speaks to how exhausted $rthey is that $rthey doesn’t gather them all through magic. You feel $rtheir arms trembling. “I was passing by when I saw your performance,” the stranger replies, $rname still not looking at them as $rthey rights $rthemselves and takes a breath, wiping the sweat from $rtheir brow with $rtheir sleeve. “It was very impressive. Who is your mentor?” $rname’s spine stiffens, slipping the stack of coins in $rtheir hand into the small cloth bag, tied to $rtheir waist with thin rope. “I don’t attend the School of Marabad.” There’s a long pause as the shame sets in, $rname refusing to look at the stranger, $rtheir head hanging low before $rthey shakes the feeling off and continues collecting the few coins that are left. $crtheir bag isn’t even half-full. This would last $rtheir family a few days’ worth of food, at most. “You are self-taught?” “Yes.” $rname finally turns $rtheir head to look at the stranger, defenses raised into a scowl on $rtheir face. “Was there anything else?” Your eyes weren’t deceiving you. Where there should be a person standing there across from $rname, all you can see is a black hole. A perfect shadow, revealing only an outline, a silhouette, but nothing more. As if they were erased, or purposefully hidden. “How old are you?” “None of your business.” $rname snaps, averting $rtheir gaze once more to tie the opening of $rtheir improvised coin purse shut. $crthey turns away. “It’s getting late, I need to go home. I’m not allowed to talk to strangers.” “But you’re allowed to perform for them, at your young age?” $rname spins around with an anger that takes you aback, pounding hard in $rtheir chest. “I don’t want to talk to you! You <em>lied</em> to me!” More overlapping images, just like before, but this time they linger. It’s as if you’re seeing double, or triple. The backdrop of a throne room, of a familiar study in the Royal Palace, and the streets of Marabad. Slowly, the shadow begins to dissipate. The black gives way to reveal deep purple fabric draped around the form of a figure decorated with silver jewelry, a combination you recognize because you’ve seen it on $rname before. Your vision flickers—$rname is taller, suddenly. $crtheir voice has deepened with $rtheir age corrected, and you feel the hitch in $rtheir breath as the last of the shadows fade to reveal a face, anger replaced by heartache. Lady Zerya. [[Continue|11.r14]]“You lied,” $rname says again, staring back into Lady Zerya’s dark green eyes, her sorrowful gaze as much of a memory as it is a thought. An imagining, wishful thinking. “You must have known about my memories, just like you knew about my parents. Still, you kept it from me. Why?” Lady Zerya says nothing. She is not truly there, as empty as a painting on a wall of $rname’s mind, a mirror of $rtheir grief. She has no answers for either of you. Yet, she begins to cry. Tears well up from her eyes, rolling down her cheeks as she approaches $rname, her face aging with every step. Grey streaks appear through her black hair, and her light brown complexion tans over, deepens into wrinkles around her features as she reaches down to grasp one of $rname’s hands in both of hers. “I’m so sorry, $rname,” Lady Zerya says, weeping through the words as she slowly sinks down to her knees before $rname, and you feel the stab through $rname’s chest as if it were your own heart being cut. “I have no legacy to leave you with, only my burdens. My failures shouldn’t be yours to carry. I want you to live freely, and happily—” “It is not a burden.” $rname’s tears feel hot on your face, the words so stilted and hollow that you realize this is another memory. Warped, misplaced, but the words are recited all the same. “You have only ever tried to do right by Arsur. It’s my duty, and my honor, to follow in your footsteps. Please don’t cry for me, teacher. I will find the Crown, and we will save Arsur, and I will be happy. I promise.” $rname leans down, pressing a kiss to Lady Zerya’s forehead. “Rest now.” Fire flashes like a spark in your eyes, and in an instant, your perspective changes. You and $rname are no longer as one as you stand beside $rthem, surrounded wholly by the black void—save for the flames of a funeral pyre laid out before you. The only light in the dark. $rname meets your eyes with $rtheir tear-streaked gaze, and in a way, it’s like looking at yourself. The way you felt when Scholar Yekbûn revealed all that your parents kept from you, and how no amount of anger or grief could change it. As futile as howling at the wind. “What do I do?” $rname asks you, hopelessly lost. <ul class="a"> <li>[[“You have to let it go. You can’t keep living in the past, it will only hurt you.”|11.r15a][$rpoints -= 4; $rtruth to false; $rrelationship to 'low'; $rlowcount += 1]]</li> <li>[[“Look for answers. Even if they are painful ones, you deserve to know why.”|11.r15b][$rpoints += 4; $rtruth to true; $rrelationship to 'high'; $rhighcount += 1]]</li> </ul> The funeral pyre flickers out like a candle. You are both swallowed whole by the black emptiness surrounding you. All at once, the memories you just witnessed flash in front of your eyes one by one before they disappear, consigned to the void and released into oblivion. “Let it go,” $rname murmurs beside you, and everything shifts. Black turns into white, up turns into down. The sound of water returns to you like a wave breaking through a dam, rushing into your ears. You feel cold—not physically, but within your heart. Something inside you is numb. The sensation lasts for only a moment, until you open your eyes and find yourself back in your temple. Still kneeling in the water, holding $rname with the priest standing over the both of you. The water spirits are no longer unified, instead darting through the water with a restless, almost uneasy, energy. “Your Imperial Majesty?” The look of concern the priest gives you makes you wonder if something went wrong. But then $rname stirs. You keep hold of the back of $rtheir head as $rthey opens $rtheir eyes. $crthey blinks several times to focus $rtheir gaze, peering blankly at the ceiling of the temple before $rthey finally looks at you. “$rname?” you ask softly, relief swelling in your chest. “Are you alright?” $crthey blinks once more, but then slowly sits up. You release $rtheir head, but your hand hovers behind $rtheir back in case $rthey needs it. Yet, for all intents and purposes, $rname appears perfectly fine. “What…?” $crthey looks around, bemused as $rthey notices Afrîn, then glances at Master Zîn, Perjin and $aname. “Why am I in the temple? What are all of you doing here?” You get up to your feet and offer your hand, helping to pull $rthem up. $crthey seems steady as $rthey gathers $rtheir wet hair over $rtheir shoulder, squeezing to wring out the water. “What’s the last thing you remember?” $aname asks, offering $atheir own arm for $rname to hold onto as $rthey steps out of the pool. You exchange a look with Master Zîn and Perjin, both appearing as confused as you are at this remarkably calm reaction. Even Afrîn seems baffled, brows furrowed deeply as he stares at $rname. “I was searching the…” $rname hesitates while you and Afrîn follow $rthem out of the pool. The water spirits continue to flit back and forth right below the surface. “The room the assassin was kept in, and then I… I think I touched the Void.” “You said you remembered something about your parents,” Perjin says, and $rname looks mildly surprised. “I did?” “You don’t recall?” $crthey shakes $rtheir head. “No, not at all.” $crthey turns to look at you, $rtheir face oddly impassive. “Did you call the priest in order to wake me?” “We were worried you wouldn’t.” You study $rname’s expression, growing more and more concerned at how unaffected $rthey seems. “Are you sure you feel alright, $rname?” “Yes.” $crthey pauses, thoughtful for a moment. “Perfectly fine. No, more than fine—I feel… light.” “Light?” “Unburdened, somehow.” $crthey studies $rtheir hands. “Like a weight was lifted from my shoulders.” You look to the priest for an explanation, but Afrîn says nothing. His eyes narrow slightly in consideration as he continues to study $rname. “It’s a shame I forgot whatever it was I remembered about my parents,” $rname continues. “But I suppose it can’t be helped.” “That’s it?” $aname frowns at $rthem. “You don’t care?” $rname doesn’t appear bothered in the least, busying $rthemselves with pulling the excess water from $rtheir dress and hair with magic, returning it to the pool beside you. “There’s nothing to be done. We have more pressing concerns, do we not?” $crthey turns to the priest. “Thank you for your help, High Master Afrîn. You may take your leave, we’ve kept you from your duties long enough.” Afrîn hesitates for a moment, meeting your eyes, but when you remain silent he bows. “It was my honor.” $aname, Perjin and Master Zîn look troubled as the priest takes his leave, but none of them seem certain whether to bring it up as $rname gives them a smile. “I appreciate your worry, but I’m fine,” $rthey reassures them. “I promise.” As for you, you decide to take $rname at $rtheir word. While $rtheir nonchalance seems a bit out of character, $rthey did say $rthey feels lighter, unburdened—that should be a good sign. Shouldn’t it? [[Continue|11.r16]] The light of the funeral pyre burns into your eyes, flaring with the radiance of a star as black turns into white. All at once, the memories you just witnessed flash in front of your eyes and you feel each one settle inside your chest. It is an incredible weight, entire years condensed into raw emotion—alone and then together, joy and then sorrow, fear and then pride, pain and love and love and <em>love</em>—and you embrace all of it. $rname embraces all of it. The sound of water returns to you like a wave breaking through a dam, rushing into your ears. You open your eyes and find yourself back in your temple. Still kneeling in the water, holding $rname with the priest standing over the both of you. The water spirits continue to circle around you in their fish shape, fluttering gently with a sense of calm. “Your Imperial Majesty?” The kind look in Afrîn’s eyes as he looks at you pulls your attention to the tears streaming down your face, your lungs out of breath. You hadn’t even noticed. You part your lips to tell him that you’re fine, merely feeling a sense of immense relief in the aftermath of such an intense experience, but then $rname stirs below you. Heart skipping in anticipation, you keep hold of the back of $rtheir head as $rthey opens $rtheir eyes. $crthey blinks several times to focus $rtheir gaze, peering blankly at the ceiling of the temple before $rthey finally looks at you. “$rname?” you ask, and as the clarity returns to $rthem, $rtheir expression breaks. The same tears you feel dripping down your cheeks well up in $rtheir eyes, lips pursing together with the effort not to cry, but the very next breath $rthey takes turns into a sob. $crthey reaches for your arms as you extend them to $rthem, helping $rthem to sit up as $rthey starts to weep. Completely drenched from the pool, shoulders hunched as they wrack with each of $rtheir cries $rthey tries and fails to smother. Weary but reassured, you reach up to cup $rtheir tear-streaked cheeks in your palms. The warm wetness against your fingers feels like a triumph as you look into $rtheir glistening eyes and say, “I found you.” $crtheir breath trembles through $rtheir body. It holds only for a moment before $rthey falls apart with a wail, exhaled like a sigh of relief as it echoes through the temple. You catch $rthem in your arms. Even now, you can still feel the echoes of $rtheir grief within your heart, the cruel ache of loneliness that reflects so much of your own. “You’re not alone, $rname,” you murmur, gently caressing $rtheir hair as $rthey sobs it all out against your shoulder. “Your uncle, your cousins, Perjin, $aname, your family and friends—they love you.” There is only a brief moment of hesitation in the pause between your words, before you continue, speaking softly against $rtheir ear, “You have them, and you have me. You always will. To us, you’ll never be unwanted.” $rname’s arms tighten around you as if you were $rtheir only anchor. “Thank you,” $rthey whispers. “Thank you for finding me.” You sit there in the pool, holding $rthem for as long as $rthey needs, and you know $rthey’ll be alright. [[Continue|11.r16]] Whether it’s the dizzying arousal, or whether you’ve simply forgotten how to do it, your lungs are short of air. You part from $xname with a gasp and open your eyes, feeling as if you’ve suddenly woken from a trance. $xname nearly follows after you, catching $xthemselves halfway to your mouth and blinking $xtheir eyes open, breathing almost as hard as you. $cxtheir gaze is half-lidded, lips reddened and swollen and glistening. You wonder if you look the same as you certainly feel the same, as dazed as $xname appears. “Done already?” $xname whispers, the black of $xtheir pupils blown wide to swallow up half of the green, and you’re briefly mesmerized by the sight until your mouth remembers how to work. <<if $res gt $flirt>>“We should…” You turn your head away,<<else>>You let a smile slip,<</if>> the heat between your lips still lingering in the air. It’s making it hard to think. “$aname and $dname are waiting.” $xname blinks, as if $xthey’d forgotten all about them. “Right.” Reluctantly, $xthey pulls away and releases you, though $xthey doesn’t remove every touch as $xthey takes hold of your hand instead. A question occurs to you. “$xname, could you clarify something for me?” “Yes?” $xname says, gaze aimed down between you as $xthey absently traces the knuckles of your hand with $xtheir thumb. “Do you mean to court me?” $cxtheir eyes flick back up to your face, though $xthey doesn’t look surprised. Merely thoughtful. You clear your throat, looking away. “It’s rather early to bring it up, perhaps, but when you said you wanted to give <em>us</em> a chance… I only wanted to understand what you meant.” “It is very early,” $xname agrees, and you almost release a sigh of relief. “I am quite taken with you already, $name, but we should spend more time together before throwing ourselves at something so involved.” As enamored as you are with $xthem, you haven’t known each other for long, and you’re not yet wholly comfortable as the Crown either. Throwing a courtship in the mix would be daunting. While courtships can last for many years before being formally promised to each other, it would involve certain customs and expectations you’re not sure you’d be able to fulfill with how little time you already have. Not to mention the intimacy of it all. Exchanging gifts is one thing—usually with relatives, though you assume this means the Crescent Blades for $xname—but solidifying your bond through magic rituals? Opening up your very being, the most hidden parts of you, to be known to another? You like $xname. You like $xthem a lot, and you might even be a little in love already, but you don’t <em>love</em> $xthem to that depth. Not yet. There would also be the obligation of having to announce it to the Imperial Court. Doubtlessly they’d only see political opportunities, and that’s not something you want to deal with yet either. Even if you were fully and wholly in love with each other, you would like to delay dealing with that for as long as possible. At least until you’ve found your footing as the Crown. “We are in agreement, then,” you conclude with a smile, and $xname gives you a playful look. “You don’t have to look <em>so</em> relieved,” $xthey teases. “I’m an absolute dream to court, I’ll have you know.” “Really?” You arch a brow. “Did that <<if $xgender is 'male'>>prince<<else>>princess<</if>> think so? The one from Qathesh? Oh, sorry, it is <<if $xgender is 'male'>><em>priest</em><<else>><em>priestess</em><</if>> now, isn’t it?” $xname groans. “I’m going to wring Tûjo’s neck for telling you about that. I have courted plenty of others in the past and parted ways with them amicably! You should ask Alûçe, the mistress of the House of Roses—” “I don’t think I will,” you decline politely, and $xname huffs with exaggerated petulance, tugging your hand and leading you toward the door. “I’m only saying that I know what I’m doing.” $cxthey gives you a curious look as you cross the room. “I don’t suppose you’ve ever courted anyone before, what with having been on the run?” “No,” you confirm. Laying down roots like that would’ve only made another target for the Followers, dragging an innocent person and their whole family into it. “I’ve had experiences with other people before, though.” $xname reaches the door, pausing with $xtheir free hand on the handle to give you a mischievous look. Deliberately, $xthey wets $xtheir lip with $xtheir tongue as if gathering up whatever taste of you is left there, a sly smile on $xtheir lips. “Oh, I could certainly tell as much.” The excited stirring in your gut is one of both anticipation as well as memory this time, heating your skin with embarrassment at how easily you’re affected. Though you shouldn’t be surprised, considering you can hardly even remember the last time you kissed someone. And, like a true menace, $xname opens the door before you can fully recollect yourself, revealing $aname and $dname standing in the hallway. [[Continue|11.x25pk]]<<if $rrelationship is 'high'>>Once $rname has cried all the tears $rthey can, you help $rthem stand up and lead $rthem out of the pool. $crthey begins to thank the head priest profusely, but Afrîn doesn’t want to hear it. “It was my duty,” he assures. “I need no gratitude for it, my <<if $rgender is 'male'>>lord<<else>>lady<</if>>. It is enough to know you have recovered.” You bid the priest farewell, though $rname turns to the water spirits next before you leave the temple. “Thank you as well,” $rthey says, kneeling by the pool. The glow of the water spirits gathers around $rtheir hand when $rthey dips $rtheir fingers into the water. “I would still be lost if it weren’t for you.” A sense of serenity fills the temple as the water spirits accept $rtheir thanks. $rname appears steadier as $rthey rises to $rtheir feet. $crtheir eyes are still puffy, the whites slightly reddened, but there is a new light in them as well. A determination to $rtheir gaze that wasn’t there before. “Are you sure you’re alright, $rname?” Perjin asks, placing a hand on $rtheir shoulder and ushering $rthem to the table beside the pool. $rname allows Perjin to lead $rthem, smiling at the concern. “I’ll be fine, teacher, truly. It still hurts, but that will fade with time.” $crthey meets your eyes as you join $rthem at the table to sit across from $rthem, $aname on your right. Perjin and Master Zîn sit down on either side of $rname, both of them seeming to barely suppress the urge to keep fussing over $rthem. “I should thank you too, $name,” $rname says, fondness shining openly in $rtheir eyes, <<if $res gt $flirt>>almost making you bashful<<else>>a more than welcome sight that warms you from the inside out<</if>>. “You gave me the courage I needed to face my memories.” You return $rtheir smile. “You would’ve been able to face them without my help.” “Perhaps, but I’m glad you were with me all the same.” $aname leans forward a little on the table. “I don’t mean to interrupt, but what memories do you mean? Did you see the ones that were locked away?” The smile fades from $rname’s face, melancholy settling in the gaps left by it. “Yes. I… I caught glimpses of my birth parents.” “Glimpses?” $rname’s brow furrows as $rthey rubs $rtheir fingers over $rtheir forehead in thought. “The memories are unclear. I remember someone… my father, I think? He apologized to me, for having to let me go. I think he tried to give me to someone else, but…” $crthey sighs, seeming to give up. “I can recall nothing after that.” “Perhaps it will come to you with time,” Master Zîn says, patting $rname’s hand on the table. “You should take a few days to rest. The mental strain must have been considerable, and your magic feels like it needs time to recover.” “It does,” $rthey admits, “but there is still so much to be done, with the court and—” “Let me worry about that, $rname,” you cut in, not unkindly. “I can handle it.” There is not a hint of doubt in $rname’s gaze as $rthey looks at you—if anything, it’s admiration. “If you’re sure, then I would be grateful for it.” “Do you want to lie down?” $aname suggests. “I can escort you back to your chambers.” For a moment you think $rname will protest, but then $rtheir shoulders slump, whatever energy there was left in $rthem draining out at the mention of $rtheir chambers. “I could use some sleep. The natural kind, this time.” The four of you get up, Perjin offering an arm to help $rname as $rthey sways a little. The magic ritual must have taken more out of $rthem than you first thought. You flank $rtheir other side, <<if $pass gt $ass>>hesitating for a moment as your fingers touch $rtheir sleeve. Feeling a touch back against your hand, you nearly flinch, until you realize $rname’s reaching back out in turn. Avoiding each other’s eyes, your fingers intertwine, and your companions are polite enough to pretend they don’t notice.<<else>>and after a moment of consideration, you brush $rtheir fingers with your own in hesitation. $rname seems to nearly flinch at the touch, and you almost draw back, until $rthey spreads $rtheir hand for you in invitation while avoiding your eyes. It brings a smile to your face as your fingers intertwine, and your companions are polite enough to pretend they don’t notice.<</if>> As you walk $rname back to $rtheir quarters, $rthey tells you, “Come visit me often. I suspect that once I lay down, I won’t want to get up again anytime soon.” “Of course.” You squeeze $rtheir hand. “We can still eat together during mealtimes, can’t we? You’ll have to chase me out to make me leave.” “I wouldn’t want to,” $rname murmurs, glancing away from you as a shy smile plays at the corner of $rtheir mouth<<if $ass gt $pass>>—if it weren’t for the others accompanying you, you would’ve kissed it<<else>>, and your cheeks heat as you imagine what it would be like to kiss it<</if>>.<<else>>“You should take a few days to rest,” Master Zîn says, gaze plainly concerned. “The mental strain must have been considerable, and your magic feels like it needs time to recover.” “It does,” $rthey admits, “but there is still so much to be done, with the court and—” “Let me worry about that, $rname,” you cut in, not unkindly. “I can handle it.” $rname regards you for a moment, seeming thoughtful, but then nods. “If you’re sure, then I would be grateful for it.” “Do you want to lie down?” $aname suggests. “I can escort you back to your chambers.” For a moment you think $rname will protest, but then $rtheir shoulders slump, whatever energy there was left in $rthem draining out at the mention of $rtheir chambers. “I could use some sleep. The natural kind, this time.” The four of you get up, Perjin offering an arm to help $rname as $rthey sways a little. The magic ritual must have taken more out of $rthem than you first thought. You flank $rtheir other side, <<if $pass gt $ass>>hesitating for a moment as your fingers touch $rtheir sleeve. Feeling a touch back against your hand, you nearly flinch, until you realize $rname’s reaching back out in turn. Avoiding each other’s eyes, your fingers intertwine, and your companions are polite enough to pretend they don’t notice.<<else>>and after a moment of consideration, you brush $rtheir fingers with your own in hesitation. $rname seems to nearly flinch at the touch, and you almost draw back, until $rthey spreads $rtheir hand for you in invitation while avoiding your eyes. It brings a smile to your face as your fingers intertwine, and your companions are polite enough to pretend they don’t notice.<</if>> As you walk $rname back to $rtheir quarters, $rthey tells you, “Come visit me often. I suspect that once I lay down, I won’t want to get up again anytime soon.” “Of course.” You squeeze $rtheir hand. “We can still eat together during mealtimes, can’t we? You’ll have to chase me out to make me leave.” $crthey gives you a smile. “I’ll look forward to it.”<</if>> [[Continue|11.r17]] As soon as you’ve returned $rname to $rtheir chambers, you leave $rthem in the servants’ capable hands as $rthey makes ready for bed. Master Zîn and Perjin bid you their farewells as well, reassured now that $rname will be alright. $aname walks you back to your own chambers, and you’ve never heard a silence that said so much. <<if $blunt gt $charm>>“Alright, out with it,” you say, unable to bear $atheir constant glances anymore.<<else>>“$aname, you could’ve said what you clearly want to say ten times over in the time it’s taking us to walk to my bedroom,” you point out with mild amusement. “What is it?”<</if>> Looking ahead of $athemselves, $aname is silent for a beat. Then $athey asks, gaze unmoving from the end of the corridor up ahead, “Do you intend to court $rname?” <<if $res gt $flirt>>“I—” Despite being the one to ask $aname to speak, you weren’t quite prepared for this question, or how blunt $aname would be about it. “I haven’t… really thought about it.”<<else>>Your brows arch halfway up to your hairline, but the question doesn’t sound accusatory or suspicious. $aname seems curious at most, though $athey’s being rather cautious about it. “I haven’t really thought about it.”<</if>> “Too soon?” “Too much going on.” You chew on your bottom lip. “For $rthem and for me. All I know is that I’m<<if $pass gt $ass>>—” You hesitate, your voice lowering, “I’m fond of $rthem.<<else>> fond of $rthem.<</if>> I like being around $rthem, and I enjoy spending time with $rthem. But with everything going on… especially after what <em>$rthey</em> just went through, I’d like to take it slow.” <<if $rrelationship is 'high'>>“That’s understandable.” To your surprise, $aname actually reaches out to give you a pat on the shoulder. “You’ll figure it out.” You can’t help teasing: “So, does that mean I have your blessing?” $cathey scoffs, promptly removing $atheir hand from your shoulder. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not $rname’s keeper.” “You are, though, in a sense?” $aname blinks. “I suppose, but you know what I mean. $rname can make $rtheir own decisions, and so can you. Neither of you need my approval.” “What, no lecture about how you’ll hurt me if I hurt $rthem?” $cathey meets your eyes, and for an instant, $atheir gaze sharpens to a dagger’s edge. “That goes without saying.” You only start breathing again once $aname looks away, though a chill lingers at the back of your neck as $athey sees you to your room.<<else>>$aname doesn’t immediately reply, remaining silent for a while. You glance at $atheir face, but can’t decipher anything from $atheir expression. Eventually, $athey says: “Are you certain it’s wise to indulge in something like this?” You frown. “What do you mean?” “Both you and $rname have much to do, with your duties toward the Empire.” $cathey casts you a glance from the corner of $atheir eyes. “And, like you said, $rname just went through a harrowing experience. I don’t think $rthey needs the prospect of a courtship on top of that.” Suspicion rises as you narrow your eyes at $aname. “Are you trying to warn me away from $rthem?” “Warn you?” $cathey meets your eyes, and for an instant, $atheir gaze sharpens to a dagger’s edge. “This is merely some friendly advice. You would know if I were warning you.” You only start breathing again once $aname looks away, though a chill lingers at the back of your neck as $athey sees you to your room.<</if>> [[Continue|11.r18]]<<set $day to 16>>$rname did not exaggerate when $rthey said $rthey needed to sleep. Come morning, you are only barely able to rouse $rthem for breakfast when you visit $rtheir chambers, taking it upon yourself to ensure $rthey doesn’t miss any meals. $crthey isn’t much for conversation, apologizing several times for it until you reassure $rthem that you’re here to take care of $rthem, not to be entertained. “We don’t have to speak,” you tell $rthem, seated beside $rthem at a low table as you finish up a cup of tea, the servants clearing the dishes you’ve emptied. “I’m content being near you, $rname.” $rname ducks $rtheir head, hiding $rtheir smile against your shoulder as $rthey leans against you. You continue sipping your tea, pretending your heart doesn’t flutter at the gesture. These visits with $rname become a safe haven for rest as you handle the Imperial Court on your own. Over the following days, you find yourself locking horns even with court officials you handpicked personally, so long as they have a personal stake in going against your judgment. It exemplifies what you’re beginning to understand is an inherently antagonistic relationship with the court. “Raising taxes on the farmers?” you repeat incredulously over one afternoon, thinking your court must be playing a joke on you. “They have been paying taxes to the Mîrs in your absence, Your Imperial Majesty,” the Minister of Personnel, Lerzan, puts forward, “but not to the Imperial Household.” You frown. “Then I will ask for an account from the Mîrs.” <<if $law isnot 'outwitted'>>“The Mîrs have already offered their share in tithes upon your coronation, Your Imperial Majesty,” Minister Besna replies. “You cannot force them to pay a surplus, it is not lawful.”<<else>>“The Mîrs have already offered their share in tithes upon your coronation, Your Imperial Majesty,” Minister Lerzan replies. “You cannot force them to pay a surplus, it is not lawful. Is that not so, Minister of Law?” You look at <<if $lawminister is 'nudem'>>Minister Nûdem, who scowls back at Minister Lerzan. “That is a very broad interpretation of the law, Minister Lerzan,” they reply coolly. “It exists to ensure the Crown does not exploit the Mîrs, but this situation concerns an oversight in taxation. I do not think it ought to be applied here. We should prioritize the principle of fairness instead.” “Efficiency must take precedence over ‘fairness’, as you call it,” Minister Lerzan shoots back. “If the Imperial Household goes bankrupt, who will pay to maintain the roads, the public buildings, the Imperial Army that protects us all? We must find the gold for it, sooner rather than later, and we cannot pressure the Mîrs to pay double what they already have.”<<if $security is 'both' and $festivities is 'both'>> She casts a look in your direction. “The expenses made for the coronation certainly didn’t help, in that regard.” You glare back at her as the court erupts in a small commotion. “The coronation was already much smaller than those of previous Crowns,” Chief Minister Karwan points out irritably. He’s a veteran of politics, and the one who functions as the Voice of the Crown. The one to set the agenda for meetings, and who functions as your mouthpiece in your absence. “It is disingenuous to imply it has caused the shortage of gold. If nothing had been spent, you would be standing here complaining about that instead!” “I did not say it was the main cause for the shortage,” Minister Lerzan retorts hotly, scowling back at Karwan. “But it has contributed, as have many other things! The point is that the Mîrs should not be expected to pay the price for it.”<</if>><<else>>Minister Zar, whose brows furrow with some uncertainty, but he does not outright contradict her. “It is perhaps a somewhat broad interpretation of the law,” he admits to you upon seeing your questioning look, “but Minister Lerzan is correct about the letter of it. Asking the Mîrs to pay more on behalf of their provinces could be considered unlawful.”<</if>><</if>> <<if $publicfavored gt $elitefavored>>“But I can force the farmers to pay instead?” you speak with frustration, shifting in your seat as you can feel your temper building. Notably, the representatives of the Mîrs are remaining silent during this discussion. Satisfied, perhaps, to let others fight their battles for them. “How do you expect them to make up for the lack in the Imperial Vault?” “We do not suggest this because it pleases us, Your Imperial Majesty,” the Minister of Correspondence chimes in, bowing her head. “We only make the point because of how severely underfunded many of our offices are. The treasury is lacking such that we will not be able to pay our government officials in the long run, let alone maintain utilities such as the Crown’s Road. This would be especially disastrous in the case of the Imperial Army.<<if $nazaminister is true>> Is that not so, Minister Naza?” Naza glances in your direction, but then agrees with Minister Çinar. “Yes, that is true.” She turns to address you next. “Frankly speaking, Your Imperial Majesty, I do not care where you get the gold from. Be it the Mîrs or the farmers or Şahmaran herself, the situation will soon become dire. As it stands, it is a struggle to find the coin even for the most basic repairs to equipment.” Perhaps it was too much to hope for her to openly side with you on this issue. It seems Naza does not care how you accomplish it, so long as you do.<</if>> “I understand that,” you speak, forcing your jaw to unclench so that you do not speak through gritted teeth, “but the solution cannot be to put the pressure on the farmers to fund it all.” “Humbly speaking, Your Imperial Majesty,” Minister Lerzan says, not sounding humble at all, “how else do you suggest we get the necessary gold? Even if we tax the Mîrs additionally, would they be able to fund everything we need?” “Perhaps I’ll have the Mîrs pay with one of their palaces,” you sneer. “Surely that would be sufficient.” The Imperial Court erupts in protests, and the meeting—as well as the rest of your afternoon—devolves into chaos.<<else>>You loathe to give in on this point, but it seems most of the court is set against you, and even your usual allies decide to abstain from the decision. You don’t arrive at a solution during that meeting, the stalemate between you and the court lasting for hours, until you finally decide to end the discussion here. Perhaps with time, you’ll be able to find a different solution, and if not, you may have to give in to your court’s wishes. That, more than anything, aggravates you immensely. What are you the Crown for, if you do not have the authority to enforce your will?<</if>> [[Continue|11.ra0]]“You do not have to entertain their demands,” $rname states, <<if $rfriend is false>>well enough now to sit<<else>>sitting<</if>> at the table across from you in your room for a while as you discuss the latest court meeting with $rthem and $aname, the latter seated beside you. “The nobles have started to test you,” $aname adds, $atheir tone matter-of-fact rather than $rname’s more comforting approach. “They’ve had a decade without having to answer to anyone. Do not let them have their way.” “I don’t see how debating with the Imperial Court for hours day in, day out, is going to get anything accomplished,” $rname replies. You let the two of them argue it out, feeling too tired to engage in strategy at the moment, directing your eyes to the view of the royal gardens from the windows. “We should find other ways to get things done.” It’s a nice day out, at least. Warm enough that your clothes were almost soaked with sweat from being under the sun during your physical training today. It’s almost sunset now, a few clouds drifting in from the east, edges tinted with golden light. “Bringing them to heel is more efficient than circumventing them, my <<if $rgender is 'male'>>lord<<else>>lady<</if>>.” “You’re starting to sound like <<if $nazaminister is false>>Lady<<else>>Minister<</if>> Naza.” “If it is for a good cause, it should be fought for.” Annoyance seeps through $aname’s words, though $atheir tone remains civil. <<if $publicfavored gt $elitefavored>>“$ctheir Imperial Majesty was right in questioning their suggestion to tax the farmers instead of the Mîrs. Such absurd proposals must be stamped out as soon as possible.”<</if>> “To what end?” $rname sounds highly skeptical, neither $rthey nor $aname seeming to notice your wandering attention. “If the Crown issues an edict against the will of the court, they will be painted as a tyrant, and the nobles will find other ways to get what they want.” “The alternative is an endless stalemate.” $rname is quiet for a moment, but then considers, “If the court fought as hard against Crown Piruz to stalemate <em>his</em> edicts, Arsur would not be where it is now.” <<if $afriend is true>>$aname gives no response. When you glance at $athem, you see $athem frowning deeply, $atheir gaze aimed at the table and $atheir shoulders tensed beneath $atheir red robes. Something about what $rname said must have struck a chord, though you’re not sure what it could’ve been since it seems more critical towards you than $aname. You turn your head to look at $rname instead, arching your brows. “Are you suggesting I’m Crown Piruz in this situation, $rname?”<<else>>You almost wince on $aname’s behalf. $rname has no idea how deeply those words can cut, but you’re not in any position to tell $rthem about it. $aname gives no response. When you glance at $athem, you see $athem frowning deeply, $atheir gaze aimed at the table and $atheir shoulders tensed beneath $atheir red robes. Trying to alleviate the situation, you turn to $rname, “Are you implying you <em>want</em> the court to fight my edicts, $rname?”<</if>> $rname, who was<<if $afriend is true>> also<</if>> peering over at $aname with some concern, blinks and meets your gaze with a wide-eyed look. “No, of course not! I only meant that the court is doing what it was always meant to do. It is there to limit the Crown’s power, good in some cases and bad in others, such as now. That’s why you mustn’t waste energy arguing, and find a different method to solve Arsur’s most pressing issues.” “No,” $aname speaks unexpectedly, $atheir frown lifted from $atheir face and $atheir gaze far away in thought. “Ultimately, we can’t rely on either the Imperial Court or the Crown for this.” What is that supposed to mean? $rname gives $aname an equally puzzled look, but by the time you part your lips to ask what $athey means by that, there is a knock on your door. Siham enters after you give permission, his expression seeming unusually cheerful, though you find out why a moment later: “$dname and the Pale Sword have arrived, Your Imperial Majesty. They await you at the front of the palace.” [[Continue|11.ra]] Servants bow as you walk past them, $rname and $aname flanking your right and left. You turn a corner, and the apadana at the front of the palace complex comes into view through the windows. A small group of soldiers donning the purple and white colors of the Imperial Army are stationed out in front of it—$dname’s form is easy to distinguish at the head, waiting with $dtheir golden helmet tucked under $dtheir arm. Beside $dthem is $xname in a much more lackadaisical pose, hand on a hip as $xthey says something to make $dname scowl. They’re the same as ever, then. It has been a while since you’ve crossed the apadana. The grand roofed entrance is a spectacle reserved more for the reception of important guests. It was also used as a reception hall for the nobility during your coronation banquet, though you hadn’t seen it yourself as you returned to the palace through the tunnels. $dname and $xname both look up at your approach, the group of soldiers behind them standing at attention. $dname bows as you reach the edge of the apadana while $xname merely smiles in greeting, as you come to stand above the both of them on the steps. “General, $xname,” you greet. “I’m glad to see you both return in good health.” “Your Imperial Majesty,” $dname replies formally, bowing before you together with $dtheir soldiers. “$rtitle $rname. I am glad to see you both remain in good health, as well.” <<if $rfriend is false>>“Was that ever in doubt?” $aname remarks, some of $atheir usual wit having returned to $atheir demeanor, and $dname casts $athem an unimpressed look as $dthey raises from $dtheir bow. “Of course not, Royal Protector.” $xname’s smile, however, has faded. $cxthey stares at $rname with open scrutiny, eyes narrowed slightly as the intense focus in $xtheir gaze has $rname fidgeting with the coins on $rtheir belt. “<em>Are</em> you in good health, $rtitle $rname?” $xname questions, causing $dname to look between the two of them with mild alarm. $rname hesitates to reply, especially out in the open. “Let’s talk in private,” you say, exchanging a look with $rname. You have much to catch $dname and $xname up on, as you’re sure they both have much to tell you as well.<</if>><<if $afriend is false>><<if $arelationship is 'low'>>$aname casts a glance in your direction, then merely inclines $atheir head, and you ignore the way the dismissal stings. “We’ve had our fair share of obstacles.”<<else>>$aname looks at you with unspoken meaning. “One of them nearly wasn’t.” Your shoulders slump a little as you realize $aname still hasn’t fully moved on from the fact that you went looking for $athem in the city, despite it ending well.<</if>> “So we heard,” $dname says, glancing between the two of you. “I understand there was a large fire in one of the districts?” “Yes.” $aname crosses $atheir arms. “And $ctheir Imperial Majesty saw fit to attend to the emergency in person.” $dname’s eyes turn to you, incredulous and disapproving all at once. “You <em>what</em>?” “Bold,” $xname comments, brows slightly arched while you frown at $aname, who stares back at you without a single trace of remorse on $atheir face. <<if $arelationship is 'high'>>If anything, you even see a glimmer of amusement in the way $atheir lips twitch when you scowl at $athem.<</if>> Did $athey really have to sic $dname on you, too? “Let’s talk in private,” you say with a sigh, readying yourself for the inevitable scolding you’re about to receive.<</if>> $dname inclines $dtheir head, turning briefly to the soldiers behind $dthem. “Dismissed.” They salute in unison, a quick tap of the side of their fists to their chest plates, then to their foreheads—more accurately, the front of their helmets—before retreating to the right side of the palace where the guard barracks reside. As the soldiers leave, you notice $dname still holds $dtheir helmet beneath $dtheir arm. There are sizable claw marks torn through the metal on the side of it. “What happened?” you ask, arching your brows as you nod at the helmet. “A fight on the way back,” $dname replies simply. “I have no injuries, there is no need for concern.” “What did you run into?” $aname asks, having spotted the claw marks as well, and $dname grimaces. “A man-eater.” $cdthey rubs the side of $dtheir head. No signs of any cuts, but it must’ve still been a heavy hit. “Its paw caught me, but my helmet protected me from the worst of it.” “You killed it, I take it?” you ask, beginning your walk back to the palace. You’ve never seen one in person before, though everyone knows what they look like: the face of a human, the body of a lion, and a scorpion-like tail that can both impale and shoot venomous spikes, like porcupine quills. They spawn rarely and seemingly at random. No one knows how or why they appear, only that their sole purpose seems to be to eat human beings. They’re nearly as big as elephants, making them a lethal threat to any human settlement that they decide to terrorize. You’ve heard stories of entire towns being wiped out by attacks in the past. Whenever one appears, it becomes the most important priority of the nearest army, be it provincial or imperial, to hunt it as quickly as possible. It’s treated with the same level of urgency a foreign invasion would be. “Naturally.” $dname rolls $dtheir shoulders. “I would not have returned to the palace until it was put down.” “Any dead or wounded?” “Several dead, many wounded.” A brief flash of regret disturbs $dname’s otherwise calm expression. “I had more than enough soldiers to kill it quickly, but it still cost us.” “I’m sorry,” you offer. “I know it’s not much comfort, but they gave their lives to save countless more. We’ll make sure their loved ones are taken care of.” You’ll find the coin for it. Even the Imperial Court could not protest compensating grieving families<<if $publicfavored gt $elitefavored>>—and if they do, you’ll simply use that to your advantage to run their reputation to the ground. Miserable pests.<<else>>—could they?<</if>> “Yes.” $dname sighs. “I hope their families will find some comfort in that if nothing else.” [[Continue|11.ra2]] The four of you settle down in a sitting room—something that appears to have become a habit for your meetings—with Imperial Guards stationed outside and silencing wards active to ensure you will be left undisturbed. $rname and $aname sit on your right and left as they did while you walked, while $dname and $xname settle across from you and $aname. <<if $rfriend is false>>“I’ll let you start,” you say to $rname, giving $rthem control over how much $rthey wishes to tell $dname and $xname about what happened to them. Aside from your suspicion about the mental ward that locked away $rname’s memories—one you haven’t talked about with $rname yet, wanting $rthem to recover first—it was an otherwise deeply personal experience for $rthem. $crthey gives you a slight nod, before turning to $xname and $dname sitting across the table. “I had a minor incident while examining the room the assassin’s body was in. A part of the Void touched me.” $xname’s eyes light with understanding, though $dname only appears further disturbed. <<if $rrelationship is 'low'>>“I’m fine now,” $rname is quick to reassure, offering them both a smile. It doesn’t quite reach $rtheir eyes. “That’s all that happened?” $xname probes, something almost akin to suspicion in $xtheir eyes. $rname pauses for a beat, then says, “Yes, that was all.” Admittedly, you’re surprised $rname has decided to keep this a secret from the two of them, but you’re not in any position to disagree or change $rtheir mind. $xname frowns, lips parting to no doubt voice some of $xtheir concerns, but then $aname catches $xtheir eye. A look is exchanged, a wordless conversation, and $xname closes $xtheir mouth again, seeming to have changed $xtheir mind. “I’m glad you seem to be well,” $dname speaks while that happens, and you wonder if $dtheir wording is purposefully vague. If $dthey harbors any doubts, $dthey keeps $dtheir face free of $dthem. $rname gives $rthem an appreciative smile. “Enough about me. I’m more interested in hearing about the situation in Zerat. How were things there?”<<else>>“I…” $rname hesitates, eyes averting down to the table. “I don’t… I don’t want to get into the particulars at the moment. Suffice it to say that it’s over with, and I’m fine now.” You bend your head a little to catch $rtheir eyes, reaching beneath the table to take $rtheir hand in yours. It causes $rthem to look up at you, some of the tension leaving $rtheir shoulders as $rtheir eyes alight with $rtheir smile, small and quick, just for you. The gesture doesn’t go unnoticed by the other two, however. $xname’s brows arch halfway up $xtheir hairline, mouth splitting into a grin as it opens to speak—$dname, with a stony gaze that pretends not to see anything, elbows $xthem in the side. $xname scowls at $dthem, but heeds the warning as $aname has a quiet chuckle at $xname's expense. “What matters is that you are well now,” $dname says. “If it becomes pertinent, I trust you will inform one of us?” $cdthey blatantly means you, from the way $dtheir eyes flit to you when $dthey says <em>one of us</em>. <<if $res gt $flirt>>You look away, unable to help some embarrassment at your fondness being revealed to your friends in such a fashion. It wasn’t your intent to show it off, you only wished to reassure $rname in the moment.<<else>>You quirk a brow, an amused smile touching on your lips. It wasn’t your intent to show off your fondness to your friends in such a fashion, though you can’t say you mind, either.<</if>> “Of course,” $rname replies, giving $dname an appreciative smile at $dtheir easy acceptance. “But enough about me. How were things in Zerat for you, general?”<</if>><<else>>“We heard there was a fire in the city,” $xname says before you have even fully sat down on your pillow, seeming unable to contain $xtheir curiosity. “A big one?” “A disastrous one,” you confirm, the reminder unpleasant<<if $arelationship is 'low'>>, especially since it pokes at the argument you and $aname had because of it<</if>>. “Although we did learn a couple of things because of it.” You look over at $aname, who takes over for you to fill in $dname and $xname about the fire as well as the warehouse that $athey uncovered. “That’s some gall,” $dname says, anger flashing in $dtheir gaze. “To maintain such an operation right under the nose of the city guards.” $xname, on the other hand, directs $xtheir ire elsewhere. “The city guards? What about the <em>prison warden</em>? How could he have let something like this slip by unnoticed?” It’s pure incompetence, and certainly outright negligence. Depending on how much damage has been done, you might have to punish the prison warden for this. <<if $divination is true>>“I have been investigating the prison and I’ve uncovered more about what has happened to the prisoners,” $aname says, “but I’ll get into that later. First I want to hear from you, $dname. How were things in Zerat?”<<else>>“I have been investigating the prison, and it appears half of all its prisoners has gone missing,” $aname says next, shocking the entire room into silence. “<em>Half</em>?” $xname exclaims in disbelief, indignation swelling in $xtheir posture as $xthey leans over the table. “They’ve been smuggling prisoners right out from under the warden’s nose, to the point half the prison is missing? What has that useless idiot been doing this entire time?” “Is this related to the missing people you were investigating, $aname?” $dname asks, staying calm and collected. “I would suspect so.” $aname’s brows furrow thoughtfully. “A sizable amount of the families who have reported their relative missing admitted they were imprisoned—they noticed as much when they would try to visit the prison and were turned away. But there are also many who weren’t prisoners. Perhaps this operation started with the prison, and then expanded to more people in the surrounding neighborhoods. The Half Moon District has the highest proportion of missing citizens.” That would make the most sense, though it is horrifying to think of something happening so close by, without anyone taking notice. It’s likely exactly why the prisoners were made a target: who else outside of their loved ones would care what happened to them? They’ve already been as good as discarded from society. There’s still the question of why, exactly, these people were abducting prisoners, but you hope you’ll find an answer as $aname continues $atheir investigation. “What did you do with the warden?” you ask. “I’ve imprisoned him in the palace’s dungeons.” $aname’s face doesn’t noticeably change, but you think you can hear an undertone of vindictive satisfaction in $atheir words. “I will leave it for you to decide what to do with him, Your Imperial Majesty.” Whatever you decide, you’re sure it won’t even be half of what the warden deserves. “That’s all from my end.” $aname turns to $dname next. “What about you, general? How were things in Zerat?”<</if>><</if>> $dname heaves a sigh. “It was a trial in patience.” The report $dthey gives you all then is a more troubling one than you expected. [[Continue|11.com1]]“The nobles have been stealing from the villages?” you repeat, incredulous at the nerve. <<if $publicfavored gt $elitefavored>>This only makes the court’s pleas to tax the farmers even more absurd, pleading for leniency on the Mîrs while the nobles in their provinces have been taking the tithes gathered by the rural townsfolk.<</if>> “Not only the villages,” $dname replies. “In essence, they’ve been stealing from <em>you</em>, Your Imperial Majesty. Those are taxes meant for the Imperial Vault.” Just when you thought the nobles couldn’t get any bolder. <<if $elitefavored gt $publicfavored>>This rankles you even more strongly, feeling as if you’re being made a fool of. It’s clear that none of the nobles are taking you seriously—you should rectify that, as soon as possible. <</if>>“Has Mîr Mêrxas not caught on at all, or is he part of this scheme?” “I couldn’t say.” $dname looks frustrated, hands upon the table pressed palm to palm, fingers intertwined tightly. “I only visited Zeratun for a few days and did not notice anything suspicious during Mêrxas’ court meetings. What knowledge I have of wrongdoing only concerns a few nobles my soldiers caught in the act. I have no real evidence.” “It was clever to disguise your soldiers as bandits,” $aname says, sounding genuinely impressed, if not a little amused. “Stealing the tithes back from the thieves—though I’m surprised you would act without the Crown’s approval.” <<if $dfriend is true>>$dname nods in acknowledgment, then looks at you. “I hope you understand the necessity, Your Imperial Majesty. The situation required urgent action, and it was better to operate in secrecy.” It’s undeniable that $dname did well to return those stolen tithes to the villages so they could be sent to their rightful destination, but $aname also brings up a good point. Unexpectedly, $dthey acted without your knowledge or permission. Perhaps the situation did call for it this time, but are you comfortable with $dname acting on $dtheir own? <ul class="a"> <li>[[“You did well, but in the future, inform me of these matters if possible. We should work together on things like this.”|11.raxa][$dfriendship += 2]]</li> <li>[[“I don’t like that you acted without my knowledge. Try not to make it a habit.”|11.raxb][$dfriendship -= 1]]</li> <li>[[“It’s fine. You did good, that’s what matters most.”|11.raxc]]</li> </ul><<else>><<if $drelationship is 'low'>>$dname nods in acknowledgment, then looks at you. “I hope you understand the necessity, Your Imperial Majesty. The situation required urgent action, and it was better to operate in secrecy.” You don’t know why $dtheir formal tone bothers you so much—or perhaps you do, and simply do not wish to acknowledge it to yourself. It would be childish to expect otherwise. “Of course,” you say readily. “Though in the future, inform me of these matters if possible. We should work together on things like this.” “I see.” You hear a note of surprise in $dtheir voice, though it is mild. “Forgive me, Your Imperial Majesty. I wished to spare you of further concerns, with all you already had to deal with regarding the Imperial Court.” <<if $blunt gt $charm>>“You don’t need to coddle me, $dname,” you reply, though not unkindly. $cdthey was concerned for you, after all. “I can handle it.” “So I understand now,” $dname agrees.<<else>>“Underestimating me a bit, were you?” you tease. You’re not offended, if anything $dtheir concern is touching. “So it seems,” $dname agrees.<</if>> “I will do better to keep you informed in the future.” Forget bothering you, you’re starting to <em>hate</em> $dtheir formal tone. It’s not something you should be feeling, especially not among your companions, and so you keep your frustration hidden as best you can.<<else>>$dname meets your eyes almost reflexively, a slight pause before $athey responds to $aname’s question by addressing you directly. “I only wished to spare you from having to deal with the issue yourself.” You can’t help but look for a deeper meaning behind $dtheir words, in $dtheir gaze, then catch yourself doing it and scold yourself for it. Despite having the best of intentions, no one can fully master their natural impulses, and yours are searching for an affection that would cause both you and $dname more grief. You have to unlearn it, or at the very least, suppress it. “I understand,” you say, composure carefully in place, “and I thank you of thinking of me, D… <em>general</em>.” $cdtheir name nearly leaves your mouth; $dname’s eyes widen fractionally as $dthey realizes the same thing. You bite down on your tongue, almost incredulous at your near slip-up, and angry at your own foolishness. Not even seconds after you made up your mind to keep things formal between the two of you, for pity’s sake! You steadfastly ignore the way $xname looks between the two of you with thinly-veiled amusement, as well as $aname and $rname’s eyes burning on either side of your face. $dname no longer looks at you, a furrow between $dtheir eyes that are cast down to the side. Keeping your distance is going to be more difficult than you thought.<</if>> [[Continue|11.raxa]]<</if>><<if $dfriend is true and $xfriend is true>>“I see.” You hear a note of surprise in $dtheir voice, though it is mild. “Forgive me, Your Imperial Majesty. I wished to spare you from further concerns, with all you already had to deal with regarding the Imperial Court.” <<if $blunt gt $charm>>“You don’t need to coddle me, $dname,” you reply, though not unkindly. $cdthey was concerned for you, after all. “I can handle it.” “So I understand now,” $dname agrees.<<else>>“Underestimating me a bit, were you?” you tease. You’re not offended, if anything $dtheir concern is touching. “So it seems,” $dname agrees.<</if>> “I will do better to keep you informed in the future.” <</if>><<if $dfriend is true and $xfriend is false>>$xname whistles, impressed. “You stole the tithes back from the nobles? Careful, $xdnickname, you’re starting to behave like a mercenary.” “I will use whatever tools at my disposal to ensure the citizens aren’t exploited.” $dname seems unaffected by $xname’s praise. Or, you think it was praise, anyhow. “If that means ‘behaving like a mercenary’, then so be it.” “Looks like we have something in common after all,” $xname jests, prodding $dthem in the side with an elbow, and grins when $dname pushes $xtheir arm away. “You did well, general,” $rname commends with sincerity in comparison, a compliment $dname is much more willing to accept. “Though I almost wish you made a public display of it. The nobles should know that this kind of behavior won’t be tolerated anymore.” $dname gives a cold smile. “Perhaps another time.” You truly would hate to have the general as your enemy. <</if>>“And you, $xname?” you finally ask<<if $dfriend is false>> once you have recollected yourself<</if>>, turning to <<if $xfriend is true>>the last person left to report anything<<else>>$xthem next<</if>>. <<if $xfriend is true>>You<<else>>$cxtheir attack on Behram’s palace aside, you<</if>> sent the Crescent Blades to the mountains to see if they could bait the Followers into making a move, and you’re more than curious to find out if the plan yielded anything of note. $xname crosses $xtheir arms and leans forward to rest them upon the table, $xtheir expression thoughtful. “Nothing.” “Nothing?” “No one followed,” $xthey clarifies. “We went as far up the mountains as we could go without trespassing on Şahmaran’s territory, and never saw hide nor hair of anyone else.” <<if $xfriend is false>> It sounds like $xthey must have had a busy time of it, managing to fit in attacking Behram with a journey up the mountains. No wonder it took $xthem several days after your letter to return to Marabad.<</if>> “That you know of,” $dname interjects, and $xname narrows $xtheir eyes in a rare show of genuine annoyance with the general. “You’re talking to someone with the best sensing this side of Igris.” “Your sensory abilities are not infallible.” $dname considers the scowl on $xname face, and offers, “This isn’t an indictment of your competence, there’s a reason $ctheir Imperial Majesty entrusted you the task. I only mean to point out that our enemies have rare magic at their disposal. It’s possible that they could have wards strong enough to thwart you.” $xname’s stormy expression disappears in an instant, replaced with a smirk<<if $afriend is false>> as $xthey twists $xtheir upper body to face $dname, leaning in a little with a forearm draped over the table<</if>>. “$xdnickname, was that actual <em>praise</em> for once?” $dname closes $dtheir eyes for a brief moment, exhaling a sigh. “Do you not get embarrassed by how much you fish for compliments?” “One can never tire of hearing the truth<<if $afriend is false>>, my dear general<</if>>.” $aname snaps $atheir fingers, the act so sudden and blunt that both $dname and $xname actually look at $athem. “Can we refocus?” “Did you just snap your fingers at me?” $dname stares at $aname with disbelief. Your Royal Protector shrugs. “It worked, didn’t it?” “Alright,” you cut in, sensing the conversation will spiral if you let this go on. “Like $aname said, let’s refocus. $xname, you’re certain there was no one following you?” “My impeccable sensing aside,” $xname replies, “no, there truly wasn’t anyone after us. We have a number of very skilled trackers among the Crescent Blades in charge of keeping watch for any potential tails, and none of them picked up on anything.” This isn’t as clear-cut of a result as you hoped. At least if $xname found any Followers keeping an eye on the Blades, you would know with certainty that there was either a vested interest in preventing anyone from going up the mountains, or finding out what lies at its summit. But to find no reaction at all, assuming $xname is correct in $xtheir assessment that no one followed? That leaves things ambiguous. [[Continue|11.com3]]<<if $dfriend is true>>“Forgive my trespass, Your Imperial Majesty,” $dname replies without hesitation. “I will take more care in the future.” You search for some sort of inflection in $dtheir words, anything to indicate what $dthey feels about your admonishment, but find nothing. Though it also doesn’t escape your notice that $dthey didn’t make any promises. Still, pushing the matter won’t do any good, so you decide to let it go for now. <</if>>“And you, $xname?” you finally ask<<if $dfriend is false>>once you have recollected yourself<</if>>, turning to <<if $xfriend is true>>the last person left to report anything<<else>>$xthem next<</if>>. <<if $xfriend is true>>You<<else>>$cxtheir attack on Behram’s palace aside, you<</if>> sent the Crescent Blades to the mountains to see if they could bait the Followers into making a move, and you’re more than curious to find out if the plan yielded anything of note. $xname crosses $xtheir arms and leans forward to rest them upon the table, $xtheir expression thoughtful. “Nothing.” “Nothing?” “No one followed,” $xthey clarifies. “We went as far up the mountains as we could go without trespassing on Şahmaran’s territory, and never saw hide nor hair of anyone else.” <<if $xfriend is false>> It sounds like $xthey must have had a busy time of it, managing to fit in attacking Behram with a journey up the mountains. No wonder it took $xthem several days after your letter to return to Marabad.<</if>> “That you know of,” $dname interjects, and $xname narrows $xtheir eyes in a rare show of genuine annoyance with the general. “You’re talking to someone with the best sensing this side of Igris.” “Your sensory abilities are not infallible.” $dname considers the scowl on $xname face, and offers, “This isn’t an indictment of your competence, there’s a reason $ctheir Imperial Majesty entrusted you the task. I only mean to point out that our enemies have rare magic at their disposal. It’s possible that they could have wards strong enough to thwart you.” $xname’s stormy expression disappears in an instant, replaced with a smirk<<if $afriend is false>> as $xthey twists $xtheir upper body to face $dname, leaning in a little with a forearm draped over the table<</if>>. “$xdnickname, was that actual <em>praise</em> for once?” $dname closes $dtheir eyes for a brief moment, exhaling a sigh. “Do you not get embarrassed by how much you fish for compliments?” “One can never tire of hearing the truth<<if $afriend is false>>, my dear general<</if>>.” $aname snaps $atheir fingers, the act so sudden and blunt that both $dname and $xname actually look at $athem. “Can we refocus?” “Did you just snap your fingers at me?” $dname stares at $aname with disbelief. Your Royal Protector shrugs. “It worked, didn’t it?” “Alright,” you cut in, sensing the conversation will spiral if you let this go on. “Like $aname said, let’s refocus. $xname, you’re certain there was no one following you?” “My impeccable sensing aside,” $xname replies, “no, there truly wasn’t anyone after us. We have a number of very skilled trackers among the Crescent Blades in charge of keeping watch for any potential tails, and none of them picked up on anything.” This isn’t as clear-cut of a result as you hoped. At least if $xname found any Followers keeping an eye on the Blades, you would know with certainty that there was either a vested interest in preventing anyone from going up the mountains, or finding out what lies at its summit. But to find no reaction at all, assuming $xname is correct in $xtheir assessment that no one followed? That leaves things ambiguous. [[Continue|11.com3]]<<if $dfriend is true>>If $dname is surprised by your lenience, $dthey doesn’t show it. “I am glad to have your understanding.” You have more important things to worry about than overseeing every single move your general makes in your absence. $dname can handle it on $dtheir own, surely. <</if>>“And you, $xname?” you finally ask<<if $dfriend is false>> once you have recollected yourself<</if>>, turning to <<if $xfriend is true>>the last person left to report anything<<else>>$xthem next<</if>>. <<if $xfriend is true>>You<<else>>$cxtheir attack on Behram’s palace aside, you<</if>> sent the Crescent Blades to the mountains to see if they could bait the Followers into making a move, and you’re more than curious to find out if the plan yielded anything of note. $xname crosses $xtheir arms and leans forward to rest them upon the table, $xtheir expression thoughtful. “Nothing.” “Nothing?” “No one followed,” $xthey clarifies. “We went as far up the mountains as we could go without trespassing on Şahmaran’s territory, and never saw hide nor hair of anyone else.” <<if $xfriend is false>> It sounds like $xthey must have had a busy time of it, managing to fit in attacking Behram with a journey up the mountains. No wonder it took $xthem several days after your letter to return to Marabad.<</if>> “That you know of,” $dname interjects, and $xname narrows $xtheir eyes in a rare show of genuine annoyance with the general. “You’re talking to someone with the best sensing this side of Igris.” “Your sensory abilities are not infallible.” $dname considers the scowl on $xname face, and offers, “This isn’t an indictment of your competence, there’s a reason $ctheir Imperial Majesty entrusted you the task. I only mean to point out that our enemies have rare magic at their disposal. It’s possible that they could have wards strong enough to thwart you.” $xname’s stormy expression disappears in an instant, replaced with a smirk<<if $afriend is false>> as $xthey twists $xtheir upper body to face $dname, leaning in a little with a forearm draped over the table<</if>>. “$xdnickname, was that actual <em>praise</em> for once?” $dname closes $dtheir eyes for a brief moment, exhaling a sigh. “Do you not get embarrassed by how much you fish for compliments?” “One can never tire of hearing the truth<<if $afriend is false>>, my dear general<</if>>.” $aname snaps $atheir fingers, the act so sudden and blunt that both $dname and $xname actually look at $athem. “Can we refocus?” “Did you just snap your fingers at me?” $dname stares at $aname with disbelief. Your Royal Protector shrugs. “It worked, didn’t it?” “Alright,” you cut in, sensing the conversation will spiral if you let this go on. “Like $aname said, let’s refocus. $xname, you’re certain there was no one following you?” “My impeccable sensing aside,” $xname replies, “no, there truly wasn’t anyone after us. We have a number of very skilled trackers among the Crescent Blades in charge of keeping watch for any potential tails, and none of them picked up on anything.” This isn’t as clear-cut of a result as you hoped. At least if $xname found any Followers keeping an eye on the Blades, you would know with certainty that there was either a vested interest in preventing anyone from going up the mountains, or finding out what lies at its summit. But to find no reaction at all, assuming $xname is correct in $xtheir assessment that no one followed? That leaves things ambiguous. [[Continue|11.com3]] <<if $res gt $flirt>>They look up and you look away at the same time, trying to avoid their prying eyes while your skin heats across your whole face. You glare at $xname, who merely grins back at you, before turning to $aname and $dname.<<else>>They look up at your entrance, gazes flitting between the two of you while you merely smile back, maintaining your composure. $xname is not nearly as subtle, however.<</if>> “My friends!” $xthey exclaims, blatantly keeping hold of your hand while $xthey spreads $xtheir other arm wide. Neither $dname nor $aname move. The former merely frowns while the latter crosses $atheir arms, both glancing briefly at your linked hands but—<<if $res gt $flirt>>thankfully<<else>>funnily enough<</if>>—making no remarks on it. $xname looks between them, amused more than anything. “What? No welcome hug?” “Not even in your dreams,” $dname says curtly. $xname’s cheer is unaffected by the barb, narrowing $xtheir eyes while $xthey continues to smile. “Perhaps in your nightmares, then.” $dname sighs deeply, deciding to waste no further breath as $dthey glances between you and $xname. “Have the two of you finished?” You part your lips to answer in the affirmative, but then $xname beats you to it with an impish grin. “That’s a sordid question, don’t you think?”<<if $res gt $flirt>> “$xname,” you hiss, embarrassed, but $xname merely gives you a teasing wink in return. $cxthey’s going to be the end of you.<</if>> “Sky above.” $dname rubs a hand over $dtheir eyes. “Why do I even bother talking to you? Your head is filled with nonsense.” <<if $res gt $flirt>>“You asked,” $xname says, but then turns to $aname, $xtheir teasing brightening into a sincere smile. “$aname, my dear friend, it’s been too long!”<<else>>“<em>Presumptuous</em> nonsense,” you agree, arching a brow at $xname, who answers with a cocky little smirk. “We’ll see about that.” $cxthey then turns to $aname, $xtheir teasing brightening into a sincere smile. “$aname, my dear friend, it’s been too long!”<</if>> $aname’s expression softens somewhat at the earnest greeting, and $xname slowly raises $xtheir arms again with a tilt of $xtheir head, this time releasing your hand to do it. Not as wide, but clearly with the same intent as before. For a moment, $aname reminds you very much of when a cat swishes its tail in thought, standing there stock-still with $atheir arms folded and eying $xname. As if $athey can’t decide whether the breach of $atheir personal space would be worth it. “Come on, haven’t you missed me?” $xname coaxes. “Not even a little bit?” Finally, $aname gives a put-upon sigh—one you’re sure isn’t completely serious—and lowers $atheir arms. “I knew it!” $xname steps forward and wraps $aname up in a jovial embrace, clapping $athem on the back while $aname, to your mild surprise, actually returns the gesture equally, a slight smile flitting across $atheir face. “No one can resist my hugs.” “$dname resisted it just fine,” $aname points out wryly. “$dname has $dtheir reputation as a human rock to think about,” $xname says with a laugh as $xthey pulls back and claps $aname once more, on the shoulder this time. All while ignoring $dname’s customary glare. “Shall we head back to the palace?” Some of $xtheir merry mood fades, meeting your eyes instead of responding to $dname and $aname’s questioning looks. “We have much to talk about,” you say to them. The sooner they’re all informed, the better. [[Continue|11.x25]]$rname awaits your party at the palace, having already chosen a sitting room to receive you in—something that appears to have become a habit for your meetings—with Imperial Guards stationed outside and silencing wards active to ensure you will be left undisturbed. $rname and $aname sit on your right and left, while $dname and $xname settle across from you and $aname. “I hope you stayed out of trouble, $xname,” $rname speaks as the five of you settle down, $rtheir greetings short and quickly exchanged. “Now why would you ask me such a thing, Sorcerer?” $xname doesn’t seem offended despite the tone of $xtheir reply, smirking back at $rname carelessly. “I am always careful.” “Is that why the Crown demanded your return?” $rname narrows $rtheir eyes. “Because of how much <em>care</em> you take not to cause a mess that has the entire Imperial Court up in arms?” $xname’s smirk almost falters, a flicker of tension passing over $xtheir features before $xthey smooths it out again. “I’m flattered you think me capable of causing such upheaval, but this time, I truly have nothing to do with it.” $cxtheir lie is stated so smoothly and so convincingly that you see doubt appear on $rname’s gaze. $cxthey has decided to keep $xtheir private outing to Behram’s castle a secret, then. Perhaps it’s for the better the others don’t get involved: even having knowledge of the crime $xname committed would make them culpable in covering for $xthem, if nothing else. <<if $behramsoldiers is true>>“Be that as it may,” you say, mood darkening at remembering your court meeting from earlier, “Behram managed to pressure me into lending him more soldiers. For additional protection, or so he claims. $dname suggested planting our own spies among the soldiers we send, to keep an eye on him.” “A sound plan,” $rname agrees, and even $xname doesn’t seem to have anything to poke fun at $dname with this time, shooting $dthem a mildly impressed look— “How underhanded of you, general.” Never mind. $xname <em>always</em> finds something to poke fun at $dname for. “There’s no such thing as being underhanded for a tactician,” $dname replies, seeming unaffected by $xname’s attempt at prodding. “Deceit is a requirement for the role.” “But how good are you at lying, really?” $xname squints at $dthem. $dname’s stoic expression does not change. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”<<else>>“Be that as it may,” you say, mood darkening at remembering your court meeting from earlier, “Behram tried to pressure me into lending him more soldiers. For additional protection, or so he claims, but considering his previous history with the provincial army, he must have some sort of ulterior motive.” “If only this assassin had not made their attack on Behram’s palace so obvious,” $dname says out loud, expression stoic. You might even believe $dthey wasn’t explicitly referring to $xname, if you didn’t know better yourself. “If only this assassin had slit both the guard’s throat as well as his master’s,” $xname replies with a smile that is anything but sweet. $dname scowls at $xthem. “Do you think this is a game?” “Oh no, absolutely not.” $xname meets $dtheir gaze head-on. “I am as serious as the <em>grave</em>, my friend.”<</if>> “If we could return to the matter at hand,” $aname cuts in, seeming to have run out of patience for the bantering, “the two of you were sent away with specific jobs to do. So, how did you fare?” $catheir gaze passes over $xname, landing on $dname first. “General, why don't you tell $rname and $xname about the situation in Zerat?” $dname nods, and proceeds to fill in the other two about the thieving nobility that $dthey has had to deal with. [[Continue|11.raxa]] But apparently, $dname’s lack of sensory ability doesn’t seem to matter, because $dthey gives you and $xname a pointed look the moment you exit the room. Before $dthey can ask say anything, however, $xname takes center stage. “My friends!” $xthey exclaims, spreading $xtheir arms wide. Neither $dname nor $aname move. The former merely frowns while the latter crosses $atheir arms. $xname looks between them, amused more than anything. “What? No welcome hug?” “Not even in your dreams,” $dname says curtly. $xname’s cheer is unaffected by the barb, narrowing $xtheir eyes back while $xthey continues to smile. “Perhaps in your nightmares, then.” $dname sighs deeply, deciding to waste no further breath as $dthey glances between you and $xname. “Have the two of you finished speaking?” You part your lips to answer in the affirmative, but then $xname beats you to it with an impish grin. “That’s a sordid question, don’t you think?”<<if $res gt $flirt>> “$xname,” you hiss, embarrassed, but $xname merely gives you a teasing wink in return. $cxthey’s going to be the end of you.<</if>> “Sky above.” $dname rubs a hand over $dtheir eyes. “Why do I even bother talking to you? Your head is filled with nonsense.” <<if $res gt $flirt>>“You asked,” $xname says, but then turns to $aname, $xtheir teasing brightening into a sincere smile. “$aname, my dear friend, it’s been too long!”<<else>>“<em>Presumptuous</em> nonsense,” you agree, arching a brow at $xname, who answers with a cocky little smirk. “We’ll see about that.” $cxthey then turns to $aname, $xtheir teasing brightening into a sincere smile. “$aname, my dear friend, it’s been too long!”<</if>> $aname’s expression softens somewhat at the earnest greeting, and $xname slowly raises $xtheir arms again with a tilt of $xtheir head. Not as wide, but clearly with the same intent as before. For a moment, $aname reminds you very much of when a cat swishes its tail in thought, standing there stock-still and eying $xname as if $athey can’t decide if the breach of $atheir personal space would be worth it. “Come on, haven’t you missed me?” $xname coaxes. “Not even a little bit?” Finally, $aname gives a put-upon sigh—one you’re sure isn’t completely serious—and lowers $atheir arms. “I knew it!” $xname steps forward and wraps $xtheir arms around $xthem in a cheerful embrace, clapping $athem on the back while $aname, to your mild surprise, returns the gesture, a slight smile slipping across $atheir face. “No one can resist my hugs.” “$dname resisted it just fine,” $aname replies dryly. “$dname has $dtheir reputation as a human rock to think about,” $xname says with a laugh as $xthey pulls back, clapping $aname once more, on the shoulder this time. Ignoring $dname’s customary glare, as always. “Shall we head back to the palace?” Some of $xtheir jovial mood fades, meeting your eyes instead of responding to $dname and $aname’s questioning looks. “We have much to talk about,” you say to them. The sooner they’re all informed, the better. [[Continue|11.x25]]“So they either recognized the bluff,” you reason out loud, “or they already got what they needed from the mountains.” “An excursion to the mountains will be a risk either way,” $dname agrees. “Do you still wish to go?” “Yes.” That is not a question you need to think about. “It’s the only place where I could find answers as to what my parents uncovered. I <em>have</em> to know the truth.” “But how do we do it?” $aname says. “Going in secret would mean taking a smaller party as to remain inconspicuous, which means there would be less protection should there be an ambush.” $rname meets $aname’s eyes, seeming to share $atheir concerns. “Not to mention we would need to deceive the Imperial Court about the Crown’s absence—as well as mine and $aname’s—for as long as a month.” $xname provides an answer: “Then announce it.” All eyes turn to $xname in question, save for $dname’s, who regards $xname with serious consideration. “A pilgrimage,” $dthey says slowly. “To ask for—” “Şahmaran’s blessing,” $xname finishes, a smile playing in the corner of $xtheir mouth at $dname following $xtheir thought. “You could take an entire army with you into the mountains.” You realize what they’re talking about as you remember one of your history lessons. “You speak of the custom Crowns used to adhere to?” It used to be tradition for the Crown to journey to the Armas Mountains to ask for Şahmaran’s blessing a month after their coronation; a reflection of the Blessing of the Spirits during the coronation ritual. It began with Ashadūna, who would often visit Şahmaran for counsel upon founding the Empire, and every Crown after her followed in Ashadūna’s example, at least during that one month of pilgrimage. Şahmaran is not a spirit, but is still considered to be an aspect of divinity on earth—there are some in Rojan who have come to worship her as a goddess. She was alive long before the tribes that settled this region and founded the Monarchy of Ardia, let alone the founding of Arsur. Ruins across Rojan from civilizations that came long before contain reverent depictions of her, showing kings and queens, emperors and conquerors all kneeling before her. Scholars disagree about her exact age, but they all acknowledge that she has been alive for thousands of years; Rojan has always been her home. “That could work,” $aname concedes, “at least to ensure the Crown will have sufficient protection during the journey.” $rname still does not appear convinced. “But more people means more chances for infiltration, does it not?” “Exactly,” $xname says, causing $rname to scowl. You really shouldn’t be surprised. “$xname, you’re going to use me as bait? <em>Again</em>?” <<if $xfriend is true>>$cxthey has the self-awareness to look at least apologetic about it, though $xthey doesn’t waver from $xtheir proposed plan whatsoever. “With your permission, this time!” “Oh, I suppose that makes it all better,” $rname scoffs.<<else>>$cxthey flashes you a smile, reaching across the table to take your hand in $xtheirs. <<if $res gt $flirt>>You nearly freeze, intensely aware of the way $rname’s eyes go wide with surprise beside you, while $aname looks away, barely suppressing an amused grin at your flustered reaction. Only $dname, bless $dthem, maintains a stony expression, pretending to see nothing at all.<<else>>Your brows quirk with surprise, though you really shouldn’t be; leave it to $xname to display affection so openly. $rname doesn’t seem to have expected it at all, however, eyes going wide with surprise beside you, $aname glancing over at $rthem with amusement at the reaction. Only $dname maintains a stony expression, pretending to see nothing at all.<</if>> “I would never let anything happen to you,” $xname promises, thumb rubbing reassuring circles into the back of your hand, <<if $res gt $flirt>>as if $xtheir open display of affection hadn’t already done a well enough job of flooding your face with heat. You avert your eyes, though you manage to squeeze $xtheir hand back, murmuring, “I know.”<<else>>completely unconcerned by the presence of your friends. You can’t say you mind; part of you even feels pleased, as if $xthey were showing off your bond. You smile back at $xthem with fondness, squeezing $xtheir hand in return. “I know.”<</if>> $rname clears $rtheir throat as you release each other. “Well, ah… <em>that</em> aside, I’m still not convinced this is the safest course of action.”<</if>> To your surprise, $dname actually defends $xname’s plan. “We can’t avoid risks on a journey like this one, so let’s control the ones we do take and use them in our favor.” $cdthey meets your eyes. “As $xname said, with your permission.” You see $dtheir point. Avoiding infiltrators to take a smaller, secret party into the mountains leaves you open to being overwhelmed by an ambush instead; at least this way, you can lay a trap instead of stepping into one yourself and being blindsided. Besides, the last time $xname used you as bait, it allowed $aname to eliminate infiltrators within the Imperial Guards and lead you to $rname. Not a bad precedent, all things considered. Still, there’s one more problem you have yet to address. “I’m willing to take the risk,” you say, “but how, exactly, are we going to make it to Peak Asha when Şahmaran has barred entrance?” The highest point of the Armas Mountains, the one your parents intended to reach as well, which <<if $yekbun is 'fine'>>Scholar Yekbûn informed you of while you went over her notes regarding the details of the expedition together<<else>>you gathered from the notes Scholar Yekbûn left you, retrieved from her home by your Imperial Guards<</if>>. It is guarded by Şahmaran—who has refused to see any Crown since Ardashir. Your companions are silent at that, each seeming to think on the matter, until $xname finally says, “We’ll find out once we get there, won’t we?” $dname rolls $dtheir eyes. “A genius plan,” $aname comments, deadpan. “Perhaps if we knock politely, she’ll let us in.” “Well, what other alternative is there?” $xname replies with a shrug. “There’s no way of knowing if Şahmaran will let our Crown in until we try. <<if $xfriend is false>>The Blades<<else>>I<</if>> made it a third of the way up the mountains when her wards blocked me off from advancing any further. Those can’t be broken with ordinary magic, or someone would have done it by now.” “I hate to say it, but $xname is right.” $rname taps a finger against the edge of the table as $rthey thinks. “It is up to Şahmaran whether we’ll be allowed to pass or turned away. But that begs the question, did your parents manage to make it up to the summit, $name? Or did they find an answer elsewhere?” It’s a fair question, one you’ve wondered yourself. Did Şahmaran allow your parents to pass through the wards, and if so, for what purpose? Your mother would’ve already been pregnant with you then, though it would’ve been very early. Perhaps, somehow, Şahmaran knew you were destined to be the Crown. Perhaps she was even the one to inform your parents. “We’ll have to try,” you finally agree. There’s nothing else for it. Şahmaran might turn you away and deny you answers, in which case, you’ll have to find some other way to discover the truth. That part, at least, is out of your hands. [[Continue|11.com4]]“We should make ready for the expedition, then,” $dname decides. “You will have to announce it to the Imperial Court. The climate in the mountains will become temperate in a few more weeks, the conditions for a journey will be ideal before the rainy season.” The four of you talk a short while longer about the logistics of it, $aname and $xname agreeing to prepare the necessary supplies while $rname plans the most optimal route, and $dname selects soldiers to accompany you on the journey. You, meanwhile, will have to come up with a statement for the court and the public, and also anticipate the questions and backlash you’ll doubtlessly get for this move. Your opponents in court will be certain to try and make it seem as if you’re abandoning your duties, as if seeking counsel from Şahmaran hadn’t been a long-held tradition up until a few Crowns ago. You’ll have to be prepared for it. “There is one more thing you should know about,” $rname says to you once you’ve distributed all necessary tasks among yourselves. <<if $divination is false>>“Do you recall ordering the student records of all the schools to be searched for the magic signature of the one who created the assassin’s mask? We’ve finally heard back from one of them: the School of Rushem, in Şevan.” “Şevan?” You don’t know why, but you didn’t expect to find a trail so far away from Rojan. “What did they send?” $rname doesn’t look as thrilled to report on your progress as you thought $rthey’d be, though $rtheir next words clarify why: “The name of the student who matches the magic signature has been erased from all records, though the school did have some letters and notes that were left behind.” “They erased themselves from school records?” “More likely, they received the aid of an administrator at the school.” $rname’s lips twist with distaste. “I wouldn’t be surprised if some of the higher ranking magi were Followers themselves.” “Let’s see these letters,” $dname says. “Were they written by the student?” “Yes, but only one of them contains anything of use.” $rname turns to the door, calling in one of the Imperial Guards into the room who hands $rthem a small stack of letters. $crthey sorts through it, pulling one sheet from the pile, and begins to read the letter for you all out loud. [[Continue|11.som5]]<<else>><<if $afriend is true>>“Do you recall ordering for the assassin’s body to be examined with divination, to retrace their steps? The Imperial Guards tasked with it stumbled on something important.” $rname looks to $aname to continue, who proceeds to give you several surprising details about what the guards have found: “The assassin’s steps, starting from their attempt on your life in the palace’s tunnels, were retraced to an innocuous warehouse in the Half Moon District. That is also where the trail runs cold, but of interest is what was found beneath the warehouse itself.” You don’t know much about the Half Moon District. It is one of ten that Marabad is divided in—now you think about it, is it not adjacent to the Prison District? <<if $prisoner is 'palace'>>As the name implies, that is where Marabad’s prison is located. An underground one, you remember, built within the hill that the district is situated on.<</if>> “The assassin’s steps lead back to an old underground chamber,” $aname goes on while you remain silent in thought. “It used to be connected to the Royal Palace’s tunnels, but a cave-in blocked it off from use. When the guards descended, they discovered a new tunnel dug into the chamber. It connects to Marabad’s prison.” You can’t help your shock, mouth slackening lightly as you realize the implication. “Do you mean to say that whoever is behind this, placing the mental ward upon the assassins—they’re using <em>prisoners</em> to do it?” “It makes sense, doesn’t it?” $aname’s expression is cold, anger simmering beneath $atheir gaze as $athey scoffs. “No one would care if a few go missing. More than a few, in fact. I ordered the prison’s warden to take inventory of the prison’s population. He returned on his hands and knees begging for me to spare him.” $catheir next words send a chill down your spine: “Half the prison is missing.” “<em>Half</em>?” $xname exclaims in disbelief, indignation swelling in $xtheir posture as $xthey leans over the table. “They’ve been smuggling prisoners right out from under the warden’s nose, to the point half the prison is missing? What has that useless idiot been doing this entire time?” “Is this related to the missing people you were investigating, $aname?” $dname asks, staying calm and collected. “I would suspect so.” $aname’s brows furrow thoughtfully. “A sizable amount of the families who have reported their relative missing admitted they were imprisoned—they noticed as much when they would try to visit their relative. But there are also many who weren’t prisoners. Perhaps this operation started with the prison, and then expanded to more people in the surrounding neighborhoods. The Half Moon District has the highest proportion of missing citizens.” That would make the most sense, though it is horrifying to think of something happening so close by, without anyone taking notice. It’s likely exactly why the prisoners were made a target: who else outside of their loved ones would care what happened to them? They’ve already been as good as discarded from society. “What did you do with the warden?” you ask. “I’ve imprisoned him in the palace’s dungeons.” $aname’s face doesn’t noticeably change, but you think you can hear an undertone of vindictive satisfaction in $atheir words. “I will leave it for you to decide what to do with him, Your Imperial Majesty. But before that…” $cathey calls in one of the Imperial Guards, who enters the room with a sheet of papyrus in their hand, which they give to $aname. $cathey glances down at it, a sadness creeping into $atheir gaze before $athey hands it over to you. “A letter?” you question, noticing immediately that it is addressed to you. “The Imperial Guards managed to uncover your would-be assassin’s identity,” $aname says, “and found his family. His father asked to pass on a message, one of the guards transcribed it for her.” Your fingers tighten around the edges of the letter, taking a quick, steadying breath before you begin to read. You can tell at once that the guard who transcribed this wrote nearly everything down verbatim, and you can almost hear the father’s words in your head.<<else>>$crthey looks to $aname to continue, who meets $rtheir eyes, silent for a moment before turning to address the rest of you. You remember $athey had more to tell you about the missing citizens. “The assassin’s steps, starting from their attempt on your life in the palace’s tunnel, were retraced to a warehouse.” The dawning realization is accompanied by horror. It can’t be. $xname is the only one among you who manages to speak. “The one where you—” “Discovered they were abducting prisoners,” $aname finishes grimly. “The very same.” Your voice is strained with the effort to keep your composure. “Do you mean to say that whoever is behind this, placing the mental ward upon the assassins—they’re using the prisoners to do it?” $aname merely nods. There’s nothing else $athey could say, that anyone else could say at the knowledge of such a disturbing act. You knew that whatever was happening to the missing citizens wasn’t good, but this? This is monstrous. While you remain silent, trying to come to terms with the truth of it all, $aname calls in one of the Imperial Guards, who enters the room with a sheet of papyrus in their hand, which they give to $aname. $cathey glances down at it, a sadness creeping into $atheir gaze before $athey hands it over to you. “A letter?” you question, noticing immediately that it is addressed to you. “The Imperial Guards managed to uncover your would-be assassin’s identity,” $aname says, “and found his family. His father asked to pass on a message, one of the guards transcribed it for him.” Your fingers tighten around the edges of the letter, taking a quick, steadying breath before you begin to read. You can tell at once that the guard who transcribed this wrote nearly everything down verbatim, and you can almost hear the father’s words in your head.<</if>> [[Continue|11.div5]]<</if>>“What was in the letter?” you ask as the physician departs again, alarmed at $dname’s reaction. The question appears to snap $dthem out of $dtheir trance, meeting your eyes with an almost startled look. <<if $drelationship is 'low'>>After a moment, however, $dthey takes a breath and appears to calm down again, averting $dtheir gaze and shaking $dtheir head. “It’s not the content that concerns me,” $dthey says, gazing upwards with the slightest wrinkle between $dtheir brows. “Rather, the fact that someone went to the trouble of stealing it. The court and the nobles were happy enough to ignore me before, but now…” “You’ve become a target because of me,” you realize, hands gripping your knees tighter on your lap as guilt weighs in your gut like a stone. “It was inevitable.” $dname doesn’t seem nearly as upset by it as you are. “I’ve gained power and influence because of the Crown. Any authority I have is borrowed from you. Of course they would be anxious to find any weaknesses.” “And are there?” you ask. “Weaknesses, I mean?” $dname’s eyes flit to meet yours, for a heartbeat that seems to last an age, the silence before and after it filling the empty noise between your ears. Finally, $dthey looks away again. “That remains to be seen.”<<else>>None of $dtheir usual composure is there—perhaps in part due to $dtheir wounded state—as you can all but see $dtheir mind racing behind the almost panicked look in $dtheir eyes. “It was…” $cdthey halts, averting $dtheir gaze to squeeze $dtheir eyes shut, lifting a hand to press it over $dtheir forehead. “A foolish, thoughtless, <em>reckless</em> mistake.” “$dname,” you say again, mustering more authority in your voice now, and it works. It catches $dtheir attention, drawing $dthem out of $dtheir self-flagellation as you repeat your question. “What was in the letter?” “I cannot tell you.” Shame flashes across $dname’s face, shame heavy between $dtheir brows. “Nothing that would compromise your security or any of our plans. It was… the contents were personal.” The way $dthey looks at you—it might be presumptuous, perhaps even arrogant, but is it possible that $dthey wrote something in that letter regarding <em>you</em>? Your connection, as frail and newborn as it is? $cdthey and $dtheir fool heart, $dname said. There are only so many ways you can interpret such a statement. Your heart beats faster just thinking of the possibility, but if it’s there, then… Before you can voice your guess out loud, however, $dname carries on, staring up at the ceiling to avoid meeting your searching eyes. “That aside, it’s bad enough that someone went to the trouble of stealing it. The court and the nobles were happy enough to ignore me before, but now…” “You’ve become a target because of me,” you realize, hands gripping your knees tighter on your lap as guilt weighs in your gut like a stone. “It was inevitable.” $dname presses $dtheir lips tightly together, tension ticking a muscle in $dtheir jaw. “I’ve gained power and influence because of the Crown. Any authority I have is borrowed from you. Of course they would be anxious to find any weaknesses.” “And are there?” you ask. “Weaknesses, I mean?” $dname squeezes $dtheir eyes shut. You count your breaths as you wait, each one a squeeze in your chest, until $dname opens $dtheir eyes again. Composure smoothed over into a flawless surface of marble. “I should like to rest now, Your Imperial Majesty,” $dthey says quietly, refusing to look at you. Your frustration is immense, but it’s nothing compared to your hurt—because you know $dname is right to push you away. Merely being your general has already made $dthem a target. It would be selfish of you to push any further, to risk $dthem even further merely because of your own wants and desires. “I understand.” You stand from your chair. Boundaries aside, $dname must also be truly tired as well; $dtheir injuries have not yet healed. “Rest well, then, $dname. I hope resurfacing that memory from earlier did not take too much of a toll on you.” A flicker of surprise flashes in $dtheir eyes as they meet yours. “I… I thank you for your concern.” You offer a smile, one you don’t wholly feel, and leave the room with $dname’s gaze burning between your shoulder blades.<</if>> [[Continue|11.d25]]<<set $day to 16>>Over the next couple of days, you get the sense that $dname searches for excuses not to talk to you for extended periods of time. It’s true that $dthey needs to recover, but whenever the conversations veer too close to the personal, $dthey asks for time to rest. Still, you learn a lot from your talks whenever they do happen. “Without my armor, I feel idle magic in the air more intensely than you would,” $dthey tells you one day when you ask about the particulars of $dtheir magic, well enough to sit up in $dtheir bed. “It affects me more than it would a regular human. Imagine if you could feel every wisp of its energy as if it were a bug crawling on your skin. I do not seem to have the natural instinct to absorb it; all it does is annoy me.” You imagine that would be rather unpleasant. “Now I see why you insist on wearing your armor all the time. It’s a form of protection.” “Yes, it’s why my armor is warded to repel any magic that is not my own.” $cdthey casts a longing glance at the chest at the end of $dtheir bed, where $dtheir armor was stored. “I have robes warded in a similar way as well, but I prefer the armor for practical reasons. Like I told you before, my armor <em>is</em> more comfortable. I simply didn’t think to explain the full extent of why.” “I thought peris would be deeply connected with nature’s magic,” you pose, but before you can finish the question, $dname gives a slightly wry smile. “Most peris also have no trouble transforming their bodies freely.” $dname’s smile falters a little. “For me, that is… I would rather not transform if I can help it. My human form is adequate.” $dname’s true reason goes unspoken, but $dthey does not need to voice it for you to understand. The point of transformation where the body begins to shift is a vulnerable moment, one that nearly got $dname killed, and left $dthem with a scar. You almost raise your hand to the back of your own neck as $dname’s memory lingers in your mind. “Then you’ve never felt my magic before, either?” you ask, deciding to change the topic. “At least, not fully.” “No, not until you…” $cdthey averts $dtheir gaze, and you suddenly realize that when you touched $dtheir neck, $dthey must have sensed you with much more awareness without $dtheir armor on. “Regardless, my nature was not something I was hiding from you intentionally. As I said, I simply did not think to tell you.” You clear your throat, trying to put your own curiosity aside. “You weren’t ashamed, or…?” “Of course not.” $dname looks bewildered by the very notion. “Back home in Penawar, courtships between peris and humans are as common as those among humans, or among peris.” You lean back against your chair. “I can’t imagine it. The peris in Rojan are so reclusive, and relations between peris and humans among <em>them</em> seem strictly forbidden.” “Yes, the peris in Anshan are bit particular, in that respect.” $dname gives a dismissive wave of $dtheir hand. “But so are Rojan’s human nobles. Most people consider Şevan the reclusive province, but have you noticed how few people travel to Rojan?” It’s true. In all your traveling through the province, you’ve never met another person who wasn’t from Rojan before meeting $dname and $aname. Even merchants you’ve traded with have been born and raised here. “I suppose it’s not a surprise the peris and the humans here would mirror each other.” You tilt your head in question. “Is this why Kham seems so fond of you, because of your parentage?” $dname huffs out a humorless laugh. “Do not take her mockery as fondness. She thinks me amusing, like a noble might condescend to a farmer.” Understanding dawns on you. “Because you’re from Penawar.” You’re marginally aware of the reputation Penawar has among the rest of the country. People from Penawar are assumed to be either poor and suffering at best, backwards peasants at worst. The long history of tyrannical and incompetent Mîrs to the province has left it languishing, and even Crowns in the past have tended to neglect it. “Peris from Penawar have long lived together with humans in mixed communities.” $dname’s eyes narrow in distaste. “Something a princess like Kham could not imagine. They chose to become Arsurian citizens once the Empire was founded.” It’s an interesting insight into Kham that you did not expect to find, as well as knowledge about peris outside of Rojan. It seems those in the rest of the country may live very differently compared to the enclave in Anshan. As the days draw on together with your conversations, the physicians finally judge $dname well enough to lift $dtheir bed rest. $cdthey is moved to a chamber in Marabad’s Royal Palace—within the same wing your own quarters are located. You did not make that decision, but you’d be lying if you said it displeased you. [[Continue|11.d26]] With $dname back at the palace, you decide it’s time to gather everyone around and have a meeting. The ambush on $dname aside, you have much to discuss and even more to plan. $rname and $aname accompany you to $dname’s room, where you find $xname already present, seeming to be in the middle of a game of backgammon—and getting completely trounced, at that. “This is absurd.” $xname glares at the dice on the board, seated across from $dthem at a low table. “The strategy is one thing, but how do you keep beating my rolls?” You actually catch a smug smile on $dname’s face right as you enter the room. “I have a feel for it.” “You can’t have a <em>feel</em> for dice!” $xname squints. “Are you cheating?” “Stop projecting, mercenary, it’s unbecoming.” You clear your throat, drawing their attention towards you as $aname closes the door behind you. “Are we interrupting?” $dname shifts on $dtheir pillow, dressed in a long robe similar to what some of the guards and $aname wear whenever they don’t have their armor on. The fabric is patterned with orange and black, wrapped with a green sash around the waist, $dtheir wrists and hands left exposed from beneath the draped top of $dtheir robe. None of the others look twice at the flowering vines peeking out from beneath whenever $dtheir arms move and the robe slides off the tops of $dtheir wrists. You really were the only one left completely unaware of $dname’s peri heritage, though you can see the humor in it now that $dname’s life is no longer in danger. “Not at all,” $dname responds to your question, clearing up the board and folding it shut. “I would’ve won the next game regardless.” $xname immediately protests even while taking the board from $dname, getting up from $xtheir seat to put it away on one of the shelves in $dtheir room. “You don’t know that! I almost beat you last match.” “Have you two just been playing backgammon in here the whole morning?” $aname remarks with amusement as $athey, you and $rname each begin to take a seat. When $xname returns to the table, $xthey takes the pillow beside $dname instead of returning to $xtheir previous one, letting you—purposefully, you suspect—sit across from $dthem. You don’t know whether to thank $xthem for letting you watch $dname from across the table, or curse $xthem for how inevitably distracted you’ll end up being. “Not the whole morning,” $xname considers. “Most of it, maybe? Wouldn’t want to tire $dname out too much.” “A game of backgammon isn’t going to tire me out.” $dname frowns at $xthem, seeming offended by the very notion. “Speaking of which,” $aname interjects, tone turning more serious as $athey looks at $dname. “You’ve been informed of what happened to the mercenaries that attacked you, I take it?” $dname casts a glance at you, <<if $punishment is 'revenge' or $punishment is 'calculated'>>then gives $aname a curt nod. You can read nothing else from $dtheir expression.<<else>>then gives $aname a nod. You don’t see any disapproval in $dtheir features, which reassures you that you’ve made the right decision.<</if>> “I have. It’s unfortunate they couldn’t provide more useful information, but I can’t say I’m surprised.” “What about $dname’s administrative records?” $xname says, settling an elbow on the table to prop $xtheir chin up onto $xtheir fist. “Find any hints as to a leak?” $rname shakes $rtheir head. “Nothing outright. We could interrogate each government official who had access to the records—which would be nearly a hundred of them—but it would raise questions, and might spook whoever the leak was.” “It’s best to let it be and keep an eye on it.” $dname doesn’t seem nearly as concerned as you feel, and when $dthey sees your confusion, $dthey clarifies, “While rooting out spies from among the Imperial Guards was easy, it’s not so easy for the Imperial Court. We have to operate on the assumption that our enemies have already infiltrated it. Blindly chasing after them will be a waste of time and energy better spent elsewhere.” You suppose you can see the wisdom in that. The Imperial Court and its offices encompass hundreds, perhaps even thousands of bureaucrats and government officials. It’s impossible to prevent infiltration from it entirely. “Ambush aside,” $aname says to $dname, “what about the Imperial Army’s mission to stabilize the trade routes? How did you fare in Zerat?” You have yet to hear about this from $dname as well, figuring it would be best for $dthem to speak of it after recovering, and when everyone was present so $dthey did not need to repeat $dthemselves. $dname heaves a sigh. “It was a trial in patience.” The report $dthey gives you all then is a more troubling one than you expected. [[Continue|11.com1]] My dear friend, I thank you for your inquiries, and it is with great pride that I write to inform you of my latest breakthrough in our pursuit of knowledge. If you’ll recall, I was enraptured by the journals of Crown Bardiya when you last left me, studying their methods of maintaining connections with wards across long distances. We are all most familiar with storing magic within a ward to keep it active, but that is different from being able to manipulate a ward after it has already been created. Eccentric Bardiya, still a peerless master of his craft centuries later, has led me to the solution. As we all know, it is not sufficient to simply use raw magic to create a ward, but one must use intent as well. What are wards made of, after all, if not commands? Each sigil is a direction, a condition, an order to give magic its shape and realize it as a ward. Just as Crown Bardiya expanded the language of sigils, we can expand the application of them. We already find examples with wards used as a means for temperature control: the most complex of these activate only once the air reaches a certain point of cold or heat, and remain dormant otherwise. These wards function well as they are inscribed most often on clothing—it is a different matter altogether to apply this to a living creature, yet I have found a way. My experiments have utilized mice, as their minds are easy to overpower. I applied simplistic mental wards with singular conditions for each. One mouse was instructed to go to sleep as soon as the room became dark and wake when the room was illuminated; another was instructed to start running in circles at the sound of a bell and stop when the sound ended; and a third was instructed to stand on its hind legs whenever it felt thirsty and remain standing until it was given water. The two mice instructed to react to external stimuli did not have any conflicts with the mental wards, but the third appeared to behave erratically at times. Internal stimuli, perhaps, are more difficult for the mental ward to measure as the condition to be fulfilled is more abstract. Does it trigger when the mouse is somewhat thirsty, moderately thirsty, or only when it is dying of thirst? And how does one use sigils that correlate to this scale of internal measurement, one that may differ for each individual creature? With the current array of sigils available to us, I find it an impossible endeavor. The workings of another’s mind can never be fully known to us, and so we cannot measure how such subjective conditions may be fulfilled. Indeed, my conclusion is that mental wards must rely solely on external stimuli to function as triggers, in order to be used reliably. But, if you would indulge me, imagine if it were possible to fully know another’s mind. If it were possible to reshape it and create the parameters of the conditions in advance, allowing mental wards to function on heretofore unseen levels of complexity. If we could look into the mouse’s mind and determine exactly when it felt sufficiently thirsty, we would allow the mental ward to behave predictably. It would open up a range of behaviors we have never witnessed before, manipulation on a scale that would make us masters of the mind’s innermost workings. A lofty ambition, to be sure, and one I have yet to apply with success on even the simplest of rodents, let alone creatures of greater intelligence. Please let me know how your own studies are faring on this matter. I do not expect the school will have much of use for our project, but at the very least, it provides opportunities to make the acquaintance of those more knowledgeable than we are regarding the intricacies of mind-related magic. I wish you luck. Spirits willing my own funds will not dry up before I can finish my experiments. With my greatest regards, T. [[Continue|11.som6]]<<if $arelationship is 'low'>>$aname doesn’t speak another word to you as you walk through the palace to meet $rname together. $catheir anger at your decision is no longer overt, instead calming down into a cold distance—which almost feels worse. $rname awaits the two of you in a sitting room. You quietly follow $aname inside, and $rname immediately seems to notice the tension, glancing between the two of you with worry. “$aname, I’m so glad to see you’re well,” $rthey says, and $aname’s icy expression thaws in the face of $atheir friend’s concern, gaze softening as $athey sits down beside $rname. You take the seat across $rname, and avoid looking at $aname too long. “My apologies for making you worry,” $aname says, the tension in $atheir shoulders relaxing somewhat, but not entirely disappearing. “I never intended to stay away for as long as I did, but I found a lead on the missing citizens that I couldn’t pass up.” Despite the strained atmosphere between the two of you, this has you perking up. You almost hesitate before you address $athem, “Does it have to do with the warehouse where the fire started?” “It does.” $catheir reply is clipped, and you suppress the urge to flinch. $rname frowns more deeply. “I… stumbled on it while chasing a would-be abductor. Beneath the warehouse, I found an underground chamber.” You note the strange pause in $atheir words, but decide not to interrupt $athem as $athey tells you the story. “It used to be connected to the Royal Palace’s tunnels, but a cave-in blocked it off from use.” $aname’s expression is grim. “When I descended, I discovered a new tunnel dug into the chamber. It connects to Marabad’s prison.” You can’t help your shock, mouth slackening lightly as you realize the implication. “The people that have been going missing—they’re prisoners?” “It makes sense, doesn’t it?” $aname’s expression is cold, anger simmering beneath $atheir gaze as $athey scoffs, this time not directed at you. “No one would care what happens to them. I’ll have to investigate it further, but I suspect I’ll find more than a few have gone missing.” “So that’s where you were this whole time, investigating that underground passage?” “If that was all I had to do, I would’ve returned sooner.” $aname rolls $atheir shoulders, tilting $atheir neck from side to side to work the stiffness out. “I walked right into an ambush. They were likely part of the same people who attacked you in the city. The fire was their attempt at trying to erase all evidence; the fact that it spread across the district was unintended.” $rname’s eyes go wide, turning on you. “It's bad enough that $aname had to walk into an ambush, but you were attacked, too? I knew I shouldn’t have left you by yourself!” “Nothing happened to me,” you start, but $aname cuts you off. “Something could very well have happened.” $cathey scowls at you. “Not to mention the guard that was injured protecting you.” It’s a little pitiful, perhaps, but even in $atheir scolding you take some reassurance from the fact that $athey still cares for your safety. At your silence, $aname turns back to $rname, and informs $rthem of the person you saw who attempted to steal bodies from the rubble, whose comrades then helped them ambush you and your guards. “Do you think they’re related to the abductors?” $rname asks, and $aname shakes $atheir head with indecision. “I couldn’t tell you.” $cathey stares down at the table. “The people that have gone missing have all been alive. What would they be doing with corpses?” You don’t know if you even want to find out the answer to that. “So either they’re the same group that is stealing corpses, or we have two entirely different groups committing separate heinous acts.” $rname exhales a deep sigh, rubbing at a temple. “This complicates matters.” “Immensely.” $aname rises from $atheir seat, not even sparing you a look. “I should head to the prison. The sooner I can question the warden about how many of the prisoners are missing, the sooner we can solve this mystery.” Finally, $athey casts you a glance, then a curt nod, and then leaves without another word. “$name,” $rname asks quietly. “What happened between you and $aname? Why does $athey seem upset with you?” You part your lips to speak, but can’t find it within yourself to tell $rthem. It’s bad enough that $aname thinks you’re a horrible person, you don’t need the same treatment from your Sorcerer. “I made a mistake.” You press your lips together in a tense line. “One I can hopefully still fix.”<<else>>$rname awaits the two of you in a sitting room. $crtheir eyes light up with relief when $rthey sees $aname walk in after you, the two of you settling down at the table across from $rthem. “$aname, I’m so glad to see you’re well,” $rthey says, brows furrowed with question as $rthey looks at $athem. “Where on earth have you been? $name and I have been worried sick!” “My apologies,” $aname says, casting a look at you from the corner of $atheir eyes. “I never intended to stay away for as long as I did, but I found a lead on the missing citizens that I couldn’t pass up.” “You have?” $rname seems to forget the scolding $rthey must have prepared for $aname. “Does it have to do with the warehouse where the fire started?” “It does.” $aname glances at you again. “I… stumbled on it while chasing a would-be abductor. Beneath the warehouse, I found an underground chamber.” You note the strange pause in $atheir words, but decide not to interrupt $athem as $athey tells you the story. “It used to be connected to the Royal Palace’s tunnels, but a cave-in blocked it off from use.” $aname’s expression is grim. “When I descended, I discovered a new tunnel dug into the chamber. It connects to Marabad’s prison.” You can’t help your shock, mouth slackening lightly as you realize the implication. “The people that have been going missing—they’re prisoners?” “It makes sense, doesn’t it?” $aname’s expression is cold, anger simmering beneath $atheir gaze as $athey scoffs. “No one would care what happens to them. I’ll have to investigate it further, but I suspect I’ll find more than a few have gone missing.” “So that’s where you were this whole time,” you say, “investigating that underground passage?” $cathey glances at you again, then away. Why does $athey keep doing that? “If that was all I had to do, I would’ve returned to you sooner.” $aname rolls $atheir shoulders, tilting $atheir neck from side to side to work the stiffness out while you try not to read to deeply into $atheir choice of words—<em>to you</em>. “I walked right into an ambush. They were likely part of the same people who attacked you in the city. The fire was their attempt at trying to erase all evidence; the fact that it spread across the district was unintended.” $rname’s eyes go wide, turning on you. “It's bad enough that $aname had to walk into an ambush, but you were attacked, too? I knew I shouldn’t have left you by yourself!” “Nothing happened to me,” you start, but $aname cuts you off. “Don’t even start with that again.” $cathey scowls at you. “Something very well <em>could</em> have happened to you.” Despite knowing you should feel chastized by $atheir words, part of you almost wants to smile at how clearly concerned $athey was for you. At your silence, $aname turns back to $rname, and informs $rthem of the person you saw who attempted to steal bodies from the rubble, whose comrades then helped them ambush you and your guards. “Do you think they’re related to the abductors?” $rname asks, and $aname shakes $atheir head with indecision. Again, $athey’s glancing at you. You start to stare back at $athem, trying to figure out what has caused it, almost lifting your hand to your cheek. Do you have something on your face? “I couldn’t tell you.” $cathey stares down at the table, completely avoiding your eyes now. “The people that have gone missing have all been alive. What would they be doing with corpses?” You lose your trail of thought on $aname’s behavior at the remark, thinking that you don’t know if you even want to find out the answer to that. “So either they’re the same group that is stealing corpses, or we have two entirely different groups committing separate heinous acts.” $rname exhales a deep sigh, rubbing at a temple. “This complicates matters.” “Immensely,” $aname agrees. Doesn’t glance at you, but then you notice $atheir hand on the floor between your pillows, fingers inched in your direction. Suddenly all the constant glances begin to make sense. Your heart skips a beat, and you try not to let it show on your face as <<if $pass gt $ass>>you cautiously place your own hand near $atheirs, not wanting to risk having misread $athem entirely.<<else>>you cautiously place your own hand beside $atheirs, and gently touch your fingertips to $atheirs, testing whether you’ve read $athem correctly.<</if>> Moments later you feel a warm touch<<if $ass gt $pass>> returning yours<</if>>, and glance down to find $atheir fingertips slotted neatly between your own. <<if $res gt $flirt>>All the blood in your body seems to rush to your face at once, and you pray to the spirits $rname hasn’t noticed.<<else>>Your lips twist with the giddy urge to smile, managing to restrain it only barely before $rname notices.<</if>> $crthey appears oblivious, however, as $rthey rises to $rtheir feet. Your and $aname’s hands spring apart, and you only barely refrain from laughing, feeling like a child nearly caught doing something naughty. “I should ensure the magi are actually helping the city clean up the mess left from the fire,” $rname says, which brings both you and $aname back to your senses. $aname stands next, and you follow right after. “I should head to the prison. The sooner I can question the warden about how many of the prisoners are missing, the sooner we can solve this mystery.” $cathey looks at you, then at $rname. “See you again in a few hours?” $rname nods, heading out and giving you and $aname the room for a precious few moments. This time, $athey actually steps closer, boldly taking your hand in $atheirs—very different in intent to the way you held hands when you made your promise. <<if $res gt $flirt>>It’s all you can do not to melt on the spot<<else>>It’s all you can do not to tease $athem about it, smiling wide at $atheir initiative<</if>>. “Will you actually return to me this time,” you say, “or will I need to fetch you again?” $aname stares back into your eyes, then smiles<<if $flirt gt $res>> back<</if>>, a teasing glint in $atheir gaze. “Should I become lost at sea, is it not your duty to guide me home, north star?” <<if $flirt gt $res>>Now you<<else>>You<</if>> can’t hold back the laugh that bubbles up in your throat, feeling your chest warm with fondness. “You’ve really taken a liking to that metaphor, haven’t you, Mîrza?” “Comparing you to the sun would be too easy.” Amusement dimples $atheir cheeks. “I’d like to think I’m more creative than that.” “I agree.” You squeeze $atheir hand<<if $res gt $flirt>>, unable to fully look $athem in the eye as you admit, “<<else>>. “<</if>>I like it.” $aname looks like $athey wants to say something in response to that, but then stops, smiling to $athemselves almost self-consciously. “I should take my leave.” Reluctantly, you let $athem go, and remain standing in place—heart beating fast long after $athey has left.<</if>> [[Continue|11.17a]]“That is how they accomplished it,” $aname says quietly, staring out ahead of $athemselves with an almost blank stare as $athey considers the contents of the letter. “How they managed to apply multiple conditions, reacting to internal triggers such as feeling captured. You destroy someone’s mind, and rebuild it from the ground up.” <<if $afriend is false>>You spot the way $atheir fingers shake lightly around the letter, and you know immediately what must be going through $atheir mind. Is this what might have happened to Axîn? <<if $arelationship is 'low'>>You experience an urge to reach out to $aname, to take $atheir trembling hand in yours and smother its fear, but—it pains you to think—you don’t know whether your comfort would be welcomed. If anything, $aname would likely recoil from you at this point. So you keep your hands to yourself and avert your gaze. Instead, $xname leans over, putting a hand on $aname’s shoulder with a look of concern. “Everything alright, $aname?” $aname blinks, snapping out of $atheir trance as $athey meets $xname’s gaze. $catheir shoulders gradually ease their tension as $xname squeezes one. You pretend not to notice it. “Fine,” $aname replies, taking a breath before looking down at the letter again. “It’s good that you found this, $rname.”<<else>>You don’t think twice about reaching out, placing your hand around one of $aname’s to still its trembling, smother its fear. $aname blinks and meets your gaze, snapping out of $atheir trance. You don’t want to say anything in front of the others, knowing $aname would prefer to keep matters concerning $atheir sister a secret, hoping your meaning comes across in your gaze. It seems it does, because $aname musters up half a smile. It doesn’t fully reach $atheir eyes, but $atheir expression softens with visible gratitude. “I’m alright,” $athey reassures you, and you release $atheir hand again, ignoring the looks from the other three in the room. $aname faces them as if nothing had happened, though $athey pointedly does not look in $xname’s direction, who smiles faintly as $xthey glances between the two of you while $aname speaks. “It’s good that you found this, $rname.”<</if>><<else>>$aname’s hands shake lightly around the letter, as if some kind of fear has suddenly come over $athem, one that leaves the rest of you worried and confused. $xname leans over, putting a hand on $aname’s shoulder. “Everything alright, $aname?” $aname blinks, snapping out of $atheir trance as $athey meets $xname’s gaze. $catheir shoulders gradually ease their tension as $xname squeezes one. “Fine,” $athey replies at length, taking a breath before looking down at the letter again. $cathey seems eager to change the subject, so you do $athem the favor of not asking $athem about it. “It’s good that you found this, $rname.”<</if>> “It’s not much,” $rname considers, “but at least it gives us a glimpse of what goals the creator… or, <em>creators</em> of these mental wards might have had. Seemingly two separate people working together in the ‘pursuit of knowledge’, they called it.” $dname seems to have a different takeaway. “The letter mentions funds.” $cdthey looks at you, the same thought crossing both your minds. “Funded by the Followers, like my father was?” “It’s possible.” $cdthey frowns at the letter still in $aname’s hands. “Perhaps they are involved with them still, or perhaps the Followers merely adopted their methods. Whichever the case, I wonder if there is a financial trail we could uncover.” “One most likely found in Şevan,” $rname points out, “which is currently in chaos.” Not something you can pursue at this very moment, from the other side of the country. You know you must visit Şevan eventually, however—and preferably soon after your expedition to the mountains—at which point the four of you agree you’ll be able to pick up on this lead again. It seems Keeper Bazo snubbing your coronation was a portent for more things to come. [[Continue|11.com7]] Your Imperial Majesty, I ask your forgiveness for sending you this letter. My son made mistakes in his life, but he is a good boy at heart. His name is Ardil, he would have turned thirty-two this year. He only tried to provide for his family. Whatever his sins, he never had any intention of harming anyone. They sent him to prison for smuggling forbidden magic items, something he should never have done, but then they forgot about him and left him to rot. He had a young child, Your Imperial Majesty, he only wanted to make sure she wouldn’t grow up poor like he did. I know he has done wrong. I have no right to ask this of you, but I throw myself upon your mercy, Your Imperial Majesty. Please, I beg of you, seek justice for him. No one else cares. They don’t care that he has a family who loves him, a daughter that he has been taken from, brothers and sisters who mourn him, parents who would have died for him. He made a mistake, Your Imperial Majesty, but he was still a person. Someone with hopes and dreams. They treated him like an animal for making a mistake. He was my son. I held him in my arms when he was born, and now I will never hold him again. Please, find who did this to him. [[Continue|11.div6]] You have to swallow down a lump in your throat. <<if $name is 'Ardil'>>The person condemned to prison, stolen away and turned into a weapon to kill you with, shares the same name as you. How easily could it have been you, had you walked a different path in life, had you not been chosen by the spirits? How easily could the anguish expressed in this letter have been your mother’s and father’s, had this happened to you?<<else>>The father’s anguish strikes a chord you did not expect. You knew the missing people were a problem, you knew the assassin was likely controlled in some way by another and did not attack you out of their free will, but to see the consequences of it staring you back in the eyes—it is painful.<</if>> “How…” You clear your throat, recollecting yourself before you lower the letter to the table and look at $aname. “How much does he know about what happened to his son?” “He doesn’t know about the attempt on your life, or anything related to it.” $aname almost looks guilty for it, even though hiding it is the best thing to do. “All he knows is that someone abducted and murdered his son. The body was restored as best we could manage it, before we returned it to the family.” “It is a kindness to keep it from him,” $dname says to $aname. “The assassin was not his son, he was twisted into something else. His actions were not his own. We shouldn’t needlessly add to his father’s grief.” A heavy silence settles over the room as you each take a moment to process the situation. $rname reads the letter you set aside, a similar melancholy striking $rtheir features as $rthey is affected by its contents. $dname appears deep in thought, while $aname stares out the window nearby, posture still tense. $xname seems restless, twisting an empty cup around between $xtheir fingers. Eventually, you break the silence. “Was the underground chamber you found abandoned, $aname?” “It was.” $cathey appears frustrated by that fact. “We found some traces of recent activity, but all signs of magic were erased. They must have anticipated we would find them once they realized we captured one of their assassins.” “The chase continues, then,” you say, breathing a deep sigh. At least it’s good to know you have whoever is behind this on the run. “Can you find something more from the prison, perhaps?” “That’s where we plan on searching next.” $aname’s lips curl with disdain at the mention of it. “We can keep it safer than the warden did, at any rate.” [[Continue|11.com7]]<<if $divination is false>>“Was that it, then?” $xname says, placing $xtheir hands behind $xthem on the floor as $xthey leans back on $xtheir pillow. “I’ve gotten tired from all this strategizing.”<<else>>“Well,” $xname speaks mildly, placing $xtheir hands behind $xthem on the floor as $xthey leans back on $xtheir pillow. “That was my limit for emotional gut punches in one day. Are we done strategizing? I feel tired.” It’s $xtheir way to insert some lightness into the weighted air, and $aname decides to engage with $xtheir attempt.<</if>> <<if $dfriend is false>>“You sure it wasn’t $dname beating you at backgammon that tired you out?” $aname remarks, and $xname glares at $athem while $dname huffs an amused breath. “If you think I’m so easily beaten, how about a round?” “I’ll keep track of the score,” $dname proposes, and $aname nods, satisfied. “Fetch the board, then, Pale Sword.” $xname goes to do exactly that, though $xtheir gaze turns to $rname as $xthey takes the backgammon board off the shelf. “By the way, $rname, did you receive my birthday present?”<<else>>“Missing out on nap time?” $aname taunts, and $xname glares at $athem. “I’ve stayed up more nights than you’ve been <em>alive</em>, soldier.” $aname arches a single brow. “You know that makes no sense, right? Though it’s a strange thing to brag about regardless.” “I told you, I’m tired!” $xname throws up $xtheir hands. “I’m not as quick-witted as usual, alright?” “Evidently.” <<if $afriend is false and $arelationship is 'low'>> You watch the exchange with mixed emotions, $aname’s fondness evident beneath $atheir banter. It has been days since $athey treated you the same way, and you miss it deeply. Making up your mind, you decide you have to make this right. $aname told you $athey’s not the one you should’ve apologized to, so you’ll apologize to the ones who deserve it. You don’t know if it will make $aname forgive you, but at least you won’t be stuck sitting with this guilt in the pit of your stomach anymore. Oblivious to your thoughts, <</if>>$xname lets out a huff, turning $xtheir attention away from $aname as $xtheir gaze falls on $rname. “By the way, $rname, did you receive my birthday present? I sent it while I was still away from the palace, but there might have been delays.”<</if>> Before $rname can open $rtheir mouth to respond, you cut in. “Birthday present?” You look at $rname with a frown. “It’s your birthday?” “<em>Was</em> $rtheir birthday,” $xname corrects<<if $dfriend is false>> while sitting back down across from $aname and opening the board up, the two of them beginning to arrange their chips<</if>>. “On the fifth. $rname, you didn’t tell the Crown?” <<if $rfriend is false>>$rname appears flustered, glancing from you to $xname. “It- the whole thing slipped my mind!” You try to remember what you were doing on the fifth, and then realize it was the same day $rname fell into a brief coma. No wonder $rthey didn’t mention it. “I should get you a present,” you decide, which only seems to fluster $rname even further. “Is there anything you want?” You suppose $rname could very well get whatever $rthey wants $rthemselves at any time. Maybe you should <em>make</em> $rthem a present instead of simply buying something? You’re not particularly talented at crafting anything, though. Though, what about a commission for a unique piece of jewelry? $rname certainly loves wearing accessories, and it would be more personalized. Now to decide on what to get $rthem. A necklace, or some earrings? Perhaps a bracelet? You’ll have to put some thought into it. “You really don’t need to!” $rthey says hurriedly as you ponder on your gift. “I’m fine, really. I don’t even celebrate my birthday. It’s enough to—” $crthey starts to stammer. “Enough to know that you… I’m just- glad you care.” $crthey mutters the last sentence with $rtheir head bent, avoiding your eyes. You can’t suppress a smile, completely endeared by the shyness. $xname starts to coo. “Look at you two! This is so adorable—” “Shut up, $xname,” $aname chides $xthem, <<if $res gt $flirt>>and you shoot $athem a grateful look before turning back to $rname<<else>>though you’re hardly offended—if anything, it’s a little amusing as you turn back to $rname<</if>>. “I insist,” you say, though you add, “unless it would make you uncomfortable?” $rname shakes $rtheir head, returning a small smile back to you. “Not at all.” <<else>>$rname laughs a little, giving you an apologetic smile. “The whole thing honestly slipped my mind!” “Still,” you say, “I should get you a present. Is there anything you want?” “You really don’t need to.” $rname waves a hand. “I don’t even celebrate my birthday, usually.” “Did the others all get you a gift?” “I did,” $aname says, and even $dname nods. You pointedly look back at $rname. “I can’t be the only one <em>not</em> to get you a gift, $rname.” Though you add, after a moment of thought, “Unless it would make you uncomfortable?” “Not at all.” $rname smiles brightly at you. “I appreciate your thoughtfulness, $name.” “Then it’s settled.” You’re already making plans in your head to peruse the marketplaces, perhaps visit the pleasure houses to talk to some artists when $rname’s smile fades.<</if>> $crtheir expression turns serious again as something seems to occur to $rthem. “There is one more thing, $name,” $rthey says, giving you a look heavy with meaning. “<<if $peritrader is true>>Your meeting with the peri trader and Kham is tomorrow<<else>>Kham will be returning to Anshan at the end of next week, which means we’ll be able to visit the peri trader soon<</if>>. We should plan for it.” The work never ends, it seems. [[End Chapter|12.1]]<<set $day to 16>><<if $arelationship is 'low'>>Things don’t improve much between you and $aname over the following days. $cathey doesn’t show any more anger towards you, and $atheir temperament has eased to no longer giving you cold looks, having decided instead to simply treat you with polite distance. You take it as a sign of some recovery, though you realize it will take more than time to get $aname to warm to you again. Your relationship was dealt a significant blow due to your decision. All you can do in the interim is distract yourself with matters of governance. Though you do wish you didn’t have to deal with the Imperial Court as much as you do on a daily basis.<<else>>As exciting as the new development in your relationship with $aname has been, unfortunately, you don’t get much more time to explore it further over the following days. Between the clean-up in the city, the investigation $aname is occupied with, and the Imperial Court, you both have your hands full. The latter especially turns out to be more difficult to deal with than you anticipated.<</if>> You find yourself locking horns even with court officials you handpicked personally, so long as they have a personal stake in going against your judgment. It exemplifies what you’re beginning to understand is an inherently antagonistic relationship with the court. “Raising taxes on the farmers?” you repeat incredulously over one afternoon, thinking your court must be playing a joke on you. “They have been paying taxes to the Mîrs in your absence, Your Imperial Majesty,” the Minister of Personnel, Lerzan, puts forward, “but not to the Imperial Household.” You frown. “Then I will ask for an account from the Mîrs.” <<if $law isnot 'outwitted'>>“The Mîrs have already offered their share in tithes upon your coronation, Your Imperial Majesty,” Minister Besna replies. “You cannot force them to pay a surplus, it is not lawful.”<<else>>“The Mîrs have already offered their share in tithes upon your coronation, Your Imperial Majesty,” Minister Lerzan replies. “You cannot force them to pay a surplus, it is not lawful. Is that not so, Minister of Law?” You look at <<if $lawminister is 'nudem'>>Minister Nûdem, who scowls back at Minister Lerzan. “That is a very broad interpretation of the law, Minister Lerzan,” they reply coolly. “It exists to ensure the Crown does not exploit the Mîrs, but this situation concerns an oversight in taxation. I do not think it ought to be applied here. We should prioritize the principle of fairness instead.” “Efficiency must take precedence over ‘fairness’, as you call it,” Minister Lerzan shoots back. “If the Imperial Household goes bankrupt, who will pay to maintain the roads, the public buildings, the Imperial Army that protects us all? We must find the gold for it, sooner rather than later, and we cannot pressure the Mîrs to pay double what they already have.”<<if $security is 'both' and $festivities is 'both'>> She casts a look in your direction. “The expenses made for the coronation certainly didn’t help, in that regard.” You glare back at her as the court erupts into a small commotion. “The coronation was already much smaller than those of previous Crowns,” Chief Minister Karwan points out irritably. He’s a veteran of politics, and the one who functions as the Voice of the Crown. The one to set the agenda for meetings, and who functions as your mouthpiece in your absence. “It is disingenuous to imply it has caused the shortage of gold. If nothing had been spent, you would be standing here complaining about that instead!” “I did not say it was the main cause for the shortage,” Minister Lerzan retorts hotly, scowling back at Karwan. “But it has contributed, as have many other things! The point is that the Mîrs should not be expected to pay the price for it.”<</if>><<else>>Minister Zar, whose brows furrow with some uncertainty, but he does not outright contradict her. “It is perhaps a somewhat broad interpretation of the law,” he admits to you upon seeing your questioning look, “but Minister Lerzan is correct about the letter of it. Asking the Mîrs to pay more on behalf of their provinces could be considered unlawful.”<</if>><</if>> <<if $publicfavored gt $elitefavored>>“But I can force the farmers to pay instead?” you speak with frustration, shifting in your seat as you can feel your temper building. Notably, the representatives of the Mîrs are remaining silent during this discussion. Satisfied, perhaps, to let others fight their battles for them. “How do you expect them to make up for the lack in the Imperial Vault?” “We do not suggest this because it pleases us, Your Imperial Majesty,” the Minister of Correspondence chimes in, bowing her head. “We only make the point because of how severely underfunded many of our offices are. The treasury is lacking such that we will not be able to pay our government officials in the long run, let alone maintain utilities such as the Crown’s Road. This would be especially disastrous in the case of the Imperial Army.<<if $nazaminister is true>> Is that not so, Minister Naza?” Naza glances in your direction, but then agrees with Minister Çinar. “Yes, that is true.” She turns to address you next. “Frankly speaking, Your Imperial Majesty, I do not care where you get the gold from. Be it the Mîrs or the farmers or Şahmaran herself, the situation will soon become dire. As it stands, it is a struggle to find the coin even for the most basic repairs to equipment.” Perhaps it was too much to hope for her to openly side with you on this issue. It seems Naza does not care how you accomplish it, so long as you do.<</if>> “I understand that,” you speak, forcing your jaw to unclench so that you do not speak through gritted teeth, “but the solution cannot be to put the pressure on the farmers to fund it all.” “Humbly speaking, Your Imperial Majesty,” Minister Lerzan says, not sounding humble at all, “how else do you suggest we get the necessary gold? Even if we tax the Mîrs additionally, would they be able to fund everything we need?” “Perhaps I’ll have the Mîrs pay with one of their palaces,” you sneer. “Surely that would be sufficient.” The Imperial Court erupts in protests, and the meeting—as well as the rest of your afternoon—devolves into chaos.<<else>>You loathe to give in on this point, but it seems most of the court is set against you, and even your usual allies decide to abstain from the decision. You don’t arrive at a solution during that meeting, the stalemate between you and the court lasting for hours, until you finally decide to end the discussion here. Perhaps with time, you’ll be able to find a different solution, and if not, you may have to give in to your court’s wishes. That, more than anything, aggravates you immensely. What are you the Crown for, if you do not have the authority to enforce your will?<</if>> [[Continue|11.ra0]]<<if $dfriend is true>><<if $dgender is 'male'>><<set $dname to 'General Dara'>><<else>><<set $dname to 'General Delal'>><</if>><</if>><<if $peritrader is false>><<set $day to 17>><<else>><<set $day to 22>><</if>><<set $progress to "12">><div id="12.1">@@.chaptertitleact1;CHAPTER TWELVE@@</div>@@.titleblack;Friend and Foe@@ It has become rare for you to find time for yourself. Between all your responsibilities as the Crown, the plans and preparations for the expedition to the mountains, everything that happened with <<if $loveinterest is 'A'>>$aname<</if>><<if $loveinterest is 'X'>>$xname<</if>><<if $loveinterest is 'D'>>$dname<</if>><<if $loveinterest is 'R'>>$rname<</if>>, and now this whole ordeal with Kham, you have had scarcely any time to simply sit with yourself alone. Or, as alone you can be with invisible guards near you at all times. You asked them to grant you some space to yourself as you decided to take refuge in a gazebo in the gardens, though you’re certain the guards still keep you within their line of sight even from a distance. The knowledge is not as disturbing to you as it once was: you have grown accustomed to it, and the guards do their best to be as unobtrusive as possible. In a way, it’s a sense of safety you have sorely missed during all your years on the run, to know there are people nearby who would risk their lives to protect you at the slightest sign of danger. The roof of the gazebo casts a soft shadow over you, protecting against the sun’s overbearing warmth in the early afternoon. Even near the end of the season, a wave of heat clings to Marabad as if summer itself were reluctant to bid its goodbye. Your mind is blissfully empty as you watch a butterfly hover around one of the rosebushes surrounding your gazebo. Its brilliantly blue wings flicker and reflect light with every beat, flashing so brightly it’s almost blinding to look at. Eventually, it settles down on top of a pale white rose, allowing you to think of nothing as you simply admire its wings. You’d almost forgotten what it was like to have silence in your head. A sense of much needed peace settles over you as you inhale a breath, then slowly exhale, knowing how fortunate you are to be able to enjoy this. A year ago you would have been constantly glancing over your shoulder, hidden somewhere quiet and dark in the hopes of escaping attention. How unfathomably far you’ve come. Footsteps approach from the stone path to break your solitude, drawing your attention, though you are not upset by the intrusion when you see who it is: <<if $rfriend is false>><<if $agender is 'male'>>[[Azad|12afriend][$afriendship to $afriendship + 2]]<<else>>[[Ashti|12afriend][$afriendship to $afriendship + 2]]<</if>> <<if $dgender is 'male'>>[[Dara|12dfriend][$dfriendship to $dfriendship + 3]]<<else>>[[Delal|12dfriend][$dfriendship to $dfriendship + 3]]<</if>> <<if $xgender is 'male'>>[[Xelef|12xfriend][$xfriendship to $xfriendship + 4]]<<else>>[[Xelara|12xfriend][$xfriendship to $xfriendship + 4]]<</if>><</if>><<if $afriend is false>><<if $rgender is 'male'>>[[Rêzan|12rfriend][$rfriendship to $rfriendship + 2]]<<else>>[[Rozerîn|12rfriend][$rfriendship to $rfriendship + 2]]<</if>> <<if $dgender is 'male'>>[[Dara|12dfriend][$dfriendship to $dfriendship + 3]]<<else>>[[Delal|12dfriend][$dfriendship to $dfriendship + 3]]<</if>> <<if $xgender is 'male'>>[[Xelef|12xfriend][$xfriendship += 4]]<<else>>[[Xelara|12xfriend][$xfriendship to $xfriendship + 4]]<</if>><</if>><<if $xfriend is false>><<if $agender is 'male'>>[[Azad|12afriend][$afriendship to $afriendship + 2]]<<else>>[[Ashti|12afriend][$afriendship to $afriendship + 2]]<</if>> <<if $dgender is 'male'>>[[Dara|12dfriend][$dfriendship to $dfriendship + 3]]<<else>>[[Delal|12dfriend][$dfriendship to $dfriendship + 3]]<</if>> <<if $rgender is 'male'>>[[Rêzan|12rfriend][$rfriendship to $rfriendship + 2]]<<else>>[[Rozerîn|12rfriend][$rfriendship to $rfriendship + 2]]<</if>><</if>><<if $dfriend is false>><<if $xgender is 'male'>>[[Xelef|12xfriend][$xfriendship to $xfriendship + 4]]<<else>>[[Xelara|12xfriend][$xfriendship to $xfriendship + 4]]<</if>> <<if $agender is 'male'>>[[Azad|12afriend][$afriendship to $afriendship + 2]]<<else>>[[Ashti|12afriend][$afriendship to $afriendship + 2]]<</if>> <<if $rgender is 'male'>>[[Rêzan|12rfriend][$rfriendship to $rfriendship + 2]]<<else>>[[Rozerîn|12rfriend][$rfriendship to $rfriendship + 2]]<</if>><</if>>“Am I interrupting?” $aname climbs up the steps to join you in the shade of the gazebo, though $athey remains standing, not sitting down yet. Waiting for your permission, perhaps. You smile at $atheir considerate nature. “Not at all. Join me if you’d like.” $aname takes the seat beside you on the couch, and your eyes are drawn to $atheir clothes, different from the long robes $athey usually wears when out of $atheir armor. $cathey dons a pair of loose, linen pants shorter than a shalwar, cut off above the ankles, with an equally as airy white tunic. It seems $athey has truly dressed for the weather today. “Days like these make me long for the coast,” $aname laments, gazing out over the quiet gardens. It seems no one wants to wander around in the sun in this weather. “There is hardly any wind here to cool you down, and using wards can only mitigate so much.” That makes you think, a thought occurring to you as your brows furrow with concern. “Are the Imperial Guards alright?” $aname casts you an amused look. “They’re not standing around in the sun, if that’s what you’re worried about.” You raise your brows. “Does that mean they’re all stuffed inside the gazebo with us?” $aname snorts. “That would be impressive, but no. They’re either in the shade of the palace or the trees. Two of them are standing in the shadow of the gazebo, right over there.” $cathey points to the left. You lean over to look before you remember that your guards are invisible and you’re staring at nothing, gifting $aname a laugh at your expense. “Has the heat gone to your head?” $aname teases, <<if $blunt gt $charm>>and you give $athem a playful little shove against $atheir shoulder. “I forget sometimes!” You shake your head. “It’s been a month, but it’s still strange to think I have invisible people following me around everywhere. Nearly my whole life has been spent hiding.”<<else>>and you chuckle at it, able to admit to the humor of it. “That, and I’m still not used to having guards.” You shake your head. “Especially not invisible ones. It is a lot to adjust to when I’m used to hiding from others rather than being watched.”<</if>> “If the presence of your guards feel too intrusive, don’t hesitate to tell them to back away,” $aname says, speaking seriously for a moment. “They should have enough common sense to judge when to take their distance, but even so.” You appreciate $aname’s reassurance, though you are not entirely certain about it. “Do they?” “Of course.” Mischief creeps back into $aname’s expression, lips twisting into a slight smile. <<if $xfriend is false>>“Imagine, for example, that you are having a private moment with $xname—” <<if $res gt $flirt>>“$aname!” Heat rushes up to your face, though your glare is halfhearted at best.<<else>>“Oh, you ass!” You glare at $aname for the jest, though it is halfhearted at best.<</if>> “What?” $aname quirks a single brow as $athey looks back at you, as if your response was somehow over the top. “It’s not as if you’ve made a secret of it.” <<if $res gt $flirt>>You lift a hand to cover your eyes, taking a breath as you resign yourself to this pestering for the foreseeable future. Once you lower your hand again, you say,<<else>>You shake your head at $aname, though truthfully you’re more amused than anything.<</if>> “$xname and I are still getting to know each other.” “Intimately, I take it?” <<if $res gt $flirt>>“Stop!” Your flush spreads to your ears, and you’re halfway to getting up out of your seat. “I swear, $aname, I’ll leave—”<<else>>”Oh, for—” You roll your eyes while $aname snickers, no doubt thinking $athemselves very clever. “I <em>will</em> leave.”<</if>> “Fine, fine.” $aname waves a hand to placate you. “That was the last one, I promise.” You eye $athem warily, but decide to take $athem at $atheir word. In a strange way, the teasing feels nice: you have never had a friend that could playfully rib you about things like this before. It feels startlingly normal when your life has been anything but, or at least, what you imagine ‘normal’ must be like for the average person. There is something carefree about it. “If I am to be serious from here on out,” $aname continues, leaning back against the couch, “then let me start by asking you this: how do you feel about $xname?” Something has shifted in $atheir tone. On the surface, $athey appears just as at ease as before, but the look in $atheir eyes is piercing, $atheir words more testing as $athey regards you. While $aname was distant towards you during the early stages of your knowing each other, you have never seen $athem look at you like this before, with such cold assessment. Suddenly, you get the sense that you’re in for an interrogation. <<if $pass gt $ass>>“I…” <</if>>Taking a breath to steady yourself, you hold $aname’s gaze as you answer honestly. “I like $xthem, and I want to see where it goes.” $aname is silent, and does not react to your words visibly. You’re starting to get nervous by the time $athey finally speaks again. “I have known $xname for many years now, and I have never seen $xthem so affected by a potential lover. Between the two of you, $xthey would have much more to lose should it go awry.” $cathey is protective over $xname. That, at least, you can understand. “I know,” you say carefully, “but no one begins a relationship like this anticipating the end of it.” $catheir lips tilt up into a smile. “That’s true.” $cathey watches you a moment longer, and then something eases in $atheir expression. “This is not only for $xthem, mind you. $xname will doubtlessly mess up—already <em>has</em> messed up, in fact. Should you need someone to knock some sense into $xthem, you know where to find me.” Tension lessening as you sense $aname’s veiled warnings are at an end, you dare a jest. “Fulfilling your duty as my Royal Protector?” <<if $afriendship gte 2>>“No.” $aname’s smile turns a little warmer. “Fulfilling my duty as your friend.” You’re struck speechless. $aname hasn’t been one for sentimental talk in all the time you’ve known $athem, and this coming from $athem is significant. $aname averts $atheir gaze right after $athey has said it, shifting around on $atheir seat. “You’re staring.” “Sorry, it’s only…” You can’t help but smile back, feeling warmed from the inside out. “I’m glad that we’re friends.” $cathey entirely avoids your eyes as $athey crosses $atheir arms, looking entirely out of $atheir element. “Right.” You snort with amusement. “Be thankful that I am the better person and do not repay you for your teasing earlier by hanging this over your head.” $aname meets your eyes again, casting you a wry look. “Praise be to $ctheir Imperial Majesty, the most merciful among us.”<<else>>“Of course.” $aname gives you a wry look. “I would not want my wages cut.” You grin back at $athem. “Your friendship and loyalty are truly beyond reproach.” $cathey grins back at you. “That’s what you pay me for.” “And what does $xname pay you?” $aname thinks on it a moment. “I get to laugh at $xtheir expense whenever $dname lands a particularly witty insult.” You snort. “With friends like these…”<</if>><</if>><<if $rfriend is false>>“Imagine, for example, that you are having a private moment with $rname—” <<if $res gt $flirt>>“$aname!” Heat rushes up to your face, only causing $aname to laugh again.<<else>>“Oh, you ass!” You glare at $aname for the jest, though it is halfhearted at best.<</if>> “What?” $aname quirks a single brow as $athey looks back at you, as if your response was somehow over the top. “Are you denying it?” <<if $res gt $flirt>>You lift a hand to cover your eyes, taking a breath as you resign yourself to this pestering for the foreseeable future. Once you lower your hand again, you say,<<else>>You shake your head at $aname, though truthfully you’re more amused than anything.<</if>> “No, but…” $aname’s expression sobers at your hesitation, its mirth wiped away. “You’re not certain of it?” “We haven’t had a chance to talk about it yet,” you clarify, a frown marring your features as you remember how weak $rname was in the days after $rthey awoke from $rtheir coma. “So much has happened, and… if we were to pursue something, I would want to do it properly.” “That sounds sensible enough,” $aname agrees, though the look in $atheir eyes is one of a cautious discerning. “Though I would ask you to tread carefully. Out of everyone, your opinion is the one that matters most to $rthem, and consequently, is the one that can do $rthem the most harm.” “I think the world of $rthem,” you insist, but $aname shakes $atheir head. “<em>You</em> might know that, but if you don’t express it, how will $rthey?” $cathey gives a self-deprecating smile. “I know that sounds rich coming from me, as reserved as I am, but that is why I understand the inclination to assume others must already know your feelings. It’s easier that way.” $cathey pauses, hesitance crossing $atheir face, until $athey adds, “There has been many a time in the past where I neglected to speak true to what I felt, and it cost me.” “With a lover?” you ask, and it pulls $aname from $atheir contemplation. “My one and only courtship.” $cathey sighs, eyes trailing off to look at the gardens. “I’m not usually one for sentimental words, and it grated on him. Eventually… well. We ended things amicably enough, and it’s in the past now. The point is—” $cathey looks at you again. “$rname needs to know of your faith in $rthem most of all. I’m sure you have noticed how $rthey is beset by insecurity.” You certainly have, and it’s understandable why $rthey feels that way. From the very beginning, $rname has been mocked and looked down upon by those that consider themselves $rtheir betters, affecting even Lady Zerya for choosing to take $rname on as her successor. Then, to be a Sorcerer without $rtheir Crown placed $rthem in an even more precarious position. What $rname needs from you most is the validation that has been denied $rthem for $rtheir entire life. “I see your point,” you say to $aname. “Thank you for your insight, $aname. I’ll keep it in mind.” “Insight?” $cathey grins. “Was that a reference?” You remember that it is also what $atheir ability to read minds is called, and you roll your eyes. <<if $blunt gt $charm>>“No.”<<else>>“Take it that way if you must.”<</if>><<if $rrelationship is 'low'>> “One other thing, though.” $catheir grin fades. “Have you noticed anything off about $rname lately?” You give $athem a quizzical look. “Such as what?” “I’m not sure.” $aname frowns deeply. “I considered asking $xname if $xthey could sense $rname’s aura, but I know $rname would not have wanted that. My own sensory abilities are not as refined, however, so I can’t say for certain. All I know is that $rname seems strangely aloof at times.” “Have you tried asking $rthem about it?” “I have, which is what made me think something is wrong.” $aname crosses $atheir arms, resting back against the couch as $athey recalls, “$crthey evaded the question and has done $rtheir utmost to avoid being alone in a room with me since then.” If $rname is distancing $rthemselves from $rtheir friends, that would certainly be a bad sign. You begin to worry that perhaps not everything was as resolved as you thought it was after the water temple. Is there something you overlooked? “Then I’ll try to talk to $rthem,” you decide, hoping that perhaps you might have a better chance at getting $rname to open up than $aname did. “Maybe I’ll have better luck to get $rthem to open up.” $aname smiles at you. “I think you will.”<<else>>Something occurs to you as your thoughts linger on $rname. “I have a question for you, actually.” “What is it?” “It’s about $rname’s birthday gift,” you admit, sighing just remembering it. “I have been wracking my head on what to get $rthem all <<if $peritrader is false>>day<<else>>week<</if>>, but I can’t decide. What sort of thing would $rthey appreciate?” $aname hums with thought. “In $rtheir position, $rthey could buy $rthemselves whatever $rthey likes, so I would say something handmade would make $rthem happiest.” You already thought of that as well, but still have your doubts about it. “I was considering warding a piece of jewelry for $rthem, but $rtheir skill in magic far surpasses my own.” “It’s not about your skill,” $aname says, amusement curling in the corner of $atheir mouth. “It’s about something personal that you put effort into. Something unique to you—making use of your magic affinity, perhaps?” An idea comes to you, spurred on by $aname’s last remark. It would still be a very simple piece of magic, but especially as you will be traveling to the mountains, $rname could surely make use of it. “I think I know what to make $rthem now,” you say, smiling as you can hardly wait to get started on it. “Thanks, $aname.” <</if>><</if>><<if $dfriend is false>>“Imagine, for example, that you are having a private moment with…” $cathey trails off suddenly, and you give $athem a questioning look. “No, never mind.” $cathey looks away from you, seeming suddenly a little ill at ease. “I should not make a joke of that.” You frown at $athem. “A joke of what, $aname?” $cathey sighs, resting back against the couch as $athey continues to avoid your eyes. “I fear even mentioning it may be inappropriate—at least, where the court is concerned.” You need no other hint as to who $aname speaks of, your mind immediately turning to the one person with whom your entire relationship has been fraught with questions of potential impropriety. It should not surprise you that your Royal Protector is aware of what’s going on between you, at least enough to have noticed the tension: doubtlessly <em>all</em> your Imperial Guards have noticed, what with how they shadow you night and day. “It would be,” you admit quietly, looking away from $aname in turn as your eyes lower to your lap, tension tightening your shoulders. You hear $aname sigh. “I shouldn’t have even brought it up. My apologies.” “What do you have to apologize for?” You recall how $dname distanced $dthemselves from you after $dthey awoke from $dtheir injury and you witnessed the memory of how $dthey got $dtheir scar. Unlike you, $dname didn’t seem to have any trouble in ignoring. “There is nothing for you to bring up to begin with.” It would be scandalous if there was. This is exemplified even within Arsur’s own history. During your studies into the reigns of prior Crowns, you stumbled upon one remembered in history as Love-blind Jiyan, the Tenth Crown of the Arsurian Empire. They were known as a capable ruler in all other respects, save for the taboo that would shape their legacy forever, leading to a brief but notable uprising. At the time, Crown Jiyan had fallen in love with the provincial army commander of Zerat, a decorated soldier named Asin, and the two began a secret love affair. One that ended in disaster. Back then, there were no taboos regarding the Crown courting someone who served in their Outer Court, part of the military chain of command. That changed after Jiyan and Asin’s romance fell apart: they were unable to navigate the difference in status between them. Jiyan’s patronizing that was natural from a Crown agitated Asin now that they were lovers, and Asin’s meddling in the Crown’s other affairs and reaching beyond his station caused similar troubles for Jiyan in turn. Eventually, it led them to a rather vicious separation, and Asin went as far as to join an uprising that was brewing in the south of Zerat at the time. The civil war that followed, coined as the Lovers’ Feud, was a violent one, though it was confined to province and put down within the year. You cannot ever imagine condescending to $dname the way Jiyan did to Asin, nor can you imagine $dname ever being so impulsive and insecure as Asin was, but the tale admittedly has worried you. What if there should come a time when you and $dname irreconcilably disagree on a political matter? Would you find it within you to overrule $dthem? And should you overrule $dthem, would $dname be able to withstand it, or would $dthey grow resentful? <<if $drelationship is 'low'>>Perhaps $dname has the right of it when $dthey distances $dthemselves from you as soon as the two of you get to close. With such bloody precedent, you can only imagine the uproar not only from the Imperial Court, but the general public as well.<<else>>While those things certainly concern you, it frustrates you to think that both $dname and you should be so defined and confined by your roles. You are not only the Crown, and $dthey is not only the general of your army. You are two people who are drawn to each other for reasons entirely your own, and there is nothing to suggest that history need repeat so long as you are careful. You are not and you will not be your predecessors—if only you could convince $dname of it.<</if>> “But do you want there to be?” Startling from your thoughts, you meet $aname’s eyes again, watching you with a searching look. “Do I want there to be what?” you ask, having completely lost track of your conversation. “Do you want there to be something to talk about?” A veiled question for what $athey actually means, which is a far riskier topic than you expected $aname to broach. Yet there appears to be no judgment in $atheir gaze, and you do not get the sense that $athey would disapprove were you to be honest regarding your interest in $dname. “It doesn’t matter what I want,” you finally say, letting slip some of your frustration with the situation without outright stating it. “I am not the one making the decision.” $dname is making it, albeit shackled to $dtheir reputation, to $dtheir family name, to the fear of being disgraced like $dtheir mother once was and harming your status because of it. Ultimately, $dthey too is pressured by what the nobility would think. “It is wise to tread carefully,” $aname considers. “Still, the way you two are going about it is rather painful to look at. You do not need to be so fearful.” You smile sadly. “But you agree that we should keep our distance from each other.” $cathey frowns, thinking on it, but then admits, “I don’t know. An entanglement between the two of you might get… complicated, shall we say. But I hardly think that has to define what kind of Crown you will be.” Is it really that simple? “If the court should find out that we’re so much as interested in each other, they would—” “$name,” $aname interrupts, brows arched, “are you mistaking me for someone who gives a damn about what the Imperial Court thinks?” The remark takes you aback, if only a little. “<em>You</em> might not care, but everyone else…” $aname casts you an unimpressed stare. “Your rule as a Crown is what should concern them, not who you choose to bed.” <<if $res gt $flirt>>Your eyes go wide, too flustered to even sputter out a protest. $aname gives you a somewhat apologetic grin. “Alright, I’ll stop. Now I just feel like I’m bullying you.” You scowl at $athem, though it is undermined by the redness in your cheeks. “You think?” It is no true offense from your part, however.<<else>>You let out a laugh despite yourself. “Shout it from the rooftops, why don’t you! I don’t think they quite heard you over in Zeratun.” $aname grins back at you. “I could submit a proposal for a public proclamation, if you’d like?” You roll your eyes, though you cannot keep the smile from your face.<</if>> In fact, it’s nice that $aname isn’t making a big deal of it, finding the humor in it instead. What with how long your mind has been troubled by this situation with $dname, it helps put things in perspective.<</if>> [[Continue|12afriend.2]]“Your Imperial Majesty.” $dname stands before the steps of the gazebo, looking up at you almost solemnly. “Are you comfortable being outside in this weather? The interior of the palace has stronger wards to deal with the heat.” You huff a laugh, shaking your head. “How do you suppose I survived in the wilderness? I’m used to handling it, it doesn’t bother me.” “Merely because you did not have the means before does not mean—” <<if $blunt gt $charm>>You cut in before $dthey can continue to fuss over you like a mother hen. “$dname, are you going to join me up here or will you continue to stand there like an awkwardly placed statue?” $dname frowns at you. “Is that meant to poke fun at my height?” Your eyes trail over $dtheir armor as $dthey climbs up the steps. “<<if $height is 'very tall'>>We’re the same height, why would I make fun of you over that? I meant your ridiculously straight posture<<else>>Mostly your ridiculously straight posture<</if>>. How are you still wearing armor in this weather, by the way?”<<else>>“At least join me up here if you insist on fussing over me like a nursemaid,” you interject, grinning with amusement and a touch of teasing. “You’ll catch a headache standing in the sun.” $dname arches $dtheir brows, but then sighs. “Your safety is my priority.” Your eyes trail over $dtheir armor as $dthey climb up the steps. “Even $aname is not so overprotective, and $atheir entire job is to guard me. How are you still wearing armor in this weather, by the way?”<</if>> If nothing else, the armor seems of a lighter variety than $dtheir usual ceremonial gold. This time $dthey dons a short plate of brown leather that only covers $dtheir chest, decorated with the carvings of two herons. $cdtheir midriff is left clothed in a simple tunic $dthey wears beneath with a matching leather belt, forearms and hands covered in similar leather gauntlets. You’d almost call it casual, if $dname was capable of such a thing. “It is warded to help with the heat,” $dname replies, removing $dtheir sword from $dtheir belt to lean it against the couch so that $dthey can sit comfortably beside you. “I hope I am not intruding.” “You’re fine.” You wave the concern away with a flippant gesture of your hand. “If anything, I’m glad to see you taking it easy for once. We haven’t had much of a chance to talk yet, either.” “Talk?” $dname gives you a questioning look. “What about?” <<if $xfriend is false>>You didn’t have a particular topic in mind at first, but now that $dname asks, something <em>does</em> occur to you that you’re rather curious about. “I was wondering,” you start, trying to make the question seem as natural as possible, “how long have you and $xname known each other?” $dname is silent for a short while, giving it some thought. “Close to a decade.” Your brows arch, surprised at that. “That long? No wonder you two act so familiar.” They certainly argue like two people who have made a longstanding routine of their petty bickering. “Why do you ask?” $dname says curiously. “Looking for some insight, I suppose.” You try to act nonchalant about it, though you’re not certain how well you succeed considering the sharp look $dname shoots you. “Have you ever seen $xthem in a courtship before?” “No,” $dname says immediately. You think it is an answer to your question at first, but then $dthey continues vehemently, “No, we are not doing this.” “Not doing what?” $dname looks exasperated. “I am not giving you courtship advice.” You sputter. “I wasn’t asking for courtship advice, we’re not even courting! I was only curious about how $xthey usually acts when $xthey likes someone.” The long-suffering look on $dname’s face only grows more weary. “If you are seeking reassurance about $xtheir interest in you, why not simply ask $xthem? Speculating based on past behavior will get you nowhere.” Shifting a little on the couch, you cast $dname an uncertain look. “You think $xthey’ll answer me directly?” “It may be different with you,” $dname considers, eyes wandering in thought. “From what I’ve learned about $xtheir past lovers—all against my will, I assure you—$xname has always been open and honest about $xtheir intentions. With the Crown, however…” $cdthey casts you a meaningful look. $dname must be aware of what happened to $xname’s village as well, and how that has affected $xthem even now. “How do I navigate that?” you ask, reclining into your seat. “I don’t want to say the wrong thing, but it’s not as if I wanted to become the Crown. I don’t know what could set $xthem off, or make $xthem feel smothered, or…” $dname stares at you, and you trail off halfway through your ramblings. “What?” “Again, why don’t you <em>ask $xthem</em>?” Your brows furrow, incredulous at first. “As if it’s that easy?” “Why wouldn’t it be?” <<if $xtrust is 'unsure' or $xtrust is false>>“What would keep $xthem from lying to me?” The words leave your mouth without a second thought, and only once you have spoken them out loud do you realize how they sound. $dname stares at you a long moment, attentive now where $dthey was trying to escape the conversation moments ago. It only adds to your discomfort, stripped down to your core and having revealed it as something scarred and mistrustful. You know exactly where that assumption comes from. Where it was born, and why it still lives within you. Placing it onto $xname is unfair to $xthem, you know that, but as much as you wish you could sway your heart, it is too fearful. It reminds you of how $xthey did not trust you at the start, using you as bait for $xtheir own purposes. It reminds you that $xthey has kept secrets from you, and is likely <em>still</em> keeping secrets from you—even if $xtheir intentions are good, it will not protect you. It never has. “If that is how you truly feel,” $dname finally says, “then perhaps pursuing $xthem further would be unwise.” You’re taken aback by the words, not quite having expected $dname to be so blunt about it. “You think so?” “$xname is…” $dname seems to search for the words, brows drawing together. “As carefree as $xthey may appear, $xthey treats their relationships—whether courtships or otherwise—with the utmost importance. If you are not prepared to do the same, then I suggest you spare $xthem, and yourself, the inevitable heartbreak.” $dname is trying to be objective in $dtheir advice, but you still catch the intent in $dtheir words. Despite how antagonistic $dthey and $xname may appear towards each other, in this moment, $dname is protective over $xname. “But if I may be so bold,” $dname continues as you ponder the observation, “in my experience, $xname is not so hard to understand. I would liken $xthem to a mirror. $cxthey only reflects back to you what you give to $xthem. If it is lies that you expect, then lies are what you will receive.”<<else>>You have no answer for $dthem. You know that $dname is right, in more ways than one. How will anything ever blossom between the two of you if you do not give it a chance to, poisoning it with distrust before it ever has a chance to grow? But you also know exactly where that inclination comes from. Where it was born, and why is still lives within you. Placing it onto $xname is unfair to $xthem, you know that, and you have done your best to repress its mistrusting nature. It reminds you that the two of you are alike in that way: how $xname did not trust you at the start. $cxthey has kept secrets from you, and is likely <em>still</em> keeping secrets from you. Even if $xtheir intentions are good, it might not be enough to protect you. It never has before. Yet, you also remember that $xname wishes to try, for you. $cxthey asked for your patience, to wait for $xthem as $xthey learns to overcome $xtheir own fears of trusting you as the Crown. The least you can do is honor your word and give it time—give it a chance, for the both of you.<</if>><</if>><<if $rfriend is false>>You didn’t have a particular topic in mind at first, but now that $dname asks, something <em>does</em> occur to you that you’ve been wanting to know more about. “How long have you known $rname?” $dname does not seem surprised by the question, nor curious as to why you would ask. “It must be a decade now.” That, you did not expect. “You knew $rthem when $rthey was a kid?” “We did not interact much back then,” $dname recalls, “but I did run into $rthem a few times. $crthey was known to me as Lady Zerya’s student, perhaps thirteen or fourteen years old, whereas I served under… the previous High General of Arsur, at twenty years old.” You note the strange pause in $dtheir words before $dthey mentions the previous High General, but as $dname continues to speak about $rname your attention is diverted from it quickly enough. “The Imperial Court threw a rather impressive temper tantrum when Lady Zerya first introduced $rtitle $rname as her successor, with Crown Ferzan’s approval.” $dname’s eyes drift towards the gardens, gaze distant. “To them, $rthey was nothing more than an impoverished orphan who was turned away from the School of Marabad in disgrace. They considered it an affront to the position of the Crown’s Sorcerer for Lady Zerya to mentor $rthem.” Imagining a much younger $rname having to endure the scrutiny and criticism of all the court officials, it is little wonder why $rthey feels as if $rthey has something to prove—not to mention $rtheir disdain towards the nobility. Unfortunately, you’re not surprised they would be so cruel to a child. No doubt they saw $rname as little more than a chess piece in the endless power struggle that plagues the Crown’s court. “How did $rname endure it?” you ask, trying to form a picture of $rname’s younger years through the eyes of another. If you asked $rname, you’re certain $rthey would be overly critical of $rthemselves, but $dname may give a more objective perspective. “What was $rthey like, back then?” “$crthey seemed rather quiet, at first,” $dname answers, pausing to think a moment longer before $dthey elaborates. “Guarded by necessity, I would say. Once $rname understood that the High General and Lady Zerya were allies, however, $rthey became more comfortable speaking to us. $crthey was always brimming with questions about the places we had been to all over Arsur, or the types of magic the army used on the battlefield.” You wonder what things would have been like, had your parents taken you to the palace as soon as your eyes turned gold. There is every chance you might have gotten killed, but the thought of an alternate life where you grew up together with $rname is a charming one. At the very least, you could have supported each other, and neither of you would have been lonely. “I wish I could have known $rthem back then,” you muse, leaning back against the couch as you exhale a sigh. <<if $rrelationship is 'low'>>$dname meets your eyes, but instead of saying anything $dthey then hesitates, expression wavering uncharacteristically. “What is it?” $cdthey remains silent for a few moments longer, before $dthey finally says, “Have you noticed anything different about the way $rname has been acting over the past <<if $peritrader is true>>day<<else>>week<</if>>?” “Different how?” You straighten up again in your seat. “More subdued than usual,” $dthey considers, but then rethinks it. “No, perhaps that’s not the right word. There is something… repressed about $rtheir demeanor.” You’re not entirely sure what that means, other than that it is cause for concern. “Do you think there’s something wrong with $rthem, or that something is bothering $rthem?” “I cannot say.” $dname scowls at that fact. “I saw $aname attempt to ask $rthem about it, but $rname evaded answering $aname completely and avoided $athem after that. Which is strange, as $aname is usually one of the few that $rname confides in.” If $rname is distancing $rthemselves from $rtheir friends, that would certainly be a bad sign. You begin to worry that perhaps not everything was as resolved as you thought it was after the water temple. Is there something you overlooked? “Then I’ll try to talk to $rthem,” you decide, hoping that perhaps you might have a better chance at getting $rname to open up than $aname did. “Thank you for telling me, $dname.” $dname gives a short nod. “I expect you will have better luck than $aname did.” You do not ask why $dthey assumes that, <<if $res gt $flirt>>averting your eyes as your face heats<<else>>merely giving $dthem a smile in return<</if>>.<<else>>At your remark, $dname snorts. You arch your brows at $dthem. “What?” $dname quickly smooths $dtheir expression again. “Nothing.” “What’s so funny?” “Nothing at all.” Your eyes narrow into a glare. “I order you to tell me.” $dname looks at you with such affront that it makes you chuckle, causing $dname to scowl at you. “I do not approve of you abusing your authority for such petty purposes.” “You’re the one who’s laughing at me and refusing to say why.” $cdtheir lips twist suspiciously, as if $dthey were holding back a smile, though the amusement still shines through in $dtheir words when $dthey finally admits, “I was thinking how much worse the both of you would have been at hiding your feelings for each other, had you met as children.” <<if $res gt $flirt>>You sputter, your mouth opening and closing as heat rushes into your face, until you finally manage to spit out,<<else>>Your mouth drops open in shock more than anything, not having expected $dname to be so blunt about it.<</if>> “$dname!” “You ordered me to tell you,” $dname says in an attempt to defend $dthemselves. <<if $res gt $flirt>>“It’s not as if…” You search for the words, the embarrassment and the warmth in your cheeks scrambling your mind. “We aren’t… we’ve never tried to <em>hide</em> anything. It just happened gradually. I haven’t even talked to $rname about it yet, what with everything that $rthey’s been through lately.”<<else>>“It’s not as if we were <em>hiding it</em> now either,” you argue, trying to get your head on straight again after $dname spun it all over. “It just happened gradually. I haven’t even talked to $rname about it yet, what with everything that $rthey’s been through lately.<</if>> “Oh?” $dname appears surprised. “From what $aname told me—” “<em>$aname</em> told you?” You can’t help but be bewildered even further at the thought of $aname and $dname of all people chatting about your situation with $rname, and $dname tilts $dtheir head at you. “Was it or was it not supposed to be a secret?” You rub at your forehead, exhaling a deep sigh. “It wasn’t. I’m just blind-sided. You’re about the last person in Arsur I expected to comment on my… relationship with $rname.” It isn’t a courtship, after all. You haven’t even had the time to consider the notion, especially as you and $rname have yet to verbalize the feelings you both harbor for each other. Even then, a courtship would still be far too early, but you realize you do need some clarity on what the two of you want from each other—especially as others have now taken note of your budding relationship. “I have no interest in hearing of it,” $dname clarifies seriously. “It was a funny little thought that crossed my mind. Nothing more.” “Good.”<</if>><</if>><<if $afriend is false>>You didn’t have a particular topic in mind at first, but now that $dname asks, something <em>does</em> occur to you that <<if $arelationship is 'low'>>you could use some advice on<<else>>you’re curious about<</if>>. <<if $arelationship is 'high'>>“What was $aname like back when $athey served under you in the army?” you ask, reminding yourself not to let anything slip of $aname’s parentage during this conversation. $cathey asked you to keep it a secret, after all. $dname’s brows furrow in thought, gaze wandering over the gardens as $dthey considers it. “We only knew each other in passing for most of it.” “But you were the one who recommended $athem to the position of Royal Protector, weren’t you?” “That was because of $atheir accomplishments and skill as a soldier,” $dname replies dismissively. “Not because of our personal relationship. Although, I did take into account $atheir overall conduct, namely $atheir refusal to compromise on $atheir principles even in the face of direct orders from $atheir superiors.” Now that you did not know. “You recommended $aname <em>because</em> $athey was insubordinate?” “Not insubordinate,” $dname corrects. “Incorruptible. It was thanks to $aname that I was able to root out many higher ranking officials who abused their authority, or were themselves taking bribes.” That is rather impressive. You wonder to what extent $aname’s upbringing affected it. As Crownsblood, $athey would not have had the same standing as a <<if $agender is 'male'>>prince<<else>>princess<</if>> would have in other nations, as $athey was never the heir to the throne. Even so, $athey was raised in a palace and addressed with respect, no doubt accustomed to being around nobles and court officials. Serving as a soldier in the army after that, $atheir experience of its hierarchy would have been different from that of an ordinary person, and $atheir superiors would not have been able to intimidate $athem easily because of it. Perhaps it was even due to $atheir father that $athey was so steadfast and unyielding. You can imagine that seeing what Piruz turned into would have left an indelible impression. “And should the Crown have been someone of a questionable moral character,” you note, giving $dname an assessing look, “having a Royal Protector like $aname would have made for an excellent safeguard.” $dname meets your eyes with a steady gaze of $dtheir own. “My only aim is to serve Arsur, Your Imperial Majesty.” “You and $aname both.” You smile at $dthem, not holding the precaution against $dthem. If anything, it is reassuring to have someone like $dname and $aname on your side, knowing how far they will both go in Arsur’s best interest. A north star, $aname said. A promise you both made each other, grounding you with its certainty. You recall the look on $atheir face when $athey said it, the moon a tender light in the brown of $atheir eyes that eclipsed the green at that moment. $catheir gaze touched you so softly, a caress filled with as much curiosity as wonder. “Your Imperial Majesty?” You almost startle at $dname’s address, snapping back out of the gentle memory. “Sorry, did you say something?” $dname’s brows are raised, seeming rather unimpressed as $dthey breathes an exasperated little sigh. “I suppose I should start getting used to your daydreaming, as I expect it will only get worse.” <<if $res gt $flirt>>You tense in your seat. “Why, ah, why would you expect that it would get worse?”<<else>>You narrow your eyes at $dthem. “And why would you expect that it will get worse?”<</if>> “$aname.” <<if $res gt $flirt>>A single word and $dthey pinpoints the cause of it with accuracy, causing you to avert your gaze as you try not to fidget. “I… I don’t know what you’re talking about.” “Of course,” $dname replies impassively, moving on with ease, and you exhale a little in relief that $dthey does not seem to have any interest in asking you about it. You’re sure $xname would be much less merciful.<<else>>You breathe out a laugh, shaking your head. “$cathey has hardly been subtle about it either. Surely I’m allowed a little daydreaming?” It brings a silly little grin to your face that refuses to be repressed, recalling the constant glances $aname cast you the other day, and the way you held hands under the table. “Far be it from me to tell you how to conduct yourself,” $dname replies dismissively, seeming entirely uninterested in asking you about it further. “So long as it does not interfere with any matters of import, I couldn't care less.”<</if>><<else>>It does not make asking $dname for advice easy, however. Shame and guilt lances through you at the recollection of the fire, and the mistake you made that could have cost citizens their lives. To expose that to $dname, and to make yourself vulnerable by doing so, is not an easy task. But it must be done if you want to know $dtheir honest thoughts, and how to fix it. “It’s in regards to the fire in the city the other day,” you start, pausing to take a steadying breath as you already begin to fidget with the belt around your waist. “When I arrived, I had to make a decision. One that put the citizens at risk.” When you look up at $dname, you find $dthem watching you attentively, a slight furrow between $dtheir brows. “Start from the beginning.” And so you do, detailing your arrival together with your Imperial Guards and your search for $aname. As you describe your decision to prioritize looking for $aname rather than looking through the houses for citizens, you cannot bring yourself to meet $dname’s gaze, afraid of the judgment you will find there. $dname remains quiet, listening to you without interrupting until you have finished your story. “Afterwards, we argued,” you admit, your eyes wandering across the garden, settling on one of the lakes where a couple ducks drift through the water. “Back at the palace, I mean. I became defensive. From my perspective, I had only tried to keep $aname safe, yet in so doing I put all those people in danger.” Finally, you force yourself to look at $dname, and yet you cannot read the expression on $dtheir face at all. $cdthey frowns deeply, $dtheir mouth twisted with tension, $dtheir eyes unexpectedly conflicted: $dthey looks far more affected than you would have anticipated from the usually so stoic general. “I…” $dname even hesitates to speak, this time being the one to avert $dtheir gaze. “I may not be the best person to ask for advice for this.” Befuddled by the change in $dtheir demeanor, you cannot help but press. “Why not?” You expected disapproval, or for $dname to scold you, not <em>this</em>. “You have heard of how the previous High General of Arsur had to resign her post in the wake of Ferzan’s assassination,” $dname starts, still not meeting your eyes. “I have.” You eye $dname with growing curiosity, unable to make sense of why $dthey would bring that up now. “She was part of a retinue meant to guard him in Ivia, yet she failed.” $dname’s head hangs low, $dtheir eyes lowering to $dtheir lap as $dtheir gaze turns distant. “Someone close to her was abducted, and in order to save $dthem, the general abandoned her post and left the Crown vulnerable. In the aftermath of his death, I inherited the position from her.” You certainly had not heard that part of it, though you suppose it might have been kept under wraps from the general populace. Now you understand the comparison, and your stomach sinks at the realization. When $dname finally looks up to meet your eyes, $dtheirs are more pained than you have ever seen from $dthem. “You must not let your personal attachments cloud your judgment, $name. You <em>cannot</em>. Not for a friend, not for family, not for anyone. It will only lead to disaster, both for you and for all of Arsur.” “I understand,” you reply quietly, unsure of what else you can say to the weight in $dname’s words and in $dtheir gaze. After a moment of thought, you part your lips to ask what $dname’s relationship to the previous general was, but $dthey continues on before you can speak. “As for the citizens, you must compensate them appropriately.” $dname’s composure steadies again, $dtheir expression smoothing over. “I would also suggest you pen them a personal apology.” “Would that be enough?” You frown, uncertain how to make up for something like this. You have never been in the position to affect other people’s lives like this before, let alone hurt them unintentionally. “It will be up to them to decide whether they will forgive you,” $dname responds, watching you thoughtfully. “Regardless of whether they do or don’t, you should endeavor not to repeat your mistakes. That is all you can do.” There is no easy solution to this, you realize. Those citizens may resent you for this for the rest of their lives: it is out of your hands. All that is left for you now is to try to be better in the future. “You’re right, I will keep that in mind. Thank you for your counsel, $dname.”<</if>><</if>> [[Continue|12dfriend.2]]“There you are,” $xname says—as if $xthey has been looking for you rather than no doubt immediately pinpointing your whereabouts with $xtheir abilities. “Mind some company?” <<if $blunt gt $charm>>“So long as we do not talk of politics,” you say, and $xname grins as $xthey heads up the steps to join you in the gazebo. You notice $xthey wears a beige tunic and shalwar today with golden sun patterns and a red sash, similar in design to $xtheir black attire but much thinner. There is only so much that wards can do to protect against the heat, after all. “We’ll talk of nonsense instead, then?” “It is your specialty.” $xname huffs a laugh as $xthey sits beside you on the couch. “As $ctheir Imperial Majesty says.”<<else>>“Not at all,” you say, greeting $xname with a smile that $xthey returns as $xthey heads up the steps to join you in the gazebo. You notice $xthey wears a beige tunic and shalwar today with golden sun patterns and a red sash, similar in design to $xtheir black attire but much thinner. There is only so much that wards can do to protect against the heat, after all. “I’m always happy to listen to one of your amusing stories.” “Looking for a bit of a distraction from your daily duties?” “Desperately so.” $xname gives you a sympathetic look as $xthey sits beside you on the couch. “I’ll avoid any tales to do with politics, then.”<</if>> $cxthey only gives the matter a moment of thought before $xthey begins to speak. “Have I ever told you about that time Şanazî toppled the tower of a fortress with nothing more than a slingshot?” “No, tell me!” You listen with rapt attention as $xname describes one of many jobs the Crescent Blades have taken on, in this instance tasked with evicting a band of bandits from a fortress that laid abandoned. At first, you marvel at the heroics and the skill of the Blades, Şanazî in particular, as $xname describes their assault on the fortress to you—but then you start wondering why a perfectly good fortress was left to be claimed by common raiders. “Ah.” $xname’s expression twists with apology when you ask $xthem. “Well, what with the Imperial Army stretched so thin…” You sigh, knowing you shouldn’t have asked. As much as you wish for a reprieve from it, everything in Arsur over the past ten years has been shaped by the absence of a Crown. It’s not so easy to close your eyes to it. “It was nice while it lasted,” you murmur, gaze drifting back towards the scenery of the gardens. The butterfly that fluttered around the rosebushes is long gone. Turning back to $xname, you ask, “I didn’t get to ask before, with everything going on, but how are you feeling about this expedition we’re planning?” $xname tilts $xtheir head slightly at you. “Well, you’re paying us good coin. The Blades certainly aren’t complaining.” “I am?” you say, more as a confirmation than out of surprise. You know it has been handled by the others. <<if $rfriend is false>>“$rname and I haggled over it.” $xname’s lips lift with amusement. “$crthey drives a tough bargain, your little Sorcerer.” “Don’t call $rthem little, $rthey’ll skin you alive if $rthey hears that.” <<if $rrelationship is 'low'>>For some reason, your remark has $xname sobering, $xtheir gaze weighted with something more serious. “Actually, I wanted to talk to you about that.” Your brows furrow with some confusion, though you can’t help your wry remark. “About $rname skinning you alive?” $xname huffs. “Funny. I meant about $rname in general. Don’t you think $rthey’s been behaving a little oddly?” “Not that I’ve noticed,” you say slowly, trying to think back to all of $rname’s behaviors ever since awakening from $rtheir coma. “Why? What have <em>you</em> noticed?” $xname’s mouth tenses into a thin line for a moment. “It might be nothing—” “$xname.” In the end, $xthey blurts it out. “I can’t sense $rtheir emotions anymore.” Your eyes go wide as the words sink in, unable to fully understand it at first. “What do you mean?” “It’s exactly as I said.” $xname’s lips twist with hesitation, still seeming reluctant to speak of it. “I cannot sense another’s emotions as directly as, say, $aname could by looking into their head. A person’s magic, however, tends to project their moods in subtle ways, and that I <em>can</em> sense.” “And you haven’t been able to from $rname?” $xname shakes $xtheir head. “$crtheir magic has always been particularly expressive, strong as it is. The way it expresses itself to me, it tends to, how should I put this… color the air around $rthem? But now there’s nothing. A blank.” That is troubling, to say the least. You wonder if $rname could be purposefully holding $rtheir emotions back, but for what reason, and why now? “I’ll talk to $rthem,” you decide, hoping this is all just $xname being overly cautious, but if it isn’t, then it’s better to have dealt with it sooner rather than later. You’re not sure you would’ve been able to notice anything amiss on your own. “Thank you for telling me, $xname.” “Of course.” $xname gives you a smile—a rare one that isn’t tinged with mischief or playfulness. “$crthey’ll be more inclined to tell you what’s wrong rather than if I asked.” “I can’t imagine why that is,” you say dryly, remembering all the times $xname went out of $xtheir way to pester $rname.<<else>>“<em>You</em> look like you want to skin me alive already,” $xname says with a laugh, and you lift your brows from the scowl you hadn’t even noticed you were making. “I only want you to show $rthem the respect $rthey deserves,” you argue, but it only makes $xname grin wider. “Oh, I respect $rthem plenty.” Mischief gleams in $xtheir eyes. “Not quite like you do, of course, but…” “What is that supposed to mean?” “Don’t pretend,” $xname teases, reaching across the couch to elbow you in the side. “We’ve all seen how the two of you act around each other. A Crown and their Sorcerer, how scandalous!” “Shut up,” you say reflexively, embarrassed at being so easily caught out, but then you frown. “Wait, is it? Scandalous, I mean?” “Not really.” $xname shrugs. “I don’t think anyone would care if you decided to court each other. Unless the two of you decide to desecrate the throne room—” “Sky above, $xname, shut your mouth!” <<if $res gt $flirt>>You feel heat crawl up your neck to your face, though part of you is greatly relieved that being the Crown won’t form an obstacle.<<else>>You shake your head with exasperation, though an amused smile tugs at your mouth. Admittedly, desecrating the throne room together doesn’t sound half bad. Forcing the indecent thoughts away, you refocus on the conversation.<</if>> “I’m not sure about it yet.” “About your feelings for $rname, or about courting $rthem?” $xname asks, and you sigh. “The latter.” Your feelings aren’t the issue: they grow stronger with every day you spend with $rname, even when your duties force the two of you apart for long hours at a time. “We both have so much to contend with, and to throw in a courtship on top of it all…” “It would be too much,” $xname infers, and you nod, relieved $xthey gets it. Courtships come with expectations: they’re a very serious commitment, not something to enter into or back out of so easily. There’s also the fact that you’ve never had a long-term relationship in your life, making you even warier of it due to your own inexperience. Right now, you could not guarantee that either of you would have enough time for each other to enjoy it. As the Crown, you would have to make a formal announcement to the court, meet $rname’s relatives and choose suitable gifts, do periodic rituals together to strengthen your bond—both emotionally and magically—until the date when you formally promise yourselves to each other… No, it is far too much. Especially now, with all that you both have going on. Courtships <em>can</em> last for a long time, if necessary, but you would feel bad about courting $rname and then scarcely being able to spend any time with $rthem. Better to take it slow.<</if>><</if>><<if $afriend is false>>“Well, perhaps it would be more accurate to say the citizens are paying for it,” $xname considers. “What with the taxes and such. They pay for the salary of the Imperial Guards as well after all.” <<if $arelationship is 'low'>>At the mention of the Imperial Guards, you cannot keep the tension from your shoulders as you recall how fraught your relationship with $aname has become as of late. All due to your own actions. Of course, even if you did manage to keep your tension hidden, $xname would have sensed it regardless. As it is, you only make it a little easier for $xthem, $xtheir gaze flitting down to your shoulders and then back up to your face. “So,” $xthey starts, giving you a long look. “What exactly happened between you and $aname?” For a moment, you consider feigning ignorance, feeling a rising discomfort at having to confront your mistake and bare it in front of another. It was bad enough when $aname scolded you for it, and you’re not sure someone known as a hero to the common folk will look any more kindly upon your actions. On the other hand, $xname is clearly close with $aname, and perhaps $xthey can help you make things right again. “During the fire,” you say reluctantly, “I made a decision that put the lives of citizens at risk.” $xname’s brows arch, but you cannot read anything else from $xtheir expression. What’s notable is that $xthey does not look surprised, however, and that makes you uneasy. Was this something $xthey anticipated you would do at some point? “Tell me what happened,” $xthey says, simply watching you with expectation, which makes it a little easier to talk about when not faced with overt judgment. And so you recount the situation as factually as you can, not wanting to give the impression that you intend to defend yourself or justify it. $xname stays silent and listens, giving no hints as to $xtheir thoughts throughout your recounting of events and refraining from interjecting. “Afterwards, we argued,” you admit, your eyes wandering across the garden, settling on one of the lakes where a couple ducks drift through the water. “Back at the palace, I mean. I became defensive. From my perspective, I had only tried to keep $aname safe, yet in so doing I put all those people in danger.” If you were anticipating either condemnation or absolution from $xname, you receive neither. Instead, all $xthey says is, “What do you intend to do about it?” Your gaze returns to $xname’s face, finding $xthem regarding you with an impassive look. It’s an almost jarring shift from $xname’s usual demeanor, none of $xtheir usual charm or mirth lightening the atmosphere. Instead, $xtheir presence and $xtheir assessing eyes now weigh it down with something heavy that settles intimidatingly upon your shoulders. “I…” You pause for a long moment, knowing you have to give it serious thought. “I must apologize to those I’ve put at risk, but how would that prove my sincerity? However I choose to compensate them, I would have to do it with wealth and resources not my own.” Coin gathered from the tithes and taxes of citizens themselves, now paying for your mistake. It doesn’t seem fair. “That is a good point,” $xname considers, $xtheir gaze turning thoughtful, and a little more open as $xthey considers you anew. “Perhaps the only true way to prove you have learned from your mistakes would be to refrain from repeating them, and that will take time. And even then, those citizens still may not choose to forgive you: it is out of your hands.” You sigh as you come to the same conclusion. Those citizens may resent you for this for the rest of their lives. All you can do now is try to be better in the future. “I suppose you’re right. Thank you for your advice, $xname.”<<else>>At the mention of the Imperial Guards, you cannot stop your thoughts from drifting towards their captain. $aname is within the palace, discussing matters of security with city officials in the aftermath of the fire. You haven’t seen them since breakfast, and find yourself listlessly wondering when $athey’ll come seek you out again. As if able to read it from your face—or perhaps whatever emotions $xname can sense from your magic, feeling restless beneath your skin—your companion immediately remarks upon it. “So, where’s your shadow?” You frown at $xname, and then look away, feigning ignorance even as your heart begins to beat a little quicker—at the mere <em>mention</em> of $aname, no less. “Which one? There’s a dozen of them, if you hadn’t noticed.” “Really?” $xname snorts. “Playing coy at this stage?<<if $divination is false>> We all saw the way you comforted $athem during the meeting yesterday—” “How do you know that wasn’t a friendly gesture?” $xname stares at you, looking entirely unimpressed. You sigh.<<else>> Your heartbeat tells a different story.” You stiffen, then sigh, knowing you’ve been caught. <</if>>“What do you want me to say?” “Nothing,” $xthey lies, which lasts for all of three seconds, before $xthey says, “Are the two of you courting? No, no, that’s far too early for $aname… getting to know each other, then?” <<if $res gt $flirt>>You feel warmth begin to crawl up your neck at the topic being brought up, having never been one to discuss such matters so openly.<<else>>You snort, torn between exasperation and amusement at $xname’s nosiness.<</if>> “If you’re looking for gossip—” “I’m not one to spread rumors about other people,” $xname replies with a grin. “I’d much rather spread rumors about myself. But fine, if it makes you that uneasy, I won’t pry.” “Thank you,” you say, and you mean it. “The last thing I want is for $aname to get teased about something like this. $cathey’s a bit…” “Delicate?” You exhale a laugh. “Maybe not the first word I would’ve chosen, but yes. $cathey’s the reserved sort, so I assumed $athey values $atheir privacy.” “You assumed right.” $xname looks at you with approval, which suddenly makes you reconsider your entire exchange about the topic and see it in a different light. “$xname…” You squint at $xthem with suspicion. “Were you <em>testing</em> me? To see if I would gossip about $aname?” $xname merely grins and shrugs $xtheir shoulders, reclining back into the couch. “The important thing is that you passed, no?” “What if I failed?” The look in $xtheir eyes turns colder than you’ve seen it before. “Let’s be glad that you didn’t, and think no more of it.” You stare, tension settling in your posture as a sense of danger pricks the back of your neck. It reminds you of your first meeting, when $xthey hauled you up to your feet at the notion that you could form a threat to $rname. Back then, there was anger in $xtheir eyes. This time is different. Now there is only certainty, wielded not by $xname, but by the Pale Sword: a blade forged by a thousand battles. Several moments pass, until the tension finally snaps when $xtheir expression eases with a grin. “Though I’m sure I don’t need to be telling you to treat $athem well,” $xthey remarks airily, the sudden shift in tone leaving you reeling for a few moments before you gather your wits again. “I didn’t realize you were this protective over $athem.” “I’m not usually,” $xthey offers, giving you a thoughtful look. “But then, $aname really likes you. That doesn’t happen often, you know.” Your heart flutters against your chest at the statement, warming you over while you try to keep your expression under control. “$cathey hasn’t been in a courtship before?” “$cathey has, but only one time, and that was quite a while back.” $cxtheir brows furrow with consideration. “It was before I even knew $athem, if I recall right. The point is, I’ve never seen $athem like this with anyone else, so you could say I’m a little… cautious of $athem getting hurt, especially with you being the Crown.” Now $xname begins to look a little sheepish. “Did I overdo it?” You snort. “I’ll say.” Though you understand $xtheir concern: if you and $aname courted each other but decided to break it off on less than amicable terms, that would have the greatest consequences for $aname, and $atheir position as Royal Protector. $cathey would need to be the one to walk away if the two of you needed distance from each other, and so $athey stands the most to lose should it not work out between the two of you. Not that anything is really happening between you quite yet. You have to calm your thoughts before they start to spiral with all sorts of imaginings. At most, the two of you are clearly fond of each other, but it’s rather early to be thinking of something as committed as a <em>courtship</em>. As you consider this, $xname winces at being caught in $xtheir fussing over $xtheir friend. “Don’t tell $aname.” “Oh, I’m most certainly going to tell $aname.” You smirk back at $xthem. “Consider it payback for trying to intimidate me. ” “Dammit.”<</if>><</if>><<if $dfriend is false>>“We certainly have it better than $xdnickname and $dtheir soldiers,” $xname considers, yet there is something to $xtheir tone and the way $xthey watches you, as if expecting a reaction at the mention of $dname. It makes you reflexively think about what $xname might assume you have to hide, which immediately brings to mind the tension and attraction that lingers between you and $dname. While $xname is not capable of reading minds—not like $aname can—$xthey must sense the fluctuation in your emotions or perhaps even your magic, flickers of bright light stirring restlessly beneath your skin. You avert your gaze as it is all you can do to maintain your fragile facade, and $xname hums thoughtfully as $xthey continues to watch you. “Do you want to talk about it?” is all $xthey asks, $xtheir tone and $xtheir gaze more serious than you expected. Part of you is surprised $xname isn’t probing more directly, or perhaps even teasing you about it. Although that might be because this isn’t as simple as two people who are attracted to each other. “What is there to talk about?” you finally say, still unable to meet $xname’s eyes as you keep your words as vague as possible. Though you’re certain that your Imperial Guards must have some clue of how you feel about $dname, with how they shadow you everywhere. “It is improper.” More than improper, it would be scandalous. This is exemplified even within Arsur’s own history. During your studies into the reigns of prior Crowns, you stumbled upon one remembered in history as Love-blind Jiyan, the Tenth Crown of the Arsurian Empire. They were known as a capable ruler in all other respects, save for the taboo that would shape their legacy forever, leading to a brief but notable uprising. At the time, Crown Jiyan had fallen in love with the provincial army commander of Zerat, a decorated soldier named Asin, and the two began a secret love affair. One that ended in disaster. Back then, there were no taboos regarding the Crown courting someone who served in their Outer Court, part of the military chain of command. That changed after Jiyan and Asin’s romance fell apart: they were unable to navigate the difference in status between them. Jiyan’s patronizing that was natural from a Crown to a superior agitated Asin now that they were lovers, and Asin’s meddling in the Crown’s other affairs and reaching beyond his station caused similar troubles for Jiyan in turn. Eventually, it led them to a rather vicious separation, and Asin went as far as to join an uprising that was brewing in the south of Zerat at the time. The civil war that followed, coined as the Lovers’ Feud, was a violent one, though it was confined to province and put down within the year. You cannot ever imagine condescending to $dname the way Jiyan did to Asin, nor can you imagine $dname ever being so impulsive and insecure as Asin was, but the tale admittedly has worried you. What if there should come a time when you and $dname irreconcilably disagree on a political matter? Would you find it within you to overrule $dthem? And should you overrule $dthem, would $dname be able to withstand it, or would $dthey grow resentful? <<if $drelationship is 'low'>>Perhaps $dname has the right of it when $dthey distances $dthemselves from you as soon as the two of you get to close. With such bloody precedent, you can only imagine the uproar not only from the Imperial Court, but the general public as well.<<else>>While those things certainly concern you, it frustrates you to think that both $dname and you should be so defined and confined by your roles. You are not only the Crown, and $dthey is not only the general of your army. You are two people who are drawn to each other for reasons entirely your own, and there is nothing to suggest that history need repeat so long as you are careful. You are not and you will not be your predecessors—if only you could convince $dname of it.<</if>> “It would be improper,” $xname considers, “<em>if</em> it came to light.” Setting your musings aside, you look at $xname with brows raising. “$xname, are you encouraging me to break the rules?” $cxthey tilts $xtheir head at you. “Would you be willing to?” You open your mouth to say you wouldn’t, but then halt as you realize you don’t know that you want to deny it at all—is there not truth to that? Should $dname proposition you, should $dthey be willing to risk it, would you be strong enough to turn $dthem down for the both of you? You don’t know that you are. Reading your answer from your stunned expression, the mirth drains from $xname’s face, $xtheir eyes narrowing slightly, and $xtheir voice hardening. “Whichever decision you make, $name, do not do it halfheartedly.” You shift a little in your seat at the change in $xname’s tone and demeanor, $xtheir eyes watching you sharply. Tension settles in your posture as a sense of danger pricks the back of your neck under the weight of $xtheir stare. It reminds you of your first meeting, when $xthey hauled you up to your feet at the notion that you could form a threat to $rname. Back then, there was anger in $xtheir eyes. This time is different. Now there is only certainty, wielded by not by $xname, but by the Pale Sword: a blade forged by a thousand battles. Several moments pass, your eyes locked to $xname’s stare, until you finally strengthen your own resolve and refuse to back down. “I wouldn’t. I would commit, entirely.” And just like that, $xname eases into a grin. “Good.” For all that $xtheir relationship with $dname appears antagonistic on the surface, you knew there was a deeper respect there, but did not realize it went as far as $xname being protective over $dname. You sigh, relieved you managed to navigate that test relatively well. “It’s not entirely up to me, though, is it? We’re not… we can’t. $dname made it very clear that $dthey thinks any closeness between us would be unwise.” “Oh, I don’t know about that.” $xname reclines back into the couch with a knowing look gleaming in $xtheir eyes. “I think you have a better chance than you realize.” “Really?” Your pulse skips at the thought, a flicker of hope stirring in your chest<<if $drelationship is 'low'>> despite your earlier reconsiderations<</if>>. If anyone is able to gauge $dname’s true feelings, it would be $xname, having both known $dthem for quite some time and having the benefit of $xtheir sensory abilities. “But the court—” “What they don’t know can’t hurt them,” $xname replies dismissively. “Trust me, with guards and servants as loyal as yours, hiding it would be child’s play.” Your mind wanders to the letter that was stolen from $dname’s belongings, and suddenly you’re not so sure anymore.<</if>> [[Continue|12xfriend.2]]“Rather warm today, is it not?” $rname greets you with a smile as $rthey walks up the steps to join you in the gazebo. The dress $rthey wears today is nearly sheer in its delicate orange and white fabrics, shimmering and flowing gracefully with $rtheir movements. You notice that rather than the usual silver or gold, $rtheir accessories are a colorful cloth sash and woven bracelets. $crtheir long hair is also worn differently, divided into many long braids all tied back together at the back of $rtheir head. “So it is.” You greet $rname with a smile of your own. <<if $charm gt $blunt>>“You certainly seem well-prepared for it, $rtitle Sorcerer. That dress looks wonderful on you.” $rname does a little spin to show off the rest, and you give $rthem a slightly exaggerated <em>oohh</em>, causing $rname to chuckle. “Why, thank you, you’re very kind! It took me quite a while to decide on the accessories, but it’s too hot out to be wearing my usual necklaces and belts.” You tilt your head at them, noting the coins dangling from $rtheir ears. “You’re still wearing golden earrings.” $rname gives a one-shoulder shrug. “My earrings don’t make me sweat.”<<else>>“Though I wouldn’t know it looking at you, what with how unbothered you seem.” “Well, we both do have the appropriate wards woven into the garments to keep us cool,” $rname points out. “I could even wear thicker layers if I wanted to, but that would make me appear out of touch.” You arch a brow, a mischievous smile playing on your lips. “You mean I could wear a fur coat in this weather and not sweat?” $rname sighs. “Please don’t. The last thing we need is the populace thinking $ctheir Imperial Majesty has lost $their mind.<</if>> You exhale an amused breath. “How has your day been? I haven’t seen you since breakfast.” “I’ve been studying alchemy,” $rname answers, which surprises you. “You still study?” “Of course.” $crthey finally takes a seat on the couch beside you. “Even the most knowledgeable scholar alive has yet more to learn. I thought it would be useful for me to teach myself how to craft more complex glamors should you be in need of them. It would be quicker than having to order them from Perjin or other alchemists.” It is a far more thoughtful reason than you expected, and it leaves you feeling a little embarrassed as you worry that your need for glamors when venturing into the city has now placed an additional burden on $rname’s shoulders. Seeing the look on your face, $rname is quick to reassure you. “It’s not solely because of you! Perjin was my mentor, if you’ll recall. I have always wished to learn more from her, and I greatly enjoy alchemy as a subject.” $crthey smiles playfully. “Besides, it will come in use should I wish to venture into the city myself without being recognized.” “You should,” you agree. “Go out to the city, I mean. If anyone deserves a reprieve, it’s you, $rname.” $rname’s gaze warms. “I’ll certainly consider it. And what about you, $name?” “What about me?” <<if $afriend is false>><<if $arelationship is 'low'>>“Well…” $rname hesitates, suddenly seeming unsure whether to even speak. “How are you doing? I cannot help but notice the lingering tension between you and $aname.” Your expression falls, and you remain silent as you avert your gaze, though you know you should tell $rname about it. $crthey is your Sorcerer, after all, and needs to know the decisions—and mistakes—you’ve made that have impacted the lives of citizens. But that does not make acknowledging your failures to another any easier. At the very least, $rname seems close with $aname, and perhaps $rthey has some advice on how to make things right again. “During the fire,” you say reluctantly, “I made a decision that put the lives of citizens at risk.” $rname’s tone is cautious as $rthey responds. “I do recall you saying you made a… mistake, I believe you called it.” Your mouth feels dry. “Yes.” $rname remains silent for a moment, $rtheir brows furrowed, seeming troubled. When you do not volunteer any further information, $rthey finally asks, “What happened?” Taking a breath, you slowly recount the situation as factually as you can, not wanting to give the impression that you intend to defend yourself or justify it. $rname stays silent and listens, $rtheir face shifting from being shocked, to troubled, to disbelieving. “Afterwards, we argued,” you admit, your eyes wandering across the garden, settling on one of the lakes where a couple ducks drift through the water. “Back at the palace, I mean. I became defensive. From my perspective, I had only tried to keep $aname safe, yet in so doing I put all those people in danger.” $rname exhales a deep sigh. “What about the citizens that were injured?” “Nothing grave, apparently,” you answer, still unable to meet $rname’s stare so you do not see the disapproval you know you will find in it. “I have one of the royal physicians tending to them, but I have yet to formally apologize.” When $rname says nothing else, you feel compelled to fill the silence. “Do you think I was in the wrong?” you ask, and $rname gives you a long look. After what feels like hours of silence, but what must have only been a few tense seconds, $rthey says, “It doesn’t matter what I think. What does your conscience tell you?” $crthey refuses to absolve you or condemn you, at least for the time being—perhaps able to see in your face what you already feel. You look down at your lap and trying to ignore the way your stomach lurches. “I was careless.” You remember the look on the children’s faces as they were carried out of the burning building. Silent and wide-eyed with terror. “All I could think about was $aname, whether $athey was safe. I gambled with the lives of others because I forgot, for a moment, my responsibility.” “Becoming the Crown so suddenly is a great change, especially for the life you’ve lived,” $rname muses. “Most Crowns have years of tutelage from their predecessor to prepare, and you had none of that. As true as that is, however, it does not change the fact that you <em>must</em> adapt. There is too much at stake.” Innocents, who could end up collateral damage to your impulses and whims. The masses of people you spent your entire life avoiding suddenly seem so fragile to you now, so easily taken with the power you wield. “I know,” you finally say, letting out a sigh. “I should write a letter to apologize to them, the family from that fire. I would invite them to the palace, but…” “It would draw too much attention.” $rname nods. “A letter is the wisest course of action.” Another brief silence falls between you. “Do you think $aname hates me now?” $rname’s gaze softens, and you can’t stand to look at it, so you avert your eyes. “No, I don’t think so. $cathey’s disappointed, I would say.” You wince. “That’s almost worse.” “It may take some time to win $atheir trust back,” $rname reassures you, “but I’ve never known $athem to hold onto grudges, so long as you are sincere in your intentions. Give $athem time.” You truly hope time will be enough. “I will try. Thank you for your listening ear, $rname.”<<else>>Something like mischief gleams in $rname’s eyes as $rthey looks at you. “I’ve noticed you and $aname seem especially close nowadays.” You shift a little on the couch, averting your gaze to avoid $rname’s eyes as you strike a casual tone. “Do we?” “Mhm.” When you do glance over at $rname, you find $rthem studying $rtheir nails, and you begin to relax as you think it was just an idle remark. Until $rthey adds, “All the hand-holding underneath the table is endearing, I must admit. Especially since the two of you seem to think you’re being subtle about it.” <<if $res gt $flirt>>Heat flushes up your neck at being seen through so easily, remembering breakfast earlier that morning where $aname’s fingers hooked around yours beneath the table. “We were just… we’re not…” $rname looks up from $rtheir nails to grin at you. “There’s no need to look so embarrassed! I’m happy for you. The two of you seem well-suited for each other.” Trying to move past your flustered state, you clear your throat. “You think so?”<<else>>You almost laugh at the remark and give it away completely, only managing to keep it in at the last moment and grinning back at $rname instead. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” $rname looks up from $rtheir nails with a sly smile. “No? What a shame. I was going to say how well-suited the two of you are to each other.” That catches your attention, your playfulness easing into something more sincere. “Really?”<</if>> “I’ve never seen $aname so at ease as when you’re around,” $rname considers, eyes narrowing with teasing and fondness both. “You look more unburdened with $athem near, as well.” “I certainly feel it,” you admit, though you pause as you recall how long it has taken to even get to this point with $aname. Only after a month of being around each other is $athey finally starting to ease up around you, in no small part due to $atheir family history. “You seem troubled,” $rname notes, brows drawing together. “What’s on your mind?” You sigh, uncertain how to speak of it when you cannot tell $rname about $aname’s father and $atheir complicated feelings regarding the role of Crown. “I suppose I’m just…” You search for the words, trying to convey the problem without giving $aname’s secret away. “I’m worried about disappointing $athem. As the Crown, I mean. You’ve known $aname for longer than I have, I’m sure you know how much $athey cares about Arsur’s people. What if I make a mistake? What if one of my decisions hurts someone, and…” You trail off, starting to feel foolish for fretting over it, but $rname’s gaze looks nothing but understanding. “You are under immense pressure, $name.” $crthey reaches out a hand, grabbing onto yours. “$aname understands that, too. $cathey does not expect you to be perfect, no one in your position could be. So long as you do your best for Arsur, $athey—and all of us—will stand by you and support you however we can. You need not carry that burden alone.” That does make you feel better, and you muster up a smile as you give $rname’s hand a soft squeeze. “Thank you for saying that. Maybe I am worrying too much, but…” You release $rname’s hand, and $rthey pulls it back as $rthey gives you an encouraging look. “But what?” <em>…is it not your duty to guide me home, north star?</em> <<if $res gt $flirt>>Your face heats with embarrassment at the recollection before you’ve even said the words<<else>>Your smile softens at the recollection<</if>>. “I want $athem to think well of me.” $rname lifts a hand to press it to $rtheir cheek, all but <em>cooing</em> at you. “That’s so sweet.” <<if $res gt $flirt>>“Stop,” you bemoan, averting your eyes and unable to look at $rthem. “I’ll think that you’re making fun of me.”<<else>>You huff an amused breath at how endeared $rthey looks—you hadn’t taken $rthem for a romantic. “Are you making fun of me now, $rname?”<</if>> “I’m only happy for you, my Crown!”<</if>><</if>><<if $xfriend is false>>“Are you not also in need of a reprieve?” $rname gives you a searching look, though the corner of $rtheir mouth curves up impishly after a moment. “Perhaps you might ask $xname to show you around Marabad’s best spots.” Have you been so transparent about your fondness for $xthem that even $rname can tell? “How well do you know $xname, anyhow?” you ask instead of responding to the tease, both to deflect and out of true curiosity. “Not as well as you might think.” $rname’s brows furrow as $rthey considers your question. “I first met $xthem some years ago, perhaps four or five now, but our conversations never lasted very long. We would cross paths in passing—$dname and $aname are more familiar with $xthem than I am.” You did get the sense that both $dname and $aname have quite some history with $xname, but $rname has still known $xthem longer than you have. Perhaps there is some insight that $rthey could give you. “During your meetings in passing,” you start, choosing your words carefully, “have you ever seen $xthem in a courtship?” $rname hums, the thoughtful look on $rtheir face remaining as $rthey does not question your motives for inquiring such a thing. “Well, there was that <<if $xgender is 'male'>>prince<<else>>princess<</if>> from Qathesh, but I don’t know much about it beyond the rumors that were spread at the time… oh! I believe $xthey also had a dalliance with Alûçe, the mistress of the House of Roses.” <<if visited("11.x24pk") gte 1>>You blink, remembering that $xname jokingly mentioned her name when $xthey teased you about a courtship the other day, after you kissed. You had brushed it off as more humor, or an attempt at bragging, but it seems there was more to it.<<else>>That’s a new one.<</if>> “The House of Roses is the one we hired the artists from, isn’t it? The ones that performed that dance at the eve of my coronation.” “The very same,” $rname replies. “It was a rather short-lived affair, if I remember right. Both $xname and I were in Marabad during that time, so we ran into each other a couple times, and $xthey seemed absolutely smitten.” You’re starting to regret asking. “Really? How, ah, how did $xthey show it?” $rname looks at you, eyes narrowing slightly, and you think you probably gave your real interest in asking these questions away then and there. “$cxthey showered the mistress in extravagant gifts, and would take her outside of the city for some kind of romantic outing, or so I assume. Master Zîn and Mistress Alûçe are friends, you see, so I would speak to her at times at the Red Lantern. She seemed well pleased by $xname’s grand gestures.” “I see.” You shift a little in your seat, feeling a rising sense of discomfort. $xname hasn’t given you any gifts, nor has $xthey taken you on any outings—but then, as the Crown, what need would you have for expensive things you could get yourself whenever you pleased? And going on a romantic outing would involve a great deal more planning, considering… “$xname acts differently with you,” $rname remarks, and you stiffen in your seat. “Is that what’s bothering you?” No point in pretending now. “A little.” “I don’t think you have anything to worry about.” $crthey smiles at you. “If anything, I think $xthey is taking things with you more seriously than $xtheir usual passion-filled flings. $cxthey has had longer lasting courtships as well, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen $xthem act so… affected around someone before.” “Isn’t that just because I’m the Crown?” “You and I both know how averse $xthey is to bending to authority.” $rname pats your knee in an encouraging gesture. “The fact that $xthey still likes you and seeks you out <em>despite</em> you being the Crown speaks for itself, don’t you think?” The reassurance soothes some of your worry, and you find yourself smiling back at $rname in gratitude. If $rthey sees something different—special—in the way $xname treats you, then $xname must truly like you more than even you hoped for. <</if>><<if $dfriend is false>>“You have been working hard these past weeks, do you not also deserve a reprieve?” $rname’s eyes trail over your face, and then $rthey remarks, “You and $dname are rather alike in that way. Neither of you take a rest when you ought to. It’s a miracle the physicians convinced $dthem to stay bedridden for as long as $dthey was.” Worry draws your brows together. “Should $dthey not be walking around yet?” “As far as I understand, $dthey’s fine now,” $rname replies, thinking on it a moment before adding, “Once the poison was eliminated from $dtheir body, $dthey healed quickly. In a couple more days $dthey should be fit to return to $dtheir regular duties.” That means you will have no excuse to have $dthem stay at a room in the palace for much longer. These past two days you have taken to visiting $dname often, as $dtheir quarters are very near to your own: whether to eat together or simply to converse, it was a welcome way to catch up after $dthey had to leave your side for a little under a month. “You seem disappointed,” $rname remarks when you remain silent, startling you from your thoughts. “Do I?” Your attempt at being evasive does not amount to much, considering the way $rname continues to stare at you, $rtheir silver eyes narrowing fractionally. “As the Crown, I should be relieved that my general will be fit for duty again without further delay.” “And as $name?” There should be no <em>as $name</em>. $dname has made that clear to you, concerned with even the mere appearance of closeness between the two of you and what that would mean for your reputation. It would be scandalous. “As $name… nothing,” you say, keeping your gaze aimed towards the gardens rather than meet $rname’s probing look. During your studies into the reigns of prior Crowns, you stumbled upon one remembered in history as Love-blind Jiyan, the Tenth Crown of the Arsurian Empire. They were known as a capable ruler in all other respects, save for the taboo that would shape their legacy forever, leading to a brief but notable uprising. At the time, Crown Jiyan had fallen in love with the provincial army commander of Zerat, a decorated soldier named Asin, and the two began a secret love affair. One that ended in disaster. Back then, there were no taboos regarding the Crown courting someone who served in their Outer Court, part of the military chain of command. That changed after Jiyan and Asin’s romance fell apart: they were unable to navigate the difference in status between them. Jiyan’s patronizing that was natural from a Crown to a superior agitated Asin now that they were lovers, and Asin’s meddling in the Crown’s other affairs and reaching beyond his station caused similar troubles for Jiyan in turn. Eventually, it led them to a rather vicious separation, and Asin went as far as to join an uprising that was brewing in the south of Zerat at the time. The civil war that followed, coined as the Lovers’ Feud, was a violent one, though it was confined to province and put down within the year. You cannot ever imagine condescending to $dname the way Jiyan did to Asin, nor can you imagine $dname ever being so impulsive and insecure as Asin was, but the tale admittedly has worried you. What if there should come a time when you and $dname irreconcilably disagree on a political matter? Would you find it within you to overrule $dthem? And should you overrule $dthem, would $dname be able to withstand it, or would $dthey grow resentful? <<if $drelationship is 'low'>>Perhaps $dname has the right of it when $dthey distances $dthemselves from you as soon as the two of you get to close. With such bloody precedent, you can only imagine the uproar not only from the Imperial Court, but the general public as well.<<else>>While those things certainly concern you, it frustrates you to think that both $dname and you should be so defined and confined by your roles. You are not only the Crown, and $dthey is not only the general of your army. You are two people who are drawn to each other for reasons entirely your own, and there is nothing to suggest that history need repeat so long as you are careful. You are not and you will not be your predecessors—if only you could convince $dname of it.<</if>> $crthey sighs. “I understand your caution. If the Imperial Court should suspect that you were favoring $dthem… well, it would not be pretty.” You watch the ducks drift through the water of one of the garden lakes, pecking at some of the leaves that have fallen in. “I know.” “But it seems cruel to deny you both a chance.” Surprised at the words, you finally lift your gaze to look at $rname, who casts you a smile filled with sympathy. “A chance at what, exactly?” you ask, certain $rname could not be implying what you think $rthey is. “Come now, neither of you have been subtle about it.” A bit of mirth colors $rtheir words. “And I am the last person who should be telling you to heed the rules of propriety where the nobles and the court are concerned. You know I do not hold <em>their</em> opinion in high regard.” You suppose that is true. $rname has always been frosty with the nobility at best, though that does not negate the political risks still attached should you and $dname pursue something only to have it exposed as a scandal. “So you think it would be worth the risk?” you ask carefully, trying to imagine it in your head. “Only you and $dname can decide that.” $rname places a hand on your shoulder. “But whatever you choose to do, I will always support you to the best of my ability, $name.” You are warmed by $rtheir encouragement, yet your mind still wanders to the letter that was stolen from $dname’s belongings, and suddenly you’re not so sure anymore.<</if>> [[Continue|12rfriend.2]]<<if $dfriend is false>><<set $dlore to true>>[ <b>[[Crowns of Old]] updated | <em>The Tenth Crown</em> added</b> ] <</if>>You spend a while longer in the gazebo chatting with $rname, but you know that eventually you will have to return to your daily duties. The decision on when to do so, however, is taken from you as one of your servants appears along the path before long. “Your Imperial Majesty,” they greet as they stand before the gazebo, bowing respectfully. “$rtitle $rname. The Royal Protector sent me to remind you of your meeting planned for this afternoon. The others have all gathered and await your presence.” $rname quickly gets up. “Ah, I’d nearly forgotten! Come, $name, lets hurry.” Sighing, you stand up after $rthem and follow $rthem and the servant out of the gazebo, back towards the palace. At the very least, the location chosen for your meeting is more than a simple sitting room. The servant guides both you and $rname to one of the palace’s inner courtyards, the center of which is a large patch of grass with a carefully cultivated garden. It includes a small pond along the left side as you walk around it, where you find a white cat sitting at the edge, its eyes following the movements of small, silver fish that shimmer just below. It raises its paw, waits for a beat, and then swats at one of the fish when it swims closer to the surface. Magic stirs the air, water erupting into a splash. The cat leaps back, startled, though it does not wholly escape the spray. You smile at the cat, bending down to carefully pet the smooth white fur along its spine. “You need to be quicker if you want to catch one of those.” The cat looks up at you, then rubs against your leg, seeming friendly. “I can’t believe we’re being ignored in favor of a cat.” $xname calls out from the center of the courtyard garden, seated at a low table where servants are putting down drinks and refreshments. $aname and $dname occupy the other seats, and to your surprise, Siham also sits among them with a book on the table in front of him. All the rest of your companions seem dressed in summer clothes as well, though your gaze lingers in particular on <<if $xfriend is false>>$xname. You notice $xthey wears a beige tunic and shalwar today with golden sun patterns and a red sash, similar in design to $xtheir black attire but much thinner. The tightness and solid color of the sash emphasizes the slimness of $xtheir waist, <<if $xgender is 'male'>>contrasting the broadness of $xtheir chest and shoulders,<<else>>complimenting the shapely curves that flatter her form,<</if>> leaving you transfixed before you can help it. Though, the deep line of $xtheir collar is certainly doing its best to catch just as much of your attention with how much of $xtheir chest is on display without being outright inappropriate. It is not cut as deep as the tunic $xthey wore on your coronation, but it is a near thing, and when you try to swallow you find your mouth too dry for it.<</if>><<if $dfriend is false>>$dname. Somehow, $dthey is still wearing armor in this weather, though at least it is of a lighter variety than $dtheir usual ceremonial gold. This time $dthey dons a short plate of brown leather that only covers $dtheir chest, decorated with the carvings of two herons. $cdtheir midriff is left clothed in a simple tunic $dthey wears beneath with a matching leather belt, forearms and hands covered in similar leather gauntlets. There is something charming about seeing $dthem so dressed down, at least by $dname’s standards. You have seen $dthem dressed in robes only while $dthey recovered, of course, and even less than that—the image of $dtheir bare upper half flashes behind your eyes, making your skin heat and drying out your mouth.<</if>><<if $afriend is false>>$aname. The garments $athey wears today are different from the long robes you are used to seeing $athem in whenever $athey is out of $atheir armor. Instead $athey dons a pair of loose, linen pants shorter than a shalwar, cut off above the ankles, with an equally as airy white tunic. The light fabrics hang from $atheir form in a flattering way, though your eyes catch on $atheir neckline. It is cut deeper than you have ever seen $athem in, showing a generous slip of chest down to $atheir ribs, though it eyes tasteful because of the way the loose tunic is draped down $atheir body. Though, tasteful or not, the sight affects you all the same as you feel your palms start to sweat, your skin heating dangerously. <<if $arelationship is 'low'>>Spirits, you should not be ogling $athem like this—especially not when $athey is still upset with you.<</if>><</if>> As you and $rname approach the table, you somehow manage to tear your gaze away before the others begin to notice your staring. Looking for something to distract yourself with, you cast Siham a curious look. “What, ah, what are you reading there, Siham?” “Nothing,” he says quickly, shutting the book and making to stand up. You catch a glimpse of the title, just about able to read it upside down: <em>Elemental Wards and Their Practical Uses</em>. “I gave it to them,” $rname says from beside you as you approach the table, the scent of jasmine pleasant to your nose. It drifts from the vines climbing up along the courtyard columns and walls, covered in pretty white blooms. You wonder how the servants maintain the plant in the shade of the inner courtyard. They must use some kind of sun magic to make it thrive. “My apologies, Your Imperial Majesty,” Siham says, drawing you out of your observations. “I shall return the book.” <<if $blunt gt $charm>>“What?” <</if>>You give him a questioning look as you sit down across from $aname at one end of the table, next to $xname. $rname takes a seat across from $xname, between $aname and $dname. <<if $blunt gt $charm>>“Why would I care about you reading a book?”<<else>>“That’s not necessary. You can read it if you like, why would I mind?”<</if>> “I’m merely a servant,” Siham says, even while clutching the book in their hands. “It is beyond my station—” “And I told you that you were being silly,” $rname insists, frowning at them. “Knowledge is not beyond anyone’s station. What point is there in hoarding it when it can be shared?” $crthey looks at you, encouraging to say something to Siham with an imploring gaze. <ul class="a"> <li>[[“Read whatever book you like, Siham.”|12.4a]]</li> <li>[[“Instead of reading books on your own, why don’t you join me during my classes in magic?”|12.4b][$sihamishrah to $sihamishrah + 1]]</li> </ul><<if $dfriend is false>><<set $dlore to true>>[ <b>[[Crowns of Old]] updated | <em>The Tenth Crown</em> added</b> ] <</if>>You spend a while longer in the gazebo chatting with $xname, but you know that eventually you will have to return to your daily duties. The decision on when to do so, however, is taken from you as one of your servants appears along the path before long. “Your Imperial Majesty,” they greet as they stand before the gazebo, bowing respectfully. “Pale Sword. $rtitle $rname sent me to remind you of your meeting planned for this afternoon. The others have all gathered and await your presence.” $xname gets up from $xtheir seat, rolling $xtheir shoulders. “From sitting to even more sitting… my feet are starting to itch.” Sighing, you stand up after $xthem and follow $xthem and the servant out of the gazebo, back towards the palace. At the very least, the location chosen for your meeting is more than a simple sitting room. The servant guides both you and $xname to one of the palace’s inner courtyards, the center of which is a large patch of grass with a carefully cultivated garden. It includes a small pond along the left side as you walk around it, where you find a white cat sitting at the edge, its eyes following the movements of small, silver fish that shimmer just below. It raises its paw, waits for a beat, and then swats at one of the fish when it swims closer to the surface. Magic stirs the air, water erupting into a splash. The cat leaps back, startled, though it does not wholly escape the spray. You smile at the cat, bending down to carefully pet the smooth white fur along its spine. “You need to be quicker if you want to catch one of those.” The cat looks up at you, then rubs against your leg, seeming friendly. “Did you have a good break, Majesty?” $aname calls out from the center of the courtyard garden, seated at a low table where servants are putting down drinks and refreshments. $rname and $dname occupy the other seats, and to your surprise, Siham also sits among them with a book on the table in front of him. All the rest of your companions seem dressed in summer clothes as well, though your gaze lingers in particular on <<if $rfriend is false>>$rname. The dress $rthey wears today is nearly sheer in its delicate orange and white fabrics, shimmering and flowing gracefully with $rtheir movements when $rthey scoops up a handful of nuts to eat from one of the bowls on the table. Your gaze lingers along $rtheir neckline, a little deeper than $rthey usually wears it, and the lack of sleeves revealing $rtheir arms. As your gaze lingers there, you notice that rather than the usual silver or gold, $rtheir accessories are a colorful cloth sash and woven bracelets. $crtheir long hair is also worn differently, divided into many long braids all tied back together at the back of $rtheir head. It is just as flattering on $rthem as the more luxurious garments and jewelry $rthey otherwise prefers, giving $rthem a warm appearance.<</if>><<if $dfriend is false>>$dname. Somehow, $dthey is still wearing armor in this weather, though at least it is of a lighter variety than $dtheir usual ceremonial gold. This time $dthey dons a short plate of brown leather that only covers $dtheir chest, decorated with the carvings of two herons. $cdtheir midriff is left clothed in a simple tunic $dthey wears beneath with a matching leather belt, forearms and hands covered in similar leather gauntlets. There is something charming about seeing $dthem so dressed down, at least by $dname’s standards. You have seen $dthem dressed in robes only while $dthey recovered, of course, and even less than that—the image of $dtheir bare upper half flashes behind your eyes, making your skin heat and drying out your mouth.<</if>><<if $afriend is false>>$aname. The garments $athey wears today are different from the long robes you are used to seeing $athem in whenever $athey is out of $atheir armor. Instead $athey dons a pair of loose, linen pants shorter than a shalwar, cut off above the ankles, with an equally as airy white tunic. The light fabrics hang from $atheir form in a flattering way, though your eyes catch on $atheir neckline. It is cut deeper than you have ever seen $athem in, showing a generous slip of chest down to $atheir ribs, though it eyes tasteful because of the way the loose tunic is draped down $atheir body. Though, tasteful or not, the sight affects you all the same as you feel your palms start to sweat, your skin heating dangerously. <<if $arelationship is 'low'>>Spirits, you should not be ogling $athem like this—especially not when $athey is still upset with you.<</if>><</if>> As you and $xname approach the table, you somehow manage to tear your gaze away before the others begin to notice your staring. Looking for something to distract yourself with, you cast Siham a curious look. “What, ah, what are you reading there, Siham?” “Nothing,” he says quickly, shutting the book and making to stand up. You catch a glimpse of the title, just about able to read it upside down: <em>Elemental Wards and Their Practical Uses</em>. “I gave it to them,” $rname says from beside Siham as you approach the table, the scent of jasmine pleasant to your nose. It drifts from the vines climbing up along the courtyard columns and walls, covered in pretty white blooms. You wonder how the servants maintain the plant in the shade of the inner courtyard. They must use some kind of sun magic to make it thrive. “My apologies, Your Imperial Majesty,” Siham says, drawing you out of your observations. “I shall return the book.” <<if $blunt gt $charm>>“What?” <</if>>You give him a questioning look as you sit down across from $aname at one end of the table, next to $rname. $xname takes a seat across from $rname, between $aname and $dname. <<if $blunt gt $charm>>“Why would I care about you reading a book?”<<else>>“That’s not necessary. You can read it if you like, why would I mind?”<</if>> “I’m merely a servant,” Siham says, even while clutching the book in their hands. “It is beyond my station—” “And I told you that you were being silly,” $rname insists, frowning at them. “Knowledge is not beyond anyone’s station. What point is there in hoarding it when it can be shared?” $crthey looks at you, <<if $rfriend is false and $rrelationship is 'low'>>with what you assume is expectation<<else>>encouraging to say something to Siham with an imploring gaze<</if>>. <ul class="a"> <li>[[“Read whatever book you like, Siham.”|12.4a]]</li> <li>[[“Instead of reading books on your own, why don’t you join me during my classes in magic?”|12.4b][$sihamishrah to $sihamishrah + 1]]</li> </ul> You spend a while longer in the gazebo chatting with $dname, but you know that eventually you will have to return to your daily duties. The decision on when to do so, however, is taken from you as one of your servants appears along the path before long. “Your Imperial Majesty,” they greet as they stand before the gazebo, bowing respectfully. “High General. $rtitle $rname sent me to remind you of your meeting planned for this afternoon. The others have all gathered and await your presence.” $dname rises from $dtheir seat without waiting another moment, eager as ever to get to work. “Then let us join them.” Sighing, you stand up after $dthem and follow $dthem and the servant out of the gazebo, back towards the palace. At the very least, the location chosen for your meeting is more than a simple sitting room. The servant guides both you and $dname to one of the palace’s inner courtyards, the center of which is a large patch of grass with a carefully cultivated garden. It includes a small pond along the left side as you walk around it, where you find a white cat sitting at the edge, its eyes following the movements of small, silver fish that shimmer just below. It raises its paw, waits for a beat, and then swats at one of the fish when it swims closer to the surface. Magic stirs the air, water erupting into a splash. The cat leaps back, startled, though it does not wholly escape the spray. You smile at the cat, bending down to carefully pet the smooth white fur along its spine. “You need to be quicker if you want to catch one of those.” The cat looks up at you, then rubs against your leg, seeming friendly. “I can’t believe we’re being ignored in favor of a cat.” $xname calls out from the center of the courtyard garden, seated at a low table where servants are putting down drinks and refreshments. $rname and $aname occupy the other seats, and to your surprise, Siham also sits among them with a book on the table in front of him. All the rest of your companions seem dressed in summer clothes as well, though your gaze lingers in particular on <<if $rfriend is false>>$rname. The dress $rthey wears today is nearly sheer in its delicate orange and white fabrics, shimmering and flowing gracefully with $rtheir movements when $rthey scoops up a handful of nuts to eat from one of the bowls on the table. Your gaze lingers along $rtheir neckline, a little deeper than $rthey usually wears it, and the lack of sleeves revealing $rtheir arms. As your gaze lingers there, you notice that rather than the usual silver or gold, $rtheir accessories are a colorful cloth sash and woven bracelets. $crtheir long hair is also worn differently, divided into many long braids all tied back together at the back of $rtheir head. It is just as flattering on $rthem as the more luxurious garments and jewelry $rthey otherwise prefers, giving $rthem a warm appearance.<</if>><<if $xfriend is false>>$xname. You notice $xthey wears a beige tunic and shalwar today with golden sun patterns and a red sash, similar in design to $xtheir black attire but much thinner. The tightness and solid color of the sash emphasizes the slimness of $xtheir waist, <<if $xgender is 'male'>>contrasting the broadness of $xtheir chest and shoulders,<<else>>complimenting the shapely curves that flatter her form,<</if>> leaving you transfixed before you can help it. Though, the deep line of $xtheir collar is certainly doing its best to catch just as much of your attention with how much of $xtheir chest is on display without being outright inappropriate. It is not cut as deep as the tunic $xthey wore on your coronation, but it is a near thing, and when you try to swallow you find your mouth too dry for it.<</if>><<if $afriend is false>>$aname. The garments $athey wears today are different from the long robes you are used to seeing $athem in whenever $athey is out of $atheir armor. Instead $athey dons a pair of loose, linen pants shorter than a shalwar, cut off above the ankles, with an equally as airy white tunic. The light fabrics hang from $atheir form in a flattering way, though your eyes catch on $atheir neckline. It is cut deeper than you have ever seen $athem in, showing a generous slip of chest down to $atheir ribs, though it eyes tasteful because of the way the loose tunic is draped down $atheir body. Though, tasteful or not, the sight affects you all the same as you feel your palms start to sweat, your skin heating dangerously. <<if $arelationship is 'low'>>Spirits, you should not be ogling $athem like this—especially not when $athey is still upset with you.<</if>><</if>> As you and $dname approach the table, you somehow manage to tear your gaze away before the others begin to notice your staring. Looking for something to distract yourself with, you cast Siham a curious look. “What, ah, what are you reading there, Siham?” “Nothing,” he says quickly, shutting the book and making to stand up. You catch a glimpse of the title, just about able to read it upside down: <em>Elemental Wards and Their Practical Uses</em>. “I gave it to them,” $rname says from beside Siham as you approach the table, the scent of jasmine pleasant to your nose. It drifts from the vines climbing up along the courtyard columns and walls, covered in pretty white blooms. You wonder how the servants maintain the plant in the shade of the inner courtyard. They must use some kind of sun magic to make it thrive. “My apologies, Your Imperial Majesty,” Siham says, drawing you out of your observations. “I shall return the book.” <<if $blunt gt $charm>>“What?” <</if>>You give him a questioning look as you sit down across from $aname at one end of the table, next to $rname. $dname takes a seat across from $rname, between $aname and $xname. <<if $blunt gt $charm>>“Why would I care about you reading a book?”<<else>>“That’s not necessary. You can read it if you like, why would I mind?”<</if>> “I’m merely a servant,” Siham says, even while clutching the book in their hands. “It is beyond my station—” “And I told you that you were being silly,” $rname insists, frowning at them. “Knowledge is not beyond anyone’s station. What point is there in hoarding it when it can be shared?” $crthey looks at you, <<if $rfriend is false and $rrelationship is 'low'>>with what you assume is expectation<<else>>encouraging to say something to Siham with an imploring gaze<</if>>. <ul class="a"> <li>[[“Read whatever book you like, Siham.”|12.4a]]</li> <li>[[“Instead of reading books on your own, why don’t you join me during my classes in magic?”|12.4b][$sihamishrah to $sihamishrah + 1]]</li> </ul><<if $dfriend is false>><<set $dlore to true>>[ <b>[[Crowns of Old]] updated | <em>The Tenth Crown</em> added</b> ] <</if>>You spend a while longer in the gazebo chatting with $aname, but you know that eventually you will have to return to your daily duties. The decision on when to do so, however, is taken from you as one of your servants appears along the path before long. “Your Imperial Majesty,” they greet as they stand before the gazebo, bowing respectfully. “Royal Protector. $rtitle $rname sent me to remind you of your meeting planned for this afternoon. The others have all gathered and await your presence.” $aname stands without remark, casting an expectant look in your direction. Sighing, you stand up after $athem and follow $athem and the servant out of the gazebo, back towards the palace. At the very least, the location chosen for your meeting is more than a simple sitting room. The servant guides both you and $aname to one of the palace’s inner courtyards, the center of which is a large patch of grass with a carefully cultivated garden. It includes a small pond along the left side as you walk around it, where you find a white cat sitting at the edge, its eyes following the movements of small, silver fish that shimmer just below. It raises its paw, waits for a beat, and then swats at one of the fish when it swims closer to the surface. Magic stirs the air, water erupting into a splash. The cat leaps back, startled, though it does not wholly escape the spray. $aname chuckles, bending down and petting over its spine. “Better luck next time.” The cat looks up at $athem, and then rubs against $atheir leg. You smile, leaning over to carefully run your fingers over the cat’s head, and it allows it with a curl of its tail along your leg. “I can’t believe we’re being ignored in favor of a cat.” $xname calls out from the center of the courtyard garden, seated at a low table where servants are putting down drinks and refreshments. $rname and $dname occupy the other seats, and to your surprise, Siham also sits among them with a book on the table in front of him. All the rest of your companions seem dressed in summer clothes as well, though your gaze lingers in particular on <<if $rfriend is false>>$rname. The dress $rthey wears today is nearly sheer in its delicate orange and white fabrics, shimmering and flowing gracefully with $rtheir movements when $rthey scoops up a handful of nuts to eat from one of the bowls on the table. Your gaze lingers along $rtheir neckline, a little deeper than $rthey usually wears it, and the lack of sleeves revealing $rtheir arms. As your gaze lingers there, you notice that rather than the usual silver or gold, $rtheir accessories are a colorful cloth sash and woven bracelets. $crtheir long hair is also worn differently, divided into many long braids all tied back together at the back of $rtheir head. It is just as flattering on $rthem as the more luxurious garments and jewelry $rthey otherwise prefers, giving $rthem a warm appearance.<</if>><<if $xfriend is false>>$xname. You notice $xthey wears a beige tunic and shalwar today with golden sun patterns and a red sash, similar in design to $xtheir black attire but much thinner. The tightness and solid color of the sash emphasizes the slimness of $xtheir waist, <<if $xgender is 'male'>>contrasting the broadness of $xtheir chest and shoulders,<<else>>complimenting the shapely curves that flatter her form,<</if>> leaving you transfixed before you can help it. Though, the deep line of $xtheir collar is certainly doing its best to catch just as much of your attention with how much of $xtheir chest is on display without being outright inappropriate. It is not cut as deep as the tunic $xthey wore on your coronation, but it is a near thing, and when you try to swallow you find your mouth too dry for it.<</if>><<if $dfriend is false>>$dname. Somehow, $dthey is still wearing armor in this weather, though at least it is of a lighter variety than $dtheir usual ceremonial gold. This time $dthey dons a short plate of brown leather that only covers $dtheir chest, decorated with the carvings of two herons. $cdtheir midriff is left clothed in a simple tunic $dthey wears beneath with a matching leather belt, forearms and hands covered in similar leather gauntlets. There is something charming about seeing $dthem so dressed down, at least by $dname’s standards. You have seen $dthem dressed in robes only while $dthey recovered, of course, and even less than that—the image of $dtheir bare upper half flashes behind your eyes, making your skin heat and drying out your mouth.<</if>> As you and $aname approach the table, you somehow manage to tear your gaze away before the others begin to notice your staring. Looking for something to distract yourself with, you cast Siham a curious look. “What, ah, what are you reading there, Siham?” “Nothing,” he says quickly, shutting the book and making to stand up. You catch a glimpse of the title, just about able to read it upside down: <em>Elemental Wards and Their Practical Uses</em>. “I gave it to them,” $rname says from beside Siham as you approach the table, the scent of jasmine pleasant to your nose. It drifts from the vines climbing up along the courtyard columns and walls, covered in pretty white blooms. You wonder how the servants maintain the plant in the shade of the inner courtyard. They must use some kind of sun magic to make it thrive. “My apologies, Your Imperial Majesty,” Siham says, drawing you out of your observations. “I shall return the book.” <<if $blunt gt $charm>>“What?” <</if>>You give him a questioning look as you sit down across from $dname at one end of the table, next to $rname. $aname takes a seat across from $rname, between $dname and $xname. <<if $blunt gt $charm>>“Why would I care about you reading a book?”<<else>>“That’s not necessary. You can read it if you like, why would I mind?”<</if>> “I’m merely a servant,” Siham says, even while clutching the book in their hands. “It is beyond my station—” “And I told you that you were being silly,” $rname insists, frowning at them. “Knowledge is not beyond anyone’s station. What point is there in hoarding it when it can be shared?” $crthey looks at you, <<if $rfriend is false and $rrelationship is 'low'>>with what you assume is expectation<<else>>encouraging to say something to Siham with an imploring gaze<</if>>. <ul class="a"> <li>[[“Read whatever book you like, Siham.”|12.4a]]</li> <li>[[“Instead of reading books on your own, why don’t you join me during my classes in magic?”|12.4b][$sihamishrah to $sihamishrah + 1]]</li> </ul><<set $sihamjoin to false>>Siham’s eyes go wide, and then they hurriedly bow at the waist. “Thank you, Your Imperial Majesty. You are too generous. I was told that…” He trails off, righting himself with an uncertain look. “You were told what?” $aname asks, eyes narrowing with suspicion. “A court official saw me reading earlier today, when I took a reprieve from cleaning the throne room.” Siham shifts a little on their feet, posture stiff. “I was… reminded of my duties.” From the corner of your eyes, you notice $xname staring rather intently at Siham—not at his face, but at his chest. Following $xname’s eyes, you notice the collar of Siham’s white robes looks wrinkled and stretched out, as if it had been pulled on with force. You scowl, anger rising sharply. “Who was it that saw fit to scold you?” “I-I’m not sure.” Siham’s eyes lower to the table. “There are so many at court, I do not yet know all their names. All I know is that based on the color of their robes, they are part of the Office of Personnel.” The nerve, to be lecturing one of your friends merely because he is a servant. You would bet that the court official was much harsher in their tone than Siham is making it appear, as you know he would not want to cause an issue of it. The court official surely assumed that as well. What a coward, to pick on someone who cannot talk back to defend themselves. “If anyone bothers you about it again, tell them you have my permission,” you say, “and that they can come complain to me personally if they take issue with it.” “I cannot possibly—” “Better yet,” you continue, realizing that with Siham’s timid nature they might have trouble doing so, “alert one of the Imperial Guards and have them thrown out of the palace. I’ll ensure one is assigned to you.” “But that is too much!” Siham looks bewildered, glancing around the table to the others, though all of them seem to agree with you. <<if $afriend is false and $arelationship is 'low'>>$aname even meets your eyes this time, and the coldness you have seen in $atheir gaze ever since the fire appears to thaw a little, before $athey redirects $atheir attention to Siham.<</if>> “Think of it this way, Siham,” $aname says. “How would it reflect upon the Crown if the nobles and the court officials are allowed to abuse $their servants? If you do not wish to accept it for your own sake, then accept it for your Crown’s sake.” $dname huffs, reaching for a cup of tea that was placed in front of $dthem and lifting it to $dtheir lips. “One who serves the Crown is worth ten of those worthless bureaucrats.” Siham sputters, at a loss for words while $dname calmly takes a sip and $aname whispers over $atheir shoulder to presumably one of the invisible guards. $rname smiles at Siham<<if $rfriend is false and $rrelationship is 'low'>><<else>>, placing a hand on their shoulder in reassurance<</if>>. “Now you can enjoy reading your books in peace.” Averting his gaze, Siham takes a shaky breath and stands from his seat, bowing to you again—even more deeply than before. “I will never forget this kindness, Your Imperial Majesty.” [[Continue|12.5]]<<set $sihamjoin to true>>Siham stares at you in mute shock, their mouth dropping open. “I could not possibly!” “Why not?” “I’m not…” Siham flails for words. “My skill is lacking—” “That’s all the more reason for you to join me,” you insist. “My skill is lacking as well, if you hadn’t noticed. Besides, I would be able to study better with someone to discuss the lessons with.” Siham hesitates for a moment longer, but then bows at the waist. “Thank you, Your Imperial Majesty. Your generosity knows no bounds. I was told that…” He trails off, righting himself with an uncertain look. “You were told what?” $aname asks, eyes narrowing with suspicion. “A court official saw me reading earlier today, when I took a reprieve from cleaning the throne room.” Siham shifts a little on their feet, posture stiff. “I was… reminded of my duties.” From the corner of your eyes, you notice $xname staring rather intently at Siham—not at his face, but at his chest. Following $xname’s eyes, you notice the collar of Siham’s white robes looks wrinkled and stretched out, as if it had been pulled on with force. You scowl, anger rising sharply. “Who was it that saw fit to scold you?” “I-I’m not sure.” Siham’s eyes lower to the table. “There are so many at court, I do not yet know all their names. All I know is that based on the color of their robes, they are part of the Office of Personnel.” The nerve, to be lecturing one of your friends merely because he is a servant. You would bet that the court official was much harsher in their tone than Siham is making it appear, as you know he would not want to make an issue of it. The court official surely assumed that as well. What a coward, to pick on someone who cannot talk back to defend themselves. “If anyone bothers you about it again, tell them you have my permission,” you say, “and that they can come complain to me personally if they take issue with it.” “I cannot possibly—” “Better yet,” you continue, realizing that with Siham’s timid nature they might have trouble doing so, “alert one of the Imperial Guards and have them thrown out of the palace. I’ll ensure one is assigned to you.” “But that is too much!” Siham looks bewildered, glancing around the table to the others, though all of them seem to agree with you. <<if $afriend is false and $arelationship is 'low'>>$aname even meets your eyes this time, and the coldness you have seen in $atheir gaze ever since the fire appears to thaw a little, before $athey redirects $atheir attention to Siham.<</if>> “Think of it this way, Siham,” $aname says. “How would it reflect upon the Crown if the nobles and the court officials are allowed to abuse $their servants? If you do not wish to accept it for your own sake, then accept it for your Crown’s sake.” $dname huffs, reaching for a cup of tea that was placed in front of $dthem and lifting it to $dtheir lips. “One who serves the Crown is worth ten of those worthless bureaucrats.” Siham sputters, at a loss for words while $dname calmly takes a sip and $aname whispers over $atheir shoulder to presumably one of the invisible guards. $rname smiles at Siham<<if $rfriend is false and $rrelationship is 'low'>><<else>>, placing a hand on their shoulder in reassurance<</if>>. “Now you can enjoy reading your books in peace.” Averting his gaze, Siham takes a shaky breath and stands from his seat, bowing to you again—even more deeply than before. “I will never forget this kindness, Your Imperial Majesty.” [[Continue|12.5]] With his book in hand, Siham excuses himself, leaving you and your other companions to your meeting. You notice the rest of the servants have also withdrawn from the courtyard, likely to grant you privacy for your discussion. “Regarding the expedition,” $rname starts, folding $rtheir hands atop $rtheir lap, “preparations should be finished by the start of the month of Water. It would be best to withhold the announcement right before our departure. Should any among the court wish to take advantage of our absence, telling them ahead of time would allow them more room to plan.” <<if $rfriend is false and $rrelationship is 'low'>>You remember <<if visited("12afriend") gte 1>>$aname’s<</if>><<if visited("12dfriend") gte 1>>$dname’s<</if>><<if visited("12xfriend") gte 1>>$xname’s<</if>> remark about $rname’s behavior, and remind yourself to keep watch for it as you reply to $rthem. <</if>>“Do you expect that there will be trouble while we’re gone?” “The chief minister will keep us apprised of any developments,” $rname says, brows furrowing<<if $rfriend is false and $rrelationship is 'low'>><<else>> with thought<</if>>. “He is loyal solely to the Crown. As for the rest… the ministers are limited in what they can do, as you have final say in all matters, so I do not expect they will attempt anything outlandish.” “For now, the ministers will play a game of seeking and solidifying their alliances,” $dname chimes in. “The court is still new, and your appearance was unexpected, to say the least. The ministers that you have chosen are all from disparate places in the Empire. Most of them do not have any preexisting relationships with each other, and do not know each other’s agendas.” You look over at $rname with surprise as the realization strikes you. “Don’t tell me you took even that into account when you created a list of candidates for me?” <<if $rfriend is false and $rrelationship is 'low'>>“I did,” $rname says, giving you a smile. You regard it carefully, and now that you truly pay attention, you realize it does not reach $rtheir eyes.<<else>>“Of course.” $rname smiles sharply, a tad self-satisfied as $rthey flicks a lock of $rtheir behind $rtheir shoulder. “It would not do to have them all organize against you within the first months of your reign.”<</if>> “Impressive,” $xname says from across the table, casting $rname a grin. “Our little Sorcerer is all grown up.” <<if $rfriend is false and $rrelationship is 'low'>>$rname ignores $xthem, not rising to the bait. “In any case, we should wrap up any pressing matters before the expedition, such as the <<if $peritrader is false>>meeting with the peritrader<<else>>meeting with Kham and the peritrader<</if>>.” $xname’s grin falters, though not in annoyance, and you understand why as you share the sentiment: you would have expected $rname to snap back at $xthem. This isn’t merely $rname giving $xname the cold shoulder, either. $crthey looks entirely unaffected by the taunt. The others seem to notice as well. $aname stares at $rname with a searching look in $atheir eyes, lips twisting a little, and $dname glances from $rname to $xname, seeming to have picked up on it the same as you. This is not the time for you to address it, however, even though you wish you could ask. How did you not notice this before?<<else>>“This <em>little Sorcerer</em> would be glad to have you banned from the palace,” $rname replies with a frigid smile. $xname raises $xtheir palms in an attempt to placate. “I gave you a compliment!” “A backhanded one.” “I meant it in the tone of <<if $xgender is 'female'>>sisterly<<else>>brotherly<</if>> affection—” $rname scoffs. “You are not my <<if $xgender is 'female'>>sister<<else>>brother<</if>>, you are a pest.” “Same difference.” $dname exhales a deep sigh while you raise your brows in amusement, though $aname does not appear to have the patience for it “As entertaining as this theater act is,” $athey cuts in, “can we get back to talking about things that actually matter?” $rname clears $rtheir throat. “Yes, my apologies. In any case, we should wrap up any pressing matters before the expedition, such as the <<if $peritrader is false>>meeting with the peri trader<<else>>meeting with Kham and the peri trader<</if>>.”<</if>> <<if $peritrader is false>>[[Continue|12.6p]]<<else>>[[Continue|12.6k]]<</if>>“I know you and $aname planned to accompany $name to the city,” $xname says to $rname, turning serious for a moment, “but it would be best if you two stayed behind to cover for $their absence.” $cxthey meets your eyes. “I can go with you instead.” <<if $xfriend is false>>You certainly won’t object to that. “Then I would like to join you,” $dname says unexpectedly, eyeing $xname with skepticism. “Someone should ensure you do not distract the Crown.” <<if $res gt $flirt>>You cover your eyes with your hand, not even wishing to see the reactions of your companions to the implication beneath it<<else>>You smile with amusement, unable to deny the charge—$xname would most definitely distract you were you to go alone, whether intentionally or not.<</if>> “It is not my fault that I am naturally eye-catching.” $xname exhales a lamenting sigh. “Persecuted for my beauty yet again—” “I agree,” $rname says loudly, speaking over $xname and earning a glare. “It <em>would</em> be riskier for both $aname and I to be absent along with the Crown. What do you think, $name?”<<else>>You don’t see a problem with that<<if $rfriend is false>>, though you are a little disappointed at not being able to spend more time with $rname<</if>><<if $afriend is false>><<if $arelationship is 'low'>>, though you had hoped to spend some time with $aname and perhaps get a chance to talk to $athem in private<<else>>, though you are a little disappointed at not being able to spend more time with $aname<</if>><</if>>. “Then I would like to join you,” $dname says unexpectedly, <<if $dfriend is true>>eyeing $xname with skepticism. “Someone should ensure you take this seriously.” $xname shrugs. “I’m being paid for this, aren’t I? That is motivation enough—but fine, <<if $afriend is false>>if you have missed my company that much<<else>>do as you like<</if>>.”<<if $afriend is false>> $dname tenses. “I have not.” It doesn’t sound very believable, but you know better than to point that out, and so does $xname judging by $xtheir triumphant smirk.<</if>><<else>>briefly meeting your gaze before looking away again, the single moment of eye-contact making your pulse race. $cdthey does not offer a reason for wanting to join. Dare you assume it is because $dthey wants to be close to you? “Are you sure?” you ask, your eyes drawn to $dtheir side where $dthey was wounded. “I know my limits.” $dname still does not look at you as $dthey speaks, gaze aimed down at $dtheir teacup on the table. “Should I feel unwell, there will be plenty of places in the city where I can rest, though I do not expect that to be the case.” Part of you almost wants to order $dthem to stay behind, but that would betray your attachment to $dthem just as surely. Instead, you give a reluctant nod.<</if>> “That works,” $rname agrees. “It <em>would</em> be riskier for both $aname and I to be absent along with the Crown. What do you think, $name?”<</if>> <<if $blunt gt $charm>>“So long as we get something useful out of the peri trader, I do not care who accompanies me,” you state, and $xname presses a hand to $xtheir chest in mock-hurt. <<if $xfriend is true>>“Do I mean so little to you?” You cast $xthem a dry look, though the curve of your lips give away that you mean it in jest. “You do not want me to answer that.” $aname laughs, and even $xname cannot keep up $xtheir facade as $xthey huffs out a chuckle.<<else>>“You wound me, my dear!” $xthey declares. “Do I mean so little to you?” <<if $res gt $flirt>>“Be serious, $xname,” you scold, slightly flustered at the open use of the endearment, only seeming to amuse $xname more as $xthey grins at you. “Whatever your heart desires, darling.” $aname rolls $atheir eyes while you try to look unaffected, no doubt failing at it as you struggle to meet $xname's eyes again.<<else>>“Have I not given you enough attention today?” you wonder, quirking a brow at $xthem while you smile teasingly. “Is that why you're acting out?” $xname all but pouts at you. “You make me sound clingy.” “Aren't you?” $aname huffs an amused breath while $xname tries and fails to think of a convincing denial, resigning to the accusation with a sigh.<</if>><</if>><<else>>“I think it’ll be fun,” you decide, looking at $dname and $xname, the former who frowns at you while the latter smirks. “Exactly!” $xname agrees heartily. “Who says business and pleasure cannot go together?”<<if $xfriend is false>> $cxthey winks at you as $xthey says it, and you <<if $flirt gt $res>>roll your eyes despite the smile that is coaxed from your lips<<else>>frown halfheartedly at $xthem in reproach, feeling a little flustered despite yourself<</if>>.<</if>> “Please do keep focused on our purpose.” $dname looks so exasperated you almost start to feel guilty. Albeit not quite enough to stop. “Can we not keep focused on our purpose in a fun way, though?” $dname rolls $dtheir eyes to the sky and then closes them as if in prayer.<</if>> “When should we leave?” you ask $rname. “Kham won’t return for a while, but it’d be better to take care of this sooner rather than later, especially if she ends up implicated in some way. We’ll have more time to figure out what to do until she arrives.” $rname nods. “Then why not go now?” You blink at $rthem, taken aback. “What, right this moment?” “The sooner the better, you said.” $rname looks around the table. “And there is no particular time in the day when it would be more or less effective to speak to the trader. Posing as customers during the opening hours of their store would be preferable, in fact.” Your gaze turns inquisitive. “I take it you speak of using glamors?” $rname smiles, then stands from $rtheir seat. “Precisely. Come along, let us head for the tunnels first.” <<if $afriend is true>>[[Continue|12.7p]]<<else>><<if $arelationship is 'high'>>[[Continue|12.7ap]]<<else>>[[Continue|12.7p]]<</if>><</if>>“I know you and $aname planned to help $name deal with Kham,” $xname says to $rname, turning serious for a moment, “but the meeting would draw too much attention from the nobles if both the Crown’s Sorcerer and the Royal Protector were present. Besides, my sensory ability would be more useful. No offense.” <<if $xfriend is false>>You certainly won’t object to that. “Then I would like to join you,” $dname says unexpectedly, eyeing $xname with skepticism. “Someone should ensure you do not distract the Crown.” <<if $res gt $flirt>>You cover your eyes with your hand, not even wishing to see the reactions of your companions to the implication beneath it<<else>>You smile with amusement, unable to deny the charge—$xname would most definitely distract you were you to meet with Kham with just the two of you, whether intentionally or not.<</if>> “It is not my fault that I am naturally eye-catching.” $xname exhales a lamenting sigh. “Persecuted for my beauty yet again—” $dname speaks over $xthem. “Kham may also be surprised by my presence, if not encouraged to lower her guard considering her… <em>fondness</em> for me.” The word ‘fondness’ is said with a rather derogatory slant, but you’re not certain whether to bring that up before $rname responds. “I agree,” $rthey says.<</if>><<if $xfriend is true>>You don’t see a problem with that<<if $rfriend is false>>, though you are a little disappointed at not being able to spend more time with $rname<</if>><<if $afriend is false>><<if $arelationship is 'low'>>, though you had hoped to spend some time with $aname and perhaps get a chance to talk to $athem in private<<else>>, though you are a little disappointed at not being able to spend more time with $aname<</if>><</if>>. “Then I would like to join you,” $dname says unexpectedly, eyeing $xname with skepticism. “Someone should ensure you take this seriously.” $xname shrugs. “I’m being paid for this, aren’t I? That is motivation enough—but fine, <<if $afriend is false>>if you have missed my company that much<<else>>do as you like<</if>>.”<<if $afriend is false>> $dname tenses. “I have not.” It doesn’t sound very believable, but you know better than to point that out, and so does $xname judging by $xtheir triumphant smirk.<</if>> “Kham may also be surprised by my presence,” $dname continues, “if not encouraged to lower her guard considering her… <em>fondness</em> for me.” The word ‘fondness’ is said with a rather derogatory slant, but you’re not certain whether to bring that up before $rname responds.<<else>><<if $dfriend is false>>briefly meeting your gaze before looking away again, the single moment of eye-contact making your pulse race. $cdthey does not offer a reason for wanting to join. Dare you assume it is because $dthey wants to be close to you? “Are you sure?” you ask, your eyes drawn to $dtheir side where $dthey was wounded. “I know my limits.” $dname still does not look at you as $dthey speaks, gaze aimed down at $dtheir teacup on the table. “Having a meeting with a spoiled princess is far from taxing on my body, save perhaps my mind. Kham may also be surprised by my presence, if not encouraged to lower her guard considering her… <em>fondness</em> for me.” The word ‘fondness’ is said with a rather derogatory slant, but by this point you are aware of why. You certainly do not like Kham’s fixation on $dname, especially after $dname told you that it was from a place of condescension more than anything else. Part of you almost wants to order $dthem to rest instead so $dthey is spared Kham’s presence, but that would betray your attachment to $dthem just as surely. Instead, you give a reluctant nod. “That works,” $rname agrees.<</if>><</if>> “The Imperial Court would certainly take note of the meeting, which is the last thing we want. What do you think, $name?” <<if $blunt gt $charm>>“So long as we get something useful out of Kham, I do not care who sits in on the meeting with me,” you state, and $xname presses a hand to $xtheir chest in mock-hurt. “Do I mean so little to you?” You cast $xthem a dry look, though the curve of your lips give away that you mean it in jest. “You do not want me to answer that.” $aname laughs, and even $xname cannot keep up $xtheir facade as $xthey huffs out a chuckle.<<else>>“I think it’ll be fun to spend some time with the princess,” you decide, looking at $dname and $xname, the former who frowns at you while the latter smirks. “Normally I would not agree,” $xthey admits, “but vexing her is <em>so</em> amusing.” “Please do keep focused on our purpose.” $dname looks so exasperated you almost start to feel guilty. Not quite enough to stop grinning, though. “Can we not keep focused on our purpose in a fun way, though?” $dname rolls $dtheir eyes to the sky and then closes them as if in prayer.<</if>> A servant appears from a hallway, drawing everyone’s attention as they head straight for you, bowing in front of you with haste. “What is it?” you ask, permitting them to speak. “It is Her Highness, Princess Kham,” the servant rushes to say, wringing their hands. “She has arrived at the palace and waits to be granted an audience.” Your brows arch sharply, exchanging a look with $rname. “I thought you planned our meeting for later in the evening?” “I did.” $rname scowls. “She is trying to rattle us.” “Then we won’t let her.” You rise from your seat, the others following your example. “Whether it’s now or later doesn’t matter.” You look over at $xname and $dname. “Let’s go choose a sitting room and let her wait until we’re ready, if she is so eager to speak.” <<if $afriend is false and $arelationship is 'high'>>[[Continue|12.7ka]]<</if>><<if $rfriend is false>>[[Continue|12.7kr]]<</if>><<if $dfriend is false or $xfriend is false>>[[Continue|12.7k]]<</if>><<if $afriend is false and $arelationship is 'low'>>[[Continue|12.7k]]<</if>><<if $arelationship is 'high'>>Your companions do not remark on your lengthy farewell with $aname, though $xname casts you a knowing look as you join them at the entrance of one of the tunnels.<<else>>$aname parts from the rest of your group once you head into the corridors, apparently needing to oversee the training of new recruits for the Imperial Guards. <<if $afriend is false>>Your eyes meet before $athey leaves, and $athey seems to hesitate for a moment, as if considering whether or not to say anything. Finally, $athey settles on, “Be safe.” The impassive expression $athey has worn ever since your argument is fractured now, letting slip $atheir concern in the furrow of $atheir brows. You cannot help but smile, reassured at least that $athey still feels concern for your safety. It is more than you have gotten from $athem all week. “See you soon, $aname.” Your other companions do not remark on it, thankfully, and $rname guides the rest of you to one of the entrances to the tunnels.<<else>>You bid $athem a quick goodbye, continuing on with the rest of your group to one of the entrances to the tunnels. <</if>><</if>> The towering double doors you find there groan open at the command of $rname's magic, revealing a familiar staircase down into the dimly-lit shadows. At the same time, a servant approaches with a stack of folded garments balanced in one hand while the other holds a small, clay jar. “Never mind the cloaks and the eye glamor,” $rname says to the servant before you can ask about what are clearly disguises for you to wear. “Ask Keko to fetch a body glamor instead, the one in the red jar.” $dname’s jaw tenses. “I’d rather have a cloak.” “A cloak is not going to hide your armor.” $rname waves a hand dismissively. “A full-body disguise works better. I know you dislike magic, but I promise, you won’t even feel it.” “When did you get a body glamor?” you ask. “I thought we only had an eye glamor.” “I figured you would want to head out into the city eventually.” $rname smiles knowingly at you. “You can’t be expected to be cooped up in the palace forever. So, I asked Perjin to brew some just in case. It’ll hide your eye color as well, of course.” “Thank you, $rname,” you say, appreciative of $rtheir forethought. It doesn’t take the servant long to fetch it, quickly returning with a glass jar of a thick, deep red powder, glittering gold when angled towards the light. Using the body glamor is surprisingly less fanfare than you expected it would be. In front of the entrance to the tunnels, $rname sprinkles some of the glittery powder over your face and body. You don’t understand the effect until $rthey does the same to $xname and $dname, who appear to morph into different people before your very eyes. [[Continue|12.8p]] You blink at $xname standing beside you, now dressed in cheap, simple layers of rugged cotton, wearing frayed woven sandals. Some things are the same, like $xtheir stature and the shades of $xtheir eyes and skin, but everything else is has changed. You can still see the similarities of $xtheir facial features, only they have morphed to make them look much older than $xthey is, $xtheir complexion deepened and aged with wrinkles and age spots, and most of $xtheir hair turned gray. $cxtheir body seems to have softened around the edges as well. <<if $xfriend is true>>“$xname, you look… old?” You can hardly reconcile the notable crow’s feet and laugh lines to $xname’s true face. $xname grins, not seeming to take offense. “So do you!”<<else>>Is this what $xthey will look like, decades from now? You take a moment to really look at $xthem. The sight is a strange one for how out of place it is, but $xthey still looks as gorgeous as ever. Just in a different way. $xname notices your staring, giving you a sly smile, as if $xthey can tell exactly what you’re thinking. “$name, are you inclined to aged beauty?” $cxtheir gaze trails over your form, leaving heat in its wake wherever it touches you as mischief curls in the corner of $xtheir mouth. “I think I certainly am.”<</if>> Out of reflex, you glance down at your hands, but you don’t notice anything different. It must only be visible to other people. You then both turn to look at $dname, who has apparently gone through the <em>opposite</em> transformation. $xname bursts into laughter while you continue to stare in disbelief. “You look like the world’s tallest child!” you exclaim, which is a rather bizarre sight considering $dtheir height hasn’t changed at all. $dname scowls at you both with delicate brows furrowing atop big, doe-like black eyes, though you can’t take it seriously whatsoever considering $dtheir big, rounded cheeks. $cdtheir head looks too small for $dtheir body, only adding to the comical effect. “Oh dear.” $rname sighs, considering $dname with a troubled look. “I was afraid this might happen. It seems your magic has interfered with the glamor. The illusion was supposed to age you and adjust your features. Now you just look like…” “Our gigantic grandchild?” you helpfully fill in, sending $xname into another peel of laughter that echoes through the palace, gasping for air as $xthey braces $xtheir hand against the wall. You can even hear a couple more barely-suppressed chuckles, likely from your guards. “Can you fix it?” $dname asks, though $dthey looks half-resigned to $dtheir fate as $dthey glares at $xname resentfully, who is sent into another fit at hearing $dname’s deep voice come out of the mouth of an awkwardly proportioned child-disguise. “We’re going to draw too much attention like this.” “I could remove it from your face, if you’d prefer using a more practical disguise.” $rname gives $dname an apologetic look. “Perhaps a hat and a scarf instead? And some clothes?” “I wish $aname could’ve seen this,” $xname says, catching $xtheir breath while $xthey wipes tears from the corners of $xtheir eyes. “Maybe I should let $athem read my mind and show it to $athem.” <<if $rfriend is false>>A servant brings an additional garments for $dname, while $rname carefully uses a pinch of a counter-glamor to lift it from $dname’s face. It forces $dthem to forego their armor, but With that problem solved, $xname and $dname begin to descend into the tunnels, but you linger behind with $rname. “Go on ahead, I’ll catch up,” you say to them, $dname accepting your decision with a nod while $xname leaves you with a smirk, though $xthey does you the favor of not outright teasing you. It is rather obvious that you want a moment alone with $rname—obvious to everyone except for $rname $rthemselves that is. [[Continue|12.9r]]<<else>><<if $dfriend is true>>A hat and a scarf later with the glamor removed from $dname’s face, the three of you descend to the tunnels. $xname continues to snicker whenever $xthey casts so much as a glance in $dname’s direction, who diligently ignores the looks. At least the glamor is still disguising $dtheir armor adequately, showing an illusion of similarly ragged clothes that $xname wears. $rname gave you an additional pinch of powder to use to undo the effect in case it becomes necessary for whatever reason, and more of the glamor to put it back into place. Hopefully, this meeting will go smoothly enough that neither will be necessary. You do wonder why the glamor didn’t work on $dname in particular, though. While you’re aware of $dtheir general aversion to using magic and interacting with spirits, you didn’t think that would translate into alchemy being rendered ineffective on $dthem. As you walk through the tunnels together, you decide to ask. “$dname, do you have any idea why the glamor didn’t work on you?” $dname glances at you from where $dthey walks on your left, but before $dthey can answer, $xname beats $dthem to it. “Probably the peri magic, no?” $xthey remarks casually, giving $dname a considering look, before turning toward you. “Also, why are you still calling $xdnickname by $dtheir title?” “It is proper,” $dname argues, and $xname rolls $xtheir eyes. “Would you care that much if $they only used your first name in private?” $dname looks over at you, and you meet $dtheir gaze in question. “I suppose not,” $dthey concedes, and you smile with a bit of relief. Adding ‘general’ to $dtheir name every time made it a bit of a mouthful. <<if $dgender is 'male'>><<set $dname to 'Dara'>><<else>><<set $dname to 'Delal'>><</if>> Recalling $xname’s words before $xthey distracted you with the issue of $dname’s address, you redirect the conversation. “Why do you have peri magic, $dname? Is it inscribed on your armor, or something of the sort?” Realization alights in $dname’s eyes. “Ah, you don’t know. I suppose I forgot to mention: I’m peri-born.” [[Continue|12.9pdf]]<<else>>A hat and a scarf later with the glamor removed from $dname’s face, the three of you descend to the tunnels. $xname continues to snicker whenever $xthey casts so much as a glance in $dname’s direction, who diligently ignores the looks. You wonder if glamors are incompatible with peri magic. It seems to work on $dname’s armor well enough, but clearly not any part of $dtheir actual body. $rname gave you an additional pinch of powder to use to undo the effect in case it becomes necessary for whatever reason, and more of the glamor to put it back into place. Hopefully, this meeting will go smoothly enough that neither will be necessary. [[Continue|12.9p]]<</if>><</if>> As you and your companions leave the inner courtyard behind and head into the palace’s corridors, $aname remarks $athey has to split off to oversee the training of a couple new guards. You ask $aname to stay behind a moment, telling the others to go on ahead without you. $aname’s eyes follow the backs of your companions as they continue on, watching them until they’ve turned the corner and disappeared, leaving $athem alone with you. Finally, when they’re all out of sight, $aname’s gaze returns to yours and a smile lifts $atheir lips. $cathey steps closer. “Did you want to say goodbye?” $athey wonders teasingly, $atheir hands reaching for your waist. They feel warm even through your clothes, holding you gently, almost carefully. <<if $flirt gt $res>>“I wanted a moment to have you to myself,” you reply, <<if $agender is 'male'>>your own hands reaching up to rest against his shoulders in turn<<else>>your own hands sliding around her lower back in turn, settling along the dip of it<</if>>. $catheir eyes widen fractionally, but then $athey briefly glances away, as if unable to hold your gaze even while $athey shifts closer ever so slightly. “I can’t say I’m pleased to be left behind.” “Because you’re worried?” There is but a hand’s length of space between you left, close enough to admire the way $atheir eyelashes flutter when $athey blinks. “Or because you wanted me to yourself as well?” $aname looks at you properly, stare lingering on your face. “Both.” You smile, pleased, though it does not last as you consider $atheir genuine concern for your safety. <<else>>You try not to show how affected you are by just a few words and a simple touch, but it shows in your own hands <<if $agender is 'male'>>as they hesitate briefly before reaching up to rest against his shoulders in turn<<else>>as they hesitate briefly before sliding around her lower back in turn, settling along the dip of it<</if>>. “Didn’t you?” you return instead of answering $athem, not that your answer would be difficult to guess. $aname’s smile turns mischievous as $athey shifts closer ever so slightly. “I did, but I also wanted to be alone with you.” It’s unfair how easily $athey affects you, your heart thumping resoundingly against your chest while you stare back into $atheir eyes, entirely enthralled. “Oh.” $cathey huffs a soft laugh, though it also fades faster than you’d like it to as $athey regards you. “I can’t say I’m pleased to be left behind.” <</if>>“If you want to come along—” “You’ll be well protected,” $aname says, whether to reassure you or $athemselves as of yet unclear to you. “But I suppose… I hoped to have more time with you today.” You share the sentiment, sighing as you recall the past week: neither of you found much opportunity to spend with solely the two of you. Between all your lessons and your court meetings, there was scarcely an hour in the day when you weren’t in the company of others, and finding privacy with your Royal Protector in such circumstances has been difficult. “I know.” Your brows furrow as you think of the rest of your schedule for today. “When I get back from the city—” “You have classes before supper.” “After supper, then.” $aname tilts $atheir head at you. “Do you not have to study for tomorrow’s lessons?” “I can spare an hour,” you decide, determined to make the time even if it means going to bed a little later than usual. When $aname opens $atheir mouth with a skeptical look, you <<if $res gt $flirt>>lift a hand without thinking, almost placing your fingers on $atheir lips before you catch yourself doing it. Embarrassed, you quickly start to retract it. “Sorry, I—” $aname catches your hand and, holding your gaze, kisses the tips of your fingers. The tender brush of $atheir lips jolts down your spine, your breath catching and blocking up the words you intended to speak. “If you’re certain,” $aname says as $athey releases your hand again, $atheir voice as soft as $atheir gaze. “I wouldn’t wish to distract you.”<<else>>lift a hand and press the tips of your fingers to $atheir lips to prevent $athem from protesting. It silences $athem at once, but the brush of $atheir lips affects you just as much. The touch jolts down your spine and tempts you to lean a little closer, gaze lingering on $aname’s mouth. $catheir lips parts ever so slightly against your fingers, the heat of $atheir breath caressing your hand, and when you lift your eyes up to $atheirs you find them equally transfixed on you. Reminding yourself that the others are waiting for you, you reluctantly pull your hand back again. “Studying <em>all</em> the time isn’t healthy either. You’d be doing me a favor.” It takes $aname a moment to recollect $athemselves, taking a steadying breath before $athey replies. “If you’re certain. I wouldn’t wish to distract you.”<</if>> “You won’t,” you promise. You’re still figuring out how to coax $athem closer in situations like these, but you think you’re getting the hang of it, especially considering how $aname responds. $cathey smiles at you, then releases your waist and unexpectedly cups your cheeks. <<if $height is 'tall' or $height is 'very tall'>>Tilting your head down to angle your forehead to $atheir lips,<<else>>Leaning down to angle $atheir lips to your forehead,<</if>> $athey spoils you with another kiss. It’s nothing more than a chaste peck, yet it lingers for a moment before $athey draws back, drawing out more than the heat that warms your face. Pinpricks of light flash in the corners of your eyes, and you realize a moment later it is your magic that has reacted, glowing from your skin. $aname’s gaze brightens with mirth as $athey notices it too, purposefully caressing your cheek with a thumb—the coolness of $atheir magic brushes against the heat of yours, soothing it so wonderfully that it makes you sigh. “I should let you go,” $athey says, pulling back and allowing you to regain control of your magic, though you long for $atheir touch again the moment it ceases. “Be safe, $name.” “See you soon.” You remain standing in the hallway as you watch $aname depart, waiting until the rapid pounding of your heart has calmed again before you rejoin the others. [[Continue|12.7p]]“Peri-born?” It’s not a term you’ve heard often, but you <em>have</em> heard of it. “That means the parent who gave birth to you is a peri, doesn’t it?” While practically unheard of in Rojan, you do know that peri-human couples are more common in the other provinces, especially Penawar where $dname is from. The peris there live together with humans in mixed communities and are considered to be Arsurian citizens, completely opposite to the peris of Rojan who have isolated themselves as best as possible in their own monarchic state. “It does.” $dname narrows $dtheir eyes in thought. “$rtitle $rname is aware of this as well, but I believe $rthey requested the glamor with the assumption that $rthey and $aname would be accompanying you. My magic works a little differently.” $cdthey proceeds to explain it to you as you walk. Peris don’t have magic cores with an innate amount of magic produced from within, like humans do. Their entire bodies are made of magic, and they are dependent on absorbing magic from their environment to stay alive. Peri-born humans <em>do</em> have innate magic cores, but much like peris, they have to absorb magic in order to use it. They can’t produce magic on their own, though that doesn’t mean they must absorb magic in order to stay alive. Their bodily functions and needs are identical to those of other humans, in that regard: they can opt not to absorb magic at all, and will not be affected beyond being unable to use any spells. “Is that why you never use magic?” you ask at the end of $dname’s explanation. “You don’t want to bother absorbing it?” $dname seems to hesitate, thinking about $dtheir answer before $dthey gives it. “It’s one of the reasons. I simply don’t have any affinity for using magic. My body is naturally enhanced compared to that of other humans even without it, so I see no real need for it.” You get the sense that’s not all there is to why $dname doesn’t use $dtheir magic, but you don’t want to press $dthem on it if it’s something $dthey’d rather not discuss. “Bragging about your big muscles again?” $xname remarks teasingly, shifting the topic away and lightening the discomfort in the air. $dname huffs a breath, playing along with $dtheir usual exasperation. “Don’t project.” [[Continue|12.9p]] Soon enough, the three of you emerge from the tunnel into the alleyways of one of the more mercantile parts of the city. The Peacock District is right beside one of the gates of Marabad’s walls that see a regular stream of traders coming and going with the seasons. “I assume one of you knows where we can find the peri trader?” you ask as you step out onto the streets, blending in with the afternoon crowd that roams the marketplace stretched out before you. The stalls are filled with various wares, their owners calling out to the perusing customers and bartering with their sales. Pottery, handmade beaded jewelry, embroidered cloth and homespun fabrics, sandals and foot covers—you’ve arrived at a very particular section of the market. You even see someone try to haggle the price of a finely decorated incense burner down by offering a continuously increasing number of eggs. “What do you not understand?” the stall owner says impatiently. “I only accept trades made in coin!” “This is better than coin!” the customer replies, waving an egg in the stall owner’s face. “Unlike your fickle, bastard-made currency, these eggs are a gift from nature. They are not soiled by human hands, and they do not lose their value. An egg’s worth is forever an egg’s worth.” You don’t think that’s accurate, to put it politely, based on the very basic lessons in economy you’ve enjoyed from your tutor. A flood of eggs on the market would most certainly depreciate their value. Though, you cannot begrudge the customer for trying to haggle their way into a deal, even if it’s by spouting complete nonsense. “Who has put you in charge to decide what a thrice-damned egg is worth?” The stall owner gestures wildly at the marketplace. “Do you think I’m in the business of giving things away for a pittance? Does this look like Zam’s temple to you? I am telling you, your eggs are not enough.” “Fine, fine,” the customer says placatingly. “Eighty eggs.” “The amount of eggs is not the problem, you fool!” The stall owner turns red in the face as they yell at their customer, spittle flying from their mouth. “What am I supposed to do with eighty eggs?” The customer looks supremely unbothered. “Shove one up your ass and hatch a chicken for all I care.” $xname snorts behind you. “Should’ve brought more eggs.” You barely smother your laugh with a hand when the stall owner starts shouting profanities as you pass them by. Part of you has missed the chaotic energy of being around so many people in the city—something that used to make you anxious, but now you look back on fondly after having been sequestered in the palace for over a month now. You’re not used to staying in one place for so long. $dname takes the lead in front of you while you continue to maneuver the marketplace. $cdthey naturally clears a path through the throng of people as $dthey towers over everyone else. “Follow me, I know where to go.” <<if $height is 'very tall'>>With you being similar to $dname in height, and $xname hardly being short $xthemselves, your small group draws more looks than you would’ve liked. “We should’ve asked $rname to adjust our heights,” you mumble, $xname chuckling in front of you as you walk in a row, looming noticeably over the rest of the crowd.<</if>><<if $height is 'tall'>>While you and $xname are a bit shorter than $dname, you’re both still quite tall compared to everyone else in the market. Your small group ends up drawing more looks than you would’ve liked as you walk in a row, looming noticeably over the rest of the crowd. “We should’ve asked $rname to adjust our heights,” you mumble, $xname chuckling in front of you.<</if>><<if $height isnot 'tall' and $height isnot 'very tall'>>With $xname being quite tall $xthemselves as well, the two of them draw more looks than you would’ve liked as you shuffle along behind the two of them, walking in a row together. <<if $height is 'short' or $height is 'very short'>>You somehow feel even shorter when next to the two of them.<</if>> “We should’ve asked $rname to adjust your heights,” you mumble, drawing a chuckle from $xname.<</if>> “Nothing to be done for it now.” $xname peers at the various stalls you pass by, <<if $afriend is false>>idly resting a hand on the center of $dname’s back.<</if>><<if $rfriend is false>>idly grabbing hold of the back of $dname’s cloak.<</if>><<if $xfriend is false>>but then glances over $xtheir shoulder at you. A moment later, $xtheir hand extends back to you, tapping you on the wrist in obvious invitation. “So you don’t get lost.” You can only smile in response as you take $xtheir hand, feeling warm from the inside out as <<if $pass gt $ass>>$xthey intertwines $xtheir fingers with yours<<else>>you intertwine your fingers with $xtheirs<</if>>, continuing to walk the city streets hand in hand.<</if>><<if $dfriend is false>>but then glances over $xtheir shoulder at you. $cxthey frowns slightly, looks back at $dname, and then back at you again. After a moment of thought, $xthey shifts to the side to let you through. “Here, walk in front of me. We wouldn’t want you getting lost.” You arch your brows. “I think I can manage to keep track of the two of you in this crowd.<<if $height is 'tall' or $height is 'very tall'>> You’re the only ones on my eye-level.<</if>>” “Better safe than sorry!” $cxthey ushers you along by your shoulder, placing you between $xthem and right behind $dname, who glances at you as well. You feel a touch against your side, and look down to see $dname’s hand extended back to you. It is almost embarrassing how swiftly such a benign gesture makes your breath catch, but you know the weight of it. <<if $drelationship is 'low'>>Based on how little $dname has wished to acknowledge the tension between you ever since $dthey returned, you almost started to wonder whether you’ve imagined any sign of interest from $dthem. But would $dthey have offered $dtheir hand for you to hold if $dthey did not care for you at all? Maybe you really do have a chance with $dthem.<<else>> No one here knows who either of you are. Well, no one except $xname, but $xthey is more than happy to enable. There is no risk of discovery, no danger of causing scandal and ruining both of your reputations for this short moment in time as you walk through the markets together. You were worried, what with the way $dname appeared so determined to wall $dthemselves off from you and deny the tension so clearly there between the two of you. Perhaps you are getting through to $dthem more than you realized.<</if>> Endeared by the gesture—<<if $res gt $flirt>>and feeling too bashful to say anything in response<<else>>and not wanting to draw attention to it in case it scares $dname off<</if>>—you quietly take $dname’s hand in yours, your heart lightening with every step as you continue to walk the city streets.<</if>><<if $rfriend is false or $afriend is false>> $dname looks over $dtheir shoulder at $xname, frowning. “What?” $xname gives an innocent shrug. “I’m making sure I don’t lose you in the crowd! Here, $name, you hold onto my belt.” While you tentatively grab onto the cloth of $xname’s colorful waist-high belt, $dname doesn’t sound convinced. “You have sensory magic, and I’m taller than most of the stalls here.” <<if $afriend is false>>“I think $xname has missed you,” <<if $charm gt $blunt>>you reply, unable to pass up the opportunity to tease<<else>>you remark dryly, as obvious as it is with how clingy $xname is being<</if>>. $xname immediately voices $xtheir agreement. “Spirits forbid I show any kind of affection.” $dname is silent for a beat, then gives an irritable sigh. “Then hold onto my shoulder, like a sensible person. Why would you put your hand between my shoulder blades?” “Can I hold your hand instead?” “Are you a child?” “Fine,” $xname laments, lifting $xtheir hand to curl around $dname’s shoulder instead. “But next time—” $dname reaches behind $dthem and grabs $xname by the wrist, the force of it nearly tugging $xthem forward against $dname’s back. “Satisfied?” “I knew it.” $xname sounds entirely too smug. “You missed me.” You can’t suppress your laughter any longer as $dname exhales a deep breath, silently tugging $xname along while you follow behind the two.<<else>>“Just humor $xthem, won’t you, $dname?” you say, more amused by $xname’s antics than anything else. $xname’s reply comes with a tone of mild offense. “I’m taking sensible precautions.” “To protect against the terrors of an afternoon crowd?” “Do not underestimate marketplace perusers.” For a moment, $xname sounds genuinely haunted. “They’re worse than hyenas.”<</if>><</if>> [[Continue|12.10]] You manage to make it through the marketplace, finally arriving at a large building with an open front, wrapping around the corner of the street. Tables and shelves are lined with various flowers and plants out front, perused by a few passing customers. This appears to be the peri trader’s shop, signaled by the sign at the front that reads <em>Eshkar’s Garden</em>. Eshkar being the name of the peri trader in question. <<if $dfriend is false>> You and $dname swiftly release each other’s hands as you approach Eshkar’s shop, your fingers twitching at the absence. $xname, mercifully, makes no remarks, though $xthey gives you a knowing grin when you meet $xtheir gaze.<</if>><<if $xfriend is false>>You and $xname release each other’s hands as you approach Eshkar’s shop, yours already growing cold with the loss of $xname’s warmth. $dname seems not to have even noticed, as $dthey has been walking out in front the entire time, though even if $dthey did notice you get the sense $dthey wouldn’t have cared one bit.<</if>><<if $afriend is false>>$dname immediately releases $xname’s hand as you approach Eshkar’s shop, ignoring $xname’s little frown of disappointment. Watching the two of them is far more amusing than it should be.<</if>> Turning your attention to the shop, you realize you recognize most of the flora it sells. If not by the labeled names then by sight alone, after having roamed the wilds for so long. Most of the plants sold here are not edible, though you recognize many have other beneficial properties. Colorful leaves that can increase the range of your eyesight when smoked with a pipe, blooms of small flowers that can keep you awake for several days if boiled properly, and roots of plants that are able to drain and store idle magic for later use. Though you also note there are plenty that look entirely new to you. Pale white flowers whose hanging bulbs pulse with light when a customer brushes against its leaves; bleeding vines wrapped around a small roofed trellis atop a wide table, its crimson flowers slowly dripping down pink juice caught by bowls below; and a tall flower with only two black petals, large and pointed, that nearly startle you when they snap together several times in sharp, cracking sounds, almost as if the flower were clapping. <<if $intel gt $intu>>Momentarily forgetting about your intended purpose in being here, you approach the clapping flower with curiosity, wondering what set it off. Sure enough, you see dead and decomposing flies collected at the center of its bulb as you lean over to peer inside. Does it catch and eat them? How fascinating. You glance at the labeling of the flower, its name fittingly titled ‘<em>black ovation</em>’.<<else>>Eyes drawn by the visual spectacle of the white flowers, you find yourself wandering over to its shelf, glancing at the labeling that reads ‘<em>stardrops</em>’. The bulbs look ordinary at first glance, but sure enough, when you reach out to touch its petals, the flower begins to glow like you saw before. A ring of light travels up its stem, through the petals to the very ends, where it erupts into tiny little golden sparks. Hence the name, you suppose. Unable to stop yourself, you touch the flower again, mesmerized by the light show, until you notice a shop attendee frowning at you from nearby. Feeling scolded, you quickly pull your hand away and offer an apologetic smile.<</if>> “$name?” $dname prompts from several steps behind you, nearly startling you as you realize you’ve wandered off from your two companions. “Sorry.” You rejoin them with a slightly embarrassed smile. “I couldn’t resist a closer look.” “Can’t hurt, can it?” $xname says, prodding $dname jovially with an elbow. “Let $them have a little fun while we’re here!” $dname frowns, looking from you to $xname, then sighs. “If you must. But don’t take too long.” You catch $xname’s eyes with a grateful look, and $xthey winks back at you, gently pushing you back towards the rows of plants as $xthey follows along. “You heard $dthem, let’s smell some flowers! Although, maybe not that black one. I think it would snap my nose right off.” “Not even if I dare you?” you <<if $charm gt $blunt>>tease<<else>>challenge<</if>>, and $xname peers over at the flower with serious assessment, seeming to consider it. Then it starts clapping again as another large black fly buzzes over it, catching it by the tips of its petals and crushing it in an instant. $xname lifts a hand to $xtheir nose while you snicker at $xtheir grimacing expression. “I think I’ll pass.” [[Continue|12.11]]$crthey looks at you in question, entirely oblivious. “Is something the matter?” <<if $rrelationship is 'low'>>While you have some brief time alone with $rthem, you consider $rtheir expression, the way $rthey carries $rthemselves, and even try to pick up on any changes in $rtheir magic. At first glance, $rname appears very much the same as always, but you cannot get your earlier conversation with <<if visited("12afriend") gte 1>>$aname<</if>><<if visited("12dfriend") gte 1>>$dname<</if>><<if visited("12xfriend") gte 1>>$xname<</if>> out of your head. You decide to act as usual while keeping it in the back of your mind. “Since I will be gone for a couple of hours, I wanted to say goodbye.” $rname smiles at you, and it seems genuine enough. “That’s sweet of you.” But there is something in $rtheir reaction—you expected $rthem to be a little more flustered than that. Perhaps $rthey has simply gotten comfortable with the growing intimacy and affection between the two of you this past week? “So…” You trail off, <<if $flirt gt $res>>uncharacteristically <</if>>uncertain and ill at ease now that the question of $rname’s wellbeing weighs on your mind. “I will see you later, then?” $rname’s smile falters, brows drawing together as $rthey regards you. Then, to your surprise, $rthey steps closer. “$rname—?” You scarcely get $rtheir name past your lips when $rthey suddenly leans in and kisses your cheek. Stunned, you stand there in something of a shock, staring at $rname while $rthey pulls back just as quickly. “Take care, my Crown,” $rthey says, and all you can do is nod, the touch of $rtheir lips still lingering on your cheek as you turn around and walk down the stairs. <<if visited("12afriend") gte 1>>$aname<</if>><<if visited("12dfriend") gte 1>>$dname<</if>><<if visited("12xfriend") gte 1>>$xname<</if>> was right. There is something wrong with $rname. It might be hasty to assume based on this one interaction, but you’re certain that if $rname was $rthemselves, $rthey would never have acted to nonchalantly about kissing you, even if on the cheek. Back in the water temple, when $rthey kissed your hand, $rthey was far more affected by it. This, however? $crthey is overcompensating for something. Putting your brewing concerns aside for the moment, you hurry to catch up with $dname and $xname in the tunnels, though you find they are not far ahead of you. They both glance over their shoulders at you when you rejoin them. “I hope I didn’t make you wait too long,” you say, eager to divert your thoughts as you walk beside them.<</if>><<if $rrelationship is 'high'>><<if $flirt gt $res>>You cannot help but smile with amusement, mischief alighting in your eyes. “There is, in fact.” $rname’s brows furrow with concern—adorable. “Oh?” <<if $pass gt $ass>>“You didn’t give me a kiss goodbye.” <<else>>“I didn’t give you a kiss goodbye.”<</if>> Watching the reaction play out on $rname’s face is as fascinating as it is enchanting. $crtheir eyes grow in shock, reflecting the soft glow of the torchlight like a mirror, before $rthey catches $rthemselves and abruptly turns $rtheir face away, pressing $rtheir fingers to $rtheir mouth. “$rname?” Your smile fades a little, wondering if you have teased $rthem too much. “Sorry, was I too forward?” “N-no!” $rname glances at you, unable to fully hold your gaze. “I was only surprised. But I don’t mind, just, ah, give me a moment—”<<else>>You take a breath to gather yourself. “I wanted to say goodbye.” $rname blinks at you, but then smiles, $rtheir gaze warming. “Of course. I should have considered that.” You hesitate a moment, not used to voicing such things aloud, but if you don’t say it then $rname will not understand your intent. “I was hoping, may I…” “May you…?” $rname still does not seem to pick up on it, and you feel all the blood in your body rushing to your head before you finally push the words out. <<if $ass gt $pass>>“May I kiss you goodbye?”<<else>>“May I have a kiss goodbye?”<</if>> Watching the reaction play out on $rname’s face is as fascinating as it is enchanting. $crtheir eyes grow in shock, reflecting the soft glow of the torchlight like a mirror, before $rthey catches $rthemselves and abruptly turns $rtheir face away, pressing $rtheir fingers to $rtheir mouth. Your shoulders tense a little, wondering if it was too much to ask for after all. “Sorry, was I too forward?” “N-no!” $rname glances at you, unable to fully hold your gaze. “I was only surprised. But I don’t mind, just, ah, give me a moment—”<</if>> Blue sparks flicker along $rtheir fingers, and $rthey hastily folds $rthem together as if trying to douse the errant magic. Your brows arch. “Is that my fault?” $rname exhales a faint laugh. “You made my heart pound, $name. It’s difficult to maintain control when it’s so unexpected.” If a mere kiss goodbye is enough to elicit such a response, you’re certain you would make $rname’s heart stop beating entirely from shock if you were to ever reveal what else <<if $ass gt $pass>>you want to do to $rthem<<else>>you want from $rthem<</if>>. How can you not, when $rname is like this? It’s thrilling to be able to affect someone so intensely, and it is proof of how $rthey must feel about you in turn. “On the cheek, then,” you decide as $rname finally manages to extinguish the sparks of $rtheir magic. <<if $flirt gt $res>>$crthey looks at you with a frown, and you cannot help but tease a little more as you step closer. “Disappointed?” $rname lowers $rtheir eyes, $rtheir hands still folded and held against $rtheir lap as $rthey admits softly, “Maybe a little.”<<else>>$crthey looks at you with a frown, but then lowers $rtheir eyes, $rtheir hands still folded and held against $rtheir lap. “$rname?” “I might have been hoping for a little more than that,” $rthey admits quietly, making your pulse race against your neck.<</if>> “Then<<if $res gt $flirt>>…<</if>> look forward to getting more when I’m back,” you reply, <<if $res gt $flirt>>gathering all your courage and <</if>><<if $height is 'short' or $height is 'very short'>>touching your fingers under $rtheir chin, but not needing to move it up: $rthey is taller than you, after all. It is solely to pull $rtheir eyes back up to your face, $rname meeting your gaze.<<else>>touching your fingers under $rtheir chin, gently lifting $rtheir head to look at you again as $rthey meets your gaze.<</if>> The blacks of $rtheir pupils are blown out, standing out against $rtheir silvery irises even in the shadows of the corridor. $crthey looks down at your mouth, if only for an instant, and the impulse to forget about your teasing tenses inside of you with anticipation. But if <<if $ass gt $pass>>you kissed $rthem<<else>>$rthey kissed you<</if>> properly now, you don’t know if either of you would be able to stop. <<if $ass gt $pass>>Leaning <<if $height is 'short' or $height is 'very short'>>in, you reach up as best you can<<if $height is 'very short'>>, having to stand on your toes<</if>> to<</if>><<if $height is 'average'>>in, you<</if>><<if $height is 'tall' or $height is 'very tall'>>down, you<</if>> press your lips gently against $rtheir cheek. A tingling sensation flits through your mouth when you let the kiss linger, $rtheir magic rippling through you at the touch, so vibrant you taste it on your tongue: something metallic, like right after a lightning strike. You pull back, licking your lower lip in reflex, and nearly freeze when $rname’s gaze tracks the movement of your tongue as if hypnotized. $crthey looks away a moment later, inhaling a deep breath as if to steady $rthemselves, and you swallow thickly as you find your composure is just as unraveled.<<else>>When $rname begins to lean in you hold completely still, not wanting to risk startling $rthem again. $crtheir heart is not the only one that pounds as $rname <<if $height is 'short' or $height is 'very short'>>bends $rtheir head down, and then<</if>><<if $height is 'average'>>shifts closer and closer, and then<</if>><<if $height is 'tall' or $height is 'very tall'>><<if $height is 'very tall'>>raises a little on $rtheir toes and <</if>>angles $rtheir head up, and then<</if>> brushes $rtheir lips ever so softly against your cheek. A tingling sensation flits against your skin as $rthey lets the kiss linger, $rtheir magic rippling through you at the touch. It’s so vibrant that when you part your lips to take a breath, you taste it on your tongue: something metallic, like right after a lightning strike. $rname pulls back, a hint of teeth digging into $rtheir lower lip, and your eyes fixate on it before you can stop yourself. When you look up to meet $rname’s stare, you find it just as transfixed on you. $crthey looks away a moment later, inhaling a deep breath as if to steady $rthemselves, and you swallow thickly as you find your composure is just as unraveled.<</if>> It seems absurd that a mere kiss on the cheek could be so exciting—you have done more with others who did not rouse even half the desire that $rname does. “Take care, $name,” $rname says, $rtheir tone soft, and you give $rthem a fond smile in return. “I’ll be back before you know it.” Leaving $rthem behind with those words, you hurry to catch up with $dname and $xname in the tunnels, though you find they are not far ahead of you. They both glance over their shoulders at you when you rejoin them. “I hope I didn’t make you wait too long,” you say, looking for something to anchor yourself with what with how your goodbye with $rname has left you in tatters. You find it difficult to focus on anything but the promise of more when you return.<</if>> $xname mercifully says nothing, keeping whatever teasing $xthey could have unleashed to $xthemselves, while $dname briefly answers you. “Not at all.” Speaking to $dname reminds you of something you noticed earlier that you are curious about. Why didn’t the glamor work on $dname in particular? While you’re aware of $dtheir general aversion to using magic and interacting with spirits, you didn’t think that would translate into alchemy being rendered ineffective on $dthem. As you continue through the tunnels together, you decide to ask. “$dname, do you have any idea why the glamor didn’t work on you?” $dname glances at you from where $dthey walks on your left, but before $dthey can answer, $xname beats $dthem to it. “Probably the peri magic, no?” $xthey remarks casually, giving $dname a considering look, before turning toward you. “Also, why are you still calling $dname by $dtheir title?” “It is proper,” $dname argues, and $xname rolls $xtheir eyes. “Would you care that much if $they only used your first name in private?” $dname looks over at you, and you meet $dtheir gaze in question. “I suppose not,” $dthey concedes, and you smile with a bit of relief. Adding ‘general’ to $dtheir name every time made it a bit of a mouthful. <<if $dgender is 'male'>><<set $dname to 'Dara'>><<else>><<set $dname to 'Delal'>><</if>> Recalling $xname’s words before $xthey distracted you with the issue of $dname’s address, you redirect the conversation. “Why do you have peri magic, $dname? Is it inscribed on your armor, or something of the sort?” Realization alights in $dname’s eyes. “Ah, you don’t know. I suppose I forgot to mention: I’m peri-born.” [[Continue|12.9pdf]] You and $xname head in different directions after that, your eye immediately drawn back to the bleeding vines you noticed before. Its small trellis is set up on top of a table—presumably so customers don’t accidentally walk underneath the spray of juice dripping from its flowers. The table itself is blocked off by a barricade of rope as well, preventing onlookers from reaching the bowls that catch the juice. Curious about its purpose, you watch the slow drip of the pink juice down into the bowls for a while, before you start to wonder where the vines even originate from. The base of the trellis is on the floor, a vertical part that the vines climb up to its roof that stretches out over the table, but the roots of the vines themselves seem to come from somewhere behind the table. You duck to look beneath the table, and find the roots of the vines originating from a wide, short bowl filled with something deep, dark red. Chunks of something floating near the top. There are runes inscribed on the outside of the bowl, and you recognize a couple of them, meant to prevent any scent from being released. “Sheep innards.” A voice from somewhere above you startles you into standing up straight, coming face to face with who you presume to be a shop attendant, judging by the pot of delicate crystal tulips they’re carrying with them. You wonder if the ones you’ve seen at the palace were procured from this shop. The attendant smiles plainly at you, light brown eyes narrowing slightly with the motion. “If you were wondering what was in the bowl.” “The vines feed on that?” you ask, perhaps a little redundantly as you glance at the pink juice produced by the flowers. No wonder the bowl is warded to prevent it from stinking up the whole place. The sigils likely preserve the meat, too, and prevent any insects from flocking to it. “Not the way you are thinking, I imagine.” The shop attendant looks amused, brushing a long, dark lock of curly hair behind their ear with their free hand. “Magic in fleshly creatures tends to concentrate in the organs. The residue of it left in the innards is what these vines are feeding on, converting it to the juice you see dripping into the bowls. They say the heart is the core of a human’s magic, for example, do they not?” <<if $intel gt $intu>>“Scholars are still debating that topic,” you answer reflexively. “Some argue the placement of the core merely coincides with the location of the heart, while others say their functions are intertwined.” “Oh? Interesting.” The attendant looks genuinely curious at the tidbit of knowledge.<<else>>“I hope that doesn’t mean you’re looking to stick some vines in me next,” you <<if $charm gt $blunt>>jest<<else>>remark dryly<</if>>, and the attendant laughs. “Not even if you would volunteer!” They shake their head. “Regardless, I can’t imagine this plant holds much interest for you. The juice of it can only be consumed by peris.”<</if>> You tilt your head in question at the wording. <<if $charm gt $blunt>>“Forgive me if this is presumptuous, but…”<<else>>“Do you happen to be a peri? I only ask because…”<</if>> “I am a peri, yes.” They point to the sign above you. “This is my shop, in fact.” They must be the peri trader known as Eshkar, then. You peer back at them with curiosity; this is the first time you’ve met a peri who has chosen to appear in a human form. Kham makes it a point to walk around the palace in her peri form as much as possible. “Eshkar, I take it?” You hold out your hand. <<if $name isnot 'Kawa'>><<if $blunt gt $charm>>“Kawa, I go by $they.”<<else>>“A pleasure to meet you. My name is Kawa, I go by $they.”<</if>> A lie, of course. Merely a random name you picked from an old bedtime story.<<else>><<if $blunt gt $charm>>“Xemgîn, I go by $they.”<<else>>“A pleasure to meet you. My name is Xemgîn, I go by $they.”<</if>> Merely a random name you picked off the top of your head.<</if>> Eshkar shakes your hand, <<if $blunt gt $charm>>seeming unaffected by your straightforward manner<<else>>smiling a little at your friendly introduction<</if>>. “And you may address me as he<<if $they is 'he'>> as well<</if>>. What brought you to my shop today?” You notice someone join you from the corner of your eyes, a glance bringing $xname’s charming smile into view as $xthey comes to stand on your right. It almost startles you again to see $xthem so aged, not yet used to the sight of it. “We’re looking for flowers, of course,” $xname says to Eshkar. “Of a very particular variety.” While $xname speaks, you look around, spotting $dname hovering at the edge of the shop’s displays, pretending to peruse. With $dtheir face and head completely covered up, $dthey would no doubt look suspicious to Eshkar, so you decided it would be best for you and $xname to engage the peri trader while $dname kept watch. “We have a very broad range of species,” Eshkar replies to $xname. “Which specific flower are you looking for?” $xname maintains $xtheir smile. “The blue siren.” If anything in Eshkar’s posture or expression shifts, it’s so quick that you do not catch it. From the way $xname’s eyes narrow slightly, however, you suspect that <em>$xthey</em> has not missed it. Or, at the very least, $xthey can sense something that isn’t outwardly visible. “Ah.” Eshkar glances towards his shop. “I’m afraid our supply of blue sirens has run out.” You arch your brows—<em>that</em> is certainly suspicious. “They’re a very popular flower,” Eshkar continues to explain, looking back at you and $xname. “The chiming sound is often considered a pleasant background noise, suited for any household to add to its ambiance. The nobles of Rojan are quite fond of it.” “Can its sound be intensified by magic?” you ask, watching Eshkar carefully. “Say, to paralyze someone, perhaps?” Eshkar’s lips part slowly, perhaps trying to think of what to say, when his eyes flit to the other end of the shop’s entrance. “Excuse me, another customer requires my attention. I will return momentarily.” You follow his gaze to a customer who is, admittedly, waving him over. The timing is far too convenient, however. Turning to look at $xname, you ask, “And?” $xname meets your gaze with a grim look. “His heartbeat spiked when you mentioned paralyzing someone with the flower.” He must be aware, then, that his flowers are being used for nefarious purposes. Whether he fears his own involvement being uncovered, or being blamed for trading in the flowers when he is innocent, that remains to be seen. [[Continue|12.12]] You and $xname return to $dname, who leads you across the street and into a nearby alleyway to discuss your next step. “We could bring him in,” $dname proposes, “but it would notify the princess of what we are doing.” $xname shakes $xtheir head. “Bringing him now would be too soon. We need more information.” “How do you propose we accomplish that?” you ask. “We can hardly interrogate him, and breaking into the supply rooms of his shop in broad daylight would be too risky.” “Simple.” $xname grins at you. “We’ll have $dname reveal who $dthey is, and make Eshkar crack.” “You want to threaten him?” You look over at $dname, whose brows furrow with thought, arms folding as $dthey considers it. “It could work.” $cdthey casts a glance at the shop, where Eshkar is pacing back and forth between the rows of plants, seeming to be checking them without actually doing anything. While his blank expression gives nothing away, his otherwise frazzled demeanor means even that short conversation must have gotten to him. He is far more nervous than he lets on. “I know it will work,” $xname assures the both of you. “I can hear his heart pounding from across the street without even focusing on it.” You don’t doubt $dname’s capacity for being sufficiently intimidating, but the plan needs some adjustments. “Still, having $dname walk up to his shop in front of everyone to threaten him would draw too much attention. Can we draw him away somehow?” $xname hums in thought, eyeing Eshkar with consideration. “Lots of ways to accomplish that, some more fun than others—” “This isn’t an outing for your personal entertainment, $xname,” $dname is quick to scold, and $xname scowls with $xtheir mouth already opening for a retort, when an idea occurs to you. “I need a guard,” you speak, waiting only for a moment before one of them reveals themselves to you. “I need you to tell Eshkar to come to this alleyway, but do it invisibly, and make it sound threatening.” The guard blinks mildly at you through the openings of their helmet. “Threatening in what way, Your Imperial Majesty?” Having caught on, $xname enthusiastically supplies, “Tell him his shop will burn down if he doesn’t. No, even better, that it will explode!” $dname rolls $dtheir eyes heavenward. “Stick with it burning down,” you instruct, huffing a laugh at the way $xname’s excitement deflates. The guard bows, then turns invisible once more. The three of you move further back into the alleyway as to remain out of sight, and wait for the guard’s return. “Peris can’t see through invisibility, can they?” you ask $dname, though you figure $dthey would have said something if so. “Not anymore than a human magus could—that is to say, not without considerable skill.” $dname tilts $dtheir head slightly. “Although it may be a little easier for them. Peris tend to rely more on being able to sense magic currents rather than relying on their physical senses.” “The guard’s invisibility blends very well with their environment,” $xname comments. “I can hardly sense a single ripple of magic to indicate their spell. Not to mention, with so many people around, the currents of idle magic will help conceal them further.” That much is true: <<if $magicpref is 'outer'>>even without any skill in sensing on your own, reaching out to the currents of magic in the air you find they are heavier here in the city streets than even the palace. You hope you will not have to perform any magic here, because the amount of it would make it difficult to control.<<else>>it is easy to sense how much heavier the currents of magic here are compared to the palace, let alone the forests you’re used to roaming. You hope you will not have to perform any magic here, because the amount of it would make it hard to focus on your own.<</if>> [[Continue|12.13]] It does not take long for Eshkar to appear at the mouth of the alleyway, his complexion appearing paler than before. His eyes immediately find you and your companions standing there in wait, narrowing sharply as he cautiously approaches you. “What is the meaning of this?” he demands, gaze shifting between the three of you. “Do you really think you can threaten me without any repercussions? My benefactor is born of royal seed. She will not be pleased to hear of me being accosted by a couple of ruffians.” ‘Born of royal seed’ sounds like some sort of peri expression, but its meaning is easy to deduce. He must be speaking of Kham, or someone from Kham’s family. Either way, it would be someone related to Queen Nis. “Seal off the alleyway,” you command, ignoring Eshkar’s posturing for now. It’s clear he is shaken, which means $xname is right. It won’t take much to make him crack. While Eshkar looks around in alarm, your Imperial Guards already go to work: stones with sigils inscribed on them are dropped on either end of the alleyway. Magic shifts in the air like a restless breeze, until every stone is in place, and it’s as if a sudden silence falls upon the city. The idle noise and chatter of Marabad’s inhabitants drops away. Eshkar rushes to one end of the alley, hand stretching out and coming to a sudden stop against the invisible barrier your guards put into place. He begins to pound against it with his fist, trying to draw the attention of the people on the other side. “Can anyone see me?” he calls out, but it is futile. The ward hides those within it from view, and prevents any sound from crossing over. “I’m being abducted! Someone help!” “Don’t be so dramatic,” $xname drawls. “We have no interest in <em>you</em>. This is about the flowers you’re peddling.” Eshkar turns back around, eyes wide and flicking rapidly between the three of you. They stop on $dname, who pulls $dtheir hood down and removes $dtheir cloak to reveal the armor $dthey wear underneath. If Eshkar looked pale before, he turns white at the sight of the emblem upon $dname's chestplate, the one with two herons you noticed before. “$dname Sîdar.” “I see introductions are not necessary,” $dname remarks calmly, staring back at Eshkar with cold eyes. You certainly wouldn’t like to be on the other end of that stare. “I’ve done no wrong,” Eshkar starts, but then stops when $dname raises $dtheir palm. “That will be for us to decide.” Eshkar crosses his arms. “Us?” “Surely you do not think I would be doing this without the Crown’s permission?” You keep your expression straight. There is nothing comedic about the situation, but Eshkar’s complete obliviousness to your presence is admittedly a little funny. Just a bit. “Then tell the Crown that I am innocent!” Eshkar insists, panic creeping into the edge of his voice as he raises it. “All I have done is sold some flowers, I am not responsible for what others decide to do with them.” “So you are aware of it?” you interject, catching the slip. “That your flowers have been used for ill.” Eshkar stiffens, appearing frozen, until the fear in his face drains away and his expression turns blank once more. “I will say no more. If you insist on arresting me, then you shall have to justify yourselves to Her Highness, Princess Kham. She will not be pleased once she hears of this.” He’s hiding behind her authority, but in another way, this only further hints at the possibility that Kham may have something to do with all of this. At the very least, she appears to be his benefactor. “That is of no concern,” $dname says, utterly unaffected by the threat. $cdthey takes a single step forward, and Eshkar recoils, back colliding against the barrier behind him. “We will have interrogated you long before she hears of this. She has returned to Anshan, after all.” “Or,” Eshkar says quickly as he unfolds his arms and raises his hands, nearly stammering in his haste to speak, “<em>or</em>, perhaps you would allow me to make a proposal! An arrangement that would benefit us both.” $xname was right: it has taken very little to get him to crack. $dname looks over at you while $xname keeps watch of Eshkar, $xtheir gaze not having moved away from him since the moment he entered the alleyway. “We’re listening,” you finally say, figuring you may as well hear him out. “I am merely a merchant.” Eshkar lowers his hands again, eyeing you warily. “As I said, whatever happens to the flowers after I have sold them is of no concern to me. Her Highness, however, might have more knowledge of such matters.” You arch your brows. “Are you saying she’s in on it?” “No!” Eshkar takes a breath. “Only that- would it not be preferable for you to work together? You would avoid offending Anshan’s royal family, and gain the princess’ aid in finding these evildoers. Is that not the best outcome?” “For you, maybe,” $xname scoffs. You have to agree with $xname that Eshkar is only proposing this to save his own skin. The question that remains is if you can use it to your advantage. Wouldn’t this be rather effective leverage over Kham? He did name her as someone at the very least aware of what’s happening with the flowers, and it’ll be harder for her to talk her way out of that. On the other hand, she might also be displeased finding out that you’ve gone behind her back like this. You’d have to tread carefully. Continuing to pressure Eshkar to find out exactly what he knows would be a more straightforward way of handling it, at least for the time being. Your first thought is to hang back and see what Eshkar does after this conversation: if there is anything of value to discover, you are certain that is the first place he will go to in order to cover it up. He may even try to flee the city and run to Kham. With invisible guards on your side, spying on him would be easy. After he has been captured and confessed to you what he knows, then you might be more willing to hear him out about his proposal of alliance. You will have to give it some thought later. [[Continue|12.14b]]<<if $charm gt $blunt>>“Nice try,” you say, smiling lightly.<<else>>“I reject your proposal for now,” you state.<</if>> “However, it is true that I would prefer to avoid offending the princess or the royal family. I will let you go.” $xname breaks $xtheir staring at Eshkar to give you a bemused look, while $dname regards you with curiosity, humming with thought. Perhaps even your guards are taken aback by your decision, because it takes them a moment to react to your command and remove the stones, dissolving the barriers that keep Eshkar trapped here with you. Eshkar looks at the opening of the alleyway, and then back at you. You have seen that expression before, or rather, you have <em>felt</em> it before: the look of someone who has realized they have to run. “You made the right choice,” he says to you, before he turns around and promptly hurries out of the alleyway, no doubt running right back to his shop again. Lifting your hand to cover your mouth in case anyone is watching you, you ask in a low tone, “Any guards nearby?” $xname shoots you a questioning look, but doesn’t interfere as you feel <<if $magicpref is 'inner'>>your inner magic react to a sensation at your left shoulder, like a subtle breeze tickling across your skin<<else>>a subtle shift in the air around your left shoulder, feeling the idle magic react to another’s presence<</if>>. “Yes,” comes a short reply, the voice you recognize being Ezo’s. “Keep an eye on Eshkar and his shop for the time being, and make sure to report any suspicious movements,” you command, keeping your eyes on the peri shopkeep as he chats with another customer. “As you say.” “You suspect he’ll flee?” $xname says as the three of you approach the opening of the alley to look down the street, following your gaze to Eshkar’s shop with consideration. Your eyes narrow. “If he has something to hide, he will.” [[Continue|12.15b]] As it turns out, Eshkar does have something to hide. After your meeting with Eshkar—if luring him into an alleyway and threatening him can be called that—you and your companions retreat to a small teahouse tucked away in the corner of the Peacock District while you wait for news. $xname also sends a message through a courier to some of the Crescent Blades that are camped out in the forest, notifying them to patrol the pathways into the forest in case Eshkar somehow slips by you and makes it out the city. In the meantime, you amuse yourself by playing chess against $dname and getting thoroughly trounced in the process. When $xname teases you for it, you slide the chessboard in $xtheir direction. $xname does not fare any better. Just when $dname moves one of $dtheir pawns to checkmate $xname’s crown for the fourth time after three games of utterly destroying $xthem, $xname sweeps all the pieces off the board. “Chess is for bureaucrats,” $xthey declares. You breathe a laugh while $dname casts $xname an unimpressed stare. “The least you could do is remain dignified in defeat.” $xname scowls at $dname for the scolding, and then reaches across the table and steals one of the biscuits off $dtheir plate. $dname allows it, only appearing vaguely amused as $dthey quirks a brow. “I thought your sensory magic would give you an edge,” you wonder, only barely resisting the urge to gloat in $xname’s face about $xtheir many defeats after poking fun at you for it. “I can’t read minds with it,” $xname replies morosely, crossing $xtheir arms and leaning back into $xtheir chair. “$dname shouldn’t be allowed to play chess. $cdthey’s a general, it’s practically cheating.” “That has nothing to do with it,” $dname retorts as $dthey places the chess pieces back onto the board one by one. “Chess is not so intellectual as you think. All it requires is patience, discipline, and practice. Being able to recall and memorize tactics is more important than being intuitive or clever. I enjoy studying chess strategies. You, on the other hand—” “Who <em>studies</em> chess?” $xname appears incredulous, on the verge of outraged. “Do you hear yourself? It’s supposed to be something you do for fun!” “Studying can be enjoyable,” $dname says with a frown, and $xname makes a face before $xthey turns to you. “Back me up here, $name.” <<if $intu gt $intel>>You have to admit that studying chess strategies, or any kind of theory for that matter, sounds more like a chore than something fun. “I do enough studying as it is, I can’t imagine adding chess on top of it.” While it is necessary as the Crown, you’ve never been one for such intellectual pursuits. You enjoy your practical lessons in magic and your physical training much more. $xname grins, shooting $dname a victorious look. “You’re outnumbered.” One of $dname’s brows twitches. “The Crown stated a personal preference, not a judgment on those that enjoy chess. Though considering your disdain for intellectual pursuits, I shouldn’t be surprised you struggle with listening comprehension.” $xname flicks a stray piece of lint from $xtheir tunic, entirely unconcerned. “That’s a very long-winded way of admitting that you’re a bore.” A vein pops on the side of $dname’s forehead. “You insufferable—”<<else>>Unfortunately for $xname, you’re of a mind to agree with $dname. While chess strategies may or may not be to your taste in terms of theory, you’ve enjoyed all that your tutors have taught you. “Sorry, but I agree with $dname. I find it fun to learn new things.” “Spirits,” $xname groans, rubbing over $xtheir brow. “I’m surrounded by bookworms. Where is $aname, <em>$athey</em> would agree with me.” $dname snorts. “Need I remind you that $aname enjoys reading poetry in $atheir spare time?” <<if $afriend is true>> That’s surprising. You didn’t know that about $aname, but it is also rather endearing. Who knew that under that aloof exterior was someone with an appreciation for the more sensitive arts?<</if>> “Reading poetry is different from studying poetry!” “It still qualifies $athem as a ‘bookworm’.”<</if>> While you enjoy the banter between the three of you, your attention is drawn away by a brush of magic against your shoulder. It is your guards’ way of getting your attention. You turn your head to the side, muttering in a low voice so you don’t draw the attention of nearby patrons at the other tables. “What is it?” $xname clearly notices, from the way $xthey glances at you, but continues to bicker with $dname while you speak to your guard. “It’s the trader,” the guard says, their voice coming from the general direction of your left as they remain invisible. “He has left his shop and appears to be heading towards the city gates. Additionally, it appears that he is carrying a bag filled with blue sirens with him.” So he lied, and now he’s fleeing, as you suspected he might. “Can we intercept him?” “If you use the tunnels, you will make it outside the city before him.” You nod, rising from your seat. $dname and $xname stop talking, the latter smiling at you as they follow your example. “Looks like you were right.” $cxthey rolls $xtheir shoulders and stretches $xtheir arms, as if getting ready for some physical exertion. “So, what’s the plan?” “We ambush him and bring him in for questioning.” You think on why Eshkar would be headed outside the city. “He’s carrying a bag of blue sirens with him.” “Does he want to destroy the evidence?” $dname answers before you can. “If that was all, he could have done so within the city. More likely than not, he will be fleeing back to Anshan. If we allow him to reach the forest, it will be much more difficult to track him. We have to cut him off before he gets there.” $dname’s concern is not unwarranted: Eshkar could take on the much smaller peri form where he’s able to fly, and easily escape between the trees. You look between $dname and $xname, taking a breath to prepare yourself for the confrontation to come. “Then let’s not waste anymore time.” [[Continue|12.16b]] It turns out your guard was right: using the tunnels gets you to the city gates much quicker than Eshkar. When $dname asks the guards stationed there if they have seen anyone of Eshkar’s description pass through, they both state they haven’t, which gives you some time to prepare. “Are you able to sense him?” you ask $xname as the three of you—and your retinue of invisible guards—pass through the city gates and follow the Crown’s Road towards the forest. $xname’s brows wrinkle with concentration. “He’s not far from the city gates. We should hurry.” The three of you pick up the pace, traveling down the Crown’s Road until you reach the edge of the forest. $dname takes the lead, guessing at the most likely route Eshkar will take should he be fleeing to Anshan—the quickest one, is what $dname assumes—though you leave a couple guards behind to keep watch in case he chooses another path. When you move further down the path into the forest, $xname places two fingers of each hand into $xtheir mouth, and whistles a distinct call into the air, loud and drawn out. Once you reach a small clearing, you understand why: Tûjo, Şanazî, and a couple of the Blades appear from between the trees, meeting you halfway. “Chief, you’ve aged!” Şanazî exclaims, looking $xname up and down, grabbing at bits and pieces of $xtheir ragged clothes with mounting bemusement. “What happened? Did you piss off an inkweaver and get hit with a curse?” <<if $rfriend is true>> You raise your brows at the insult, referring to magi who are formally trained at a school, mocking their scholarly pursuits. Though compared to other derogatory terms you’ve heard—many involving some form of papyrus and the use of orifices—it’s almost benign in comparison.<</if>> While Şanazî appears aghast, Tûjo, on the other hand, merely stares. “You don’t seem alarmed,” you remark. He glances at you. “It’s clearly a glamor.” Şanazî stops her fussing. “Ah. That does make sense.” She looks over at you. “Sorry, I don’t believe we’ve met?” You can’t help but grin. “We have, actually.” She squints at you, but then her eyes widen in recognition<<if $xfriend is false>> and she laughs. “Should I be offended?” you wonder, arching a brow. “No, no.” She quickly waves a hand, eyes flitting between you and $xname. “You make a great pair.” You try to keep your expression straight<<if $res gt $flirt>>, trying to will away the blush that threatens to rise to your cheeks<<else>> so that you don’t start smiling and give it away entirely<</if>>—though neither Şanazî or $xname are nearly so subtle about it. Şanazî shoots a sly look over at $xname, who smirks and opens $xtheir mouth to no doubt make some sort of suggestive remark, until $dname cuts into the conversation.<<else>>. “It’s you!” $dname glares at her, while you’re mostly amused. “I am certainly me.” “Oh, you know what I mean.” At first, she frowns at you, but then her gaze alights with curiosity. “What are you doing here? Chief said we’re here to arrest someone. I don’t think Crowns are supposed to do that themselves.” “Then I suppose I’m not your usual Crown,” you reply easily. Şanazî smiles at you. “Glad to hear it!”<</if>> “That’s enough chatter<<if $xfriend is true>>,” $dname finally cuts in, meeting your eyes<<else>>.” $dname looks back in the direction of the city, then meets your eyes<</if>>. “We should get into position.” Eshkar must be getting near if even $xname does not take the opportunity to prod at $dname for $dtheir serious demeanor. You nod, and begin instructing your guards in tandem with $xname directing $xtheir Blades to set up around the clearing. Eshkar has no chance of escaping this now. [[Continue|12.17b]] The preparations do not take long. The same ward you used to trap Eshkar in the alleyway is set around the clearing except for the direction he will be arriving in, ensuring he cannot flee so easily once you catch him again. One of your guards—Kaja, you identify by her voice—helps you become invisible while another does the same for $xname and $dname. Or tries to, for $dname. Unfortunately, $dthey ends up absorbing the guard’s magic rather than allowing the spell to work. “Guess you should have charged up your magic core,” $xname remarks, half-teasing and half questioning. $dname almost winces. “I will conceal myself the old fashioned way.” $cdthey hides behind a tree together with the Blades, too tall to comfortably crouch behind the bushes, and you find yourself briefly amused at the sight of $dtheir large stature and painfully conspicuous golden armor tucked behind a trunk that is <em>just</em> wide enough. Soon, however, the sound of footsteps further up the path return your attention to the clearing. It’s Eshkar, wearing a traveling cloak with a hood pulled down his head, and a bag slung over his shoulder that you assume must carry the blue sirens. He seems oblivious to your presence, coming a stop in the clearing and dropping the bag to the ground, then shedding his cloak. His skin begins to glow—you realize he’s about to transform into his peri form. Time for you to act. “Well, well.” You gesture for Kaja to dispel the magic that hides you from sight. As soon as she releases your shoulder and the magic fades, Eshkar’s startled gaze turns to you once you step out onto the clearing, flanked by $xname on your left, and $dname on your right. <<if $blunt gt $charm>>“Returning to Anshan so soon, Eshkar?”<<else>>“We caught a rat, it seems.”<</if>> Some of the Imperial Guards become visible, and join the Crescent Blades in surrounding Eshkar as he shrinks back, the shock in his face giving way to thinly-veiled panic. His lips thin into a tense line, the corner of his mouth twitching as he looks at you. “What is the meaning of this?” You cock your head. “Is it not obvious?” Following your silent cue, the Imperial Guards and the Crescent Blades surrounding Eshkar raise their spears and swords and aim their arrows all at once. Eshkar’s eyes flit wildly around the clearing, breaths deepening as panic begins to overtake him. “You cannot arrest me! Have I not told you this before? I am under the protection of Her Highness Princess Kham, third-born to the everlasting roots of this forest, Her Majesty Queen Nis—” “And have we not also told you before?” you interrupt. “Who do you suppose would inform her of your arrest?” “She will find out eventually!” “By then, you will be branded a criminal,” $dname states, “for aiding and abetting the assassination attempt upon the Twenty-First Crown of Arsur.” Eshkar exhales his breath as if it were knocked out of him, dread writ across his face. He is cornered, and he will be at his most dangerous here. “Be ready to attack should he resist,” you speak to your guards in a low voice, Kaja who leads them giving a quick nod beside you while she keeps her eyes on Eshkar. “You have no proof,” Eshkar starts, yet the way he clutches at the strap of his bag is telling enough. “No,” $dname agrees. “But <em>you</em> certainly do.” $cdtheir eyes fall on the bag, and Eshkar finally cracks. His human form burns away into a core of blinding green light, reminding you of the first time you saw Kham as she flew into your throne room. The earth begins to rumble beneath him, roots breaking through the ground and reaching towards his light to form his peri body. “Use magic attacks, now!” $dname orders the Imperial Guards and the Crescent Blades both. “He is at his most vulnerable!” A few of the guards fall back while most others step forward. They conjure fire and ice and lightning in their spells, flickering lights and sizzling heat settling like an oppressive blanket across the clearing. Flames and shards and bolts fly through the air, aiming at Eshkar’s still visible core. More roots shoot up from the earth to ward off the spells, forming a shield against the fire and lightning or swatting the shards of ice away. Inevitably, however, some of the spells make it through. A bolt of lightning shocks through the glowing green orb of Eshkar’s core, and the roots that attempt to form his body jolt, writhing and squirming as some of the roots crack and splinter. An unearthly shriek emanates from Eshkar’s core, piercing your ears so fiercely you have to cover them with your hands as Eshkar screams—pained and <em>infuriated</em>. $dname shifts to stand in front of you, seeming able to ignore the deafening cry unlike most everyone else. On your left, you spot $xname’s lips moving angrily with what you assume to be a string of curses as $xthey covers $xtheir ears the same as you, glaring at Eshkar. The magic attacks are not enough to halt Eshkar’s transformation, though you hope they will cripple him some way, as it seems that it will come to a fight. [[Continue|12.18b]] The roots begin to twist and curl into a roughly humanoid shape, similar to Kham but smaller and shorter in stature—roughly the same height as $dname. As the wood takes shape to form Eshkar’s head, eye-holes form along every side of it, keeping watch of the guards surrounding him from each direction simultaneously. Were you not trying to arrest him, you would be impressed at the versatility of the peri form. “Subdue him!” you call out. While Eshkar’s magic core is safely shielded now, you hope to take advantage of his wooden body still sorting itself out to start chipping away at it. You observe the surprising way the Imperial Guards and the Crescent Blades appear to work together, each faction guided by a deft hand. Kaja takes command of the guards to circle around Eshkar’s back while the Crescent Blades follow $xname’s lead to attack from the front, $dname overseeing the battlefield from a distance by your side. More roots burst through the ground all over the clearing, attempting to ward the advance of the guards and mercenaries. The holes and crevices and chunks of earth covering the clearing make the terrain treacherous to navigate, and no one except $xname manages to evade them. All the others are too busy having to fend off the roots attacking them, trying to fling away a couple guards and nearly impaling one of the Blades. <<if $xfriend is false>> You’re relieved that $xname seems to be doing fine, though your eyes flit with concern to the Blades around $xthem, hoping they’ll stay safe. You know well how much $xname cares for them, and it would upset $xthem greatly to see one of $xtheir comrades hurt—not to mention, you’ve grown fond of the Blades yourself.<</if>> Tûjo at least appears to be doing well enough, managing to cause Eshkar’s roots to slow, even stutter in their motions with both his hands held out in concentration. It looks like he’s fighting for control over them with his own magic, allowing some of the other Blades to slip through. At a safer distance, Şanazî fires flaming arrows at the roots, trying to light them on fire. The flames have difficulty catching, however, likely because the roots are covered in earth, though the arrows still keep some of them from attacking by forcing Eshkar to focus on swatting the arrows away. “$xname will need my help,” $dname says to you after a moment longer of observation. <<if $dfriend is false>> You frown at $dthem. “You have not yet fully recovered from your injuries.” “I am recovered enough to handle Eshkar.” $cdthey glances back towards the fight, where none of the guards and mercenaries aside from $xname have made any true progress in reaching Eshkar through the barricades of his roots. “$xname may be able to slip through his defenses, but no one else can carve a path for the others.” “But you—” “You must trust me.” $dname’s eyes bore into yours, imploring. Then, $dthey lowers $dtheir voice and says, “Please, $name.” Your mouth goes dry at the personal—intimate—address, your resolve faltering. You don’t like the thought of $dname taking such a risk, but ordering $dthem to stay behind would be to let your attachments cloud your judgment, and that would be exactly what $dname was afraid of.<</if>> “Go then,” you say to $dname, glancing at the two guards who remain by your side to guard you: Ezo and Ziryan, each keep careful watch of the roots. “I am safe here.” <<if $dfriend is false>>Yet $dname still remains, hovering near you. “Do not come any closer than this. Should the roots expand—” Even when about to throw $dthemselves headfirst into danger, $dthey’s still worried about you. “Go, $dname,” you insist, ignoring the flush of warmth that fills your chest at the concern thinly-veiled in $dtheir words, $dtheir dark eyes lingering on your face. “My guards will protect me.” If anything, you ought to be fussing over <em>$dthem</em> what with how $dthey almost died but days ago. After another beat of indecision, $dname finally nods, turning away and heading into the fray.<<else>>$dname nods, turning away and heading into the fray without wasting another second.<</if>> As soon as $dthey does, you understand why $dthey thought $dtheir presence on the spontaneous battlefield was necessary. The first root $dthey encounters spikes out of the ground and then swinging down to try and slam into $dthem. Yet $dname does not make any effort to dodge. Instead $dthey holds out a hand, and the root suddenly stills mid-lunge. For a moment, you think $dthey is performing some kind of magic that has wrested control of the roots from Eshkar, but $dname has said $dthey has no talent for it. Then you realize, as you see a visible glimmering of magic in the air, transferring from the root towards $dname in strings of green shimmers: $dname is using $dtheir peri nature to absorb the magic. [[Continue|12.19b]] As $dthey advances towards Eshkar $dthey leaves a trail of motionless and drained roots in $dtheir wake as $dthey catches up to $xname, allowing the guards and mercenaries to follow after $dthem in $dtheir approach. <<if $dfriend is false>>It assuages your worries somewhat, though that does not mean the danger is to be underestimated<</if>> “Your left!” $xname calls out, and $dname reacts just in time to dodge a large root that unearths to try and pierce through $dname’s legs<<if $dfriend is false>>—nearly giving you a heart attack in the process<</if>>. $dname clutches their mace and smashes it into the root, its wood snapping under the force and the sharpened tip of it breaking off entirely. Meanwhile, $xname evades and twists around the attacking roots without even looking, almost seeming to know where they will be in advance. <<if $xfriend is false>> Your eyes are drawn to the way $xthey navigates the roots, in constant motion as $xthey crosses the clearing completely unscathed where guards and mercenaries are flung aside or pierced and cut by the otherwise deadly roots. The sight reminds you of watching the artists perform the dance at your coronation: a perfect choreography that has turned violence into something that looks artful, and mesmerizing.<</if>> It takes very little effort for $xname to close the distance to Eshkar’s main body, a smirk curving $xtheir lips as the muscles of $xtheir arms tense, and $xthey swing $xtheir sword. Its curved blade cuts with a heat so intense that it distorts the air around it, slicing across Eshkar’s chest like a knife through butter. Eshkar, unable to defend himself with his attention focused on commanding his roots, has no choice but to endure the hit. He lets out a scream of frustration as he retracts an arm to try and deal with $xname, his wooden hand sharpening like the tip of a spear as he lashes out<<if $xfriend is false>>, and your heart nearly stops with fear<</if>>. Thankfully, $xname sidesteps the attack even <em>before</em> Eshkar is halfway through the motion, as if $xthey knew exactly what Eshkar intended to do. Immediately after, $xname counters with another singing slash of $xtheir blade that cuts Eshkar’s weaponized arm nearly clean off. <<if $xfriend is false>> You should not find it as attractive as you do, and you wonder what that says about yourself.<</if>> “How predictable,” $xname taunts Eshkar, a cocky smirk sharpening $xtheir lips<<if $xfriend is false>> and making your stomach swoop, even from a distance<</if>>. Eshkar, however, lifts his wounded arm and snaps its wood back together again as if it were nothing. $xname clicks $xtheir tongue with annoyance before having to evade more of Eshkar’s attacks. Not everyone is doing as well as $xname and $dname, however. The roots are forming a problem for the guards, and Eshkar’s ability to command so many of them at the same time is undeniably skillful, as well as a considerable problem. The roots $dname has drained from magic have started to recover as well, Eshkar taking control of them once more. A thought occurs to you: if it is Eshkar who controls these roots, then interrupting his focus in some way will give your guards and $xname and $dname the opportunity they need to overpower him. <<if $intel gt $intu>>You think on it, mind racing to piece together a plan. Considering the amount of eye-holes in Eshkar’s head, you suspect he needs his lines of sight to properly combat the guards, and must be using sensory magic for the ones he cannot see. In which case, your particular magic affinity is uniquely suited for taking those away from him.<<else>>With the amount of eyes Eshkar has, the natural answer to impeding him is to obstruct his vision somehow. But how to best do it? How would you be able to blind him from a distance? Your eyes guide you to the weapons the guards and mercenaries wield to combat the roots, and the sight strikes you with an idea.<</if>> <<if $magicpref is 'inner'>>You could try and charge <<if $weapon is 'bow'>>an arrow<<else>>your $weapon<</if>> with your magic and <<if $weapon is 'bow'>>fire it at Eshkar<<else>>throw it at Eshkar<</if>>, then have the magic within it erupt to blind him and disrupt his focus. Using a dagger would likely not work, as it is too small.<<else>>You could try to cast a spell to blind Eshkar from a distance. The nature of your magic is uniquely suited for it, as no one else present seems to have any command over light as you do.<</if>> It would be taking matters into your own hands, rather than using the guards and mercenaries at your disposal. On the other hand, you could also focus on taking command and directing your troops instead, seeing as how you’re the only one overseeing the clearing and getting a full view of it. <<if $intu gt $intel>>Being tactical isn’t one of your strong suits, but having watched the way Tûjo has fought for control over the roots brings to mind a different idea. Would Eshkar be able to handle not just one, but <em>all</em> his attackers doing the same thing?<<else>>You consider the biggest problem on the battlefield: the obstacle of the roots. They are connected to Eshkar. Could you not use that connection to your advantage? If every magic user on the battlefield would try to disrupt the magic in the roots all at once, like Tûjo did, you’re certain he would struggle.<</if>> <ul class="a"> <li><<if $magicpref is 'inner'>><<if $weapon is 'spear'>>[[Load your spear with magic and throw it at him.|12.20aa]]<</if>><<if $weapon is 'bow'>>[[Load one of your arrows with magic and fire it at him.|12.20aa]]<</if>><<if $weapon is 'sword'>>[[Load your sword with magic and unleash a slash of light.|12.20aa]]<</if>><<else>>[[Cast a spell to blind Eshkar.|12.20aa]]<</if>></li> <li>[[Direct your troops to disrupt his control over his roots.|12.20ab]]</li></ul><<if visited('12.20aa') is 1>><<if $dfriend is false>><<set $dpoints -= 2>><<else>><<set $dfriendship -= 1>><</if>><<if $xfriend is false>><<set $xpoints -= 2>><<else>><<set $xfriendship -= 1>><</if>><</if>><<if $magicpref is 'inner'>><<if $weapon is 'spear'>>You gesture for Ezo to hand over your spear. She has carried it for you until now, and you nod at her in thanks before beginning to put your plan into motion.<</if>><<if $weapon is 'bow'>>You take the bow from your back as well as a single arrow from your quiver, preparing to put your plan into motion.<</if>><<if $weapon is 'sword'>>You unsheathe your curved blade from its scabbard, preparing to put your plan into motion.<</if>> This will be a challenge. Even as you place your hand upon <<if $weapon is 'spear'>>the tip of your spear<</if>><<if $weapon is 'bow'>>your arrow<</if>><<if $weapon is 'sword'>>the flat side of your blade<</if>> to infuse it with your magic, you know it will require a substantial amount to carry it across the battlefield, where Eshkar’s magic weighs heavy in the air. Possibly more than you alone possess. If your spell isn’t powerful enough, Eshkar could easily extinguish it before it ever reaches him. “Ezo, Ziryan,” you ask, catching their attention. “I want to cast a spell, but it requires more magic than I can give. Can you help me?” “Of course,” Ezo answers, she and Ziryan coming to stand on either side of you, each lifting a hand to place one onto your shoulders. You turn your focus back on Eshkar, taking a deep breath as you call upon your magic, and now Ezo and Ziryan’s as well. Ezo’s affinity feels cold yet soft, like a sheet of snow settling on your skin, while Ziryan’s is airy and sharp, rippling down your back. It is jarring to have so much of other people’s magic coursing through you, like a sudden pulsing of energy as they clash with your own magic at first. After a moment of struggle, they gradually begin to mold to your magic channels as Ezo and Ziryan allow you to direct them. You pour as much of your combined magic into your <<if $weapon is 'bow'>>arrow<<else>>$weapon<</if>> as you can, trying to imagine it as an extension of yourself, another of your limbs. Thankfully, your weapon has been warded with sigils to allow an ease of absorption of your magic, and soon, the silver <<if $weapon is 'bow'>>tip of your arrow<</if>><<if $weapon is 'sword'>>of your blade<</if>><<if $weapon is 'spear'>>tip of your spear<</if>> begins to glow a dazzling, blinding golden light. Taking a breath, you <<if $weapon is 'bow'>>nock your arrow and survey the chaos in the clearing to find a path of flight—the spell will be pointless if your arrow is flung off course by a meddling root. You move a few steps to the left, the angle helping to avoid most of the roots in the way, and draw your bow as you take aim. “Fly true,” you murmur, a last prayer before you release your arrow.<</if>><<if $weapon is 'spear'>>survey the chaos in the clearing to find a path to Eshkar—the spell will be pointless if your spear is flung off course by a meddling root. You move a few steps to the left, the angle helping to avoid most of the roots in the way, and lift your spear in a throwing stance. “Strike true,” you murmur, a last prayer before you pull your arm back and then hurl the spear.<</if>><<if $weapon is 'sword'>>survey the chaos in the clearing to find a path to Eshkar—the spell will be pointless if your attack is blocked by a meddling root or hits one of your allies on accident. You move a few steps to the left, the angle helping to avoid most of the potential obstacles in the way, and raise your sword overhead with both hands upon its hilt. “Strike true,” you murmur, a last prayer before you swing your sword down and unleash the magic within it.<</if>> “Cover your eyes!” Ezo calls out to those fighting, <<if $weapon is 'bow'>>your arrow soaring through the sky and giving everyone mere moments to react. It is an even more accurate shot than you could have hoped for: the last thing you see before your spell erupts is your arrow striking Eshkar directly in one of his eye-holes.<</if>><<if $weapon is 'sword'>>the slash of light you released cutting across the battlefield and giving everyone mere moments to react. It does not lose its momentum even as it cuts across several roots in its path. The last thing you see before the spell erupts is $xname jumping out of its path at the very last second, letting it hit Eshkar in his chest.<</if>><<if $weapon is 'spear'>>your spear sailing through the sky and giving everyone mere moments to react. It is an even more accurate throw than you could have hoped for: the last thing you see before your spell erupts is your spear striking Eshkar directly in his chest.<</if>> Then, your vision goes white. You squeeze your eyes shut against the blinding light, but still burns through your eyelids, forcing you to lift your arm for added cover. Another unearthly shriek trembles through the forest clearing, but you also hear the cries and screams of your guards and your allies. Some of them must have been caught unawares despite Ezo’s warning. Once the light recedes and your eyes readjust, you find Eshkar on his back, pinned to the ground. He appears momentarily dazed, unmoving. The roots he commands still move, but you’re too preoccupied watching what happens to Eshkar to pay attention to the rest. $xname uses the spear $xthey must have taken from a guard to pierce through Eshkar’s shoulder, and keeps a foot planted on the other one, holding Eshkar down. $dname, meanwhile, lifts $dtheir mace and then swings it down with immense force. You hear the shattering of wood ringing across the clearing as it connects with Eshkar’s chest, $dname reaching down to pry the broken wood away and revealing Eshkar’s glowing core. “I have him!” $dname reaches in, grasping the core in $dtheir fist, and tearing it out of Eshkar’s wooden body. Or rather, $dname tears Eshkar himself out of his body. All the roots that were still writhing and coiling across the clearing finally fall still. It’s over.<</if>><<if $magicpref is 'outer'>>You grasp the threads of magic in the air, but to perform this spell from such a distance will be a strain. Jaw flexing with concentration, you focus your gaze at the space around Eshkar’s head—the threads nearly slip from your grasp, yanked harshly away from you, toward Eshkar. He controls the magic in the air there: you must wrest control from him by overwhelming his magic with your own, but you don’t know if you have the power to do that by yourself. Peri lifespans are many times that of humans, their magic well-honed as a result, whereas you have only started improving your endurance a few weeks ago. You’ll need assistance. “Ezo, Ziryan,” you ask, catching their attention. “I want to cast a spell, but it requires more magic than I can give. Can you help me?” “Of course,” Ezo answers, she and Ziryan coming to stand on either side of you, each lifting a hand to place one onto your shoulders. You turn your focus back on Eshkar, taking a deep breath as you call upon your magic, and now Ezo and Ziryan’s as well. Ezo’s affinity feels cold yet soft, like a sheet of snow settling on your skin, while Ziryan’s is airy and sharp, rippling down your back. It is jarring to have so much of other people’s magic coursing through you, like a sudden pulsing of energy as they clash with your own magic at first. After a moment of struggle, they gradually begin to mold to your magic channels as Ezo and Ziryan allow you to direct them. This will be enough to overpower Eshkar. You focus on carving out a space for your magic in the air in front of them, your will bearing down upon the threads of control Eshkar wields there. Until, one by one, those same threads begin to snap, and you find purchase. Conjuring your spell is still a challenge, even with Ezo and Ziryan’s magic aiding yours. You feel the drain of it pulsing in your skull, pounding between your ears as it requires all your concentration. Finally, there is a spark. “Cover your eyes!” Ezo calls out to those fighting, moments before your spell erupts right before Eshkar’s eyes. You squeeze your eyes shut against the blinding light, but still burns through your eyelids, forcing you to lift your arm for added cover. Another unearthly shriek trembles through the forest clearing, but you also hear the cries and screams of your guards and your allies. Some of them must have been caught unawares as well. Once the light recedes and your eyes readjust, you find Eshkar on his back, held to the ground. He appears momentarily dazed, unmoving. The roots he commands still move, but you’re too preoccupied watching what happens to Eshkar to pay attention to the rest. $xname stands over him, holding a spear $xthey must have gotten from a nearby guard, pierced through one of Eshkar’s shoulders while a foot is planted on the other one, pinning Eshkar down. $dname, meanwhile, lifts $dtheir mace and then swings it down with immense force. You hear the shattering of wood ringing across the clearing as it connects with Eshkar’s chest, $dname reaching down to pry the broken wood away and revealing Eshkar’s glowing core. “I have him!” $dname reaches in, grasping the core in $dtheir fist, and tearing it out of Eshkar’s wooden body. Or rather, $dname tears Eshkar himself out of his body. All the roots that were still writhing and coiling across the clearing finally fall still. It’s over.<</if>> <<if $rfriend is true and $afriend is true>>[[Continue|12.21aa]]<<else>>[[Continue|12.22aa]]<</if>><<if visited('12.20ab') is 1>><<if $dfriend is true>><<set $dfriendship +=1>><</if>><<if $xfriend is true>><<set $xfriendship += 1>><</if>><</if>>You want nothing more than to be useful. All your life the only thing you have been taught to do is to survive, but now you finally have a chance to reach for something more. The temptation to intervene directly in the battle, and to thereby prove that you will be a Crown who is able to protect $their subjects, is a great one. But it is not where you are needed. You are not a soldier, not a guard, not a warrior. You are a ruler, and if you wish to be a good one, you must understand both the advantages and the limitations of your role. Which, in this particular situation, is an obvious one: you are not meant to fight, you are meant to command. <<if $magicpref is 'inner'>>Lifting your fingers to your neck, you press them against your skin to focus your magic there and make your voice louder. It was one of the tricks in physical enhancement that you were taught, as it would be useful to make your voice heard to large crowds. Or, in this case, on a battlefield.<<else>>You ask Ezo for help for the first part of this. Her fingers settle against your neck, and a moment later, you feel the cold but soft signature of her magic brush against yours, reminding you of a sheet of snow. This will help make your voice lower so that you will be heard over the din of battle. It is a skill that belongs to inner magic types, and as your magic is outward focused, you need another’s aid to accomplish it.<</if>> Taking a breath, you call out your command, your voice many times louder as it booms across the clearing: “Everyone, use your magic to disrupt his control over the roots!” It does not matter if Eshkar hears it too. He will not be able to defend against it. The guards and mercenaries are quick to follow your order—those that are adept at magic, at least. The ones that are not try to keep the roots busy while magic users all begin to grapple for control with Eshkar. <<if $magicpref is 'outer'>>As Ezo removes her fingers from your neck again, you<<else>>You<</if>> watch the battle proceed with anxious eyes. At first, nothing much appears to change. Some of the roots become frozen as magic users try to subdue them, flashes of their spells in a scattering of colors lighting up the air all over the clearing like fireworks. You begin to worry that perhaps you might have misread the situation. What if Eshkar is too powerful? When the tide turns, it starts with Eshkar. You hear his angered cry, pulling your gaze away from surveying the guards and mercenaries back to where he is still trying to fight off $xname and $dname. His movements appear stiffer, slower, the lights shining from his many eye-holes flickering wildly. He barely raises an arm in time to defend against the crushing blow of $dname’s mace, and does not duck fast enough to avoid $xname’s blade that catches on the corner of his wooden mouth and tears across his cheek. “No!” he screams as one by one, the roots spread across the clearing begin to stiffen and twitch helplessly, forced to a standstill by your magic users. His opponents are quick to take advantage. $dname drives $dtheir entire body into Eshkar, slamming into his torso with a shoulder and forcing him to the ground. Not wasting another moment, $xname grabs a spear from nearby guard and pierces through one of Eshkar’s shoulders while planting a foot on the other one, pinning Eshkar down. With Eshkar secured, $dname rights $dthemselves again and lifts $dtheir mace, swinging it down with immense force. You hear the shattering of wood tearing through the air as it connects with Eshkar’s chest, $dname reaching down to pry the broken wood away and revealing Eshkar’s glowing core. “I have him!” $dname reaches in, grasping the core in $dtheir fist, and tearing it out of Eshkar’s wooden body. Or rather, $dname tears Eshkar himself out of his body. All the roots that were still writhing and coiling across the clearing finally fall still. It’s over. <<if $rfriend is true and $afriend is true>>[[Continue|12.21ab]]<<else>>[[Continue|12.22ab]]<</if>> In the aftermath, Eshkar is little more than a flickering wisp of light in $dname’s palm. One of the Imperial Guards hurries over with a cloth sack, sigils woven into its fabric that glows a bright purple against the brown. $dname stuffs Eshkar into the sack, and the guard quickly ties it shut with the attached rope. <<if $dfriend is false>>Relief eases the tightness in your chest as $dname begins to make $dtheir way over to you, yet before you can exhale it into a sigh, $dname takes a step and then $dtheir knees almost buckle. Your heart stops as $dthey clutches at $dtheir side with a pained grunt, $xname quickly coming up behind $dname to grab $dthem by the elbow, helping to hold $dthem up. $dname has $dtheir hand pressed over the site of $dtheir injury, where $dthey was struck with deadly poison. “Worn out already?” $xname says, the words meant to be lighthearted, but their levity is marred by the frown on $xtheir face. $cxthey takes the sack that holds Eshkar from $dname’s hand, then helps guide $dthem through the maze of roots still littering the clearing. You make your way over in a hurry, stepping over the obstacles in your path as best you can while trying to avoid getting your <<if $clothing is 'shalwar'>>cloak<<else>>$clothing<</if>> caught on anything. $dname, meanwhile, tries to stand up straight again in an attempt to shake $xname off. “I can walk—” $cdtheir legs demonstrate the opposite, almost giving out again. You reach $dthem in time to grasp onto $dtheir other arm, and together with $xname, you manage to keep $dthem upright<<if $height is 'short' or $height is 'very short'>>—though you suspect it’s mostly $xname doing the heavy lifting, your stature lacking in that regard<</if>>. $dname glances at you, your eyes meeting for a single instant before $dtheirs quickly flit away again, leaving you feeling suddenly bereft. “Idiot,” $xname scolds, unusually serious as $xthey undoes the straps of $dname's chestplate, helping lift it off of $dthem. “Just because you’re not poisoned anymore does not mean your body has recovered. What kind of maniac starts swinging a mace around days after waking from an assassination attempt?” You keep a firm hold of $dname’s elbow while $xname aids in removing the chainmail $dname wears next, revealing the white tunic beneath. You look $dname over with worry. “Did you reopen your wound?” “No,” $dname breathes out while a red, damp spot begins to stain $dtheir tunic. Your fingers tighten around $dname’s arm while $xname scoffs, shaking $xtheir head. “<em>Idiot</em>.” Thankfully, some of the guards had the foresight to bring a couple of horses along. $dname sits down for a while to let a healer close up $dtheir wound again, and once $dthey is no longer actively bleeding, $dthey gingerly mounts one of the horses. You watch $dthem with worry, eyes drawn to the pale tone beneath $dtheir complexion, washing out its warmth. As the Crescent Blades and the Imperial Guards treat their wounded—a few broken bones being the most serious injuries—and return the roots below the ground, you linger near $dname’s horse, an urge to remain close causing you to hover. $xname is with the rest of $xtheir Blades, having wandered off after helping $dname get on $dtheir horse, leaving you alone with $dthem. “I thought you said you didn’t have the peri instinct to absorb magic?” you ask in an attempt to divert yourself from the fear that still lurks in the pit of your stomach. $dname glances down at you from atop the white mare $dthey sits upon, the horse shifting a little. “It does not come naturally or easily, but I am able to do it.” Your lips thin. “You still look unwell. Is that the wound, or…?” “Truthfully,” $dname admits, $dtheir expression weary, “absorbing magic makes me feel nauseous. What with being wounded added to that, it is little wonder I pushed my body too far.” Your gaze lowers to the saddlebag on $dname’s horse. $xname stuffed Eshkar’s sack into one of its pockets, rather vindictively at that. It emits a faint, green light. “As soon as we get back to the palace, you need to rest,” you say, your mind briefly conjuring an image of squashing Eshkar under your heel like a bug. “I am well enough to—” <<if $ass gt $pass>>You look back up at $dname, your gaze cutting, your voice lowering to avoid the ears of others but remaining just as sharp. “You will <em>rest</em>, $dname.” It might be considered cheating to use $dtheir name in such a way. So long as it will get $dname to rest, however, you don’t care how you have to do it. $dname looks startled for a moment, but then $dtheir stare lingers on you, heavy with something else. Your pulse pounds in the side of your neck, fluttering as if in an attempt to outrun $dname’s dark eyes. “If you insist,” $dname eventually concedes, $dtheir voice softened with yielding.<<else>>You look back up at $dname, your brows drawing together and your voice lowering to avoid the ears of others. “Please, $dname.” It might be considered cheating to use $dtheir name in such a way, with your gaze so earnestly imploring. So long as it will get $dname to rest, however, you don’t care how you have to do it. $dname stills. $cdtheir stare lingering on you, heavy with something unspoken. Your pulse pounds in the side of your neck, fluttering as if in an attempt to outrun $dname’s dark eyes. “If it would put you at ease, then I shall,” $dname eventually concedes, $dtheir voice softened with reassurance.<</if>> It is a pleasing sound.<</if>><<if $xfriend is false>>Relief eases the tightness in your chest as the battle has truly concluded. Your eyes immediately shift to $xname as soon as Eshkar has been dealt with, and find $xtheir gaze already on you, the green of it still vivid even from across a short distance. $cxthey grins when you look at each other, no doubt eager to brag about $xtheir prowess in battle as $xthey makes to approach you. You find yourself smiling back, anticipating it depsite how insufferable $xname is going to be about it, until $xtheir attention is suddenly drawn away from you. You follow $xtheir eyes to one of the Blades who lies pinned beneath a root, a leg stuck under it. Tûjo uses his magic to move the root off, and the Blade lets out a pained sound as they clutch at their knee. They are not the only one injured: more wounded lay scattered across the clearing, tended to by their comrades. When you and $xname exchange looks once more, $xtheirs is apologetic. You give a small nod, urging $xthem on, and now $xname’s mouth curves into a more sincere smile, brightening $xtheir eyes, before $xthey quickly joins Tûjo in tending to the injured Blade. “Dislocated, is it?” $xname says as $xthey kneels beside them, looking at the injured leg in question. Tûjo has rolled up the fabric, revealing a knee that looks painfully out of alignment. The Blade breathes hard through it, their face reddened and their fingers digging into the grass. “We’ll have to move it back into place,” Tûjo replies, the Blade paling at the prospect. “I’ll get some numbing powder from one of the healers.” “Steady breaths, my friend, you’ve been through worse.” $xname pats the Blade on the shoulder while Tûjo hurries off. “Remember that time you took an arrow to your ass?” The Blade lets out a weak snort. “Couldn’t sit down properly for weeks.” “Remind me, what did we used to call you back then?” “Zuhair the Half-Assed,” the Blade says through gritted teeth, though they still smile despite it. “Because I could only sit on my left cheek.” $xname laughs. “That’s right! See, what’s a dislocated knee to Zuhair the Half-Assed? It won’t even leave a scar.” You find yourself smiling along, admiring how easily $xname set the Blade at ease. When Tûjo arrives with a pouch in hand, $xname takes it from him and sprinkles it over the Blade’s injured knee, then together with Tûjo slides the knee back into place. The Blade looks none the worse for wear, and $xname moves on to help the few healers present by tending to the various injuries of $xtheir Blades—though, what $xthey truly appears to excel at is setting others at ease. $cxthey once professed to you that $xthey is ill at ease comforting someone who is crying, yet $xthey seems to have no trouble distracting others from their injuries and keeping them calm. No doubt $xthey has plenty of experience with things like this. As the Crown, in the face of $xtheir initiative you can’t simply stand around and watch. While you hold basic knowledge on how to treat superficial wounds, you know your best use would be to help create some oversight to aid the healers in their work. At the moment, they seem to helping whoever catches their eye first as the battlefield is rather chaotic in the aftermath, but there must be a more efficient way of going about it. You enlist Ezo and Ziryan’s help in assessing who among the guards and mercenaries has the worst injuries, and direct the healers present to the people who need it most. Thankfully, broken bones appear to be the greatest damage dealt to your forces. As the healers treat the last of the wounded, you feel warm air brush against your side, heat sparking against the side of your neck. You jolt in place, pulse fluttering in your throat as $xname’s soft laugh brushes against your ear, hands resting atop your shoulders from behind. “Sorry, did I startle you?” $cxthey steps up beside you, giving you a cheeky little smirk, and you huff out an exasperated breath—hiding the way your heart beats unsteadily due to $xtheir antics. “Have all the Blades been treated?” you ask rather than rising to $xtheir provocation, and $xname’s eyes inexplicably soften. $cxthey draws close to your side, wrapping an arm around your waist. <<if $res gt $flirt>>You stiffen in $xtheir hold at first, eyes flitting over towards all the guards and mercenaries present, though aside from a few curious looks they all seem to know better than to stare. “You’re sweet,” $xname praises unabashedly, and you flounder in search of words. “Must you make a show of everything?” you accuse, certain $xthey’s doing it to fluster you on purpose. $xname hums, $xtheir fingers trailing up and down your side as if to tease, your mouth going dry as they trace fire through your clothes against your skin. “Not of this. I do this because I can’t resist touching you, and I don’t care who sees it. Should I not?” “I…” You inhale a sharp breath, then finally find the strength to untangle yourself, face glowing with warmth. “I didn’t say that. Regardless, we should head back to the palace.” The cold rushes in as soon as you leave $xtheir side, $xtheir amused chuckle following after you.<<else>>Your brows arch with surprise at the public display, not that you’re against it. When your eyes flit over towards all the guards and mercenaries present, aside from a few curious glances they all seem to know better than to stare. “You’re sweet,” $xname praises unabashedly, and you let out an amused breath, leaning into $xtheir hold to bask in $xtheir warmth and curling your own arm around $xtheir waist in turn. “They’re important to you,” you say, casting your eyes back to the Blades. “Which means they’re important to me.” $xname hums softly beside you. “Are you trying to make me swoon?” You laugh. “Is that all it takes to get you to swoon?” $cxthey <<if $height is 'tall' or $height is 'very tall'>>tilts $xtheir head down to lean against your shoulder<<else>>places $xtheir chin down atop your shoulder<</if>>. “You really are sweet.” You can’t seem to stop smiling, though eventually, you carefully untangle yourself from $xtheir hold and leaving $xtheir side. “Come, we need to head back to the palace. We can’t keep Eshkar in that sack forever.” $xname exhales a put-upon sigh, following after you. “Alas.”<</if>><</if>> [[Continue|12.22aa]] In the aftermath, Eshkar is little more than a flickering wisp of light in $dname’s palm. One of the Imperial Guards hurries over with a cloth sack, sigils woven into its fabric that glows a bright purple against the brown. $dname stuffs Eshkar into the sack, and the guard quickly ties it shut with the attached rope. <<if $dfriend is false>>Relief eases the tightness in your chest as $dname begins to make $dtheir way over to you, yet before you can exhale it into a sigh, $dname takes a step and then $dtheir knees almost buckle. Your heart stops as $dthey clutches at $dtheir side with a pained grunt, $xname quickly coming up behind $dname to grab $dthem by the elbow, helping to hold $dthem up. $dname has $dtheir hand pressed over the site of $dtheir injury, where $dthey was struck with deadly poison. “Worn out already?” $xname says, the words meant to be lighthearted, but their levity is marred by the frown on $xtheir face. $cxthey takes the sack that holds Eshkar from $dname’s hand, then helps guide $dthem through the maze of roots still littering the clearing. You make your way over in a hurry, stepping over the obstacles in your path as best you can while trying to avoid getting your <<if $clothing is 'shalwar'>>cloak<<else>>$clothing<</if>> caught on anything. $dname, meanwhile, tries to stand up straight again in an attempt to shake $xname off. “I can walk—” $cdtheir legs demonstrate the opposite, almost giving out again. You reach $dthem in time to grasp onto $dtheir other arm, and together with $xname, you manage to keep $dthem upright<<if $height is 'short' or $height is 'very short'>>—though you suspect it’s mostly $xname doing the heavy lifting, your stature lacking in that regard<</if>>. $dname glances at you, your eyes meeting for a single instant before $dtheirs quickly flit away again, leaving you feeling suddenly bereft. “Idiot,” $xname scolds, unusually serious as $xthey undoes the straps of $dname's chestplate, helping lift it off of $dthem. “Just because you’re not poisoned anymore does not mean your body has recovered. What kind of maniac starts swinging a mace around days after waking from an assassination attempt?” You keep a firm hold of $dname’s elbow while $xname aids in removing the chainmail $dname wears next, revealing the white tunic beneath. You look $dname over with worry. “Did you reopen your wound?” “No,” $dname breathes out while a red, damp spot begins to stain $dtheir tunic. Your fingers tighten around $dname’s arm while $xname scoffs, shaking $xtheir head. “<em>Idiot</em>.” Thankfully, some of the guards had the foresight to bring a couple of horses along. $dname sits down for a while to let a healer close up $dtheir wound again, and once $dthey is no longer actively bleeding, $dthey gingerly mounts one of the horses. You watch $dthem with worry, eyes drawn to the pale tone beneath $dtheir complexion, washing out its warmth. As the Crescent Blades and the Imperial Guards treat their wounded—a few broken bones being the most serious injuries—and return the roots below the ground, you linger near $dname’s horse, an urge to remain close causing you to hover. $xname is with the rest of $xtheir Blades, having wandered off after helping $dname get on $dtheir horse, leaving you alone with $dthem. “I thought you said you didn’t have the peri instinct to absorb magic?” you ask in an attempt to divert yourself from the fear that still lurks in the pit of your stomach. $dname glances down at you from atop the white mare $dthey sits upon, the horse shifting a little. “It does not come naturally or easily, but I am able to do it.” Your lips thin. “You still look unwell. Is that the wound, or…?” “Truthfully,” $dname admits, $dtheir expression weary, “absorbing magic makes me feel nauseated. What with being wounded added to that, it is little wonder I pushed my body too far.” Your gaze lowers to the saddlebag on $dname’s horse. $xname stuffed Eshkar’s sack into one of its pockets, rather vindictively at that. It emits a faint, green light. “As soon as we get back to the palace, you need to rest,” you say, your mind briefly conjuring an image of squashing Eshkar under your heel like a bug. “I am well enough to—” <<if $ass gt $pass>>You look back up at $dname, your gaze cutting, your voice lowering to avoid the ears of others but remaining just as sharp. “You will <em>rest</em>, $dname.” It might be considered cheating to use $dtheir name in such a way. So long as it will get $dname to rest, however, you don’t care how you have to do it. $dname looks startled for a moment, but then $dtheir stare lingers on you, heavy with something else. Your pulse pounds in the side of your neck, fluttering as if in an attempt to outrun $dname’s dark eyes. “If you insist,” $dname eventually concedes, $dtheir voice softened with yielding.<<else>>You look back up at $dname, your brows drawing together and your voice lowering to avoid the ears of others. “Please, $dname.” It might be considered cheating to use $dtheir name in such a way, with your gaze so earnestly imploring. So long as it will get $dname to rest, however, you don’t care how you have to do it. $dname stills. $cdtheir stare lingering on you, heavy with something unspoken. Your pulse pounds in the side of your neck, fluttering as if in an attempt to outrun $dname’s dark eyes. “If it would put you at ease, then I shall,” $dname eventually concedes, $dtheir voice softened with reassurance.<</if>> It is a pleasing sound.<</if>><<if $xfriend is false>>Relief eases the tightness in your chest as the battle has truly concluded. Your eyes immediately shift to $xname as soon as Eshkar has been dealt with, and find $xtheir gaze already on you, the green of it still vivid even from across a short distance. $cxthey grins when you look at each other, no doubt eager to brag about $xtheir prowess in battle as $xthey makes to approach you. You find yourself smiling back, anticipating it depsite how insufferable $xname is going to be about it, until $xtheir attention is suddenly drawn away from you. You follow $xtheir eyes to one of the Blades lies pinned beneath a root, one of their legs stuck under it. Tûjo uses his magic to move the root off, and the Blade lets out a pained sound as they clutch at their knee. They are not the only one injured: more wounded lay scattered across the clearing, tended to by their comrades. When you and $xname exchange looks once more, $xtheirs is apologetic. You give a small nod, urging $xthem on, and now $xname’s mouth curves into a more sincere smile, brightening $xtheir eyes, before $xthey quickly joins Tûjo in tending to the injured Blade. “Dislocated, is it?” $xname says as $xthey kneels beside them, looking at the injured leg in question. Tûjo has rolled up the fabric, revealing a knee that looks painfully out of alignment. The Blade breathes hard through it, their face reddened and their fingers digging into the grass. “We’ll have to move it back into place,” Tûjo replies, the Blade paling at the prospect. “I’ll get some numbing powder from one of the healers.” “Steady breaths, my friend, you’ve been through worse.” $xname pats the Blade on the shoulder while Tûjo hurries off. “Remember that time you took an arrow to your ass?” The Blade lets out a weak snort. “Couldn’t sit down properly for weeks.” “Remind me, what did we call you back then?” “Zuhair the Half-Assed,” the Blade says through gritted teeth, though they still smile despite it. “Because I could only sit on my left cheek.” $xname laughs. “That’s right! See, what’s a dislocated knee to Zuhair the Half-Assed? It won’t even leave a scar.” You find yourself smiling along, admiring how easily $xname set the Blade at ease. When Tûjo arrives with a pouch in hand, $xname takes it from him and sprinkles it over the Blade’s injured knee, then together with Tûjo slides the knee back into place. The Blade looks none the worse for wear, and $xname moves on to help the few healers present by tending to the various injuries of $xtheir Blades—though, what $xthey truly appears to excel at is setting others at ease. $cxthey once professed to you that $xthey is ill at ease comforting someone who is crying, yet $xthey seems to have no trouble distracting others from their injuries and keeping them calm. No doubt $xthey has plenty of experience with things like this. As the Crown, in the face of $xtheir initiative you can’t simply stand around and watch. While you hold basic knowledge on how to treat superficial wounds, you know your best use would be to help create some oversight to aid the healers in their work. At the moment, they seem to helping whoever catches their eye first as the battlefield is rather chaotic in the aftermath, but there must be a more efficient way of going about it. You enlist Ezo and Ziryan’s help in assessing who among the guards and mercenaries has the worst injuries, and direct the healers to the people who need it most. Thankfully, broken bones appear to be the greatest damage dealt to your forces. As the healers treat the last of the wounded, you feel warm air brush against your side, heat sparking against the side of your bare neck. You jolt in place, pulse fluttering in your throat as $xname’s soft laugh brushes against your ear, hands resting atop your shoulders from behind. “Sorry, did I startle you?” $cxthey steps up beside you, giving you a cheeky little smirk, and you huff out an exasperated breath—hiding the way your heart beats unsteadily due to $xtheir antics. “Have all the Blades been treated?” you ask rather than rising to $xtheir provocation, and $xname’s eyes inexplicably soften. $cxthey draws close to your side, wrapping an arm around your waist. <<if $res gt $flirt>>You stiffen in $xtheir hold at first, eyes flitting over towards all the guards and mercenaries present, though aside from a few curious looks they all seem to know better than to stare. “You’re sweet,” $xname praises unabashedly, and you flounder in search of words. “Must you make a show of everything?” you accuse, certain $xthey’s doing it to fluster you on purpose. $xname hums, $xtheir fingers trailing up and down your side as if to tease, your mouth going dry as they trace fire through your clothes against your skin. “Not of this. I do this because I can’t resist touching you, and I don’t care who sees it. Should I not?” “I…” You inhale a sharp breath, then finally find the strength to untangle yourself, face glowing with warmth. “I didn’t say that. Regardless, we should head back to the palace.” The cold rushes in as soon as you leave $xtheir side, $xtheir amused chuckle following after you.<<else>>Your brows arch with surprise at the public display, not that you’re against it. When your eyes flit over towards all the guards and mercenaries present, aside from a few curious glances they all seem to know better than to stare. “You’re sweet,” $xname praises unabashedly, and you let out an amused breath, leaning into $xtheir hold to bask in $xtheir warmth and curling your own arm around $xtheir waist in turn. “They’re important to you,” you say, casting your eyes back to the Blades. “Which means they’re important to me.” $xname hums softly beside you. “Are you trying to make me swoon?” You laugh. “Is that all it takes to get you to swoon?” $cxthey <<if $height is 'tall' or $height is 'very tall'>>tilts $xtheir head down to lean against your shoulder<<else>>places $xtheir chin down atop your shoulder<</if>>. “You really are sweet.” You can’t seem to stop smiling, though eventually, you carefully untangle yourself from $xtheir hold and leaving $xtheir side. “Come, we need to head back to the palace. We can’t keep Eshkar in that sack forever.” $xname exhales a put-upon sigh, following after you. “Alas.”<</if>><</if>> [[Continue|12.22ab]]<<if $dfriend is true and $xfriend is true>>In the aftermath, Eshkar is little more than a flickering wisp of light in $dname’s palm. One of the guards hurries over with a cloth sack, sigils woven into its fabric that glows a bright purple against the brown. $dname stuffs Eshkar into the sack, and the guard quickly ties it shut with the attached rope, keeping hold of it. <</if>><<if $dfriend is false or $xfriend is false>>As you wrap things up,<<else>>As the rest of your guards and the Crescent Blades take care of their injured,<</if>> one guard approaches you, holding the bag that Eshkar was carrying. “We found this on the ground near Eshkar’s body, Your Imperial Majesty.” You take the bag from him, pulling back the flap draped over it to open it up. Within, you find dozens of flowers bunched together, buzzing with a hum of magic. They’re all blue, petals rounded downwards in a familiar shape as they shimmer faintly. “Blue sirens.” You frown, $xname and $dname joining you to peer over into the bag. $xname’s brows furrow with confusion. “Why didn’t he just destroy these?” “Either they are worth a lot of coin,” $dname says, “or there is no way to destroy them safely. These flowers are clearly the modified kind: the magic within them may be volatile.” You hand the bag back to the guard. “At least we have our evidence. Make sure you take this to $rname, or else leave it in $rtheir chambers.” $crthey would know best how to handle the magic within these flowers, or else know of a magus who could deal with it safely. Eventually, you and your companions return to the city with the Imperial Guards following after you, those few who are too wounded to walk riding on horseback, while the Crescent Blades return to their camp in the forest. You’re feeling rather good about the way that encounter ended, until you catch $dname’s eyes <<if $dfriend is false>>from atop $dtheir steed, riding on your right while $xname walks together with you on your left<<else>>, walking on your right while $xname walks on your left<</if>>. “There is something I feel I must mention, Your Imperial Majesty,” $dthey says, and you can’t quite read the look on $dtheir face, $dtheir features entirely impassive. You push down your apprehension. “Yes?” “It regards your actions during the battle against Eshkar.” Sunlight falls across your face as soon as you have left the cover of trees behind, making you squint at $dname. “What about it?” <<if $dfriend is false>>$dname averts $dtheir gaze. <</if>>“I wish to commend you for it.” You lift a hand to cover your eyes from the light solely so you can stare<<if $dfriend is false>> up<</if>> at your general, not having expected it. <<if $dfriend is false>>Something in your chest stirs at the praise, a radiant sensation glowing outward to the rest of your body. <</if>>“I… thank you.”<<if $dfriend is false>> While your parents never held back in praising you when you took to their lessons or helped them as ably as you could, they were your family, and so it was almost expected for them to do so. This might be the first time in your life you were praised by others aside from them, especially from someone you have come to care for more intimately.<</if>> “You acted quickly to direct your forces in the chaos of battle,” $dname continues simply, seeming unbothered by the light shining into $dtheir eyes as $dthey <<if $dfriend is true>>stares back at you<<else>>looks to the road ahead<</if>>. “It speaks well of your leadership abilities. Perhaps an innate talent, considering you lack experience otherwise.” <<if $charm gt $blunt>>“Keep going,” you say, a smile unfurling on your face—a proud one, at that. You haven’t had many of those. “I could use a couple more compliments.”<<else>>“I only did what I could to tip the battle in our favor,” you say, though your straightforward response does nothing to disguise the smile unfurling on your face—a proud one. You haven’t had many of those.<</if>> A hand presses onto your shoulder, and you look over to $xname, <<if $xfriend is true>>flashing you a grin. <<if $charm gt $blunt>>“By all means, let it go to your head! You did well.”<<else>>“No need to be so modest! You did well.”<</if>><<if $dfriend is true and $xfriend is true>> While your parents never held back in praising you when you took to their lessons or helped them as ably as you could, they were your family, and so it was almost expected for them to do so. This might be the first time in your life you were praised by others aside from them, and it encourages you like nothing else.<</if>><<if $dfriend is false>> “Thank you.” You look from $xname to $dname. “That means a lot, coming from you.” Realizing your eyes are lingering on $dname, you quickly look back to $xname and clarify yourself. “Both of you, I mean.” Judging by the way $xname snorts, though, $xthey knows exactly whose praise weighs heavier for you.<<else>>“Thank you.” You look from $xname to $dname. “Both of you. I’m glad I could be of use.” Perhaps you are better suited to leading others than even you yourself realized.<</if>><<else>>watching you with admiration shown openly in $xtheir eyes as $xtheir lips tilt into a half-smile. “You performed wonderfully, $name. <<if $charm gt $blunt>>That deserves all the praise in the world<<else>>That deserves to be celebrated<</if>>.” It feels different coming from $xname, even more so when $xtheir fingers lightly squeeze your shoulder, lingering with warmth glowing through your garments into your skin. While your parents never held back in praising you when you took to their lessons or helped them as ably as you could, they were your family, and so it was almost expected for them to do so. This might be the first time in your life you were praised by others aside from them, especially from someone you have come to care for so intimately. “Thank you,” you say, <<if $res gt $flirt>>even while you begin to feel shy at $xtheir attention<<else>>finding yourself walking a little closer to $xthem<</if>>. “That means a lot, coming from you.” You belatedly remember $dname is there as well. “Both of you, I mean.” $dname returns a dry look, seeming to know exactly whose praise you care about more.<</if>> [[Continue|12.23p]]<<if $dfriend is true and $xfriend is true>>In the aftermath, Eshkar is little more than a flickering wisp of light in $dname’s palm. One of the guards hurries over with a cloth sack, sigils woven into its fabric that glows a bright purple against the brown. $dname stuffs Eshkar into the sack, and the guard quickly ties it shut with the attached rope, keeping hold of it. <</if>><<if $dfriend is false or $xfriend is false>>As you wrap things up,<<else>>As the rest of your guards and the Crescent Blades take care of their injured,<</if>> one guard approaches you, holding the bag that Eshkar was carrying. “We found this on the ground near Eshkar’s body, Your Imperial Majesty.” You take the bag from him, pulling back the flap draped over it to open it up. Within, you find dozens of flowers bunched together, buzzing with a hum of magic. They’re all blue, petals rounded downwards in a familiar shape as they shimmer faintly. “Blue sirens.” You frown, $xname and $dname joining you to peer over into the bag. $xname’s brows furrow with confusion. “Why didn’t he just destroy these?” “Either they are worth a lot of coin,” $dname says, “or there is no way to destroy them safely. These flowers are clearly the modified kind: the magic within them may be volatile.” You hand the bag back to the guard. “At least we have our evidence. Make sure you take this to $rname, or else leave it in $rtheir chambers.” $crthey would know best how to handle the magic within these flowers, or else know of a magus who could deal with it safely. Eventually, you and your companions return to the city with the Imperial Guards following after you, those few who are too wounded to walk riding on horseback, while the Crescent Blades return to their camp in the forest. You’re feeling rather good about the way that encounter ended, until you catch $dname’s eyes<<if $dfriend is false>> from atop $dtheir steed, riding on your right while $xname walks together with you on your left<<else>>, walking on your right while $xname walks on your left<</if>>. “There is something I feel I must mention, Your Imperial Majesty,” $dthey says, the stern look on $dtheir face not reassuring you in the least. You push down your apprehension. “Yes?” “It concerns your interference in the battle against Eshkar.” Sunlight falls across your face as soon as you have left the cover of trees behind, making you squint at $dname. “What about it?” “In the future, I would ask you to refrain from such rash actions.” You lift a hand to cover your eyes from the light, frowning<<if $dfriend is false>> up<</if>> at your general, feeling scolded without fully understanding why. “But it was thanks to my magic you were able to catch him.” “It was impulsive and reckless,” $dname replies, seeming unbothered by the light shining into $dtheir eyes as $dthey stares back at you. “You blinded not only Eshkar, but your own forces as well. Were it not for $xname’s sensory magic, able to act without needing $xtheir sight, Eshkar could have injured many more merely by lashing out. We would have been unable to defend ourselves.” Your heart sinks at $dtheir clarification, cutting through your sense of accomplishment as you realize that $dthey’s right. Even you yourself were blinded by your own spell. “I’m sorry.” Your shoulder slump as you avert your gaze. “I should have thought it through. I just wanted to do something to help. What point is there in all my training if I cannot use it?” “Your training is for you to fall back on when others are unable to defend you,” $dname points out. “It is not intended for you to confront your enemies yourself, or to disrupt the battlefield at your whim.” $cdthey does not speak with any overt disapproval in $dtheir tone, merely stating it all matter-of-fact, yet that does not lessen the sting of embarrassment you feel as you realize you could have jeopardized the entire ambush had $xname not been there. <<if $dfriend is false>>That it is $dname lecturing you, of all people, only makes it all the worse. The last thing you want is to be seen as an incompetent leader in $dtheir eyes.<</if>> A hand presses on your shoulder, and you look over to $xname, giving you a sympathetic smile. “Don’t look so dispirited, your desire to help is commendable.” $cxthey casts a glance at $dname. “And mistakes are to be expected when you’re not used to having others under your command.” “Of course,” $dname agrees. “But they must be pointed out, or else the Crown cannot learn from them.” <<if $dfriend is false>>$cdthey pauses for an instant, something almost akin to hesitation in $dtheir voice before $dthey continues. “I say this out of concern as well. You are not meant to participate in battle directly.” You meet $dtheir gaze again, the slightest bit of hopefulness welling up within you at the admission, though $dname is quick to look away.<</if>> “$dname does have a point,” $xname admits, <<if $xfriend is true>>giving your shoulder a pat before releasing you<<else>>fingers giving your shoulder a light squeeze<</if>>. “Your role is to lead your people, not to thrust yourself into the fray. At best, you could end up confusing your own forces, and at worst, you would make yourself into a target. I don’t need to explain why it would be catastrophic for all of us if something happened to you, do I? <<if $xfriend is false>>Dare I say, for me especially<</if>>.” <<if $xfriend is false>>$cxthey adds those last words in a quieter tone, the hand on your shoulder glowing warmth through your garments into your skin. While you still feel disappointed in yourself for nearly making such a costly mistake, $xname’s worry for you makes you feel a little better. $cxthey is not reproaching you to judge you, but because $xthey cares for you.<<else>>While you still feel disappointed in yourself for nearly making such a costly mistake, you know that $dname is right. They need to point such things out to you so that you learn from them and improve, so that the next time you will know better.<</if>> “I understand,” you finally say, looking from $xname to $dname. “I will do better next time, I promise.” <<if $dfriend is true>>$dname nods with acknowledgment.<<else>>To your surprise, $dname’s lips lift into a rare smile, softening $dtheir gaze.<</if>> “I have no doubt that you will.”<<if $dfriend is false>> You have to force yourself to tear your eyes away before you end up staring, all too aware of the way $xname looks knowingly at the two of you as you continue on back to Marabad.<</if>> [[Continue|12.23p]] As you and your companions leave the inner courtyard behind and head into the palace’s corridors, $rname heads for the palace gardens so the court officials see $rthem out and about, providing some cover for your meeting with Kham. Similarly, $aname remarks $athey has to split off to oversee the training of a couple new guards, which should help as well. You ask $aname to stay behind a moment, telling $dname and $xname to go on ahead without you. $aname’s eyes follow the backs of your companions as they continue on, watching them until they’ve turned the corner and disappeared, leaving $athem alone with you. Finally, when they’re all out of sight, $aname’s gaze returns to yours and a smile lifts $atheir lips. $cathey steps closer. “Did you want me to wish you luck?” $athey wonders teasingly, $atheir hands reaching for your waist. They feel warm even through your clothes, holding you gently, almost carefully. <<if $flirt gt $res>>“I wanted a moment to have you to myself,” you reply, <<if $agender is 'male'>>your own hands reaching up to rest against his shoulders in turn<<else>>your own hands sliding around her lower back in turn, settling along the dip of it<</if>>. $catheir eyes widen fractionally, but then $athey briefly glances away, as if unable to hold your gaze even while $athey shifts closer ever so slightly. “I can’t say I’m pleased to be missing out on the meeting.” There is but a hand’s length of space between you left, close enough to admire the way $atheir eyelashes flutter when $athey blinks. “Because you'd rather be near me?” $aname looks at you properly, stare lingering on your face. “Isn't that obvious?” After a beat, $athey adds. “And I do not trust Kham.“ You smile, pleased at the confirmation, though you consider $atheir concern about the peri princess. <<else>>You try not to show how affected you are by just a few words and a simple touch, but it shows in your own hands <<if $agender is 'male'>>as they hesitate briefly before reaching up to rest against his shoulders in turn<<else>>as they hesitate briefly before sliding around her lower back in turn, settling along the dip of it<</if>>. “Didn’t you?” you return instead of answering $athem, not that your answer would be difficult to guess. “Want to wish me luck, that is.“ $aname’s smile turns mischievous as $athey shifts closer ever so slightly. “I did, but I also wanted to be alone with you.” It’s unfair how easily $athey affects you, your heart thumping resoundingly against your chest while you stare back into $atheir eyes, entirely enthralled. “Oh.” $cathey huffs a soft laugh, though it also fades faster than you’d like it to as $athey regards you. “I can’t say I’m pleased to be missing out on the meeting.” <</if>>“If you want to come along—” “$xname and $dname will be enough to help you handle the princess,” $aname says, whether to reassure you or $athemselves as of yet unclear to you. “But I suppose… I hoped to have more time with you today.” You share the sentiment, sighing as you recall how hectic your schedule has been since your coronation. Between all your lessons and your court meetings, there was scarcely an hour in the day when you weren’t in the company of others, and you imagine that finding privacy with your Royal Protector in such circumstances will be difficult. “I know.” Your brows furrow as you think of the rest of your schedule for today. “Once the meeting is over—” “You have a classes before supper.” “After supper, then.” $aname tilts $atheir head at you. “Do you not have to study for tomorrow’s lessons?” “I can spare an hour,” you decide, determined to make the time even if it means going to bed a little later than usual. When $aname opens $atheir mouth with a skeptical look, you <<if $res gt $flirt>>lift a hand without thinking, almost placing your fingers on $atheir lips before you catch yourself doing it. Embarrassed, you quickly start to retract it. “Sorry, I—” $aname catches your hand and, holding your gaze, kisses the tips of your fingers. The tender brush of $atheir lips jolts down your spine, your breath catching and blocking up the words you intended to speak. “If you’re certain,” $aname says as $athey releases your hand again, $atheir voice as soft as $atheir gaze. “I wouldn’t wish to distract you.”<<else>>lift a hand and press the tips of your fingers to $atheir lips to prevent $athem from protesting. It silences $athem at once, but the brush of $atheir lips affects you just as much. The touch jolts down your spine and tempts you to lean a little closer, gaze lingering on $aname’s mouth. $catheir lips parts ever so slightly against your fingers, the heat of $atheir breath caressing your hand, and when you lift your eyes up to $atheirs you find them equally transfixed on you. Reminding yourself that the others are waiting for you, you reluctantly pull your hand back again. “Studying <em>all</em> the time isn’t healthy either. You’d be doing me a favor.” It takes $aname a moment to recollect $athemselves, taking a steadying breath before $athey replies. “If you’re certain. I wouldn’t wish to distract you.”<</if>> “You won’t,” you promise. You’re still figuring out how to coax $athem closer in situations like these, but you think you’re getting the hang of it, especially considering how $aname responds. $cathey smiles at you, then releases your waist and unexpectedly cups your cheeks. <<if $height is 'tall' or $height is 'very tall'>>Tilting your head down to angle your forehead to $atheir lips,<<else>>Leaning down to angle $atheir lips to your forehead,<</if>> $athey spoils you with another kiss. It’s nothing more than a chaste peck, yet it lingers for a moment before $athey draws back, drawing out more than the heat that warms your face. Pinpricks of light flash in the corners of your eyes, and you realize a moment later it is your magic that has reacted, glowing from your skin. $aname’s gaze brightens with mirth as $athey notices it too, purposefully caressing your cheek with a thumb—the coolness of $atheir magic brushes against the heat of yours, soothing it so wonderfully that it makes you sigh. “I should let you go,” $athey says, pulling back and allowing you to regain control of your magic, though you long for $atheir touch again the moment it ceases. “Good luck, $name.” “See you soon.” You remain standing in the hallway as you watch $aname depart, waiting until the rapid pounding of your heart has calmed again before you rejoin the others. You hurry to catch up with $dname and $xname, though you find they are not far ahead of you. They both glance over their shoulders at you when you rejoin them. “I hope I didn’t make you wait too long,” you say, looking for something to anchor yourself with what with how your exchange with $aname has left you dazed. You find it difficult to focus on anything but the promise of more when you return. “Not at all,” $dname says, neither $dthey or $xname remark on it, thankfully—save perhaps an amused look from $xname. You continue on with the rest of your group to one of the sitting rooms being prepared by the servants. [[Continue|12.8kra]] As you and your companions leave the inner courtyard behind and head into the palace’s corridors, $aname heads for the training yard to oversee a couple of new guards so that $athey is seen out and about, providing some cover for your meeting with Kham. Similarly $rname remarks that $rthey should go to the palace gardens and speak to some court officials, which would help as well. You ask $rname to stay behind for a moment, telling $dname and $xname to go on ahead without you. $crthey looks at you in question, entirely oblivious. “Is something the matter?” <<if $rrelationship is 'low'>>While you have some brief time alone with $rthem, you consider $rtheir expression, the way $rthey carries $rthemselves, and even try to pick up on any changes in $rtheir magic. At first glance, $rname appears very much the same as always, but you cannot get your earlier conversation with <<if visited("12afriend") gte 1>>$aname<</if>><<if visited("12dfriend") gte 1>>$dname<</if>><<if visited("12xfriend") gte 1>>$xname<</if>> out of your head. You decide to act as usual while keeping it in the back of your mind. “I wanted to catch a moment alone with you before the meeting.” $rname smiles at you, and it seems genuine enough. “That’s sweet of you.” But there is something in $rtheir reaction—you expected $rthem to be a little more flustered than that. Perhaps $rthey has simply gotten comfortable with the growing intimacy and affection between the two of you this past week? “So…” You trail off, <<if $flirt gt $res>>uncharacteristically <</if>>uncertain and ill at ease now that the question of $rname’s wellbeing weighs on your mind. “I will see you later, then?” $rname’s smile falters, brows drawing together as $rthey regards you. Then, to your surprise, $rthey steps closer. “$rname—?” You scarcely get $rtheir name past your lips when $rthey suddenly leans in and kisses your cheek. Stunned, you stand there in something of a shock, staring at $rname while $rthey pulls back just as quickly. “Good luck, my Crown,” $rthey says, and all you can do is nod, the touch of $rtheir lips still lingering on your cheek as you turn around and continue down the corridor. <<if visited("12afriend") gte 1>>$aname<</if>><<if visited("12dfriend") gte 1>>$dname<</if>><<if visited("12xfriend") gte 1>>$xname<</if>> was right. There is something wrong with $rname. It might be hasty to assume based on this one interaction, but you’re certain that if $rname was $rthemselves, $rthey would never have acted to nonchalantly about kissing you, even if on the cheek. Back in the water temple, when $rthey kissed your hand, $rthey was far more affected by it. This, however? $crthey is overcompensating for something. Putting your brewing concerns aside for the moment, you hurry to catch up with $dname and $xname, though you find they are not far ahead of you. They both glance over their shoulders at you when you rejoin them. “I hope I didn’t make you wait too long,” you say, eager to divert your thoughts as you walk beside them.<</if>><<if $rrelationship is 'high'>><<if $flirt gt $res>>You cannot help but smile with amusement, mischief alighting in your eyes. “There is, in fact.” $rname’s brows furrow with concern—adorable. “Oh?” <<if $pass gt $ass>>“You didn’t give me a kiss for good luck.” <<else>>“I didn’t give you a kiss. You know, for good luck.” Technically, $rthey should be giving <em>you</em> a kiss for good luck, but you are certain that being able to kiss $rthem will make you feel just as lucky.<</if>> Watching the reaction play out on $rname’s face is as fascinating as it is enchanting. $crtheir eyes grow in shock, shining like a mirror, before $rthey catches $rthemselves and abruptly turns $rtheir face away, pressing $rtheir fingers to $rtheir mouth. “$rname?” Your smile fades a little, wondering if you have teased $rthem too much. “Sorry, was I too forward?” “N-no!” $rname glances at you, unable to fully hold your gaze. “I was only surprised. But I don’t mind, just, ah, give me a moment—”<<else>>You take a breath to gather yourself. “I wanted to catch a moment alone with you.” $rname blinks at you, but then smiles, $rtheir gaze warming. “Of course. I should have considered that.” You hesitate a moment, not used to voicing such things aloud, but if you don’t say it then $rname will not understand your intent. “I was hoping, may I…” “May you…?” $rname still does not seem to pick up on it, and you feel all the blood in your body rushing to your head before you finally push the words out. <<if $ass gt $pass>>“May I kiss you?”<<else>>“May I have a kiss?”<</if>> Your mouth feels dry as you speak the words. “For good luck.” Watching the reaction play out on $rname’s face is as fascinating as it is enchanting. $crtheir eyes grow in shock, reflecting the soft glow of the torchlight like a mirror, before $rthey catches $rthemselves and abruptly turns $rtheir face away, pressing $rtheir fingers to $rtheir mouth. Your shoulders tense a little, wondering if it was too much to ask for after all. “Sorry, was I too forward?” “N-no!” $rname glances at you, unable to fully hold your gaze. “I was only surprised. But I don’t mind, just, ah, give me a moment—”<</if>> Blue sparks flicker along $rtheir fingers, and $rthey hastily folds $rtheir hands over each other as if trying to douse the errant magic. Your brows arch. “Is that my fault?” $rname exhales a faint laugh. “You made my heart pound, $name. It’s difficult to maintain control when it’s so unexpected.” If a mere kiss goodbye is enough to elicit such a response, you’re certain you would make $rname’s heart stop beating entirely from shock if you were to ever reveal what else <<if $ass gt $pass>>you want to do to $rthem<<else>>you want from $rthem<</if>>. How can you not, when $rname is like this? It’s thrilling to be able to affect someone so intensely, and it is proof of how $rthey must feel about you in turn. “On the cheek, then,” you decide as $rname finally manages to extinguish the sparks of $rtheir magic. <<if $flirt gt $res>>$crthey looks at you with a frown, and you cannot help but tease a little more as you step closer. “Disappointed?” $rname lowers $rtheir eyes, $rtheir hands still folded and held against $rtheir lap as $rthey admits softly, “Maybe a little.”<<else>>$crthey looks at you with a frown, but then lowers $rtheir eyes, $rtheir hands still folded and held against $rtheir lap. “$rname?” “I might have been hoping for a little more than that,” $rthey admits quietly, making your pulse race against your neck.<</if>> “Then<<if $res gt $flirt>>…<</if>> look forward to getting more after the meeting,” you reply, <<if $res gt $flirt>>gathering all your courage and <</if>><<if $height is 'short' or $height is 'very short'>>touching your fingers under $rtheir chin, but not needing to move it up: $rthey is taller than you, after all. It is solely to pull $rtheir eyes back up to your face, $rname meeting your gaze.<<else>>touching your fingers under $rtheir chin, gently lifting $rtheir head to look at you again as $rthey meets your gaze.<</if>> The blacks of $rtheir pupils are blown out, standing out against $rtheir silvery irises even in the soft shade of the corridor. $crthey looks down at your mouth, if only for an instant, and the impulse to forget about your teasing tenses inside of you with anticipation. But if <<if $ass gt $pass>>you kissed $rthem<<else>>$rthey kissed you<</if>> properly now, you don’t know if either of you would be able to stop. <<if $ass gt $pass>>Leaning <<if $height is 'short' or $height is 'very short'>>in, you reach up as best you can<<if $height is 'very short'>>, having to stand on your toes<</if>> to<</if>><<if $height is 'average'>>in, you<</if>><<if $height is 'tall' or $height is 'very tall'>>down, you<</if>> press your lips gently against $rtheir cheek. A tingling sensation flits through your mouth when you let the kiss linger, $rtheir magic rippling through you at the touch, so vibrant you taste it on your tongue: something metallic, like right after a lightning strike. You pull back, licking your lower lip in reflex, and nearly freeze when $rname’s gaze tracks the movement of your tongue as if hypnotized. $crthey looks away a moment later, inhaling a deep breath as if to steady $rthemselves, and you swallow thickly as you find your composure is just as unraveled.<<else>>When $rname begins to lean in you hold completely still, not wanting to risk startling $rthem again. $crtheir heart is not the only one that pounds as $rname <<if $height is 'short' or $height is 'very short'>>bends $rtheir head down, and then<</if>><<if $height is 'average'>>shifts closer and closer, and then<</if>><<if $height is 'tall' or $height is 'very tall'>><<if $height is 'very tall'>>raises a little on $rtheir toes and <</if>>angles $rtheir head up, and then<</if>> brushes $rtheir lips ever so softly against your cheek. A tingling sensation flits against your skin as $rthey lets the kiss linger, $rtheir magic rippling through you at the touch. It’s so vibrant that when you part your lips to take a breath, you taste it on your tongue: something metallic, like right after a lightning strike. $rname pulls back, a hint of teeth digging into $rtheir lower lip, and your eyes fixate on it before you can stop yourself. When you look up to meet $rname’s stare, you find it just as transfixed on you. $crthey looks away a moment later, inhaling a deep breath as if to steady $rthemselves, and you swallow thickly as you find your composure is just as unraveled.<</if>> It seems absurd that a mere kiss on the cheek could be so exciting—you have done more with others who did not rouse even half the desire that $rname does. “Take care, $name,” $rname says, $rtheir tone soft, and you give $rthem a fond smile in return. “I’ll be back before you know it.” Leaving $rthem behind with those words, you hurry to catch up with $dname and $xname, though you find they are not far ahead of you. They both glance over their shoulders at you when you rejoin them. “I hope I didn’t make you wait too long,” you say, looking for something to anchor yourself with what with how your kiss with $rname has left you in tatters. You find it difficult to focus on anything but the promise of more when you return.<</if>> “Not at all,” $dname says, neither $dthey or $xname remark on your exchange with $rname, thankfully. You continue on with the rest of your group to one of the sitting rooms being prepared by the servants. [[Continue|12.8kra]] As you and your companions leave the inner courtyard behind and head into the palace’s corridors, $rname heads for the palace gardens so the court officials see $rthem out and about, providing some cover for your meeting with Kham. Similarly, $aname remarks $athey has to split off to oversee the training of a couple new guards, which should help as well. <<if $afriend is false>>Your eyes meet before $athey leaves, and $athey seems to hesitate for a moment, as if considering whether or not to say anything. Finally, $athey settles on, “Good luck.” The impassive expression $athey has worn ever since your argument is fractured now, letting slip $atheir concern in the furrow of $atheir brows. You cannot help but smile, reassured at least that $athey still wishes for your success. It is more than you have gotten from $athem all week. “See you soon, $aname.” Your other companions do not remark on it, thankfully, and you continue on with the rest of your group to one of the sitting rooms being prepared by the servants.<<else>>You bid them both a quick goodbye, continuing on with the rest of your group to one of the sitting rooms being prepared by the servants.<</if>> <<if $dfriend is true>>While you walk together, something occurs to you regarding what $dname said about Kham, piquing your curiosity. “$dname, earlier you mentioned your presence might surprise Kham. Why is she so fixated on you, anyway?” $dname glances at you from where $dthey walks on your left, but before $dthey can answer, $xname beats $dthem to it. “Probably $xdnickname’s peri side, no?” $xthey remarks casually, giving $dname a considering look, before turning toward you. “Also, why are you still calling $dthem by $dtheir title?” The question barely registers as you’re stuck on the notion of $dname’s supposed peri-side. “It is proper,” $dname argues, and $xname rolls $xtheir eyes. “Would you care that much if $they only used your first name in private?” $dname looks over at you, and you meet $dtheir gaze in question. “I suppose not,” $dthey concedes, and you smile with a bit of relief. Adding ‘general’ to $dtheir name every time made it a bit of a mouthful. <<if $dgender is 'male'>><<set $dname to 'Dara'>><<else>><<set $dname to 'Delal'>><</if>> Seeing an opening, you redirect the conversation back to what you’re actually interested in hearing. “$dname, you’re a peri? Or, part peri?” Realization alights in $dname’s eyes. “Ah, you don’t know. I suppose I forgot to mention, but yes, I’m peri-born.” [[Continue|12.8kdf]]<<else>>“So, what’s the plan?” $xname asks while you walk together, something of mischief gleaming in $xtheir eyes. “Charm her? Intimidate her? Better yet, bully her?” You cast $xthem a curious look. “You really do not like her, do you?” “I don’t like royalty on principle,” $xname responds easily. “Present company excluded, of course. Though the peris in Anshan annoy me more than others, since they like to pretend they’re superior to everyone else.” $dname hums in agreement. “They do look down on the peris of other provinces for intermingling with humans.” “How much do you two know about Kham’s family?” you ask. “Queen Nis in particular.” “Only what everyone else knows, and what I’m sure you have heard already.” $dname looks to $xname to add anything, and $xthey shrugs. “The same.” In the week before this meeting, you learned as much as you could from $rname and your tutors—particularly the one in charge of teaching you diplomacy—regarding the rule of Queen Nis. Which, unfortunately, wasn’t much beyond folklore and rumor. The isolation of Anshan makes it difficult to glean anything of use from the tales that are widely spread of the peris there, considered enigmatic and aloof by most. If there was anything you hoped you could use in this conversation with Kham, you have not found it. It will leave you on unequal footing, where information is concerned, as you’re not sure of what the princess’ aims are in being an ambassador for her people. Is she merely here because her mother commanded it, or does she have her own motivations? “If Kham lets anything slip, I’ll be able to catch it,” $xname reassures you. “She might be using her peri form to make her physical appearance hard to read, but she can’t disguise the emotional reactions in her magic as easily.” That, at least, might help you judge her truthfulness during the meeting after the fact. You’ll just have to rely on your prior interactions with Kham to try and guide you through this. [[Continue|12.9k]]<</if>> The sun has started setting by the time you make it back to the palace, using the tunnels beneath the city after you enter through the gates. By this point, you and $xname have also undone your glamors, returning to looking like your usual selves. You remember that you still have classes to attend before supper, and <<if $intel gt $intu>>you actually find yourself looking forward to them after all the excitement with Eshkar<<else>>you sigh with resignation. It’ll be difficult to focus on studying after all the excitement with Eshkar<</if>>. You pass through a tunnel with the path curving upwards rather than having stairs, easier for the horses to navigate as you end up in exiting into one of the grounds located against the western walls of the palace complex. Beside you is a sizable building, and when you ask about it Ezo informs you they are the barracks for the Imperial Guards—except for $aname, whose quarters are in the palace itself to remain close to you. The guards that traveled with you begin to disperse, particularly the injured who retreat to the barracks and await further treatment for their wounds. <<if $dfriend is false>>$dname dismounts $dtheir horse with a grunt of effort and hands the reins over to a stablehand, clearly still bothered by $dtheir injury, and you all but order $dthem to see the royal physicians. $cdthey must truly be in pain as $dthey does not argue with you, instead giving the bag with Eshkar in it to $xname. “Place him in the dungeons.”<<else>>Once you arrive, $xname reaches out a hand to $dname, who arches a brow but proceeds to hand over the bag that holds Eshkar in it.<</if>> $xname stares at the bag that still glows dimly with Eshkar’s light, $xtheir eyes narrowing, and then gives it a little shake. “$xname,” you start to protest, thinking $xthey’s just bullying Eshkar for fun, but $xthey holds up a hand. “I think he’s passed out.” $xname lowers the bag. “His magic is completely unresponsive.” “Let us hope he recovers to give us answers sooner rather than later,” $dname grouses, scowling at the bag as $xname hands it back to $dthem. “$aname cannot use $atheir magic to read his mind while Eshkar is in this state.” That would be a complication you’re not keen on dealing with, especially since you’re on a limited schedule to deal with this before Kham returns to the city. <<if $dfriend is false>> While $xname leaves to drop Eshkar off and inform $rname and $aname of how your outing went, you turn to $dname. “I’d like to visit you after my classes,” you decide, making no effort to hide your worry as you take in the touch of paleness that still remains to $dtheir skin. “If that’s alright. Only to ensure you’re doing well.” For a moment, you think $dname might refuse you as $dthey hardly seems able to meet your gaze. But then $dthey says, “As you wish.” Without even waiting for your response, $dthey inclines $dtheir head and then swiftly walks ahead, seeming determined to avoid you. Spirits, but $dthey could stand to be a little less blatant about it.<</if>><<if $xfriend is false>>While $dname leaves to drop Eshkar off and inform $rname and $aname of how your outing went, you turn to $xname and find $xthem already staring at you. “Would you mind if I dropped by your quarters after you’re done with your classes?” $xthey asks, seeming nonchalant about it even though $xtheir request is anything but. <<if $res gt $flirt>>“I don’t see why not,” you reply, trying to match $xtheir casual tone, though you’re certain you fail considering the flush that glows up your neck.<<else>>“What, just for a chat?” you cannot help but tease, though your anticipation builds already. “Sure, why not?”<</if>> $xname’s expression brightens, and $xthey leans in without hesitation, pressing a quick kiss to your lips. “I’ll look forward to it.” <<if $res gt $flirt>>You’re too flustered to respond even as $xthey turns around and leaves, the heat in your neck spreading up to your cheeks at the casual affection displayed out in the open.<<else>>You’re briefly surprised by it, but gather yourself in time to return it before $xname draws away, smiling against $xtheir mouth.<</if>> Your gaze shifts to the servants and guards milling about the grounds, a few of them quickly averting their eyes when they notice you looking. If any of them did not yet know of your involvement with the Pale Sword, you’re certain the gossip of it will spread through the whole palace before morning.<</if>> [[Continue|12.24p]]“Peri-born?” It’s not a term you’ve heard often, but you <em>have</em> heard of it. “That means the parent who gave birth to you is a peri, doesn’t it?” While practically unheard of in Rojan, you do know that peri-human couples are more common in the other provinces, especially Penawar where $dname is from. The peris there live together with humans in mixed communities and are considered to be Arsurian citizens, completely opposite to the peris of Rojan who have isolated themselves as best as possible in their own monarchic state. “It does.” $dname narrows $dtheir eyes in thought. “As a result, my magic works a little differently.” $cdthey proceeds to explain it to you as you walk. Peris don’t have magic cores with an innate amount of magic produced from within, like humans do. Their entire bodies are made of magic, and they are dependent on absorbing magic from their environment to stay alive. Peri-born humans <em>do</em> have innate magic cores, but much like peris, they have to absorb magic in order to use it. They can’t produce magic on their own, though that doesn’t mean they must absorb magic in order to stay alive. Their bodily functions and needs are identical to those of other humans, in that regard: they can opt not to absorb magic at all, and will not be affected beyond being unable to use any spells. “Is that why you never use magic?” you ask at the end of $dname’s explanation. “You don’t want to bother absorbing it?” $dname seems to hesitate, thinking about $dtheir answer before $dthey gives it. “It’s one of the reasons. I simply don’t have any affinity for using magic. My body is naturally enhanced compared to that of other humans even without it, so I see no real need for it.” You get the sense that’s not all there is to why $dname doesn’t use $dtheir magic, but you don’t want to press $dthem on it if it’s something $dthey’d rather not discuss. “Bragging about your big muscles again?” $xname remarks teasingly, shifting the topic away and lightening the discomfort in the air. $dname huffs a breath, playing along with $dtheir usual exasperation. “Don’t project.” [[Continue|12.9k]] While you walk together, something occurs to you regarding what $dname said about Kham, piquing your curiosity. “$dname, earlier you mentioned your presence might surprise Kham. Why is she so fixated on you, anyway?” $dname glances at you from where $dthey walks on your left, but before $dthey can answer, $xname beats $dthem to it. “Probably $xdnickname’s peri side, no?” $xthey remarks casually, giving $dname a considering look, before turning toward you. “Also, why are you still calling $dthem by $dtheir title?” The question barely registers as you’re stuck on the notion of $dname’s supposed peri-side. “It is proper,” $dname argues, and $xname rolls $xtheir eyes. “Would you care that much if $they only used your first name in private?” $dname looks over at you, and you meet $dtheir gaze in question. “I suppose not,” $dthey concedes, and you smile with a bit of relief. Adding ‘general’ to $dtheir name every time made it a bit of a mouthful. <<if $dgender is 'male'>><<set $dname to 'Dara'>><<else>><<set $dname to 'Delal'>><</if>> Seeing an opening, you redirect the conversation back to what you’re actually interested in hearing. “$dname, you’re a peri? Or, part peri?” Realization alights in $dname’s eyes. “Ah, you don’t know. I suppose I forgot to mention, but yes, I’m peri-born.” [[Continue|12.8kdf]] Once you reach the sitting room, the double doors are opened for you by a pair of servants, but the interior is nothing like you expected. Instead of the usual arrangements of tables and couches, you blink twice as you suddenly seem to find yourself outside in a forest. Trees surround you in the clearing, reaching up high to block out the sky in a vibrant canopy of flowering branches and leaves, only a few golden tendrils of sunlight able to break through. Where you expected to see a floor you find the ground covered in grass and moss and daisies flourishing from the earth beneath. At the center of the small clearing is a familiar low table and pillows to sit upon, the only thing recognizable from the palace. You turn around in a slow circle, amazed at what you recognize must be an elaborate illusion. The doors you walked through are still visible, tucked between two trees. Its open doorway still offers the view of the palace corridors. $xname whistles from beside you. “That is an impressive bit of magic.” Even $dname appears surprised by it, but then scowls. “Magi and their extravagant illusions.” You look to a servant in question, who bows their head and answers. “It is an illusion, ‘tis true, but not one created by a magus.” They peer up at $dname. “$rtitle $rname requested the room from the palace, which conjured this space to serve your needs.” “From the <em>palace</em>?” you repeat, baffled even further. You know that the palace has defenses to lead astray those that do not have permission to roam its halls, but you did not think it was capable of feats like these as well. “It can make such illusions by request?” “Indeed, Your Imperial Majesty, but only by those that belong to the Imperial Household.” Which would mean that, aside from $rname and $aname, you could ask the palace for such things as well. “Kham should appreciate it,” $xname considers as $xthey wanders over toward the table, where $dname has already sat down, seeming less irritated now. You join the two of them, peering over at $dname in particular. “Why were you annoyed by it?” “I merely think the magi of this country could put their talents to better uses than performing cheap tricks for entertainment,” $dname replies. “That the vast majority of them choose not to speaks either to their callousness, or their vanity.” “Alright, enough whining!” $xname sits down across from $dname, then calls over to the servant. “Could I bother you to bring us a chess set? We’d like to pass the time before meeting with the princess.” Making her wait is certainly also a strategy—throwing your difference in status around a little, to remind her that you still rank above her despite how highly she thinks of herself. The servant bows and retreats into the corridor, and you take a seat beside $dname, looking at $xname in amusement. <<if $dfriend is false>>“Being bested in backgammon by $dname wasn’t enough for you?” $dname snorts, causing you to smile, and $xname glares at you. “You don’t get to taunt me,” $xthey declares. “You’re clearly biased.” You sputter for a response, but the best you manage is, “Am not!” “Oh?” $xname places $xtheir elbow on the table, resting $xtheir chin on top of $xtheir hand as $xthey gives you an unimpressed stare. “Then tell me, between $dname and I, who’s going to win?” You part your lips to say $dname’s name almost reflexively, but then think better of it when you notice how $dname tenses in the corner of your eyes. $xname smirks. “Thought so.”<</if>><<if $xfriend is false>>“Who do you intend to challenge to a match?” “$dname, obviously.” $xname winks at you. “After I win, I will face you next.” $dname snorts, lips curling with derision. “If you still play as impulsively as the last time we had a game, you stand little chance.” “Just you wait.” $xname glares at $dthem, but then looks back at you again. “You believe in me, don’t you, $name?” <<if $res gt $flirt>>Why does $xthey insist on trying to fluster you at any given moment? You sigh, avoiding the sincerity all but shining in $xname’s eyes, giving a small hum in affirmation.<<else>>You smirk a little, feeling an urge to tease $xthem when $xthey looks so painfully sincere about it. “Hmm… I suppose.”<</if>> “That’s it?” $xname sulks. “Can I at least get a kiss for good luck—” “That won’t save you from your inevitable defeat,” $dname cuts in, and $xname narrows $xtheir eyes at $dthem. “Oh, I’m going to enjoy making you eat your words.”<</if>><<if $afriend is false or $rfriend is false>>“Who do you intend to challenge to a match?” “$dname, obviously.” $xname smirks at you. “After I win, I will face you next.” $dname snorts, lips curling with derision. “If you still play as impulsively as the last time we had a game, you stand little chance.” $xname narrows $xtheir eyes at $dthem. “Oh, I’m going to enjoy making you eat your words.”<</if>> [[Continue|12.10k]]<<if $afriend is false or $xfriend is false or $rfriend is false>>$xname does not, in fact, make $dname eat $dtheir words.<<else>>Much to $xname’s chagrin, however, your faith in $dname does not turn out to be misplaced.<</if>> Soon after the servants bring you the chess set and the two of them begin to play, the difference in skill becomes apparent. By the time $dname moves one of $dtheir pawns to checkmate $xname’s crown for the fourth time after three games of utterly destroying $xthem, $xname sweeps all the pieces off the board. “Chess is for bureaucrats,” $xthey declares. You huff a laugh while $dname casts $xname an unimpressed stare. “The least you could do is remain dignified in defeat.” $xname scowls at $dname for the scolding, and then reaches across the table and steals one of the biscuits off $dtheir plate. $dname allows it, only appearing vaguely amused as $dthey quirks a brow. “I thought your sensory magic would give you an edge,” you wonder, only barely resisting the urge to gloat in $xname’s face about $xtheir many defeats after poking fun at you for it. “I can’t read minds with it,” $xname replies morosely, crossing $xtheir arms and leaning back into $xtheir chair. “$dname shouldn’t be allowed to play chess. $cdthey’s a general, it’s practically cheating.” “That has nothing to do with it,” $dname retorts as $dthey places the chess pieces back onto the board one by one. “Chess is not so intellectual as you think. All it requires is patience, discipline, and practice. Being able to recall and memorize tactics is more important than being intuitive or clever. I enjoy studying chess strategies. You, on the other hand—” “Who <em>studies</em> chess?” $xname appears incredulous, on the verge of outraged. “Do you hear yourself? It’s supposed to be something you do for fun!” “Studying can be enjoyable,” $dname says with a frown, and $xname makes a face before $xthey turns to you. “Back me up here, $name.” <<if $intu gt $intel>>You have to admit that studying chess strategies, or any kind of theory for that matter, sounds more like a chore than something fun. “I do enough studying as it is, I can’t imagine adding chess on top of it.” While it is necessary as the Crown, you’ve never been one for such intellectual pursuits. You enjoy your practical lessons in magic and your physical training much more. $xname grins, shooting $dname a victorious look. “You’re outnumbered.” One of $dname’s brows twitches. “The Crown stated a personal preference, not a judgment on those that enjoy chess. Though considering your disdain for intellectual pursuits, I shouldn’t be surprised you struggle with listening comprehension.” $xname flicks a stray piece of lint from $xtheir tunic, entirely unconcerned. “That’s a very long-winded way of admitting that you’re a bore.” A vein pops on the side of $dname’s forehead. “You insufferable—”<<else>>Unfortunately for $xname, you’re of a mind to agree with $dname. While chess strategies may or may not be to your taste in terms of theory, you’ve enjoyed all that your tutors have taught you. “Sorry, but I agree with $dname. I find it fun to learn new things.” “Spirits,” $xname groans, rubbing over $xtheir brow. “I’m surrounded by bookworms. Where is $aname, <em>$athey</em> would agree with me.” $dname snorts. “Need I remind you that $aname enjoys reading poetry in $atheir spare time?” <<if $afriend is true>> That’s surprising. You didn’t know that about $aname, but it is also rather endearing. Who knew that under that aloof exterior was someone with an appreciation for the more sensitive arts?<</if>> “Reading poetry is different from studying poetry!” “It still qualifies $athem as a ‘bookworm’.”<</if>> While you enjoy the banter between the three of you, your attention is drawn away by a brush of magic against your shoulder. It is your guards’ way of getting your attention. You turn your head to the side, muttering in a low voice so you don’t draw the attention of nearby patrons at the other tables. “What is it?” $xname clearly notices, from the way $xthey glances at you, but continues to bicker with $dname while you speak to your guard. “It’s the princess,” the guard says, their voice coming from the general direction of your left as they remain invisible. “She is growing restless, and is starting to ask when she can expect to meet with you.” “Aren’t peris supposed to be patient, what with how long-lived they are?” $xname mocks, though $xthey gets up from $xtheir seat to join your side of the table, sitting down on your left. “Bring her in, then,” you decide, figuring you’re as ready as you will ever be to face her even as you start to feel a little nervous. Holding court meetings is one thing, and you have spoken to Kham before, but this meeting has a purpose with you acting in your official capacity as the Crown, and you still have little experience navigating such conversations. <<if $dfriend is false>> You catch $dname’s eyes as you wait, but this time, $dthey does not avert them or pretend not to notice your look. The corner of $dtheir mouth twitches a little, almost as if to smile but refraining from it, and $dtheir gaze is more open than usual. $cdthey’s trying to be encouraging, you realize. You smile back, feeling steadier with $dthem beside you, and resolve to lead the conversation with Kham as best you can.<</if>><<if $xfriend is false>> You catch $xname’s eyes as you wait, and $xthey does not hesitate to lift a hand to your back, fingers stroking down and back up your spine in a soothing motion. $cxthey must be able to sense your anxiety, and is doing $xtheir best to comfort you. Touched by the gesture, you mouth a soundless <em>thank you</em> so as to not draw $dname’s attention, the warmth of $xname’s hand lingering even after $xthey retracts it. You feel reassured with $xthem beside you, and resolve to lead the conversation with Kham as best you can.<</if>> [[Continue|12.11k]] A short while later, the princess appears in the open doorway of the enchanted chamber, and you are treated to the rare sight of her stilling in place. Even with her wooden features, the area of her brows creak upwards in seeming surprise as she regards the illusion, but once her gaze falls upon you and your companions, the expression disappears. An attempt to recompose herself, though it is already too late for that. “My, what a reception!” She has to bend down at her impressive height to avoid the top of the door frame as she steps into the room. “You certainly know how to make me feel at home, Crown.” “Your Highness,” you greet, though you notice she is by herself. Before you can ask where the peri trader is, however, Kham is promptly distracted at the sight of $dname. <<if $dfriend is false>>“General, what a delight!” Kham perks up at the sight of $dthem, and you suddenly recall what $dname told you about her before: how she sees $dname as nothing more than an amusing novelty. “I did not know you would be joining our discussion.” Now that $dname has clarified how Kham truly views $dthem, you can detect the hint of condescension to her tone. The exaggerated cheer, the way her eyes narrow. <em>Like how a noble might condescend to a farmer</em>, $dname said. “Is that a problem?” you interject before $dname can even speak, the remark escaping you before you can help it. From beside you, you feel $xname subtly grip your wrist, as if to warn you, and you realize you need to tread very carefully. “Not at all,” Kham says, looking back towards you, her smile somehow seeming sharper. “In fact, I should thank you for allowing me to spend more time with $dthem. $cdthey always tries to escape me whenever $dthey sees me!” You try to control your face, keeping yourself from scowling like you wish to, what with the way she speaks of $dname as if $dthey were a <em>pet</em>. Luckily, $xname chimes in to cover for you, no doubt able to sense your rising indignation. “I wonder why,” $xthey says, words dripping with sarcasm, and Kham’s wooden brows lower as the smile disappears from her face. “You are such a delight to be around, princess.” At once, you are thankful for $xname’s presence: their antagonism with Kham has come in useful. “Shall we return to the matter at hand?” you say before Kham can reply. Kham gives you a long look, and you mentally kick yourself for saying anything, even if it was well-intentioned in trying to defend $dname. $dname’s eyes weigh heavily upon you as well, but if you met $dtheir gaze now, you would all but betray the tension between the two of you to Kham. You wonder if $dname will scold you for your defense of $dthem once the meeting is over. Somehow, the thought almost makes you smile. “Of course,” Kham finally says, straightening a little in her seat. “Onto business then, shall we?”<<else>>“General, what a delight!” Kham perks up at the sight of $dthem, and you recall that $dname mentioned she might be surprised by $dtheir presence. “I did not know you would be joining our discussion.” You’re not sure how to read her tone. On the surface, she seems pleased, but there’s something to her voice that doesn’t sound entirely sincere. “On behalf of $ctheir Imperial Majesty, I hope we did not make you wait too long,” $dname replies, perfectly composed and unaffected, but even to someone like you who is a novice in veiled words, you can pick up on the little jab: making her wait, showing off the complex magic of the palace, and now $dname addressing her on your behalf as if she were not worthy of conversing directly with you. It is all a display of power. “Not at all,” Kham says, looking back towards you, her smile somehow seeming sharper. “In fact, I should thank you for giving me the opportunity of exploring the palace. I hardly noticed the time passing by. And, of course, being graced with your presence is always pleasing, general.” She casts a look at $xname, dismissive. “A shame about the rest of the company you keep, however.” She tuts, looking back at you. “Strays ought to be leashed, do you not agree?” <<if $xfriend is false>>Your jaw clenches despite yourself, temper rising at the blatant insult angled at $xname, but then fingers wrap around your wrist. You glance down, finding $xname’s hand holding onto you: warning you not to lose your cool. “Your Highness, did you not just admit to wandering around the palace without the Crown’s permission while you waited to be called on?” $dname remarks while $xname’s thumb rubs over the inner side of your wrist, the gentle touch and $dname’s handling of the situation calming your anger further. “If one is to speak of strays and leashes…” Kham tenses, the ends of her fingers twitching even while she conjures a smile back onto her face. “Pardon me, I was merely admiring the architecture! A truly impressive feat of magic.” At once, you are thankful for $dname’s presence: $dtheir level head has come in useful. “Shall we return to the matter at hand?” you say, deciding to move on before this snide back and forth can continue, $xname releasing your wrist. “Of course,” Kham finally says, finally making her way to the seat opposite yours across the table, and lowering herself onto it. “Onto business then, shall we?”<</if>><<if $xfriend is true>>Your brows arch sharply at the blatant insult, though before you or $xname can say anything, $dname responds instead. “Your Highness, did you not just admit to wandering around the palace without the Crown’s permission while you waited to be called on?” $dname remarks, <<if $afriend is false>>$dtheir tone impassive but $dtheir stare hard and cold<<else>>retaining $dtheir impassive demeanor even as $dthey picks at Kham’s words<</if>>. “If one is to speak of strays and leashes…” Kham tenses, the ends of her fingers twitching even while she conjures a smile back onto her face. “Pardon me, I was merely admiring the architecture! A truly impressive feat of magic.” At once, you are thankful for $dname’s presence: their level head has come in useful. “Shall we return to the matter at hand?” you say, deciding to move on before this snide back and forth can continue. “Of course,” Kham finally says, finally making her way to the seat opposite yours across the table, and lowering herself onto it. Meanwhile, two servants finally close the doors to the chamber to give you privacy. “Onto business then, shall we?”<</if>><</if>> [[Continue|12.12k]] Glancing over to the now closed doors, you <<if $blunt gt $charm>>decide not to waste anymore time. “Where is the peri trader I requested to meet?” “You truly do not mince words, do you?” <<else>>ask the obvious question. “Before we can get to business, however, we would need for your trader to actually be present first.” “Right you are.”<</if>> Kham appears entirely unconcerned as one of the servants brings in a cup and a pitcher, pouring a strange purple liquid which you assume must be similar to the magic juice you witnessed her drinking before, during your first sit-down with her. “He should be here soon, provided he did not get lost on the way. The poor thing has never visited one of your palaces before.” She smiles widely at you. “Why don’t we spend some time chatting while we wait together?” You made her wait to enter, and now she is making you wait on the peri trader. You’re starting to understand the types of games that are usually played among the wealthy and powerful: it is something that has been mentioned before in your classes of etiquette, and something you noticed at court as well. Now, however, you are gaining firsthand experience in it. “In that case, there is one thing I have been wondering, princess,” you say as you stare back into her eyes, watching the way the orange orbs of light flicker like flames. “When you first arrived here, you were accompanied by a retinue of guards. Whatever happened to them?” Kham does not narrow her eyes at you, exactly, but something similar to the motion as the wood beneath her eyes raises slightly in a stiff twitch. “They are not merely my guards, they are my servants first and foremost. Naturally, they run errands for me.” “What kinds of errands?” “Surely you do not think I would fetch all I require by myself?” She appears amused by the line of questioning rather than offended. “They trade with the peri merchants in your city on my behalf. Although, calling it <em>trade</em> is perhaps not accurate, as I hold the right to lay claim on their supplies whenever I please. They are representatives of my mother, after all.” You consider the explanation, but nothing about it seems notable or inconsistent so far. “So you have never dealt with this peri trader I wish to meet with yourself?” “Of course not.” She smiles, her wooden mouth briefly pressing together. “That would be beneath me.” “A shame,” $xname muses casually from beside you, contrasting the sharp look in their eyes. “We had hoped you might have some insight to share.” “As much insight as you are willing to offer me regarding this flower you seek,” Kham returns, her smile still in place. “The blue siren, yes? A rather strange fixation…” You feel the urge to tense, but withhold yourself from it by taking a slow, relaxed breath. All the rigorous physical training you have undergone over the course of the past month is already showing its benefits: you feel more aware and in control over your body, able to maintain your composure. A necessary skill when dealing with someone like Kham, as conversing with her feels like a dance of sorts. The two of you are watching each other’s steps, waiting for the other to slip. The conversation quiets for a short while, neither you nor $xname willing to divulge anything regarding your interest in the blue siren to Kham until it’s absolutely necessary. <<if $khamtrust is 'yes'>>Regardless of how much you’re personally inclined to trust her, she is still a foreign dignitary, and one you cannot carelessly spill secrets to.<</if>> Not before long, the silence is broken by a knocking on the door. You call them inside, and find a servant entering the room first, followed by a stranger—in human form—who you presume to be the peri trader. The servant bows to you, retreating back into the corridor with their charge delivered. “Ah, there you are.” Kham perks up at the peri trader’s appearance, beckoning him with a flick of her finger before she turns to you. “Allow me to make introductions.” She gestures to the peri trader with another ripple of her spindly, wooden fingers that creak with the movement while he takes a seat on her right. “This is Eshkar. He is the owner of, as the name indicates, <em>Eshkar’s Garden</em>. It is the foremost establishment in Rojan to purchase rare plants and flowers, either naturally occurring or enhanced with peri magic.” Eshkar in question appears tall and slender with a narrow frame, emphasized even further by the long, thick bush of dark curls that reaches down to his waist. His robes are simple and modest, and his human form is indistinguishable from that of any other human. <<if $charm gt $blunt>>“It is good to meet you, Eshkar,” you greet with a polite smile,<<else>>“Well met,” you greet, straightforward and to the point as you do not wish to waste time with pleasantries,<</if>> all too aware of Kham’s eyes upon you. He bows deeply at the waist. “Your Imperial Majesty. It is an honor.” [[Continue|12.13k]]<<if $khamproach is 'deceptive'>>“As I’ve told you,” Kham says to Eshkar, “the Crown has a few questions regarding some flowers that I believe $they could use your expertise for.” <em>As I’ve told you</em>? Your brows furrow slightly at the emphasis placed on those words. Kham is letting you know, intentionally, that she has spoken to Eshkar in advance and prepared what he likely is and isn’t allowed to say. She is flaunting that she has control over this interaction.<<else>>“Ask your questions, then,” she says to you, surprising you. You almost expected that she would lead the conversation to control the flow of information that Eshkar grants you, but it appears she is giving you free reign to handle it however you please.<</if>> “What do you know of the blue siren?” you ask Eshkar. “Particularly in which ways it can be enhanced with magic.” <<if $khampoints gte 1>>No point in hiding it from Kham anymore, though you hope she won’t be able to connect it to the assassination attempt on you. It is a risk you must take.<<else>>No point in being secretive about it, since Kham has already figured out its importance to you. You sincerely hope that won’t come back to bite you later.<</if>> Eshkar glances over at Kham, but the princess does not meet his eyes, instead staring at you. After a moment, he answers your question. “Its distinctive sound is most commonly enhanced.” Eshkar shifts a little on the pillow, eyes darting to $xname, who regards him intently. Is he aware of $xname’s sensory magic, and does that make him nervous? “To what extent?” you press. Eshkar hesitates again. “Usually, for ambiance. Nothing that would cause a disturbance. It is all very benign.” The fact that he feels the need to add that last remark to his answer gives you the sense he is aware of less benign uses for the flower. “If enhanced enough,” you say, “would it be able to paralyze someone?” This time, when Eshkar looks at Kham, she meets his gaze. “Go on,” she encourages. “I wish to know as well.” Now, Eshkar begins to grow fearful. “I have… I mean, there have been some customers that have asked… but I assure you, I had express permission—” Kham cannot narrow her eyes, as she does not possess eyelids, yet the way the light in her eye-holes flicker and dim a little gives you a similar impression. “Customers?” Eshkar falls silent, freezing in place with a single word from the princess, cutting off the rest of what he was going to say. “What customers?” you say when Eshkar remains quiet, glancing at Kham’s still serene expression. “The city guard.” Your brows arch sharply, and you hear $xname exhale a sigh beside you. “Are you saying that Marabad’s city guard are the ones who asked you to grow magically enhanced flowers, strong enough to paralyze people with?” Eshkar nods once, curtly and then casts his eyes down to the table. “They said it was in cases of emergency, such as public commotions and riots.” You cannot make sense of it. Would Welat truly do something so reckless as to attempt to assassinate you, and using the city guard to do it? Not to mention letting this peri trader continue to operate in the city. Surely he must have known that Eshkar might betray their dealings, and not risk a loose end like that? Then again, you know that Welat disapproves of you as a Crown—perhaps disapproves of being ruled by any Crown, accustomed to having the run of Marabad over the course of ten years. The assassination attempt may have been a desperate maneuver to keep you from the throne. “And what is the process of enhancing a flower to that extent?” $dname asks while you consider the possibilities. If Eshkar appeared nervous before, it is nothing to the way he grips at his arms now, fingers digging into his skin and his jaw clenching. “Eshkar, my dear,” Kham says, curling her wooden fingers around his shoulder. “Be truthful. The Crown’s Royal Protector has the ability to read minds and memories. You would not wish to be subjected to <em>that</em>, now, would you?” <<if $khamtrust isnot 'yes'>> <<if $khamproach is 'deceptive'>>Once more, <</if>>Kham surprises you by going out of her way to help you and facilitate the meeting, rather than getting in your way as you feared she might. Perhaps she is just as curious to get to the bottom of this? She might even view it as entertainment, judging by the amused tone to her warning.<</if>> Eshkar looks at her, his eyes wide and his irises trembling, then flitting back to you. “It requires more than ordinary magic can give,” he finally says, the skin of his knuckles turned white with how hard he grips his arms. “We had a deal, the prison warden and I.” It cannot be. [[Continue|12.14k]] You feel a flare of heat on your left, casting your eyes to $xname whose face has hardened, gaze sharpened as anger sparks hot within it. $cxtheir magic radiates against your side, nearly burning against your skin. <<if $xfriend is false>>Returning your gaze to Eshkar, you try and hide the movement of your hand as best you can below the table as you settle it upon $xname’s knee. The last thing you need is for $xthem to lose $xtheir cool, though you understand very well how $xthey feels. If this is true, then the prisoners may have experienced even more cruelty than you first assumed. “Tell us more,” you say to Eshkar, keeping your concerns from showing on your face as you maintain a calm tone. “What is the process used to enhance the flower, and what did the prison warden have to do with it?” From the corner of your eyes you see $xname looking at you, and gradually, the heat of $xtheir magic recedes. Then, you feel a touch upon your own hand. $xname’s callused palms and fingers warm your skin, the gesture small but appreciative, perhaps even reassuring. Were it not for the circumstances, it would’ve put a smile on your face. As Eshkar begins to explain, you both withdraw your hands, though $xname is not the only one who feels calmer. You, too, feel steadier now.<<else>>You catch $xtheir eyes with a warning held in your own. Though, you do understand the anger $xthey feels. If this is true, then the prisoners may have experienced even more cruelty than you first assumed. At your look, $xname appears to remember $xthemselves. $cxthey looks away, breathing in and then out again in a slow exhale, gradually calming $xthemselves again. <<if $afriend is false>>From your other side, you notice $dname looking over at $xthem, and if you did not know any better you would almost think that furrow in $dname’s brow is one of worry.<</if>> “Tell us more,” you say to Eshkar while $xname recollects $xthemselves. “What is the method used to enhance the flower, and what did the prison warden have to do with it?”<</if>> “First, you must understand that the type of magic used in such a process is essential.” Eshkar’s shoulders ease somewhat, perhaps finding some comfort in elaborating on his area of expertise, though he still does not meet anyone’s gaze. His eyes are firmly aimed at the table. “Using the idle magic that exists in the air may give one some benefits, but it would not be sufficient for any significant enhancements. Not to mention, finding a way to funnel it to the flower would be far too tedious, requiring constant attention.” One would have to cast constant spells to ensure the flower would absorb it from the air, you imagine. “Then what is a better way to do it?” “You would want to draw from a source that already contains potent amounts of magic,” Eshkar answers, his words stiff with jaw almost locked together. “Even more ideal would be one that refreshes itself naturally.” <<if $intel gt $intu>>You put his meaning together before anyone else in the room, your eyes widening with the realization. “You enhanced the flowers by letting them absorb it from the prisoners?”<<else>>You frown, a foreboding sensation settling like a stone in the pit of your stomach. “Speak plainly, Eshkar. What did you do?” Eshkar sighs, eyes closing shut as if he were facing his own execution. “The prisoners were used as a source.”<</if>> Kham no longer smiles. On your right, $dname stares hard at Eshkar, and on your left, the heat of $xname’s magic spikes once more before $xthey wrangles it back under $xtheir control again. “Describe it to me,” you state, your voice now cold rather than calm, anger simmering right beneath it. “What does it look like?” “The…” Eshkar swallows thickly. “The roots of the plants that were enhanced were wrapped around their wrists, and their magic was absorbed over staggered periods of four to five hours. I assure you that it was painless.”<<if $divination is true>> You recall the letter that you were brought, from the grieving father who pleaded with you to find his son’s abductors who had broken his mind, erased his sense of self, and twisted him into a tool for killing. A person with a family, with loved ones, treated like an animal for something as benign as smuggling magic artifacts. <<if $name is 'Ardil'>> Someone who shared the same name as you.<</if>><</if>> “Does that make it better?” you snap, your head feeling hot, and not only because of $xname shedding heat like a bonfire beside you. “The fate of these prisoners was not for the prison warden to decide! The courts have already sentenced them, who do you think you are to take advantage of that?” Eshkar shrinks back as your voice thunders through the room, glancing over at Kham with desperate eyes. She clears her throat, though it is a performative sound—does she even need to do that with a wooden body? “I would like to offer you my deepest apologies for Eshkar’s transgressions,” she says, placing her hands atop the table and intertwining her fingers. “It is the responsibility of the royal family to oversee our merchants. They are representatives of Anshan, after all, and it shames me that such misdeeds were overlooked. He shall be sent back home, where he will face the appropriate punishment, and I shall inform my mother so that all parties involved may come to an agreement for suitable reparations.” <ul class="a"> <li>[[Insist that Eshkar stand trial in the Arsurian courts for his punishment.|12.15ka][$publicfavored to $publicfavored + 2; $khamally to 'incomplete']]</li> <li>[[Accept Kham’s handling of the situation as a favor to her, so that she will be indebted to you.|12.15kb][$elitefavored to $elitefavored + 2; $khamally to true]]</li></ul><<if visited('12.15kb') is 1>><<if $dfriend is false>><<set $dpoints -= 2>><<else>><<set $dfriendship -= 1>><</if>><<if $xfriend is false>><<set $xpoints -= 2>><<else>><<set $xfriendship -= 1>><</if>><<set $khampoints += 2>><</if>><<if $calc gt $kind>>While it is obvious that Kham is attempting to take control of the situation, you consider how you might leverage this situation to your advantage. Whether here or in Anshan, it does not matter to you the specifics of where Eshkar is punished. Perhaps the peris will go easier on him—that much will be out of your hands should you let Kham handle this. Then again, she has shown you her hand. She clearly has an interest in managing Eshkar and what he knows. You can use this.<<else>>While your first impulse is to insist to have Eshkar judged in Arsurian courts so that he might face justice of the citizens he has harmed, Kham herself plays no small role in your considerations. You dislike thinking this way, but as Crown, you must play the game the same as the others lest you be left behind. If you allow Kham to handle this situation, as a gesture of goodwill, it will strengthen your relationship with Kham, and you suspect the princess will be a valuable ally to have.<</if>> “I understand that the peris of Anshan will wish to judge one of their own,” you start, remaining diplomatic in tone and expression. “However, the victims and their families will have to sacrifice seeing justice done in their name.” Kham tilts her head at you, picking up on the lack of an outright rejection in your words. “Then how might I convince you?” “What do you have to offer?” You see $xname glancing at you from the corner of your eye, but you do not meet $xtheir gaze. “For one, I would be in your debt,” Kham says, her usual smile returning to her features as she considers you. “And so would the entire royal family, for that matter, as you would be sparing us quite the humiliation. It is no small thing, to have my mother owe you a favor.” You arch a brow. “And what kind of favor is it that Anshan can grant me? As I understand, you have committed to staying out of Arsurian politics.” “Eshkar has already meddled.” Kham sounds unconcerned, waving a hand with a ripple of her thin fingers. “Besides, it would not be any direct interference. We might do something like, say, offer you a more beneficial trade agreement, or perhaps allow your ambassadors to visit Anshan?” You only barely keep the surprise from showing visibly on your face. For Arsurians to be allowed to visit Anshan would be significant: as far as you know, no other Crown has managed it in the past couple centuries. It would undoubtedly be an impressive achievement this early in your reign. “I see,” you finally say, maintaining your composure for as much as you are able. “That is certainly something to consider. Handle Eshkar as you see fit, then.” $dname and $xname do not interject, $dname still watching Kham and Eshkar while $xname glances at you once more. You do not know how to interpret their reactions, but if they are displeased, you’re sure they will let you know afterwards. Kham, meanwhile, graciously inclines her head to you. “You have my thanks, Your Imperial Majesty.” You smile back at her, the address not going unnoticed. [[Continue|12.16k]]<<if visited('12.15ka') is 1>><<if $dfriend is true>><<set $dfriendship += 1>><</if>><<if $xfriend is true>><<set $xfriendship += 1>><</if>><</if>>Kham was quick to find a diplomatic resolution, but one that places Eshkar entirely out of your reach. Prisoners or not, wrongdoers or not, they are still your subjects, and they were harmed as a result of Eshkar’s actions. It does not sit right with you to let Kham decide on this. “With all due respect, princess,” you say, meeting her gaze with a steady one of your own, “Eshkar did harm to Arsurian citizens, on Arsurian soil. <<if $intel gt $intu>>Our laws demand that he face our courts<<else>>It is only just that he should face our courts<</if>>.” “Anshan has laws of its own in these situations, Crown,” Kham replies, mouth widening slightly, though not quite enough to be a smile. “In the rare few cases where a peri from Anshan has committed a misdeed, previous Crowns have always agreed to send them home.” You return a not-quite-smile of your own. “I am not previous Crowns.” The light in Kham’s eyes burn a fiercer, warmer orange. “To go back on such a longstanding agreement—” “Has this been written into law?” $dname interjects. “Was it documented into a treatise that $ctheir Imperial Majesty must abide by? I have certainly never heard of it, if it was.” After a moment, Kham answers a clipped, “No, it was not.” “Then I shall rely upon my own judgment,” you say, shooting $dname a grateful look—a month’s time was not nearly enough for you to get acquainted with all of Arsur’s laws and treatises. You look over at Eshkar. “You will stand trial in Arsur. If Queen Nis has objections, she may make an appeal in your defense within two weeks.” It sounds more than reasonable to you, but neither Kham or Eshkar seem the least bit pleased, albeit in different ways. Eshkar’s head lowers a little, and you think you see him shaking, whereas Kham simply appears vexed. “Very well,” she acquiesces, exhaling a short, irritated breath. “I shall write a letter to my mother to inform her of the situation.” [[Continue|12.16k]] “I still have more questions for Eshkar, however.” You look at the trembling peri, not the least bit sympathetic to the pitiful display. “What did the prison warden get out of this deal, exactly?” Eshkar winces. “I did not have to pay him anything. It was all part of the arrangement with the city. The prison warden merely oversaw the exchanges of the prisoners, he didn’t have anything to do with it otherwise.” You are beginning to make sense of the bigger picture. “So the city commissioned you these flowers, and to improve the offer, they gave you the prisoners as a source?” $xname scoffs, disgust curling in $xtheir lip. “It got them a great discount, I bet.” Eshkar does not deny it, chewing on his lower lip. When Kham meets his eyes again, he hastily adds, <<if $khamally is true>>“Steward Welat ordered all of it. He was the one I had the arrangement with.” Somehow, you are not surprised to hear that, for more reasons than the steward's obvious dislike of you. He is in control of both the city guard and the prison warden, after all, so if he somehow had not been aware of it, that would’ve been absurdly incompetent. <<if $khamtrust is 'no'>> Still, something about this feels too easy. Is the answer really so simple, with the steward as the culprit behind it all?<</if>><<else>>“The<<if $law is 'outwitted'>> former<</if>> Minister of Law, Besna Piran, approved the prison warden’s dealings.” Your fingers grip the tops of your knees in your momentary shock. While <<if $law is 'outwitted'>>you dismissed her as well as her entire office, you did not anticipate for a minister to be involved with something like this. How deep does this corruption run, if even a former minister is indicted by it?<<else>>she has been a thorn in your side for the entirety of your reign so far, you did not anticipate that her hostility towards you would hide something like this. On the other hand, this could prove to be exactly what you need in order to dismiss her and her officials.<</if>><</if>> “Marabad has been contending with a problem of missing citizens, has it not?” There is no levity to be found in Kham’s features or her voice as she interrupts your musings. “You may have just found your culprits.” “We cannot accuse <<if $khamally is true>>Steward Welat<<else>>Piran<</if>> without evidence,” $dname says, speaking to you rather than to Kham, before looking at Eshkar. “Have you ever witnessed <<if $khamally is true>>him<<else>>her<</if>> attend these dealings you had with the prison warden in person?” “No.” Eshkar’s lips tense, wavering for a moment, before he continues. “But the prison warden has told me of it. He would have spoken to <<if $khamally is true>>the steward<<else>>her<</if>> directly, I’m certain, or else received orders.” “<<if $khamally is true>>The steward<<else>>If the Office of Law was involved in funding the entire endeavor, then she<</if>> would have had to agree to the expenses of the city guard as well,” $xname points out to you. “Which would include buying from Eshkar, no?” “Do you have any proof of their purchases?” you ask Eshkar, and he quickly nods. “I have recorded it in my books, though I left out the names of the flowers they bought.” “Then all that’s left is to provide proof that <<if $khamally is true>>Welat<<else>>Besna<</if>> was aware of it and agreed to it, if not organized it <<if $khamally is true>>himself<<else>>herself<</if>>.” <<if $khamally is true>>You think on it, wondering what the best way would be to acquire such a thing without alerting the steward. Sending one of your guards to break into his office and search for evidence? It seems risky, especially if they are discovered and do not manage to find anything incriminating. Perhaps having a spy infiltrate the servants and the bureaucrats that work at the steward’s office might be a subtler approach, but then they may not be able to gain the proper access what with being limited by their disguise.<<else>><<if $lawminister is 'nudem' or $lawminister is 'zar'>>Fortunately, Minister <<if $lawminister is 'nudem'>>Nûdem<<else>>Zar<</if>>, who currently heads the office, does not number among your detractors in court. You hope <<if $lawminister is 'nudem'>>they<<else>>he<</if>> will be able to uncover any evidence should the former minister have left any behind, though you think it highly unlikely. If you were Besna, destroying all the evidence of your dealings would have been the first thing you’d have done after being dismissed by the Crown. It almost makes you want to kick yourself for not having placed any guards or spies to watch her movements, but then again, back then you had no inkling she was involved in something so heinous. Though, even should <<if $lawminister is 'nudem'>>Nûdem<<else>>Zar<</if>> be unable to turn anything up, you can simply bring Besna in to be interrogated by $aname. She no longer has her status as a minister to protect her, after all.<<else>>You think on it, wondering what the best way would be to acquire such a thing without alerting the minister. Sending one of your guards to break into her office and search for evidence? It seems risky, especially if they are discovered and do not manage to find anything incriminating. Perhaps having a spy infiltrate the servants and the bureaucrats that work at the ministers office might be a subtler approach<<if $lawminister is 'patient game'>>—did you not install Nûdem there for this very purpose? They might make for an even more useful ally than you first suspected<<else>>, but then they may not be able to gain the proper access what with being limited by their disguise<</if>>.<</if>><</if>> [[Continue|12.17k]]“There is one more thing,” Eshkar says, his voice redirecting your attention outward again as you leave your musings aside for the time being. “I do not know if this bears any relation… frankly, I am horrified to even consider any possible connection, but…” <<if $blunt gt $charm>>You have no time for this. “Out with it.”<<else>>You regard Eshkar attentively. “Go on.”<</if>> “I have heard rumors of others.” Eshkar glances at Kham, who gives a slight nod, and then he continues. “Those operating on the black market, who have attempted to enhance flowers through more questionable means.” <<if $dfriend is false>> Beside you, $dname stiffens. You meet $dtheir gaze, the both of you no doubt remembering the same thing: the weapon the mercenaries used to injure $dname was acquired from the black market. It would be a leap to assume it shares its origins with the people that Eshkar describes, but you have to wonder all the same.<</if>> “What kinds of means?” “When a peri dies,” Eshkar starts slowly, reluctantly, “we fade away within moments, as our bodies are made of magic and are easily reabsorbed by nature. Not so for humans. Your bodies are physical things. They remain for a time after your death, gradually decaying. As such, the magic housed within your cores undergoes a similar process. It rots, as your flesh does. Its properties change, creating what you know as death magic.” <<if $dfriend is false>>“Is this how someone might acquire the essence of death?” you ask, recalling that the weapon that was used on $dname utilized such a thing. Eshkar nods. “Indeed. The essence of death is a distillation of death magic. Although, that is another matter.” With your question answered, you reconsider his explanation. The death magic found in a corpse is still a kind of magic— It finally hits you.<<else>>You are less familiar with this branch of magic, and your tutoring lessons have not touched upon it yet either. If the magic inside a person’s body still remains after their death— It suddenly hits you.<</if>> And not only you, as your two companions react with similar expressions of disgust and horror. “There are black market traders using the magic of <em>corpses</em> for enhancements?” $dname says, scowling at Eshkar as if he were the culprit, and the peri trader flinches. Unlike $dname, $xname does not appear taken aback. Rather, $xthey simply seems revolted. “The things some people come up with,” $xthey mutters, shaking $xtheir head. <<if $afriend is false>> You nearly startle in your seat when another connection alights in your mind. “The wagon,” you exclaim, the memory still vivid behind your eyes for the outrage it invoked within you. “What wagon?” $xname says, giving you a questioning look. “During the fire, remember?” You look between $xname and $dname, both of them catching on a moment later as they recall what you have already told them. “There were suspicious figures pulling bodies out from under the rubble and collecting them with a wagon. I wondered at the time what they could possibly mean to do with them, but they all poisoned themselves to avoid interrogation.” “It is very possible they intended to use the corpses for enhancements,” $dname considers grimly. “What with the chaos in the streets, it would have been the perfect opportunity.” “Black-hearted vultures,” $xname spits, the muscles of $xtheir arms flexing as $xthey crosses them, as if restraining $xthemselves.<</if>> The more you uncover, the more questions are raised in your mind. There could be a connection between these black market dealers and the people who have gone missing, not to mention the prisoners that were used for Eshkar’s flowers—or, they could all be separate incidents involving different factions. You have gathered more of the puzzle pieces, but you cannot yet see how they all fit together. [[Continue|12.18k]]“Well,” Kham says, clapping her hands together—or attempting to, as the resulting sound is more a <em>thwack</em> than a clap. “I believe I speak for all of us when I say this has been a most productive meeting.” <<if $khamally is true>>She meets Eshkar’s eyes, gazing back at her fearfully. “Be as honest with the courts as you were with the Crown, and I am certain they will have mercy on you. After all, you have aided the Crown in $their investigation. Is that not so?” She sounds playful, the light of her eyes flickering with mischief as she looks at you, fully aware that she toes the line between coyness and audacity for implying you might go easy on him. <<if $khamtrust is 'yes'>>Still, you cannot help but be a little charmed by her boldness. “I will think on it.”<<else>>You do not know whether to be impressed or annoyed at her boldness: allying with her to such an extent is not something you envisioned, considering you do not yet trust her. “I make no promises.”<</if>> You motion for the guards with a gesture of your fingers, two of them turning visible right behind Eshkar. He nearly jumps out of his own skin when they both place a hand on his shoulder, grabbing him to guide him up to his feet. “Place him in the dungeons for now,” you say, ready to be done with the afternoon. Eshkar surprises you by bowing before he leaves together with the guards. “I thank you for your mercy, Your Imperial Majesty.” He then turns to bow to Kham as well. “Your Highness.” The four of you left in the room watch them leave, though Kham does not seem to want to linger for long either. “Your Imperial Majesty,” she says, giving you her usual airy smile. “Could I bother you to escort me to my chambers?” That is unexpected. You wonder if this is another kind of ploy on her part, but after the agreement you reached, it is also possible you might have piqued her interest. <ul class="a"> <li>[[Agree: you want to get to know her better.|12.19ka][$pawn to $pawn + 2]]</li> <li>[[Agree: you want to maintain a good relationship for political purposes.|12.19kb][$elitefavored to $elitefavored + 2; $khampoints to $khampoints + 2]]</li> <li>[[Turn her down.|12.19kc]]</li></ul><<else>>As soon as Eshkar and the guards are out the door, she stands before a servant can close it, not waiting for your dismissal. “If you do not mind,” she says with her usual, airy smile, “I should like to retire to the guest quarters you have so graciously provided. All this talking has tired me out!” You exchange a look with $dname, who gives an imperceptible nod. You and your companions need to talk over everything you have learned, together with $aname and $rname. “Of course,” you say to Kham. “Rest well, princess.” She gives you a nod of acknowledgment. “Crown.” Her eyes flit to $dname. “General.” Ignoring $xname entirely, she turns around to depart. “Watch your head,” $xname calls out derisively, calling attention to the way Kham has to duck to avoid the door-frame. The princess casts a last glare at $xname from over her shoulder before she leaves the room, and shuts the door behind her with more force than is necessary. [[Continue|12.20kd]]<</if>> You are admittedly curious to spend more time with her. Despite her being your guest for an entire month, you still know precious little about the enigmatic peri princess. And if getting to know her better would improve your potential alliance as well, then all the better. <<if $khamtrust isnot 'yes'>> That does not necessarily mean that you trust her, of course, but you are open to letting her change your mind.<</if>> “It would be my pleasure,” you say to Kham as you lift yourself up to your feet, taking a brief moment to address $dname and $xname. “I’ll return shortly.” $xname looks over at Kham, shooting her a narrow-eyed look, and she returns one of her own even while her smile remains in place. At least they don’t start to bicker, even as clearly as they dislike each other. $dname acknowledges you with a short nod. “Your Imperial Majesty.” You follow Kham out of the room, stepping out into the hallway to find Ezo and Kaja both standing guard. Ezo wordlessly lifts an eyebrow in question, no doubt not having expected to see you leave the room with her, and you can only think to give a shrug in return. “Must your guards accompany us as well?” Kham asks as you pass the two guards by, and when you glance over your shoulder at them, you cannot see them. They have both already turned invisible to follow you. “They will give us distance,” you reply, “but yes, it is their duty to guard me.” “Even from little old me?” Kham looks over her shoulder as well, then hums. “At least they know how to remain unobtrusive, though one might argue that makes them more dangerous.” Your lips twist at the implication. “They are not spies.” “I would hope not.” She casts you a brief look from the corners of her eyes as you turn around the corner, continuing to follow the hallway. “Still, does that not also make them targets? Think of all the secrets one might uncover, should they manage to turn one of them against you. Or perhaps if they torture the information out of them—” “Every guard swears an oath upon their life to ensure that does not happen,” you answer, having once wondered the same thing, which led you to ask $aname about it. It is called an oath, but in truth it is another kind of ward. One that a guard takes on voluntarily, tying it to their magic core to ensure their secrecy. Should they break it, the ward will trigger and kill them instantly. For the first time, you wonder at the function of it. Would it not also qualify as a kind of mental ward? The notion makes you uneasy, though that would explain why $aname and $rname were already familiar with the concept once you uncovered the use of the wards on the assassins. “Good, then.” Kham looks at you with something of approval in her expression, or at least you think so. It is difficult to read her features when they hardly move. “I must say, I am pleased that we reached an understanding regarding Eshkar. You can imagine I was rather taken aback when I returned to Marabad only to be dragged right into such politically fraught circumstances.” “<em>Dragged</em> into it?” You raise a brow at her. <<if $blunt gt $charm>>“Noted. Next time I’ll simply keep it a secret, then. We would not wish to inconvenience you any further.”<<else>>“Here I thought I was doing you a favor by not going behind your back on this. Lesson learned, I suppose: honesty does not pay.”<</if>> She chuckles, lifting a hand to delicately cover her mouth with her fingers as she does so. “Oh don’t be silly, of course I appreciate your honesty! I’m simply not much for politicking. You understand, do you not?” You watch her face, sunlight sliding across it every time you pass by a window. “Unlike me, you were a princess from birth.” “True, but I never said I was any good at it.” She grins at you with amusement. “It must be why I like you so much. We two are <em>such</em> kindred spirits.” “Now you are just making fun of me,” you accuse, though you cannot keep a smile from your face. The princess truly seems to be warming up to you. Kham’s eyes flicker with sparks of yellow, somehow giving an impression of mischief. “However could you tell?” “Should I be insulted that Queen Nis sent one of her less politically inclined children to observe my court, then?” “I would be relieved.” Kham’s mirth appears to falter as her smile fades a little and she turns her gaze away from you, aiming it down the corridor you walk through. “You do not want to pique Her Majesty’s interest. Her gaze carries the weight of centuries.” That is quite a different description compared to all the folk tales about the benevolent peri queen you have heard about growing up. “Is she more intimidating than Şahmaran?” The princess looks at you again, appearing taken aback. “Of course not, my mother would seem like a child standing beside her. Do some of your human tribes not worship her as a goddess?” “There are a few that do,” you say, brows wrinkling with thought, “although I’m not sure if she truly is one.” Your parents did not seem to think so, but then, they spoke little of her—for reasons you only now have come to understand. Kham hums. “She’s as close as anyone will ever get, I imagine.” [[Continue|12.20ka]] You would not want to jeopardize your budding alliance by refusing her out of hand. While you do not think her petty enough to blow up your arrangement merely because you refused to escort her, you have realized the importance of cultivating allies after dealing with the Imperial Court for the past month. It will require effort, you realize that much. You may as well take this opportunity and make the most of it. “Very well,” you say as you lift yourself up to your feet, taking a brief moment to address $dname and $xname. “I’ll return shortly.” $xname looks over at Kham, shooting her a narrow-eyed look, and she returns one of her own even while her smile remains in place. At least they don’t start to bicker, even as clearly as they dislike each other. $dname acknowledges you with a short nod. “Your Imperial Majesty.” You follow Kham out of the room, stepping out into the hallway to find Ezo and Kaja both standing guard. Ezo wordlessly lifts an eyebrow in question, no doubt not having expected to see you leave the room with her, and you can only think to give a shrug in return. “Must your guards accompany us as well?” Kham asks as you pass the two guards by, and when you glance over your shoulder at them, you cannot see them. They have both already turned invisible to follow you. “They will give us distance,” you reply, “but yes, it is their duty to guard me.” “Even from little old me?” Kham looks over her shoulder as well, then hums. “At least they know how to remain unobtrusive, though one might argue that makes them more dangerous.” Your lips twist at the implication. “They are not spies.” “I would hope not.” She casts you a brief look from the corners of her eyes as you turn around the corner, continuing to follow the hallway. “Still, does that not also make them targets? Think of all the secrets one might uncover, should they manage to turn one of them against you. Or perhaps if they torture the information out of them—” “Every guard swears an oath upon their life to ensure that does not happen,” you answer, having once wondered the same thing, which led you to ask $aname about it. It is called an oath, but in truth it is another kind of ward. One that a guard takes on voluntarily, tying it to their magic core to ensure their secrecy. Should they break it, the ward will trigger and kill them instantly. For the first time, you wonder at the function of it. Would it not also qualify as a kind of mental ward? The notion makes you uneasy, though that would explain why $aname and $rname were already familiar with the concept once you uncovered the use of the wards on the assassins. “Should I be concerned about your interest in the matter?” you say, pushing the thought aside for the time being as you refocus on Kham, and why <em>she</em> felt the need to point it out. “Of course not.” She dismisses the remark without batting an eye—not that she is even capable of doing that, in this form. “We have an understanding now, and that involves a certain amount of investment from both of us in each other. I only mean to ensure that you safeguard your position as well as I safeguard mine.” “An investment?” You watch her face carefully, sunlight sliding across it every time you pass by a window. “You make it sound as if you were intending for a more longterm alliance, when we have only agreed on the matter of Eshkar.” “Friendships must start somewhere,” she replies, grinning at you with amusement—whether at your expense or not, you cannot decide. “I know you humans are rather short-lived, but I hope that does not make you short-sighted as well.” You raise your brows. “Mocking me is a funny way to show you want to ally with me.” “Oh, it’s just a bit of teasing!” She chuckles. “I would not have agreed to let Eshkar meet with a Crown who I thought a fool. The grace with which you allowed me to deal with him proves to me that I was right to think highly of you.” This is undoubtedly nothing more than flattery on her part, but you suppose that is part of the whole song and dance of it all. [[Continue|12.20kb]] You have no true interest in getting closer to the princess. There might be a potential benefit of strengthening your alliance, but likewise, it would also allow her more access to you in order to influence you. <<if $khamtrust is 'yes'>>While you trust that she does not intend to do you harm, that does not mean she is above using you when would be convenient for her.<<else>>You do not trust her intentions, and you do not trust that she would try to use you for her own purposes.<</if>> <<if $blunt gt $charm>>“One of my guards can be your escort,” you reply, not bothering to sugarcoat it. “I have more to discuss with my companions.”<<else>>“As tempting as that is,” you reply, smiling apologetically, “I have more to discuss with my companions. One of my guards can be your escort.”<</if>> Kham’s smile does not so much as twitch. She merely inclines her head. “Crown.” Her eyes flit to $dname. “General.” Ignoring $xname entirely, she turns around to depart. “Watch your head,” $xname calls out derisively, calling attention to the way Kham has to duck to avoid the door frame. The princess casts a last glare at $xname from over her shoulder before she leaves the room, and shuts the door behind her with more force than is necessary. [[Continue|12.20kc]]$xname snickers to $xthemselves as soon as Kham has left, seeming all too smug at having gotten a reaction out of her. “Well.” You turn your conversation with her over in your head while $dname and $xname wordlessly return to playing chess together now that the princess has left. “Hopefully she will make a useful ally. What do you think about what Eshkar said, about Minister Besna?” $dname answers you first, moving one of the chess pieces forward on the board. “It is a rather convenient target for us, considering she has been hostile towards you at every turn.” “You think Kham might be withholding something?” “She absolutely is,” $xname chimes in. “During the entire conversation about Piran, her magic was acting erratically. But we can’t do much to force her to say anything more. The fact that she revealed Piran’s involvement at all is pretty big.” That is true: you do not have enough leverage over Kham to get anything else out of her that she may not wish to disclose. But then the question becomes, what is it that she’s keeping from you? Is she protecting herself? Someone else? “How do we get proof of it?” You move onto more practical matters for the time being, rubbing at your temple as you consider every possible angle. “Merely Eshkar’s word is not enough, especially as he never directly witnessed the minister’s involvement.” “Whatever we decide to do,” $dname says, lifting $dtheir eyes from the chessboard to look at you, “I suggest we postpone it until after the expedition. The political fallout of this scandal will be considerable, and will necessitate your presence for quite some time.” “It should also give us some time to plan,” $xname agrees, reaching over and petulantly flicking at $dname’s crown without bothering to make a move, knocking it over. $dname glowers at $xthem, righting the piece again. A servant knocks on the door as the conversation peters out, and they remind you that your classes will be starting soon. <<if $xfriend is false>> “What, already?” $xname frowns deeply, looking from the servant back to you. “That is far too soon. I didn’t even get to beat you in chess yet.” <<if $res gt $flirt>>“Bold words for someone who can’t even defeat my general,” you retort with an amused smile, and $xname watches you with a similar touch of mirth dancing in $xtheir eyes.<<else>>“How romantic of you,” you reply wryly, your smile amused, and $xname watches you with a similar touch of mirth dancing in $xtheir eyes.<</if>> “Would you mind if I dropped by your quarters after you’re done with your classes?” $xthey asks, seeming nonchalant about it even though $xtheir request is anything but. <<if $res gt $flirt>>“I don’t see why not,” you reply, trying to match $xtheir casual tone, though you’re certain you fail considering the flush that glows up your neck.<<else>>“What, just for a chat?” you cannot help but tease, though your anticipation builds already. “Sure, why not?”<</if>> $xname’s expression brightens, and $xthey leans in without hesitation, pressing a quick kiss to your lips. “I’ll look forward to it.” <<if $res gt $flirt>>You’re too flustered to respond even as $xthey gets up from $xtheir seat, the heat in your neck spreading up to your cheeks at the casual affection displayed out in the open.<<else>>You’re briefly surprised by it, but gather yourself in time to return it before $xname draws away, smiling against $xtheir mouth. $xname gets up from $xtheir seat after.<</if>> “I’m leaving first, as watching you go would break my heart.” $cxthey says it with obvious exaggeration, then grins at $dname, who seems entirely apathetic to the display. “Next time, Sîdar, we compete in a spar!” “You still won’t win,” $dname scoffs, and $xname merely responds with a wave before $xthey leaves the room. <<if $res gt $flirt>>You’re unable to so much as look $dname in the eyes, all too aware of the display of affection $dthey just witnessed. $dname looks at you from across the table, then stands up. “I ought to inform $rname and $aname of how the meeting went.” “Right.” You breathe a small sigh of relief as $dthey seems as keen as you to avoid any awkwardness. “Thanks, $dname.”<<else>>You stare after $xname, eyes lingering on $xtheir back until $xthey finally disappears from sight, and even then your gaze remains on the doorway as you do little to conceal your longing. $dname clears $dtheir throat, drawing your attention as $dthey stands up. “I ought to inform $rname and $aname of how the meeting went.” You suppress a laugh at the slightly awkward reaction. “Right. Thank you, $dname.”<</if>><</if>><<if $dfriend is false>> “Then I should head out as well,” $xname decides, getting up from $xtheir seat. The way $xthey glances between you and $dname, however, makes you think $xthey has different motives for leaving before you. “Someone should inform $aname and $rname of how the meeting went.” “That’s considerate of you,” you remark, trying to seem nonchalant, though your eyes flit to $dname without your permission. $dname looks at you, meeting your gaze, and then looks off to the side. You catch the way $dtheir throat bobs as $dthey swallows. “Have fun,” $xname calls out just to tease even further, and you <<if $res gt $flirt>>scowl at $xthem<<else>>roll your eyes at $xthem<</if>> as $xthey takes $xtheir leave. You are alone with $dname, now, who seems to be doing $dtheir best not to confront that fact. At least $dtheir determination not to look at you allows you to observe $dtheir more than you are usually able to, and you notice that $dtheir complexion appears a little more ashen than usual. “Are you alright, $dname?” Your brows furrow with concern. “You look a bit pale.” “I’m fine.” $dname looks down at the chessboard now, folding $dtheir arms over $dtheir chest. After a moment, $dthey reluctantly amends, “Being around this much magic has been somewhat taxing. The enchantment of the room is powerful enough that it is slipping through the wards of my armor. It’s not… pleasant, in my condition.” $cdthey must mean that it is affecting the wound $dthey is still recovering from, your eyes flicking down to $dtheir side where you know it to be beneath $dtheir tunic. “Why didn’t you say anything before?” You stand up. “Come then, we should leave the room. Honestly, $dname, if you’d only mentioned it I could have picked a different—” “Putting pressure on Kham was more important,” $dname insists, though $dthey really must be feeling ill as $dthey follows your example and stands up at well. Slowly and carefully, as if $dthey is afraid of falling over. You exhale a breath of frustration, leading $dthem outside. “Your wellbeing is more important than posturing in front of Kham. You need to rest. Head back to your room, I’ll have the royal physicians take a look at you.” When $dname parts $dtheir lips to protest, you preempt $dthem, turning around to face $dthem in the corridor. Your tone and your gaze both soften as you look at $dthem. “Please?” $dname holds your eyes for a few moments, and then, $dthey crumbles. “Very well.” You smile at the quiet agreement. “I’d also like to visit you after my classes,” you decide, pushing your luck since you have gotten $dtheir agreement. “If that’s alright. Only to ensure you’re doing well.” $dname parts $dtheir lips, then closes them. Seeming to hesitate between decisions, until $dthey finally says, “As you wish.” Without even waiting for your response, $dthey inclines $dtheir head and then swiftly walks ahead, seeming determined to avoid you. Spirits, but $dthey could stand to be a little less blatant about it.<</if>><<if $afriend is false or $rfriend is false>>You sigh, <<if $afriend is false>>wishing you could pass by $aname, but as one of your servants informs you of the exact time you realize you would keep your tutor waiting if you went to see $athem now.<</if>><<if $rfriend is false>>You wish you could pass by $rname, but as one of your servants informs you of the exact time you realize you would keep your tutor waiting if you went to see $rthem now.<</if>> $xname assures you that $xthey and $dname will inform $aname and $rname of how the meeting went, and you part from the two of them after brief goodbyes—and after a promise from $xname that $xthey will not destroy your chessboard in a fit of pique after inevitably losing again.<</if>> [[Continue|12.22k]]$xname snickers to $xthemselves as soon as Kham has left, seeming all too smug at having gotten a reaction out of her. “Well.” You turn your conversation with her over in your head while $dname and $xname wordlessly return to playing chess together now that the princess has left. “Hopefully she will make a useful ally. What do you think about what Eshkar said, about Steward Welat?” Finally, $dname speaks, moving one of the chess pieces forward on the board. “It is unsurprising. The citizens of Marabad have long been displeased with his stewardship.” You remember when you first arrived to the city as the Crown, the way the citizens were crying out to you, one of them—a young child—mentioning the steward and begging you to do something about him. “But how do we get proof of it?” You rub at your temple, considering every possible angle. “Merely Eshkar’s word is not enough, especially as he never directly witnessed the steward’s involvement.” “Whatever we decide to do,” $dname says, finally lifting $dtheir eyes from the chessboard to look at you, “I suggest we postpone it until after the expedition. The political fallout of this scandal will be considerable, and will necessitate your presence for quite some time.” “It should also give us some time to plan,” $xname agrees, reaching over and petulantly flicking at $dname’s crown without bothering to make a move, knocking it over. $dname glowers at $xthem, righting the piece again. A servant knocks on the door as the conversation peters out, and they remind you that your classes will be starting soon. <<if $xfriend is false>> “What, already?” $xname frowns deeply, looking from the servant back to you. “That is far too soon. I didn’t even get to beat you in chess yet.” <<if $res gt $flirt>>“Bold words for someone who can’t even defeat my general,” you retort with an amused smile, and $xname watches you with a similar touch of mirth dancing in $xtheir eyes.<<else>>“How romantic of you,” you reply wryly, your smile amused, and $xname watches you with a similar touch of mirth dancing in $xtheir eyes.<</if>> “Would you mind if I dropped by your quarters after you’re done with your classes?” $xthey asks, seeming nonchalant about it even though $xtheir request is anything but. <<if $res gt $flirt>>“I don’t see why not,” you reply, trying to match $xtheir casual tone, though you’re certain you fail considering the flush that glows up your neck.<<else>>“What, just for a chat?” you cannot help but tease, though your anticipation builds already. “Sure, why not?”<</if>> $xname’s expression brightens, and $xthey leans in without hesitation, pressing a quick kiss to your lips. “I’ll look forward to it.” <<if $res gt $flirt>>You’re too flustered to respond even as $xthey gets up from $xtheir seat, the heat in your neck spreading up to your cheeks at the casual affection displayed out in the open.<<else>>You’re briefly surprised by it, but gather yourself in time to return it before $xname draws away, smiling against $xtheir mouth. $xname gets up from $xtheir seat after.<</if>> “I’m leaving first, as watching you go would break my heart.” $cxthey says it with obvious exaggeration, then grins at $dname, who seems entirely apathetic to the display. “Next time, Sîdar, we compete in a spar!” “You still won’t win,” $dname scoffs, and $xname merely responds with a wave before $xthey leaves the room. <<if $res gt $flirt>>You’re unable to so much as look $dname in the eyes, all too aware of the display of affection $dthey just witnessed. $dname looks at you from across the table, then stands up. “I ought to inform $rname and $aname of how the meeting went.” “Right.” You breathe a small sigh of relief as $dthey seems as keen as you to avoid any awkwardness. “Thanks, $dname.”<<else>>You stare after $xname, eyes lingering on $xtheir back until $xthey finally disappears from sight, and even then your gaze remains on the doorway as you do little to conceal your longing. $dname clears $dtheir throat, drawing your attention as $dthey stands up. “I ought to inform $rname and $aname of how the meeting went.” You suppress a laugh at the slightly awkward reaction. “Right. Thank you, $dname.”<</if>><</if>><<if $dfriend is false>> “Then I should head out as well,” $xname decides, getting up from $xtheir seat. The way $xthey glances between you and $dname, however, makes you think $xthey has different motives for leaving before you. “Someone should inform $aname and $rname of how the meeting went.” “That’s considerate of you,” you remark, trying to seem nonchalant, though your eyes flit to $dname without your permission. $dname looks at you, meeting your gaze, and then looks off to the side. You catch the way $dtheir throat bobs as $dthey swallows. “Have fun,” $xname calls out just to tease even further, and you <<if $res gt $flirt>>scowl at $xthem<<else>>roll your eyes at $xthem<</if>> as $xthey takes $xtheir leave. You are alone with $dname, now, who seems to be doing $dtheir best not to confront that fact. At least $dtheir determination not to look at you allows you to observe $dtheir more than you are usually able to, and you notice that $dtheir complexion appears a little more ashen than usual. “Are you alright, $dname?” Your brows furrow with concern. “You look a bit pale.” “I’m fine.” $dname looks down at the chessboard now, folding $dtheir arms over $dtheir chest. After a moment, $dthey reluctantly amends, “Being around this much magic has been somewhat taxing. The enchantment of the room is powerful enough that it is slipping through the wards of my armor. It’s not… pleasant, in my condition.” $cdthey must mean that it is affecting the wound $dthey is still recovering from, your eyes flicking down to $dtheir side where you know it to be beneath $dtheir tunic. “Why didn’t you say anything before?” You stand up. “Come then, we should leave the room. Honestly, $dname, if you’d only mentioned it I could have picked a different—” “Putting pressure on Kham was more important,” $dname insists, though $dthey really must be feeling ill as $dthey follows your example and stands up at well. Slowly and carefully, as if $dthey is afraid of falling over. You exhale a breath of frustration, leading $dthem outside. “Your wellbeing is more important than posturing in front of Kham. You need to rest. Head back to your room, I’ll have the royal physicians take a look at you.” When $dname parts $dtheir lips to protest, you preempt $dthem, turning around to face $dthem in the corridor. Your tone and your gaze both soften as you look at $dthem. “Please?” $dname holds your eyes for a few moments, and then, $dthey crumbles. “Very well.” You smile at the quiet agreement. “I’d also like to visit you after my classes,” you decide, pushing your luck since you have gotten $dtheir agreement. “If that’s alright. Only to ensure you’re doing well.” $dname parts $dtheir lips, then closes $dthem. Seeming to hesitate between decisions, until $dthey finally says, “As you wish.” Without even waiting for your response, $dthey inclines $dtheir head and then swiftly walks ahead, seeming determined to avoid you. Spirits, but $dthey could stand to be a little less blatant about it.<</if>><<if $afriend is false or $rfriend is false>>You sigh, <<if $afriend is false>>wishing you could pass by $aname, but as one of your servants informs you of the exact time you realize you would keep your tutor waiting if you went to see $athem now.<</if>><<if $rfriend is false>>You wish you could pass by $rname, but as one of your servants informs you of the exact time you realize you would keep your tutor waiting if you went to see $rthem now.<</if>> $xname assures you that $xthey and $dname will inform $aname and $rname of how the meeting went, and you part from the two of them after brief goodbyes—and after a promise from $xname that $xthey will not destroy your chessboard in a fit of pique after inevitably losing again.<</if>> [[Continue|12.22k]] As you continue to traverse the palace’s corridors, you arrive at Kham’s chambers almost suddenly as you turn a corner, taking you both aback when immediately faced with a short hallway that holds nothing but a single door at its end. “What a peculiar palace,” Kham muses, looking around her as if she might deduce its secrets by sight alone—or perhaps trying to sense its magic. “Does it have a will of its own?” “Not as far as I know,” you say, though you are uncertain about it at best. $rname explained to you once that the palace is merely a magical construct, built to react to the desires of its inhabitants and lead trespassers astray, but sometimes it is almost eerie the way it guides you through its labyrinthine passages. “Whichever the case, it took us where we needed to be.” Kham approaches the door, then turns to look at you, her tone teasing. “I do hope that the next time you invite me to a meeting, it will be for pleasure rather than business.” Somehow you manage to keep a straight face as you stare back at her, trying not to read into her words. “I’m glad you seem to enjoy my company so much.” You tilt your head at her ever so slightly, seeing an opportunity. “Though not enough to show me your human form?” If the princess is taken aback by your inquiry, she does not show it. Instead, she merely hums, long and drawn out. “Perhaps you have earned some of my trust… very well. I must admit I have missed walking around as a human.” Magic rouses in the air, stirring as it reacts to a bright flare that begins to radiate from Kham’s form, swallowing her up in a blinding orange light. You have to squint to protect your eyes from it, taking a step back and almost raising a hand to block out some of it. Through the unnatural glow, however, you see her body begin to change. The first thing to shift is her stature. <<if $afriend is false>>She shrinks <<if $height is 'tall'>>to a similar height as you<</if>><<if $height is 'very tall'>>to be a bit shorter than you are<</if>><<if $height is 'average'>>but still remains a bit taller than you<</if>><<if $height is 'short'>>but still remains half a head taller than you are<</if>><<if $height is 'very short'>>but still remains nearly a head taller than you are<</if>>. Then, the light recedes from her form like the tides ebbing back from shore to reveal the sands and stones beneath. Softened into flesh, her skin is warmed into a mature, deep black complexion, contrasting the bright amber of her eyes that have retained the color of her peri form. Her hair cascades down her back in many delicately woven black braids, colorful orange and blue flowers blooming from the strands.<</if>><<if $dfriend is false>>She shrinks <<if $height is 'very tall'>>to a similar height as you<</if>><<if $height is 'tall'>>to be a bit taller than you are<</if>><<if $height is 'average'>>but still remains taller than you are<</if>><<if $height is 'short'>>but still remains nearly a head taller than you are<</if>><<if $height is 'very short'>>but still remains a head taller than you are<</if>>. Then, the light recedes from her form like the tides ebbing back from shore to reveal the sands and stones beneath. Softened into flesh, her skin is warmed into a mature, olive-toned complexion, lighter than the bright amber of her eyes that have retained the color of her peri form. Her hair is worn in short, ear-length bangs, colorful orange and green flowers blooming from the brown strands.<</if>><<if $xfriend is false>>She shrinks <<if $height is 'tall'>>to a similar height as you<</if>><<if $height is 'very tall'>>to be a bit shorter than you are<</if>><<if $height is 'average'>>but still remains a bit taller than you<</if>><<if $height is 'short'>>but still remains half a head taller than you are<</if>><<if $height is 'very short'>>but still remains nearly a head taller than you are<</if>>. Then, the light recedes from her form like the tides ebbing back from shore to reveal the sands and stones beneath. Softened into flesh, her skin is warmed into a mature, dark beige complexion, lighter than the bright amber of her eyes that have retained the color of her peri form. Her hair is worn in waves of black that reach down to her shoulders, colorful orange and red flowers blooming from the strands.<</if>><<if $rfriend is false>>She shrinks <<if $height is 'tall'>>to be a bit taller than you are<</if>><<if $height is 'very tall'>>to be half a head taller than you are<</if>><<if $height is 'average'>>to a similar height as you<</if>><<if $height is 'short'>>but still remains a bit taller than you are<</if>><<if $height is 'very short'>>but still remains half a head taller than you are<</if>>. Then, the light recedes from her form like the tides ebbing back from shore to reveal the sands and stones beneath. Softened into flesh, her skin is warmed into a mature, rich brown complexion, contrasting the bright amber of her eyes that have retained the color of her peri form. Her hair cascades down her back, to her waist in a thick curtain of straight black tresses, colorful orange and purple flowers blooming from the strands.<</if>> There is something familiar about her face, though you cannot immediately place it. <<if $afriend is false>>You think it might be something about the shape of her eyes<</if>><<if $dfriend is false>>You think it might be something about her angular features<</if>><<if $xfriend is false>>You think it might be something about the curve in her smile<</if>><<if $rfriend is false>>You think it might be something about the shape of her lips<</if>>. Once you think you see a resemblance to something your mind remembers, Kham tilts her head at you, and suddenly it’s gone. “Well?” She grins, and does a little twirl for your benefit, clothed in a long green dress with fabric that glitters when it catches the light, its sleeves reaching down to the floor. “Beautiful, am I not? I can see I’ve left you speechless!” You decide the best thing you can do is avoid responding to that altogether. “How come you do not use your human form more often?” Kham sighs, appearing disappointed by your lack of a reaction, but then returns her smile to her face. You notice that it does not reach her eyes. “It does require a certain level of comfort. Peris are more vulnerable in our human forms, if you did not know.” “You have nothing to fear by being in the palace,” you say, and Kham arches her brows at you, the rest of her features unchanging. “Don’t I?” Her eyes narrow ever so slightly, but then she inclines her head. “I thank you for your escort, dear Crown. I hope to speak to you more soon.” You watch as she opens the door to her chambers and retreats inside, left feeling uncertain about how that interaction went. It seems she does trust you more now, at least enough to show you her human form, but she’s still a bit of a puzzle you have yet to solve. Exhaling a breath, you take a moment to bask in the relief of the meeting being over with. Turning around, you head back to the room where you left $xname and $dname behind. [[Continue|12.21kab]] As you continue to traverse the palace’s corridors, you arrive at Kham’s chambers almost suddenly as you turn a corner, taking you both aback when immediately faced with a short hallway that holds nothing but a single door at its end. “What a peculiar palace,” Kham muses, looking around her as if she might deduce its secrets by sight alone—or perhaps trying to sense its magic. “Does it have a will of its own?” “Not as far as I know,” you say, though you are uncertain about it at best. $rname explained to you once that the palace is merely a magical construct, built to react to the desires of its inhabitants and lead trespassers astray, but sometimes it is almost eerie the way it guides you through its labyrinthine passages. “Whichever the case, it took us where we needed to be.” Kham approaches the door, then turns to look at you, her tone teasing. “I do hope that the next time you invite me to a meeting, it will be for pleasure rather than business.” Somehow you manage to keep a straight face as you stare back at her, trying not to read into her words. “I’m glad you seem to enjoy my company so much.” You tilt your head at her ever so slightly, seeing an opportunity. “Though not enough to show me your human form?” If the princess is taken aback by your inquiry, she does not show it. Instead, she merely hums, long and drawn out. “Perhaps you have earned some of my trust… very well. I must admit I have missed walking around as a human.” Magic rouses in the air, stirring as it reacts to a bright flare that begins to radiate from Kham’s form, swallowing her up in a blinding orange light. You have to squint to protect your eyes from it, taking a step back and almost raising a hand to block out some of it. Through the unnatural glow, however, you see her body begin to change. The first thing to shift is her stature. <<if $afriend is false>>She shrinks <<if $height is 'tall'>>to a similar height as you<</if>><<if $height is 'very tall'>>to be a bit shorter than you are<</if>><<if $height is 'average'>>but still remains a bit taller than you<</if>><<if $height is 'short'>>but still remains half a head taller than you are<</if>><<if $height is 'very short'>>but still remains nearly a head taller than you are<</if>>. Then, the light recedes from her form like the tides ebbing back from shore to reveal the sands and stones beneath. Softened into flesh, her skin is warmed into a mature, deep black complexion, contrasting the bright amber of her eyes that have retained the color of her peri form. Her hair cascades down her back in many delicately woven black braids, colorful orange and blue flowers blooming from the strands.<</if>><<if $dfriend is false>>She shrinks <<if $height is 'very tall'>>to a similar height as you<</if>><<if $height is 'tall'>>to be a bit taller than you are<</if>><<if $height is 'average'>>but still remains taller than you are<</if>><<if $height is 'short'>>but still remains nearly a head taller than you are<</if>><<if $height is 'very short'>>but still remains a head taller than you are<</if>> Then, the light recedes from her form like the tides ebbing back from shore to reveal the sands and stones beneath. Softened into flesh, her skin is warmed into a mature, olive-toned complexion, lighter than the bright amber of her eyes that have retained the color of her peri form. Her hair is worn in short, ear-length bangs, colorful orange and green flowers blooming from the brown strands.<</if>><<if $xfriend is false>>She shrinks <<if $height is 'tall'>>to a similar height as you<</if>><<if $height is 'very tall'>>to be a bit shorter than you are<</if>><<if $height is 'average'>>but still remains a bit taller than you<</if>><<if $height is 'short'>>but still remains half a head taller than you are<</if>><<if $height is 'very short'>>but still remains nearly a head taller than you are<</if>>. Then, the light recedes from her form like the tides ebbing back from shore to reveal the sands and stones beneath. Softened into flesh, her skin is warmed into a mature, dark beige complexion, lighter than the bright amber of her eyes that have retained the color of her peri form. Her hair is worn in waves of black that reach down to her shoulders, colorful orange and red flowers blooming from the strands.<</if>><<if $rfriend is false>>She shrinks <<if $height is 'tall'>>to be a bit taller than you are<</if>><<if $height is 'very tall'>>to be half a head taller than you are<</if>><<if $height is 'average'>>to a similar height as you<</if>><<if $height is 'short'>>but still remains a bit taller than you are<</if>><<if $height is 'very short'>>but still remains half a head taller than you are<</if>>. Then, the light recedes from her form like the tides ebbing back from shore to reveal the sands and stones beneath. Softened into flesh, her skin is warmed into a mature, rich brown complexion, contrasting the bright amber of her eyes that have retained the color of her peri form. Her hair cascades down her back, to her waist in a thick curtain of straight black tresses, colorful orange and purple flowers blooming from the strands.<</if>> There is something familiar about her face, though you cannot immediately place it. <<if $afriend is false>>You think it might be something about the shape of her eyes<</if>><<if $dfriend is false>>You think it might be something about her angular features<</if>><<if $xfriend is false>>You think it might be something about the curve in her smile<</if>><<if $rfriend is false>>You think it might be something about the shape of her lips<</if>>. Once you think you see a resemblance to something your mind remembers, Kham tilts her head at you, and suddenly it’s gone. “Well?” She grins, and does a little twirl for your benefit, clothed in a long green dress with fabric that glitters when it catches the light, its sleeves reaching down to the floor. “Beautiful, am I not? I can see I’ve left you speechless!” You decide the best thing you can do is avoid responding to that altogether. “How come you do not use your human form more often?” Kham sighs, appearing disappointed by your lack of a reaction, but then returns her smile to her face. You notice that it does not reach her eyes. “It does require a certain level of comfort. Peris are more vulnerable in our human forms, if you did not know.” “You have nothing to fear by being in the palace,” you say, and Kham arches her brows at you, the rest of her features unchanging. “Don’t I?” Her eyes narrow ever so slightly, but then she inclines her head. “I thank you for your escort, dear Crown. I hope to speak to you again soon.” You watch as she opens the door to her chambers and retreats inside, left feeling uncertain about how that interaction went. It seems she does trust you more now, at least enough to show you her human form, but she’s still a bit of a puzzle you have yet to solve. Exhaling a breath, you take a moment to bask in the relief of the meeting being over with. Turning around, you head back to the room where you left $xname and $dname behind. [[Continue|12.21kab]]“I see Kham did not abduct you after all,” is the first thing $xname says when you make it back, and your gaze falls on the chessboard that still remains on the table. It appears $xthey and $dname have started another match, $xname back to sitting across from $dname. You rejoin them, this time sitting beside $xname. “She showed me her human form.” $xname gives you a long look, while $dname frowns down at the chessboard, remaining silent. “Interesting,” is all $xname says. “That’s all you have for me?” “No doubt she is pleased with your concession regarding Eshkar.” $xname shrugs. “Why wouldn’t she throw you a bone?” You turn your conversation with her over in your head. “Hopefully she will make a useful ally. What do you think about what Eshkar said, about Steward Welat?” Finally, $dname speaks, moving one of the chess pieces forward on the board. “It is unsurprising. The citizens of Marabad have long been displeased with his stewardship.” You remember when you first arrived to the city as the Crown, the way the citizens were crying out to you, one of them—a young child—mentioning the steward and begging you to do something about him. “But how do we get proof of it?” You rub at your temple, considering every possible angle. “Merely Eshkar’s word is not enough, especially as he never directly witnessed the steward’s involvement.” “Whatever we decide to do,” $dname says, finally lifting $dtheir eyes from the chessboard to look at you, “I suggest we postpone it until after the expedition. The political fallout of this scandal will be considerable, and will necessitate your presence for quite some time.” “It should also give us some time to plan,” $xname agrees, reaching over and petulantly flicking at $dname’s crown without bothering to make a move, knocking it over. $dname glowers at $xthem, righting the piece again. A servant knocks on the door as the conversation peters out, and they remind you that your classes will be starting soon. <<if $xfriend is false>> “What, already?” $xname frowns deeply, looking from the servant back to you. “That is far too soon. I didn’t even get to beat you in chess yet.” <<if $res gt $flirt>>“Bold words for someone who can’t even defeat my general,” you retort with an amused smile, and $xname watches you with a similar touch of mirth dancing in $xtheir eyes.<<else>>“How romantic of you,” you reply wryly, your smile amused, and $xname watches you with a similar touch of mirth dancing in $xtheir eyes.<</if>> “Would you mind if I dropped by your quarters after you’re done with your classes?” $xthey asks, seeming nonchalant about it even though $xtheir request is anything but. <<if $res gt $flirt>>“I don’t see why not,” you reply, trying to match $xtheir casual tone, though you’re certain you fail considering the flush that glows up your neck.<<else>>“What, just for a chat?” you cannot help but tease, though your anticipation builds already. “Sure, why not?”<</if>> $xname’s expression brightens, and $xthey leans in without hesitation, pressing a quick kiss to your lips. “I’ll look forward to it.” <<if $res gt $flirt>>You’re too flustered to respond even as $xthey gets up from $xtheir seat, the heat in your neck spreading up to your cheeks at the casual affection displayed out in the open.<<else>>You’re briefly surprised by it, but gather yourself in time to return it before $xname draws away, smiling against $xtheir mouth. $xname gets up from $xtheir seat after.<</if>> “I’m leaving first, as watching you go would break my heart.” $cxthey says it with obvious exaggeration, then grins at $dname, who seems entirely apathetic to the display. “Next time, Sîdar, we compete in a spar!” “You still won’t win,” $dname scoffs, and $xname merely responds with a wave before $xthey leaves the room. <<if $res gt $flirt>>You’re unable to so much as look $dname in the eyes, all too aware of the display of affection $dthey just witnessed. $dname looks at you from across the table, then stands up. “I ought to inform $rname and $aname of how the meeting went.” “Right.” You breathe a small sigh of relief as $dthey seems as keen as you to avoid any awkwardness. “Thanks, $dname.”<<else>>You stare after $xname, eyes lingering on $xtheir back until $xthey finally disappears from sight, and even then your gaze remains on the doorway as you do little to conceal your longing. $dname clears $dtheir throat, drawing your attention as $dthey stands up. “I ought to inform $rname and $aname of how the meeting went.” You suppress a laugh at the slightly awkward reaction. “Right. Thank you, $dname.”<</if>><</if>><<if $dfriend is false>> “Then I should head out as well,” $xname decides, getting up from $xtheir seat. The way $xthey glances between you and $dname, however, makes you think $xthey has different motives for leaving before you. “Someone should inform $aname and $rname of how the meeting went.” “That’s considerate of you,” you remark, trying to seem nonchalant, though your eyes flit to $dname without your permission. $dname looks at you, meeting your gaze, and then looks off to the side. You catch the way $dtheir throat bobs as $dthey swallows. “Have fun,” $xname calls out just to tease even further, and you <<if $res gt $flirt>>scowl at $xthem<<else>>roll your eyes at $xthem<</if>> as $xthey takes $xtheir leave. You are alone with $dname, now, who seems to be doing $dtheir best not to confront that fact. At least $dtheir determination not to look at you allows you to observe $dtheir more than you are usually able to, and you notice that $dtheir complexion appears a little more ashen than usual. “Are you alright, $dname?” Your brows furrow with concern. “You look a bit pale.” “I’m fine.” $dname looks down at the chessboard now, folding $dtheir arms over $dtheir chest. After a moment, $dthey reluctantly amends, “Being around this much magic has been somewhat taxing. The enchantment of the room is powerful enough that it is slipping through the wards of my armor. It’s not… pleasant, in my condition.” $cdthey must mean that it is affecting the wound $dthey is still recovering from, your eyes flicking down to $dtheir side where you know it to be beneath $dtheir tunic. “Why didn’t you say anything before?” You stand up. “Come then, we should leave the room. Honestly, $dname, if you’d only mentioned it I could have picked a different—” “Putting pressure on Kham was more important,” $dname insists, though $dthey really must be feeling ill as $dthey follows your example and stands up at well. Slowly and carefully, as if $dthey is afraid of falling over. You exhale a breath of frustration, leading $dthem outside. “Your wellbeing is more important than posturing in front of Kham. You need to rest. Head back to your room, I’ll have the royal physicians take a look at you.” When $dname parts $dtheir lips to protest, you preempt $dthem, turning around to face $dthem in the corridor. Your tone and your gaze both soften as you look at $dthem. “Please?” $dname holds your eyes for a few moments, and then, $dthey crumbles. “Very well.” You smile at the quiet agreement. “I’d also like to visit you after my classes,” you decide, pushing your luck since you have gotten $dtheir agreement. “If that’s alright. Only to ensure you’re doing well.” $dname parts $dtheir lips, then closes them. Seeming to hesitate between decisions, until $dthey finally says, “As you wish.” Without even waiting for your response, $dthey inclines $dtheir head and then swiftly walks ahead, seeming determined to avoid you. Spirits, but $dthey could stand to be a little less blatant about it.<</if>><<if $afriend is false or $rfriend is false>>You sigh, <<if $afriend is false>>wishing you could pass by $aname, but as one of your servants informs you of the exact time you realize you would keep your tutor waiting if you went to see $athem now.<</if>><<if $rfriend is false>>You wish you could pass by $rname, but as one of your servants informs you of the exact time you realize you would keep your tutor waiting if you went to see $rthem now.<</if>> $xname assures you that $xthey and $dname will inform $aname and $rname of how the meeting went, and you part from the two of them after brief goodbyes—and after a promise from $xname that $xthey will not destroy your chessboard in a fit of pique after inevitably losing again.<</if>> [[Continue|12.22k]]<<if $afriend is false>>You wish you could pass by $aname, but as one of your servants informs you of the time you realize you have already kept your first tutor waiting.<</if>><<if $rfriend is false>>You wish you could pass by $rname, but as one of your servants informs you of the time you realize you have already kept your first tutor waiting.<</if>><<if $dfriend is false or $xfriend is false>>One of your servants informs you of the time, and you realize you have kept your first tutor waiting on you for a while.<</if>> You were supposed to spend no longer than two hours in the city, but with the improvised ambush it took quite a bit longer than that. Hurrying to your chambers, you collect your studying materials and continue to rush to the lecture room where you usually take your classes, apologizing to your tutor in theoretical magic for the delay. Thankfully, he does not seem to mind your tardiness much<<if $sihamjoin is false>>, and you settle down for your first lesson.<<else>>, though he reacts with some surprise when you invite Siham to join you. “Will that be a problem?” you ask your tutor, your tone calm but your gaze daring him to protest it. Your tutor clears his throat. “Of course not, Your Imperial Majesty. I would be pleased to teach you both.” You cannot wholly ascertain his sincerity, but so long as Siham gets to learn alongside you, you suppose it does not matter. The tutor would not dare treat him rudely with you present. Siham settles down shyly at the low table beside you, and you ask another servant to bring additional sheets of papyrus as well as ink and a reed pen for him to use. He casts you a small smile, all he dares to do before he quickly returns his attention to the tutor who starts the lecture. It’s nice to have someone to study with together like this: it somehow lessens the pressure you feel.<</if>> <<if $intel gt $intu>>Soon enough, you become absorbed in your lessons. Time flies by, the sun having long set by the time you’re finished, and you return to your chambers in something of a daze as the fatigue of the day’s events begin to catch up to you.<<else>>As the lessons start, you do your best, but you struggle to pay attention on the more theoretical aspects of the lectures. Time seems to crawl by, feeling as if entire days have passed by the time you’re finished, and you return to your chambers in something of a daze as the fatigue of the day’s events begin to catch up to you.<</if>> Supper is served in your chambers, and you invite Ishrah and Siham to sit with you to enjoy it together. <<if $sihamjoin is true>>“How were your lessons?” Ishrah asks, eyes bright with curiosity as she looks between you and Siham. “It was wonderful,” Siham says, unable to hold back the way they smile from ear to ear, and you know you made the right decision in letting him join. “I learned so much more than simply reading from a book!” “Once Siham got brave enough to start asking questions, our tutors really had to put in some effort,” you jest. “I’m so happy for you.” Ishrah pats Siham on the back. “I know how much you’ve wanted to study magic.” As you watch the interaction, a thought occurs to you. “Would you like to join in with some of my lessons as well, Ishrah? I get taught in more subjects than just magic, so if anything holds your interest…” “Oh, well, I mean—” She’s briefly flustered at your offer, but then smiles hopefully. “Truly?” “Of course!” You smile back at her. “Just let me know, and I’ll let you sit in on whatever classes you’d like.” “Thank you, from the bottom of my heart.” She looks down at her plate, poking a little at the grilled tomato with her fork. “I always wanted to learn more mathematics. If I were better with my numbers, I could help my uncle manage his farm.” “Then you should add lessons in economics to that as well,” you suggest. “You could learn to be a merchant as a trade instead of being a servant at the palace.”<<else>>“I heard you gave Siham permission to borrow more books,” Ishrah says, eyes bright with cheer as she looks over at Siham. “Why wouldn’t I?” you reply, casting Siham a smile, who ducks their head. “I’m happy for you.” Ishrah pats Siham on the back. “I know how much you’ve wanted to study magic.” As you watch the interaction, a thought occurs to you. “Would you like to borrow some of the books as well, Ishrah? There are plenty that focus on other subjects aside from magic, so if anything holds your interest…” “Oh, well, I mean—” She’s briefly flustered at your offer, but then smiles hopefully. “Truly?” “Of course!” You smile back at her. “Take whatever you like out of the library. Or libraries. If you want something out of $rname’s personal one, though, you should probably ask $rthem first.” “Thank you, from the bottom of my heart.” She looks down at her plate, poking a little at the grilled tomato with her fork. “I always wanted to learn more mathematics. If I were better with my numbers, I could help my uncle manage his farm.” “Then you should add some books on economics to that as well,” you suggest. “You could study to be a merchant as a trade instead of being a servant at the palace.”<</if>> “That would be amazing!” she enthuses, but then catches herself. “Not that I hate serving you, but—” You wave her correction away. “Unless you have a passion for cleaning, I imagine most servants here would prefer to do something else with their lives. It’s hard work, especially when you don’t know magic to make it easier.” Siham and Ishrah are your friends, after all, but now you begin to wonder about all the other servants at the palace. You may not know them personally, but they do not also deserve the same opportunity? You mull over the thought as the three of you finish eating, Siham and Ishrah helping another servant to clean up your plates. After they have gone<<if $afriend is false or $rfriend is false or $xfriend is false>>, leaving you by yourself, a knock on your door resounds through your room. <<if $rfriend is false>><<if $rrelationship is 'low'>>[[Continue|12.25pr]]<<else>>[[Continue|12.25prh]]<</if>><</if>><<if $afriend is false>><<if $arelationship is 'high'>>[[Continue|12.25pa]]<<else>>[[Continue|12.25pal]]<</if>><</if>><<if $xfriend is false>>[[Continue|12.25px]]<</if>><</if>><<if $dfriend is false>> you take a moment to assess your appearance in your bedroom mirror, then head out yourself. You promised $dname you would visit $dthem, after all. [[Continue|12.25pd]]<</if>>“Come in,” you call, and when the door opens, it is $rname who appears to step inside. Not that you’re particularly surprised, as $rthey knows your schedule by heart. More importantly, you finally have some more time alone with $rthem now, and you mean to take full advantage of it. “Hello.” $rname smiles at you as $rthey closes the door behind $rthem. “How were your classes?” “They all went well.” Something about the way this conversation has started feels oddly stiff. “I hope the court officials didn’t give you too much trouble.” “No more than usual.” $rname approaches your table, sitting down on the pillow beside yours. $crthey offers no further details, and waits for you to speak. You watch $rthem a moment longer, trying to ascertain what it is that feels so off to you. “How have you been feeling lately?” you finally venture, watching $rname’s expression carefully for any sign that $rthey may be repressing $rtheir true feelings. $rname seems slightly puzzled by your question. “Fine. Why? Do I look unwell?” “Just a little tired.” $crthey gives a slight smile. “Nothing new, then.” You can’t pick out anything immediately amiss from $rname’s reactions, but clearly <<if $xfriendconvo is true>><<if $xgender is 'female'>>Xelara<<else>>Xelef<</if>><</if>><<if $afriendconvo is true>><<if $agender is 'female'>>Ashti<<else>>Azad<</if>><</if>><<if $dfriendconvo is true>><<if $dgender is 'female'>>Delal<<else>>Dara<</if>><</if>> did, or <<if $xfriendconvo is true>>$xthey<</if>><<if $afriendconvo is true>>$athey<</if>><<if $dfriendconvo is true>>$dthey<</if>> wouldn’t have brought it up to you without good reason. Having known $rname longer than you, <<if $xfriendconvo is true>>$xthey<</if>><<if $afriendconvo is true>>$athey<</if>><<if $dfriendconvo is true>>$dthey<</if>> would be better able to tell when $rname is not behaving entirely like $rthemselves. “What’s wrong, $name?” $rname questions when you remain silent a beat too long, $rtheir brows furrowing. <<if $blunt gt $charm>>Dancing around the matter clearly isn’t getting you anywhere, and so you decide to ask directly. “I’m wondering how you have been dealing with what happened. Regarding your memories, I mean.” “Oh.” $rname’s eyes lower to the floor.<<else>>“You’ve gone through a lot, $rname,” you say, staying tactful with your choice of words. “I only want to ensure you’re not overburdening yourself.” “You mean because of what happened with the Void,” $rname says quietly, eyes lowering to the floor as $rthey names what you hoped to bring up more delicately.<</if>> “Truth be told, I remember very little of the entire ordeal.” “Really?” “Yes.” When $rthey lifts $rtheir gaze, $rthey still avoids your stare, instead looking off into the room. “There is nothing to worry about.” For the first time, you begin to see what <<if $xfriendconvo is true>><<if $xgender is 'female'>>Xelara<<else>>Xelef<</if>><</if>><<if $afriendconvo is true>><<if $agender is 'female'>>Ashti<<else>>Azad<</if>><</if>><<if $dfriendconvo is true>><<if $dgender is 'female'>>Delal<<else>>Dara<</if>><</if>> spoke of before when <<if $xfriendconvo is true>>$xthey<</if>><<if $afriendconvo is true>>$athey<</if>><<if $dfriendconvo is true>>$dthey<</if>> said $rname seems more emotionally withdrawn than before. There is something in $rtheir tone that sounds not simply closed off, but empty. Lacking any kind of inflection, much like the look in $rtheir eyes appears almost glazed over and hollow. It is subtle enough that you might have mistaken it for the icy demeanor $rthey adopts whenever $rthey becomes agitated, but it’s not the same. Even when $rthey projects something purposefully cold and callous, it is always loaded with the anger or frustration or contempt it carries beneath. You’d feel it in $rtheir magic too, affecting the very air around $rthem, causing it to ripple and turn frigid with $rtheir ire. Now, however, there is nothing. Not a single spark. “Are you sure?” Your concern grows as $rname continues to avoid your eyes. “You know you can talk to me about anything, don’t you? Whatever it is, $rname, I promise I won’t judge you for it.” Ever since you arrived at this palace, $rname has been your closest confidante, and you thought you were the same for $rthem. For $rthem to suddenly put up this wall between you stings, as if you were being rejected and pushed away. “There is nothing to talk about,” $rname states, $rtheir voice perfectly calm and $rtheir expression placid—$rthey still does not look at you. “I am well.” Does $rthey really believe that, or is $rthey only saying that to maintain $rtheir facade? <ul class="a"> <li>[[Express concern: “I only say this out of worry for you.”|12.26pra]]</li> <li>[[Accept it: “If that ever changes and you need someone to share your worries with, I’ll be here.”|12.26prb][$rpoints to $rpoints + 3]]</li> </ul>“Come in,” you call, assuming it to be a servant or a guard who requires your attention. Yet when the door opens, it is $aname who is revealed behind it. Your heart leaps with anticipation, bringing a smile to your face as $athey steps inside and looks at you knowingly. “Not a book in sight,” $athey remarks as $athey closes the door behind $athem, as if $athey doesn’t know you have been looking forward to this all day. “Are you sure I’m not a distraction?” Your eyes follow $athem with complete fixation as $athey crosses the room and approaches the table where you sit. <<if $flirt gt $res>>“If you had stayed away, I would be sitting here lamenting your absence instead of studying.”<<else>>“I don’t think I would have been able to focus with you <em>not</em> here, either. I’d…” You take a breath, not used to admitting such things aloud. “I’d just be wondering where you were.”<</if>> $aname’s lips quirk up with amusement. “So I’m a distraction to you either way?” “You’re much more than a distraction,” you correct, feeling your pulse beating a little faster as $athey sits down on the pillow beside yours. $catheir nearness alone is enough bewitch you, your gaze trailing over $atheir face—catching for an instant on $atheir mouth—before drawing back up to $atheir eyes. $aname must have noticed, because $athey stills for a beat. You worry you might have made $athem ill at ease with your clear interest, but $aname does not move away. Instead, one corner of $atheir mouth curves into a half-smile, mirth glimmering in $atheir eyes. “So,” $athey says, drawing the sound out a little, like $athey knows exactly how much you’re hanging off $atheir every word. <<if $peritrader is false>>“Your outing to the city was eventful.” “It was.” You sober a little at the mention of the day’s events, the fatigue of them weighing on your mind. “Has Eshkar awakened yet?” “No, but I would not be surprised if it took him a few days to recover after the beating you gave him.” $aname’s eyes drift towards the windows where the blue light of the night sky fades as soon as it falls inside, clashing with the warmer glow of the candles illuminating your chambers. “I admit, I was a little displeased hearing you were involved in a battle without me present. If there is any time where I should be by your side—” $cathey cuts $athemselves short, but you understand $atheir frustration. It is the Royal Protector’s foremost duty to guard the Crown personally, after all. “The bulk of the Imperial Guards were with me,” you try to reassure $athem, but you suspect $athey is bothered by more than simply being unable to fulfill $atheir role, which makes you smile a little. “$dname and $xname were there too. I was perfectly safe.” “Still,” $athey insists, gaze returning to you with a frown. “Something <em>could</em> have happened. You could have gotten injured, or worse.” “But I wasn’t.” <<if $ass gt $pass>>You reach out, placing your hand on top of $atheir wrist to comfort $athem, $atheir worry almost palpably radiating from $athem.<<else>>You almost lift your hand to reach for $athem, but then hesitate, not used to being so forward.<</if>> “If it helps, I don’t intend to be separated from you again after this. Once was enough to tempt fate.” $aname glances down at your hand, <<if $pass gt $ass>>and then closes the distance instead, $atheir fingers wrapping gently around yours<<else>>and then places $atheir other hand on top of yours, $atheir hold a gentle one<</if>>. “I’ll hold you to that.”<<else>> “I was told your meeting with Kham proved to be an enlightening one.” “It was.” You sober a little at the mention of the day’s events, the fatigue of them weighing on your mind. “With what Eshkar has told us, we might be one step closer to solving the matter of the missing citizens.” “I hope you’re right.” $aname does not seem entirely convinced, however, $atheir brows wrinkling. “But I wouldn’t take anything that Kham offers you at face value. There is a reason she agreed to this meeting, and it wasn’t out of charity, though—” $cathey considers you a moment. “I heard you managed it admirably.” <<if $res gt $flirt>>You warm a little at the praise<<else>>You smile, pleased at the praise<</if>>. “I certainly hope so.” <<if $khamally is true>>“The peris of Anshan are certainly resourceful allies to have,” $aname notes, “which is all the more reason we should proceed with caution. Coming to an agreement with the princess is no small feat for a Crown who was never mentored in the realm of politics.”<<else>>“You did well to stand up to Kham’s demands,” $aname continues, giving you a slight smile<<if $flirt gt $res>> in return<</if>>. “It is only right that Eshkar should face the courts in Arsur, though I’m sure that displeased the princess. We should tread carefully around her, moving forward.”<</if>> “You’re being exceedingly nice to me today,” you can’t help but <<if $res gt $flirt>>tease<<else>>note<</if>>, and you don’t only mean in $atheir words. Your mind recalls the kiss $athey gave you, the memory a tingle on your forehead. $aname seems to study your face for a moment, then looks down at the hands you hold in your lap. $cathey reaches out, $atheir fingers curling around one of them to link with yours. <<if $pass gt $ass>>After a moment of surprise you return $atheir grip, enjoying $atheir gentle touch<<else>>You anticipate $atheir touch, fingers readily linking with $atheirs as soon as $atheir hand gently grips yours<</if>>. “I think it must be because I’ve missed you,” $athey admits quietly.<</if>> You smile<<if $flirt gt $res>> even more brightly than before<</if>>, your skin feeling heated beneath $aname’s touch, spreading up your arm to the rest of your body—perhaps due to your magic. It reacts almost instinctively to $athem, swelling inside of you with the impulse to release it and spill over into the air, so that you might warm $aname as much as $athey does you. [[Continue|12.26a]]“Your Imperial Majesty.” Ziryan enters the room after you call them in. An apologetic expression is just about visible on their face, only covered by the nose guard of their helmet. “Forgive me, but there is a small matter requiring your attention.” “What is it?” “The Pale Sword has become lost in the halls of the palace.” It takes you a moment to react, so surprised by the statement that you almost laugh. “What do you mean, <em>lost</em>?” This is not the visit to your quarters that $xname promised you. “$cxthey, ah… $xthey does not have a visitor’s tablet.” You blink, taken aback that you had not even considered such a potential problem. Your Imperial Guards go with you wherever you please, and one of them always has a tablet with them that allows you to navigate the palace’s many passageways, known to adapt and shift around. Everyone else you know also has tablets of their own. Even your tutors who only visit the palace to teach you are handed visitor tablets upon arrival, that are then taken away when they leave. You assumed $xname and the Crescent Blades would have a similar arrangement. “But $xthey has navigated the palace before,” you say even as you already stand to go and find $xthem. “Why did $xthey get lost this time?” “$cxthey appears to have left behind $xtheir tablet,” Ziryan clarifies, retrieving exactly one such clay tablet from a pouch hanging off their belt, and handing it to you. “I found it in one of the sitting rooms.” $xname would not be so inattentive. “Did $xthey purposefully get lost?” Ziryan begins to fidget, avoiding your eyes, their lips twitching as if trying to suppress a smile. “That is possible, I suppose, yes.” You narrow your eyes at them. “What aren’t you telling me?” Shifting their weight around from one foot to the other, Ziryan’s cheeks turn slightly redder beneath their helmet, coughing into their fist—poorly concealing the laugh that spreads their mouth. “$cxthey did pass on a message.” Judging by Ziryan’s increasingly sheepish yet amused expression, you can already imagine what it might be. Clearing their throat, Ziryan recites: “<em>Come and catch me, if you can.</em>” [[Continue|12.26x]] You walk through the corridors with a bit more hurry than you should, feeling restless and eager and worried all at once. Even then, you try to temper yourself, reminding yourself that $dname has made clear that $dthey is determined to avoid any attachments between the two of you. While you understand $dtheir reasons why, you know that in the moment, such logic does little to tame your heart’s desires. But then, what is to become of the two of you? Should you resign to yearning for $dthem while $dthey keeps pushing you away? Eventually, you’re certain that would drive you mad. You’re so occupied by your thoughts you nearly walk past the hallway where $dname’s chambers are located, catching yourself at the last moment and approaching $dtheir door. You hesitate for a moment, speaking quietly to your invisible guards in the corridor, “Put up the wards for the room. I am not to be disturbed unless it is an emergency.” One of your guards replies. “As you command, Your Imperial Majesty.” At least you won’t have to worry about any of them eavesdropping. Taking a breath, you lift your hand, and knock on the wood. A moment of silence, but then it’s broken. “Come in.” [[Continue|12.26d]] Heading to your chambers, you collect your studying materials and continue to the lecture room where you usually take your classes. Once there, you greet your tutor in theoretical magic for the day<<if $sihamjoin is false>>, and settle down for your first lesson.<<else>>, though he reacts with some surprise when you invite Siham to join you. “Will that be a problem?” you ask your tutor, your tone calm but your gaze daring him to protest it. Your tutor clears his throat. “Of course not, Your Imperial Majesty. I would be pleased to teach you both.” You cannot wholly ascertain his sincerity, but so long as Siham gets to learn alongside you, you suppose it does not matter. The tutor would not dare treat him rudely with you present. Siham settles down shyly at the low table beside you, and you ask another servant to bring additional sheets of papyrus as well as ink and a reed pen for him to use. He casts you a small smile, all he dares to do before he quickly returns his attention to the tutor who starts the lecture. It’s nice to have someone to study with together like this: it somehow lessens the pressure you feel.<</if>> <<if $intel gt $intu>>Soon enough, you become absorbed in your lessons. Time flies by, the sun having long set by the time you’re finished, and you return to your chambers in something of a daze as the fatigue of the day’s events begin to catch up to you.<<else>>As the lessons start, you do your best, but you struggle to pay attention on the more theoretical aspects of the lectures. Time seems to crawl by, feeling as if entire days have passed by the time you’re finished, and you return to your chambers in something of a daze as the fatigue of the day’s events begin to catch up to you.<</if>> Supper is served in your chambers, and you invite Ishrah and Siham to sit with you to enjoy it together. <<if $sihamjoin is true>>“How were your lessons?” Ishrah asks, eyes bright with curiosity as she looks between you and Siham. “It was wonderful,” Siham says, unable to hold back the way they smile from ear to ear, and you know you made the right decision in letting him join. “I learned so much more than simply reading from a book!” “Once Siham got brave enough to start asking questions, our tutors really had to put in some effort,” you jest. “I’m so happy for you.” Ishrah pats Siham on the back. “I know how much you’ve wanted to study magic.” As you watch the interaction, a thought occurs to you. “Would you like to join in with some of my lessons as well, Ishrah? I get taught in more subjects than just magic, so if anything holds your interest…” “Oh, well, I mean—” She’s briefly flustered at your offer, but then smiles hopefully. “Truly?” “Of course!” You smile back at her. “Just let me know, and I’ll let you sit in on whatever classes you’d like.” “Thank you, from the bottom of my heart.” She looks down at her plate, poking a little at the grilled tomato with her fork. “I always wanted to learn more mathematics. If I were better with my numbers, I could help my uncle manage his farm.” “Then you should add lessons in economics to that as well,” you suggest. “You could learn to be a merchant as a trade instead of being a servant at the palace.”<<else>>“I heard you gave Siham permission to borrow more books,” Ishrah says, eyes bright with cheer as she looks over at Siham. “Why wouldn’t I?” you reply, casting Siham a smile, who ducks their head. “I’m happy for you.” Ishrah pats Siham on the back. “I know how much you’ve wanted to study magic.” As you watch the interaction, a thought occurs to you. “Would you like to borrow some of the books as well, Ishrah? There are plenty that focus on other subjects aside from magic, so if anything holds your interest…” “Oh, well, I mean—” She’s briefly flustered at your offer, but then smiles hopefully. “Truly?” “Of course!” You smile back at her. “Take whatever you like out of the library. Or libraries. If you want something out of $rname’s personal one, though, you should probably ask $rthem first.” “Thank you, from the bottom of my heart.” She looks down at her plate, poking a little at the grilled tomato with her fork. “I always wanted to learn more mathematics. If I were better with my numbers, I could help my uncle manage his farm.” “Then you should add some books on economics to that as well,” you suggest. “You could study to be a merchant as a trade instead of being a servant at the palace.”<</if>> “That would be amazing!” she enthuses, but then catches herself. “Not that I hate serving you, but—” You wave her correction away. “Unless you have a passion for cleaning, I imagine most servants here would prefer to do something else with their lives. It’s hard work, especially when you don’t know magic to make it easier.” Siham and Ishrah are your friends, after all, but now you begin to wonder about all the other servants at the palace. You may not know them personally, but they do not also deserve the same opportunity? You mull over the thought as the three of you finish eating, Siham and Ishrah helping another servant to clean up your plates. After they have left<<if $afriend is false or $rfriend is false or $xfriend is false>>, leaving you by yourself, a knock on your door resounds through your room. <<if $rfriend is false>><<if $rrelationship is 'low'>>[[Continue|12.25pr]]<<else>>[[Continue|12.25prh]]<</if>><</if>><<if $afriend is false>><<if $arelationship is 'high'>>[[Continue|12.25pa]]<<else>>[[Continue|12.25pal]]<</if>><</if>><<if $xfriend is false>>[[Continue|12.25px]]<</if>><</if>><<if $dfriend is false>> you take a moment to assess your appearance in your bedroom mirror, then head out yourself. You promised $dname you would visit $dthem, after all. [[Continue|12.25pd]]<</if>><<if $res gt $flirt>>Your own face heats, left floundering for a response as Ziryan politely looks away again and pretends not to notice. Eventually, the words you land on come out disjointed, broken apart by your flustered countenance: “$cxthey did <em>not</em>- oh, $xname, you’re such a—” A shameless tease, an absolute menace, a ridiculous flirt, and a hazard to your health. Yet, the effectiveness of it cannot be denied: your heart pounds not with embarrassment, but with anticipation and excitement.<<else>>You cannot help it: you throw your head back and laugh, charmed by the utter <em>audacity</em>. No one else would be so bold to dare you to go after them, let alone manage to rope one of your guards into it to play a willing messenger. And it’s working, which is the most ridiculous part of it all. Your heart pounds with anticipation and excitement, more than eager to take $xname up on $xtheir challenge and see where it leads you. Of all the things you expected, and with how guarded $xname has been with you before, the Pale Sword wishing to be chased is a pleasant surprise.<</if>> <<if $ass gt $pass>>You <<if $res gt $flirt>>cut yourself short of finishing your sentence<<else>>exhale a sigh<</if>>, and a smile lifts to your mouth before you address Ziryan again. “Thank you for passing on the message. I will take it from here.” A tactful way of telling them to keep their distance for whatever you and $xname may get up to. Your guards might be oath-bound to remain near for your protection, but the last thing you want is an audience while you take $xname up on this daring little game of $xtheirs.<<else>>You <<if $res gt $flirt>>cut yourself short of finishing your sentence<<else>>exhale a sigh<</if>>, hiding the smile that lifts to your mouth behind your fingers as you try to calm yourself. It is impossible for you to even look Ziryan in the eyes as you speak. “Thank you, for… well.” You dare not even say it, suppressing the impulse to hide your face from your personal guard who $xname roped into this little dance—chasing others, in the romantic sense, is not in your nature, which flusters you all the more. Sky above, one of these days $xname is going to cause your heart to give out.<</if>> Ziryan inclines their head, swiftly disappearing again. [[Continue|12.27x]] Wandering the halls of the palace a short while later, you begin to feel like somewhat of a fool. You haven’t the faintest idea of where to begin looking, but the palace supposedly should react to what you desire, at least in terms of showing you the way. Thinking hard, you focus on wanting to find $xname, while thinking to yourself that your Imperial Guards must be having a great time watching you meander aimlessly. “$xname?” you call out, looking around the corner of one corridor only to find an identical one stretching out before you right after, leading to a small, open space with three more possible paths. “Dammit.” Just as you begin to grow frustrated, you hear $xname’s voice call out. “Don’t tell me you’re giving up so soon?” You can’t quite pinpoint which direction $xtheir voice is coming from, seeming to echo against the walls, but now you <em>know</em> that you are on the right track. You tense with anticipation, eyes flitting between the intersection of hallways before you as. “You’re really having fun with this, aren’t you?” you call down the maze of corridors, thinking you ought to feel betrayed that your own palace is aiding $xname in this game. Perhaps you would be, if it wasn’t so thrilling. “Where on earth are you?” $xname’s voice continues to bounce off the walls, and you try to listen for a direction. “Now where’s the fun in me just telling you?” It’s coming from the hallway on your left. You try and keep your footsteps quiet, for all the good that it will do you. $xname should easily be able to sense you coming, but you still feel an urge to try your best. You were issued a challenge, after all, and it wouldn’t be becoming of you to give up so easily. As you head down the hallway, you hear $xname chuckle. “Closer…” The taunting words spur you onwards, walking faster. “Almost there, darling.” The endearment given makes <<if $res gt $flirt>>your face warm<<else>>smile<</if>> so easily, spurring you onward. You reach the end of the corridor into another intersection of hallways, but you’re certain you know where $xname is now. You turn the corner to your right, your pulse pounding hot in your neck, and… <<if $xgender is 'female'>>[[…Xelara catches you.|12.28xa]]<<else>>[[…Xelef catches you.|12.28xa]]<</if>> <<if $xgender is 'female'>>[[…you catch Xelara.|12.28xb]]<<else>>[[…you catch Xelef.|12.28xb]]<</if>> Arms wrap around your waist as you collide into $xthem, a low laugh breathed against your ear that sends shivers down your spine as you grab onto $xtheir shoulders for balance. “Look who ended up caught,” $xname murmurs<<if $xrelationship is 'high'>>, lips brushing against your cheek in a soft kiss before<<else>> as<</if>> $xthey draws $xtheir head back to look at you, grinning<<if $xrelationship is 'high'>> with delight<</if>>. “Lucky me.” <<if $res gt $flirt>>You look away, the weight of $xtheir affection making you shy even as you worry that you did not please $xthem in the way $xthey wished for.<<else>>A pleased flush warms your face as you smile back, though it almost falters with the worry that you did not satisfy $xthem in the way $xthey wished for.<</if>> After all, <em>you</em> were the one who was meant to catch <em>$xthem</em>. “Did I disappoint you?” “Not at all,” $xname reassures you without a moment’s pause, hands warm on your lower back. “You gave it your best effort, and I do so enjoy turning the tables.” <<if $ass gt $pass>>“I’ll do better next time,” you promise, your hands sliding up to gently cup $xtheir face, and $xname’s smirk softens even while $xtheir tone stays playful. “Want to catch me that badly?” You brush a thumb across $xtheir cheek. “More than anything.”<<else>>“I’ll try to do better next time,” you say, hesitating a moment before you slide your hands up to $xtheir face. When $xname leans into the touch, you turn more confident, cupping $xtheir cheeks properly. “Though I admit, I’m not very good at this.” $xname’s smirk softens even while $xtheir tone stays playful. “You’d rather be chased?” Your stomach twists with the thrill of it being recognized, shortening your breath to a murmur. “If you’re the one chasing me.”<</if>> Now, the smirk falls entirely from $xname’s face, $xtheir eyes peering back into yours <<if $xrelationship is 'high'>>with such fixation, as if everything else but you has ceased to exist<<else>>visible anticipation<</if>>. You anticipate it when $xthey leans in, your eyes fluttering shut and head tilting a moment before $xtheir lips catch on yours, slow and savoring and so warm. $cxtheir arms follow, drawing you closer until you’re pressed together, and your fingers slide <<if $xgender is 'male'>>eagerly into his hair in response, mussing it up even further<<else>>over the tied locks of her hair in response, eager but also careful you don’t mess up her bun<</if>>. $xname guides you backwards, until you feel your back press against a wall. Neither of you seems to want to stop, even if to catch some air, until the errant thought occurs to you that you’re in the middle of a hallway that anyone could walk into. Somehow, you find the strength to break your kiss<<if $xrelationship is 'high'>>—briefly. $xname just leans in to kiss again, and you laugh as $xthey presses smaller pecks against your lips, against the corner of your mouth, as if $xthey can’t get enough of you<<else>>, sucking in some air so you can speak<</if>>. “$xname,” you breathe out<<if $xrelationship is 'high'>>, causing $xthem to finally pause<</if>>, “did you really lure me out here just to kiss me?” “<em>Just</em> to kiss you?” $xname is just as breathless, <<if $xrelationship is 'high'>>licking $xtheir lower lip as if to gather up the taste of you that was left while $xthey stares at your mouth, then looks<<else>>looking<</if>> you in the eyes. “You say that as if kissing you were not the most important thing I could be doing right now.” <<if $ass gt $pass>>You exhale a heated breath, your fingers <<if $xgender is 'male'>>gripping $xtheir hair tight and pull on it to<<else>>digging into $xtheir tied tresses to grip them, no longer caring if you mess up $xtheir hair as you pull on it to<</if>> drag $xtheir back to your mouth, your concerns about the hallway forgotten.<<else>>You exhale a shaky breath, daring to say, “Then keep going.” $cxtheir eyes widen slightly before $xthey immediately leans in again, hungrier than before as $xthey returns to your mouth and you receive $xthem just as desperately.<</if>> $xname moans a decadent sound into the kiss, and the moment you part your lips you feel the flick of $xtheir tongue slip in your mouth, so eager to taste you. Your head is spinning the next time $xname parts from you, if only to whisper, “I swear, if we were in your chambers right now… me and my stupid idea to make a chase out of this—” <<if $flirt gt $res>>On an impulse, you reply, “We could go there.” $xname pulls back a little further to look at you properly, $xtheir gaze still alight with desire, but making an effort to restrain $xthemselves as well. “Really?”<<else>>You still, the thought occurring to you that you could go there if you wanted to, and $xname must notice your tension as $xthey does not continue the kiss. Instead, $xthey pulls back a little further to look at you properly, $xtheir gaze still alight with desire, but making an effort to restrain $xthemselves as well. “Do you want to go?”<</if>> The implication is a step above simply exchanging kisses, and when you take a moment to think on it, $xname speaks again. “We don’t have to do anything more than this.” $cxthey smiles at you<<if $xrelationship is 'high'>>, caressing your cheek in reassurance<</if>>. “Or anything at all. I just want to spend the evening with you.” Warmed by $xtheir consideration, you take a moment to make up your mind, but before you can come to a decision the sound of footsteps down the hallway break apart the intimate air. [[Continue|12.29xa]] You collide into $xthem almost suddenly, reacting quickly enough to wrap your arms around $xtheir waist, a low laugh breathed against your ear that sends shivers down your spine as you grab onto $xtheir shoulders for balance. “Well, well,” $xname murmurs<<if $xrelationship is 'high'>>, lips brushing against your cheek in a soft kiss before<<else>> as<</if>> $xthey draws $xtheir head back to look at you, grinning<<if $xrelationship is 'high'>> with delight<</if>>. “It seems I underestimated you.” <<if $res gt $flirt>>You look away, the weight of $xtheir affection making you shy even as—especially as—$xthey praises you.<<else>>A pleased flush warms your face as you smile back, though it curves impishly a moment later.<</if>> You suspect $xname very much <em>let</em> $xthemselves get caught, for your benefit. “I did not take you for the sort to enjoy being chased.” “You didn’t?” $xname teases you, hands warm on your lower back. “Here I thought I was making it obvious, what with mouthing off all the time. I’m practically begging to be put in my place.” It is a facade, of course. A game $xthey plays. $cxthey might enjoy feigning submission, but you know $xthey remains as much in control as you are. <<if $ass gt $pass>>“Then you’re lucky that I happen to be good at that,” you reply <<if $res gt $flirt>>even while your heart races and your skin heats, your assertiveness warring with your more reserved nature<</if>> as your hands slide up to gently cup $xtheir face. $xname’s smirk softens even while $xtheir tone stays playful. “Do you enjoy watching me submit that much?” You brush a thumb across $xtheir cheek. “I enjoy seeing how much you’re beginning to trust me.”<<else>>“I’m not usually good at that,” you say, hesitating a moment before you slide your hands up to $xtheir face. When $xname leans into the touch, you turn more confident, cupping $xtheir cheeks properly. “But I’ll keep trying, if it pleases you.” $xname’s smirk softens even while $xtheir tone stays playful. “You’d rather be chased?” Your stomach twists with the thrill of it being recognized, shortening your breath to a murmur. “If you’re the one chasing me.”<</if>> Now, the smirk falls entirely from $xname’s face, $xtheir eyes peering back into yours <<if $xrelationship is 'high'>>with such fixation, as if everything else but you has ceased to exist<<else>>visible anticipation<</if>>. You anticipate it when $xthey leans in, your eyes fluttering shut and head tilting a moment before $xtheir lips catch on yours, slow and savoring and so warm. $cxtheir arms follow, drawing you closer until you’re pressed together, and your fingers slide <<if $xgender is 'male'>>eagerly into his hair in response, mussing it up even further<<else>>over the tied locks of her hair in response, eager but also careful you don’t mess up her bun<</if>>. $xname guides you backwards, until you feel your back press against a wall. Neither of you seems to want to stop, even if to catch some air, until the errant thought occurs to you that you’re in the middle of a hallway that anyone could walk into. Somehow, you find the strength to break your kiss<<if $xrelationship is 'high'>>—briefly. $xname just leans in to kiss again, and you laugh as $xthey presses smaller pecks against your lips, against the corner of your mouth, as if $xthey can’t get enough of you<<else>>, sucking in some air so you can speak<</if>>. “$xname,” you breathe out<<if $xrelationship is 'high'>>, causing $xthem to finally pause<</if>>, “did you really lure me out here just to kiss me?” “<em>Just</em> to kiss you?” $xname is just as breathless, <<if $xrelationship is 'high'>>licking $xtheir lower lip as if to gather up the taste of you that was left while $xthey stares at your mouth, then looks<<else>>looking<</if>> you in the eyes. “You say that as if kissing you were not the most important thing I could be doing right now.” <<if $ass gt $pass>>You exhale a heated breath, your fingers <<if $xgender is 'male'>>gripping $xtheir hair tight and pull on it to<<else>>digging into $xtheir tied tresses to grip them, no longer caring if you mess up $xtheir hair as you pull on it to<</if>> drag $xtheir back to your mouth, your concerns about the hallway forgotten.<<else>>You exhale a shaky breath, daring to say, “Then keep going.” $cxtheir eyes widen slightly before $xthey immediately leans in again, hungrier than before as $xthey returns to your mouth and you receive $xthem just as desperately.<</if>> $xname moans a decadent sound into the kiss, and the moment you part your lips you feel the flick of $xtheir tongue slip in your mouth, so eager to taste you. Your head is spinning the next time $xname parts from you, if only to whisper, “I swear, if we were in your chambers right now… me and my stupid idea to make a chase out of this—” <<if $flirt gt $res>>On an impulse, you reply, “We could go there.” $xname pulls back a little further to look at you properly, $xtheir gaze still alight with desire, but making an effort to restrain $xthemselves as well. “Really?”<<else>>You still, the thought occurring to you that you could go there if you wanted to, and $xname must notice your tension as $xthey does not continue the kiss. Instead, $xthey pulls back a little further to look at you properly, $xtheir gaze still alight with desire, but making an effort to restrain $xthemselves as well. “Do you want to go?”<</if>> The implication is a step above simply exchanging kisses, and when you take a moment to think on it, $xname speaks again. “We don’t have to do anything more than this.” $cxthey smiles at you<<if $xrelationship is 'high'>>, caressing your cheek in reassurance<</if>>. “Or anything at all. I just want to spend the evening with you.” Warmed by $xtheir consideration, you take a moment to make up your mind, but before you can come to a decision the sound of footsteps down the hallway break apart the intimate air. [[Continue|12.29xa]]“You?” $xname exclaims in outrage at the sight of Ziryan, still keeping hold of you. “<em>Again</em>? This is the third time now you’ve interrupted me and $name! Don’t think helping deliver that message earlier is going to make up for this—” You blink as you realize $xthey’s right. The first time was during the coronation banquet, when Ziryan called you away to meet Yekbûn, and then they interrupted you later in the evening once more after you took a nap with $xname in a sitting room. Ziryan seems aware of this fact as well, wincing with an apologetic look. “I’m truly sorry, Pale Sword. It’s just that the other guards keep saddling me with messenger duties…” You let out a sigh, gently pushing $xname back until $xthey releases you with a pout. “Don’t blame Ziryan,” you tell $xthem. “I take it they have an important reason for coming to see me.” You cast Ziryan an expectant look. “Yes, Your Imperial Majesty.” They glance from $xname back to you again, and then state, “It regards Keeper Bazo.” It takes you a moment to remember who that is. “You mean from Şevan? The one who did not show up for my coronation? Don’t tell me…” Ziryan inclines their head. “He has arrived at the palace, and is asking for an audience.” [[End Chapter|13.0]] You only barely restrain yourself from immediately opening the door, fingers wrapping around the handle and taking a pause before you push it down. It opens with a soft click, and you push it aside as you enter. The first thing you see as you peer into $dname’s room is $dthem, standing in front of $dtheir window that overlooks the same gardens as yours does. There are candles lit on $dtheir bedside table and $dtheir desk, bright enough to color $dtheir chambers and ward away the blue light of the night sky. $dname turns $dtheir head to look at you when you step inside, and watches you quietly as you close the door behind you. The sound seems to reverberate through the room. The two of you stare at each other, and your heart pounds for reasons you cannot name. “How are you feeling?” you finally ask, your gaze flitting down to $dname’s side where $dtheir wound is hidden beneath $dtheir robes. “There is no need for you to worry,” $dname replies, averting $dtheir eyes back to the view. You approach $dthem slowly and with care, standing beside $dthem, though you have no interest in staring at the gardens at the moment. “It doesn’t hurt?” $dname’s brows twitch, $dtheir eyes remaining firmly aimed at something outside. It doesn’t matter to you: all you care about is that $dthey refuses to look at you. “It does not impede me in performing my duties.” “That’s not an answer.” Your frustration grows, pushing you to step in front of $dname and stand between $dthem and the window. “I am asking after <em>you</em>, $dname Sîdar. Not the general of the army.” Finally, $dname looks at you, though $dtheir attention lingers for mere moments before $dthey turns $dtheir face away. “The general of the army is the only one you need concern yourself with.” You scoff, your words turning sharper in an attempt to evoke a reaction—looking for anything, the slightest hint that what you have sensed between the two of you has not been a conjuring of your mind. “Are you that afraid of me?” $dname meets your accusatory look, $dtheir own widened fractionally with something incredulous, cracking through $dtheir composure. “Afraid of you?” Something in $dtheir face shifts as $dthey steps closer to you, the soft candlelight that floods the chamber catching within $dtheir eyes and casting a glimmer of warmth into their black pools. A deep, dark and lovely brown. “Would that I feared you and spared us both the misery.” [[Continue|12.27d]]<<if visited("12.28db") is 1>><<if $dpoints gte 17>><<set $drelationship to 'high'>><<else>><<set $drelationship to 'low'>><</if>><</if>>It is foolish to hope for something to come out of this when you know that there is no future in it for either of you. Even if you were to involve yourself with $dname and the two of you began a relationship in secret—and that is imagining that $dname would ever even agree to that—you would never be able to court each other so long as you remained the Crown and $dthey remained the general of your armies. What would be the alternative? Keeping it secret for the rest of your lives? It’s not an option. You’ve had to <em>live</em> in secret for most of your life, you don’t want to return to that in any aspect. Besides, you cannot imagine that you and $dname wouldn’t be discovered at some point, which would bring ruin to both of you, but to $dname especially. You never want to put $dthem in that position, not when you know how much $dtheir reputation and $dtheir family’s honor means to $dthem. Waking from your momentary dream, you pull yourself away. $dname’s hand lingers for a moment longer in the air where it touched your skin, but then slowly lowers to $dtheir side. You cannot bring yourself to look at $dthem, regretting every moment of this, regretting that you were reckless enough to even visit $dthem in $dtheir chambers like this. “I’m sorry,” you say, stepping aside and intending to leave the room. “You’ve made yourself clear. I should leave you be.” Yet when you begin to move towards the door, a hand grasps your wrist with a hurried, “Wait.” You go still, looking over your shoulder back at $dname in surprise, who appears just as frozen as you are. Shocked at $dthemselves, perhaps, yet $dthey does not release you. “What…” You search for the words, feeling utterly lost. “$dname, what is it that you want from me?” $dname releases your wrist, eyes momentarily squeezing shut as $dthey pulls $dtheir hand back. When $dthey opens $dtheir eyes again, $dthey keeps them aimed at the floor. “I beg your forgiveness, I should not have—” Always avoiding your gaze, avoiding you. “Stop!” you snap, louder than you intended to. The sound resounds through the room, finally getting $dname to look at you once more. “What do you <em>want</em>?” $dname stares at you, something you have not seen before reflected in in it: panic. “I cannot—” You step closer. “Be honest with me, $dname.” Your tone quiets, weariness shining through. “If you truly don’t care for me, then just say it. Please.” $cdthey remains silent for a long moment, emotions flickering too quickly to catch within $dtheir face. At long last, $dthey parts $dtheir lips again. “I want—” But $dthey never gets to finish speaking, as the sound of a knock cuts through the words, and mercilessly denies you closure. [[Continue.|12.29dab]]<<if visited("12.26pra") is 1>><<if $rpoints gte 17>><<set $rrelationship to 'high'>><<else>><<set $rrelationship to 'low'>><</if>><</if>>Finally, $rname meets your eyes, $rtheir impassive features painted over with a remorseful look. “Forgive me. I didn’t mean to… I’m sorry.” You frown at $rthem. “What are you apologizing for?” “You have enough problems without me adding to them.” $rname sighs, hands folding on $rtheir lap. “I’m always making things worse for you. Even during that very first meeting with the nobility, arguing with Lady Naza—” “Don’t tell me you’ve been chastizing yourself over that this entire time?” You can’t keep the disbelief from your voice, stunned that it has still been bothering $rname even a month later. “I’ve already forgotten all about it. Besides, you’ve proven yourself many times over since then.” <<if visited("9.20a") is 1>>“Have I?” $rname looks down at $rtheir lap, where $rthey begins to fiddle with the decorative coins hanging from $rtheir belt. “I could not even be trusted to handle the nobles during your first official court meeting.” It takes a moment for you to remember what $rthey speaks of. When one of the officials was trying to make an issue of court procedure to undermine $rname’s authority, you intervened on $rname’s behalf instead of letting $rthem handle it on $rtheir own. You thought you were doing $rname a favor, though it was also true that you did it out of concern that $rname would not be able to maintain $rtheir composure. “You’re still learning,” you insist. “Same as I am. Neither of us have been in this position before.” $rname gives you a wan smile. “Yet you seem so much better at it than I am.” “I’m really not—”<<else>>“Have I?” $rname looks down at $rtheir lap, where $rthey begins to fiddle with the decorative coins hanging from $rtheir belt. “I thought myself clever enough to study the Void, yet I failed even in that. All I ended up accomplishing was to leave you to deal with the court on your own while I was forced to recover from the consequences of my own hubris.” “You’re far too hard on yourself,” you say, trying not to sound disapproving since you know scolding $rthem will only make things worse. “You were only trying to help.” $crthey gives you a wan smile. “And look where it got me.” “No one could have anticipated—”<</if>> “It’s alright, $name.” There it is again. That wall, that absence of emotion as $rname looks away from you once more. “I don’t need you to coddle me. All I can do is learn from my mistakes, and try not to repeat them.” Feeling at a loss on what to do, unable to get through to $rthem with your words, you reach out your hand and clasp one of $rtheir hands in the hopes that it will be enough. “You’re my Sorcerer, $rname,” you say. “You alone—I wouldn’t want anyone else. I have faith in you.” There, finally, comes a flash of something in the grey of $rname’s eyes, cracking with brittleness. $crtheir fingers wrap around your hand in turn, squeezing it. “I won’t disappoint you again,” $rthey promises, the words like a stab of pain to your chest as you realize how deeply rooted these insecurities are. Even compared to you, someone who has not enjoyed anywhere near the same amount of education and preparation that $rname has, $rthey still doesn’t feel good enough. $crthey truly fears that $rthey will let you down. [[Continue|12.27pra]]<<if visited("12.26prb") is 1>><<if $rpoints gte 17>><<set $rrelationship to 'high'>><<else>><<set $rrelationship to 'low'>><</if>><</if>>Finally, $rname meets your gaze, $rtheir impassive features moving with surprise as $rtheir brows arch and eyes widen, as if you said something unexpected. “I mean it,” you stress when $rname remains silent. “I won’t insist for you to speak of it if you do not wish to, I only need you to know that we are in this together. Your burdens are my burdens.” $rname looks down at the hands $rthey has folded on $rtheir lap, a moment of hesitation in the glance $rthey casts you from the corners of $rtheir eyes. “Yours are many times the weight of mine.” “By what measure?” You reach over, clasping one of $rname’s hands in yours. “A Crown cannot do without their Sorcerer. Without you, I would have been overwhelmed by my new responsibilities, and Arsur would have been worse off for it.” <<if visited("9.20a") is 1>>“Have my failures not made things worse, all the same?” $rname looks down at $rtheir lap, where $rthey begins to fiddle with the decorative coins hanging from $rtheir belt. “I could not even be trusted to handle the nobles during your first official court meeting.” It takes a moment for you to remember what $rthey speaks of. When one of the officials was trying to make an issue of court procedure to undermine $rname’s authority, you intervened on $rname’s behalf instead of letting $rthem handle it on $rtheir own. You thought you were doing $rname a favor, though it was also true that you did it out of concern that $rname would not be able to maintain $rtheir composure. Now you understand that you have hurt $rname more than you have helped $rthem because of it. “I was wrong to do that,” you say, drawing another wide-eyed look from $rname. “I wanted to protect you, but instead, I only made you doubt yourself. I’m sorry.” “You need not apologize for that,” $rname rushes to say, squeezing your hand back. “You were right to—” “No, I wasn’t.” You look $rname back in the eyes. “You are my friend, the dearest friend I’ve ever had. I should have placed my faith in you, and I will, from now on.”<<else>>“Have my failures not made things worse, all the same?” $rname looks down at $rtheir lap, where $rthey begins to fiddle with the decorative coins hanging from $rtheir belt. “I thought myself clever enough to study the Void, yet I failed even in that. All I ended up accomplishing was to leave you to deal with the court on your own while I was forced to recover from the consequences of my own hubris.” “It was not hubris that moved you to do that,” you say with certainty, because you know $rname well enough to recognize when $rthey is punishing $rthemselves. “You wanted to help solve the mystery, and so you did what any magus in your position as Sorcerer would have done. Are you truly going to fault yourself for needing a couple days to recover from it?” $rname squeezes your hand back, finally lifting $rtheir gaze to look you in the eyes. “Days that I spent away from your side, when you needed me there.” “And how many years did I make you shoulder the burden of looking for me,” you reply, “while I shirked in my duty as Ferzan’s successor? When <em>you</em> needed <em>me</em>.”<</if>> The grey of $rname’s eyes crack with something brittle, a smile touching carefully across $rtheir lips. “You’re too kind to me, $name.” “Not nearly as kind as I should have been,” you say, shifting your fingers to twine them between $rname’s.<<if $res gt $flirt>> It is an act that would have made you shy at any other time, but it isn’t about any romantic intentions now: $rname needs the comfort.<<else>>It is an act that would have carried more romantic motives any other time, but it isn’t about flirtation now: $rname needs the comfort.<</if>> “Not nearly as kind as you deserve.” $rname looks back at you for a long moment, conflict visible in the wrinkle between $rtheir brows. $crtheir hand grips yours tight, and $rthey takes a breath as if to gather $rtheir courage before $rthey finally speaks. “Whenever I…” $crthey almost falters, gaze flitting down to your linked hands, seeming to draw enough strength from it to continue. “Whenever I try to remember what happened after the Void took hold of me, there is this sense of overwhelming, paralyzing dread. As if my own mind were trying to keep me from recalling it. I try to let it go, I really do, but it keeps eating away at me. The not knowing.” $crthey looks up at you again, $rtheir eyes searching yours. “Why am I so afraid of something I cannot remember? Where is this fear coming from?” You remember, when you shared in $rtheir memories at the water temple, that you told $rname to let it go. Perhaps that was the wrong thing to say, only further tangling $rname up in $rtheir unresolved feelings rather than releasing $rthem from it liked you hoped. “I think you need time,” you consider, frowning at the thought that you might have led $rname down this path. “It’s still so fresh. If you truly wish to unravel it all, then I’m certain the water spirits and head priest Afrîn could help you with it.” $rname exhales a sigh, some of the tension draining from $rtheir shoulders. “You’re right. I’m glad you don’t think it foolish of me to linger on it.” “Of course not.” This time, you’re the one to avert your gaze. “Forgive me, $rname. I thought telling you to let it go would help you. If I’d known…” “I don’t blame you for it,” $rname says, always quick to reassure you when $rthey is so hard on $rthemselves. “You were trying to help. Neither of us knew it would end up this way.” [[Continue|12.27pra]] Your heart pounds against your chest at the glimpse $dthey offers you, standing closer than is appropriate, gazing at you in a manner so terribly affected that you wonder how $dthey has managed to hide it at all. How is it that the entirety of Marabad does not know, when the way $dthey looks at you is so bare, so loud, so inescapable? “$dname, we…” You shift closer, foot sliding half a step forward on the carpet, but then halt when $dname’s brows furrow. You must move carefully, speak carefully, so as to not shatter this moment. “I know you have your reservations about any perceived closeness between us, but I did not think that would mean you would guard yourself from me like this, even in private. Are we not still friends, if nothing else?” $dname lingers in silence for longer than you expect, the weight of $dtheir dark gaze heavy on you until $dthey eventually asks, “You consider me a friend?” “Do you not?” $cdthey does not answer, $dtheir eyes lowering, and the rejection stings worse than you expected it would. Your expression tenses, letting slip a glimpse of your pain and disappointment. “All I want is for you to not treat me like a stranger. I thought we… I don’t know. Never mind. I suppose it’s not up to me.” $dname looks up at you again. When $dthey sees the look on your face, $dtheir mouth twists and $dtheir jaw clenches. Then, $dtheir hand lifts. You freeze, your eyes widening in shock as the tips of $dtheir fingers skim across the line of your jaw, the feather-light touch drawing a strained exhale from your lips. With the simplest of gestures, $dname leaves you reeling, as if the earth has fallen away from beneath your feet. “I do not mean to hurt you,” $dthey speaks, remorse softening $dtheir voice. “I only wish to protect you. It is better for you if I… if <em>we</em> did not—” You lean into $dtheir touch, desperate to have something to hold onto, your own hand reaching up to curl lightly around $dname’s wrist. $dname falls silent, watching you with complete and utter fixation. Do you dare to chase this further, even with all the risk involved for both of you? <ul class="a"> <li><<if $pass gt $ass>><<if $dgender is 'male'>>[[Place your cheek against his hand.|12.28da][$dpoints to $dpoints + 2]]<<else>>[[Place your cheek against her hand.|12.28da][$dpoints to $dpoints + 2]]<</if>><<else>><<if $dgender is 'male'>>[[Place his hand against your cheek.|12.28da][$dpoints to $dpoints + 2]]<<else>>[[Place her hand against your cheek.|12.28da][$dpoints to $dpoints + 2]]<</if>><</if>></li> <li>[[Pull away.|12.28db][$dpoints to $dpoints - 2]]</li></ul><<if visited("12.28da") is 1>><<if $dpoints gte 17>><<set $drelationship to 'high'>><<else>><<set $drelationship to 'low'>><</if>><</if>>You don’t know what comes over you. Maybe your patience is at an end, or maybe you’re overcome with a momentary bout of madness that spurs you on, forgetting all the dangers involved and selfishly indulging in the one thing that has been denied you utterly since you became the Crown. <<if $pass gt $ass>>Whatever your reasons, you angle your head down to fit your cheek against $dname’s palm,<<else>>Whatever your reasons, you tug $dname’s hand up from your jaw to fit $dtheir palm against your cheek,<</if>> warm and callused skin against yours, and you watch as the look in $dname’s eyes burns with something new. $cdthey does not pull away, $dthey does not protest, $dthey does not demand to know what you are doing. Instead, $dtheir thumb moves ever so gently across your cheek—and then $dtheir other hand lifts as well. Your heart pounds so loudly you are certain the sound must fill the room as $dname cups your face, holding you with such an achingly soft touch, as if $dthey were afraid you might shatter. Or perhaps that this moment might shatter. You dare not speak. Instead, your eyes flutter shut, knowing that this is but the briefest glimpse of something you will never have. At any moment, $dname will decide to pull away, and you will be left disappointed and frustrated once more. Your skin will feel cold, and you will excuse yourself with guilt and embarrassment, returning to your own chambers in defeat. Only, that moment never comes. Instead, you feel a touch of something against your forehead. Your eyes fly open, and your breath catches when you find $dname so much closer with $dtheir own eyes shut, leaning $dtheir forehead against yours. You can count every eyelash, feel every breath $dthey exhales through $dtheir lips against your own mouth. Your fingers squeeze into $dname’s wrist, your other hand reaching up to grasp at $dtheir shoulder. At first, simply to have something to hold onto, but then your hand seems to gain a will of its own. It slips around $dname’s shoulder and brushes over the back of $dtheir neck, the tips of your fingers trailing over $dname’s scar. $dname tenses, $dtheir eyes opening to meet yours, filling your vision with an intensely dark brown as you feel the way a shiver ripples down $dtheir spine, against your hand. No unwanted sharing of memories occurs this time, no doubt the wards of $dtheir armor preventing it—you realize $dthey is still wearing it. Was it an attempt to protect $dthemselves from you? “Don’t,” $dthey whispers, $dtheir voice rough, and yet here $dthey is offering $dthemselves to you. “Don’t what?” you ask, even while you fear the answer. $dname closes $dtheir eyes again, almost as if in prayer. “Don’t lead me astray.” Your mind is overwhelmed with all the possible meanings in that phrase, your thoughts unable to gain a foothold with $dname so near, holding you so gently, <em>pleading</em> with you for something you don’t even wholly understand. “$dname—” Whatever you mean to ask never leaves your lips, as the sound of a knock cuts through the words, and mercilessly wakes you both from this fleeting dream. [[Continue.|12.29da]]$dname releases you and pulls away from you so quickly that within the blink of an eye you find $dthem halfway to the other side of the room already. $cdthey turns $dtheir back to you, $dtheir shoulders moving with the inhale $dthey sucks in, trying to regain $dtheir composure. This would be the moment where you ought to feel like a fool, but you don’t. Nothing in the world could make you regret sharing that moment. You remain silent, waiting for your pounding heart to calm down, and $dname recovers quicker than you do. $cdthey straightens, turning towards the door. “Who is it?” A muffled voice replies. “Ziryan, one of the Imperial Guards.” You frown, knowing that they would not have intruded if it wasn’t important. Glancing over at $dname, something within your chest twinges with an ache when you see the stoic expression on $dtheir face. “Enter.” The door opens and Ziryan steps in with their head bowed a moment later, peeking from $dname to you with an apologetic look from beneath their helmet. “I take it you have an important reason for coming to see me,” you note, recalling that you warned your guards not to disturb you unless it concerned an emergency. Something must have happened. “Yes, Your Imperial Majesty.” They glance from you back to $dname, then back to you again. “It regards Keeper Bazo.” It takes you a moment to remember who that is. “You mean from Şevan? The one who did not show up for my coronation? Don’t tell me…” Ziryan inclines their head. “He has arrived at the palace, and is asking for an audience.” [[End Chapter|13.0]] You could scream out of frustration. $dname does not look any less vexed, $dtheir eyes darkening as $dthey casts $dtheir attention to the door with simmering ire. Somehow, $dthey manages to maintain some semblance of composure as $dthey calls in sharply, “Who is it?” A muffled voice replies. “Ziryan, one of the Imperial Guards.” You frown, some of your anger falling away as you know that they would not have intruded if it wasn’t important. Glancing over at $dname, something within your chest twinges with an ache when you see the stoic expression on $dtheir face. “Enter.” The door opens and Ziryan steps in with their head bowed a moment later, peeking from $dname to you with an apologetic look from beneath their helmet. “I take it you have an important reason for coming to see me,” you note, recalling that you warned your guards not to disturb you unless it concerned an emergency. Something must have happened. “Yes, Your Imperial Majesty.” They glance from you back to $dname, then back to you again. “It regards Keeper Bazo.” It takes you a moment to remember who that is. “You mean from Şevan? The one who did not show up for my coronation? Don’t tell me…” Ziryan inclines their head. “He has arrived at the palace, and is asking for an audience.” [[End Chapter|13.0]] Before your conversation can continue, another knock sounds on your door. This time, one you aren’t expecting. Exchanging a look with $rname, you call out, “Who is it?” “Ziryan, Your Imperial Majesty.” You frown. One of your guards would not disturb you without a good reason for it. “Come in.” The door opens and Ziryan steps in with their head bowed a moment later, peeking from $rname to you with an apologetic look from beneath their helmet. “I take it you have an important reason for coming to see me,” you note, recalling that you warned your guards not to disturb you unless it concerned an emergency. Something must have happened. “Yes, Your Imperial Majesty.” They glance from you back to $rname, then back to you again. “It regards Keeper Bazo.” It takes you a moment to remember who that is. “You mean from Şevan? The one who did not show up for my coronation? Don’t tell me…” Ziryan inclines their head. “He has arrived at the palace, and is asking for an audience.” [[End Chapter|13.1]]“Come in,” you call, and when the door opens, it is $rname who appears to step inside. Not that you’re particularly surprised, as $rthey knows your schedule by heart. More importantly, you finally have some more time alone with $rthem now, and you mean to take full advantage of it. Something seems different about $rname’s demeanor this time, however, as $rthey timidly steps inside and closes the door behind $rthem. Only briefly glancing at you, then looking away again. “$rname?” $crthey all but jumps when you address $rthem. “Yes?” You look $rthem over, but other than the odd behavior, nothing else seems amiss. “Is something wrong?” “No.” $crthey still avoids looking directly at you, brushing a wayward lock of hair behind $rtheir ear. “How-how were your classes?” Is $rthey not going to ask about <<if $peritrader is false>>Eshkar<<else>>Kham<</if>>? Your brows begin to lift up your forehead as you watch $rname approach, $rtheir posture stiff as $rthey sits down beside you on one of the pillows. $crthey appears flustered and distracted, $rtheir mind seeming elsewhere. As you look more closely at $rtheir face, you notice that the skin around $rtheir cheeks seems darker. “Are you blushing?” you ask before you can think twice about it, surprised to see $rname in such a state, which only seems to frazzle $rthem even more. “I… you…” $crthey sputters in search of words, verbally flailing for a moment before $rthey buries $rtheir face in $rtheir hands, taking a deep breath. Finally, it clicks. “This is because of what I said before, isn’t it?” <<if $res gt $flirt>>Now you feel a similar warmth rising to your own face, remembering the chaste kiss on the cheek and the less than chaste promise you made $rthem after.<<else>>You remember the chaste kiss on the cheek and the less than chaste promise you made $rthem after.<</if>> Though, you cannot quite tell whether $rname is simply being shy about it, or is uncomfortable now because of it. [[Continue|12.26prh]]“It’s not because of you,” $rname is quick to interject, hastily reassuring you. “Well, perhaps it’s a <em>little</em> because of you. But it’s more about…” You wait patiently for $rname to work through $rtheir thoughts and gather $rtheir composure, only hoping that you didn’t make a misstep without even realizing. “It’s the Imperial Guards,” $rname finally says, and it is entirely unexpected. “I know we have more important things to discuss, but I kept thinking about it while walking here. I could hardly focus on anything else.” You stare at $rthem, uncertain of what to make of this. “What is it that bothers you about the guards?” “It’s just…” $crthey makes a vague hand gesture. “That they’re there! Invisibly, sure, but—” “You don’t like them watching you?” You try to piece the puzzle together. “But you never seem to have minded before.” $rname finally meets your eyes, $rtheir face still flushed, and frowns at you with accusation. “I didn’t want to kiss you before.” Your mouth opens, then closes without a sound, your heart leaping up in your chest. <<if $flirt gt $res>>Now you know for certain: $rname is trying to kill you intentionally with how endearing $rtheir reactions are<<else>>One of these days $rname is going to kill you, entirely unintentionally<</if>>. $crthey looks away again, continuing to bemoan the guards. “I don’t like the idea of being watched when I’m with you, or of them knowing what’s going on, or… I don’t know! I’ve had relationships with others in the past, but the guards being there never made me feel uneasy until now.” <<if $res gt $flirt>>You clear your throat, shifting a little in your seat as you recall the kisses you’ve shared before<<else>>You consider $rthem with thought, recalling the kisses you’ve shared before.<</if>> “What about back in the water temple?” $rname dares a look at you. “What happened then was- let’s say, unexpected. I wasn’t exactly in the right state of mind to think about the guards at the time.” “Does it have something to do with me being the Crown?” you suggest, and after a moment of contemplation, $rname shakes $rtheir head. “No, it’s not that.” $crtheir gaze lowers to the table. “I think, maybe, something about you is just…” You have to resist every impulse in your body to press $rthem for an answer, trying to distract yourself from your anticipation by watching $rname instead. Trailing your eyes over the slight wrinkle between $rtheir brows as $rthey thinks, and the pretty angle of the side of $rtheir face— $rname draws a deep breath, and with $rtheir eyes still aimed to the table, $rthey confesses, “I think it’s because… something about you makes me want to keep you all to myself.” [[Continue|12.27prh]]<<if $res gt $flirt>>It’s almost impressive how such simple, straightforward words can make you flush all over, the blush that lingers on $rname’s cheeks doubtlessly nothing compared to the one you feel crawling over your own skin like creeping vines. “That is so unfair,” is all you manage to say, entirely disarmed by $rname. You mean to say that it is unfair how easily $rthey affects you, but $rname takes it in a different way. $crthey looks at you, struggling through $rtheir own shyness as $rtheir gaze touches you softly. “<em>You’re</em> unfair. After what you said about… after you promised me more, I’ve hardly been able to think of anything else. I can’t even keep my head on straight long enough to consider your <<if $peritrader is false>>encounter with Eshkar<<else>>meeting with Kham<</if>>. Even the court officials noticed how distracted I—” $rname stops talking when $rthey notices your hand lifting to $rtheir face, and that’s when you notice it too. When did you start to reach out for $rthem? You don’t know, but neither do you want to stop. Heart beating in your mouth and the tips of your fingers shaking slightly as you caress $rname’s cheek, soft against your hand, you say, “I did promise you more.”<<else>>It’s almost impressive how such simple, straightforward words can make you dizzy with the desire to touch $rthem, to kiss $rthem, to spoil $rthem with attention and affection. As if $rthey crooked a single finger at you and you did not hesitate to obey, beckoned closer in a trance. “That is so unfair,” is all you manage to say, entirely disarmed by $rname. You mean to say that it is unfair how easily $rthey affects you, but $rname takes it in a different way. $crthey looks at you, struggling through $rtheir shyness as $rtheir gaze touches you softly. “<em>You’re</em> unfair. After what you said about… after you promised me more, I’ve hardly been able to think of anything else. I can’t even keep my head on straight long enough to consider your <<if $peritrader is false>>encounter with Eshkar<<else>>meeting with Kham<</if>>. Even the court officials noticed how distracted I—” $rname stops talking when $rthey notices your hand lifting to $rtheir face, but $rthey’ll have to forgive you for the interruption, because you couldn’t possibly resist. Not with how earnest $rthey is being, somehow even more seductive than if $rthey had put in the effort to charm you. Heart beating in your mouth and the tips of your fingers gently caressing $rname’s cheek, soft against your hand, you say, “I did promise you more, didn’t I?”<</if>> This time, $rname has no space to look away from you. $crthey appears as caught in your orbit as you are in $rtheirs, eyes wide and bright in the candlelight of your room. “Guards,” you call out without looking away from $rname, half-distracted. “Put up the wards to my room.” A dim fizzle of magic is all the notice you get that you have been listened to, granting you complete privacy with $rname. <<if $pass gt $ass>>You cast a swift glance towards the doors, just to ensure that you see the glow along the walls—and you do find it there—indicating that the wards have taken hold. When you look back at $rname, you find $rthem leaning in.<<else>>Watching $rthem for a moment longer, you give $rthem the chance to pull away or change $rtheir mind. Yet, $rthey remains in your hold, watching you with undisguised anticipation. There is no more reason to withhold, and so you lean in.<</if>> [[Continue|12.28prh]] When your lips meet at first, it feels as if a spark travels from $rname’s to yours, shuddering through your whole body as your magic reacts at the softest touch between your mouths. It nearly has you breaking apart from $rname in surprise, but then you feel $rtheir hands grip your shoulders, fingers digging into your clothes. Taking a brief breath through your nose, you steady yourself and lean into the sensation instead, letting your own magic rise together with your body heat as you kiss $rname gently, exploringly. The slide of your lips against $rtheirs is a much more intimate exchange than you could have imagined: $rname makes a sound of surprise when $rthey feels the sun swell from your skin, warming the very air around you. As if in response, the energetic surge of $rtheir own magic flares even brighter, and the flashes of it in the air burn through even your eyelids. Your hand that you held against $rname’s face cups $rtheir cheek more firmly, while your other hand settles against $rtheir waist, perhaps holding onto $rthem more tightly than you intended—you want to draw out more, want to feel what it’s like to have your magic meld together. $rname’s lips part from yours for the briefest of moments to inhale through $rtheir mouth, seeming almost overwhelmed. You scrape enough of your mind together to try and speak. “$rname, are you—” $crthey does not let you ask $rthem if $rthey’s alright, leaning in to kiss you again. More firmly, more <em>urgently</em>, tugging at your garments to pull you in. Not that $rthey needed to. You go willingly, humming with pleasure against $rtheir lips as more sparks ripple through your mouth, the light in the room growing with intensity and heat. How are either of you supposed to stop? The answer finds you much sooner than you wanted it to, in the form of a knock on your door. The sound cuts through, though both you and $rname ignore it at first as $rtheir grip on you tightens and you squeeze $rtheir waist in turn. A second knock insists. When the both of you finally part, you’re so dazed that you don’t even notice the flickers of magic that fill the air at first, too busy staring at $rname and $rtheir kiss-swollen lips, $rtheir eyes still closed. $crthey looks so beautiful— A third knock. You blink, finally taking note of the magic drenching the air around you. Wisps of both golden and silver light mingling between ripples of lightning, reminding you of the night sky as you recall that both your affinities are celestial in nature. Yours to the sun, while $rname’s reminds you of the stars. When $rname finally opens $rtheir eyes, $rthey looks at you and smiles, fondness brimming from $rtheir eyes. A fourth knock. You sigh, exasperated, while $rname lets out a chuckle. [[Continue|12.29prh]] As you and $rname’s combined magic begins to fade from the air, you finally turn your attention to the door. “Who is it?” “Ziryan, Your Imperial Majesty.” You frown. One of your guards would not disturb you without a good reason for it. “Come in.” The door opens and Ziryan steps in with their head bowed a moment later, peeking from $rname to you with an apologetic look from beneath their helmet. “I take it you have an important reason for coming to see me,” you note, recalling that you warned your guards not to disturb you unless it concerned an emergency. Something must have happened. “Yes, Your Imperial Majesty.” They glance from you back to $rname, then back to you again. “It regards Keeper Bazo.” It takes you a moment to remember who that is. “You mean from Şevan? The one who did not show up for my coronation? Don’t tell me…” Ziryan inclines their head. “He has arrived at the palace, and is asking for an audience.” [[End Chapter|13.0]]$aname’s brows lift slightly, amusement lining $atheir mouth. “Easy there, Your Majesty. You’ll burn your entire room to cinders if you let your magic slip.” You inhale slowly, trying to calm the burn that threatens to ignite <<if $magicpref is 'inner'>>from your body<<else>>the air around you<</if>>. “And whose fault is that?” “Surely not mine.” $aname smirks. “All I’m doing is holding your hand. That can’t possibly be enough to fluster you, can it?” <<if $flirt gt $res>>This must be payback for all the times <em>you</em> have flustered <em>$athem</em><<else>>As accusatory as your eyes are in their glare, it is halfhearted at best<</if>>. “Did you come here solely to tease me, Your Highness?” That gets a little laugh out of $aname, and $athey shakes $atheir head. “I did have a purpose in visiting, actually.” <<if $flirt gt $res>>Seeing your opportunity to tease $athem back, you say, “Not that you need a purpose to see me, no? Since being with me is reward enough.” $cathey levels you with an unimpressed look, though $athey squeezes your hand at the same time. “Cute. Now pay attention, I want to show you something.”<<else>>Your curiosity is piqued. “Oh?” “Not that I need one to see you,” $aname replies smoothly, squeezing your hand. “Spending time with you is enough of a reason.” “$aname,” you protest, feeling your face glow with a flood of warmth, and $athey grins at you. “Fine, I’ll stop.”<</if>> $cathey reaches behind $atheir back, to one of the pouches attached to $atheir belt. From it, $athey retrieves something, though you are more interested in admiring the way the candlelight caresses $atheir skin. “Here,” $athey says, and you hear something sliding over the table, finally tearing your attention away from $aname’s pretty face long enough to look at the book $athey has brought with $athem. It is leather-bound in dark red, small and unassuming. You pick it up with curiosity, and the moment you touch its contents, a ripple of magic shudders up your fingers. It startles you enough that you pull your other hand from $aname’s grip, surprised at the backlash, though it did not hurt. “What is it?” you ask, hesitating to touch it again until you know. “One of my old journals.” Your eyes widen in surprise and confusion both. “Isn’t that rather personal? Why are you giving it to me?” “Open it and you’ll see.” $aname seems unbothered, merely watching you with expectation. Looking back down at the journal, you carefully touch it again, this time ready for the hum of magic that greets you. It tingles in your fingertips as you open the book onto the first page, and are greeted not by words written in ink, but rows upon rows of sigils. The book is warded. The only thing written in Arsurian is the phrase at the very top of the page, denoting the date and a location: <em>550 AE, 5 Light — Home, beach</em>. Three years ago, back in $aname’s hometown? Intrigued, you brush your fingers over the sigils, intending to feel out its magic, but as soon as you touch the page, you are overwhelmed by flashes of light. [[Continue|12.27a]] The view of your bedroom falls away, momentarily replaced by an endless horizon of water stretching out before you, the sun shining bright overhead. Somehow, you feel warm sand beneath your feet, between toes. The sound of seagulls crying out echoes in your ears, piercing through the rhythmic noise of the waves crashing upon the shore, and you watch the waves with awe. Even the scent of the sea is there: salty and fresh, just as lifelike as the light warming your skin. In the far distance, you see something breach the surface of the water. From where you stand, it looks small, but you know that if it were near it would be a towering creature. You watch it leap into the air and then dive back down, its long body following after it with an elegant arch. A sea serpent. “What is—?” The vision snaps away as suddenly as it came, leaving you disoriented as you find yourself back in your bedroom. Looking down, you realize you moved your hand off the page, which must have broken the imagery. “This journal contains moments from my journeys I wanted to capture, so I could revisit them later,” $aname explains, and you drag your eyes back up at $athem to find $athem smiling at you. “That one is one of my favorites.” “It’s wonderful.” You say it sincerely, glancing back at the book with admiration and curiosity. “I have seen the sea a couple of times from a distance, but I have never been on a beach before.” “I thought you might appreciate it, what with having spent your whole life in Rojan.” You did not expect that $athey would have thought of such a thing—<em>you</em> did not even think of it, having never had the opportunity to consider leaving Rojan for another province. Why bother wondering about something you would never be able to witness, after all? Yet, $aname’s thoughtfulness both touches you and awakens a newfound curiosity within you, eager to experience the same sights and sounds that $athey has. “Thank you, $aname.” You wish you could do more than simply express your gratitude in words. “This is such a kind gift.” “I’m pleased you like it.” $aname shifts to sit a little closer to you, and your eyes follow $athem with wonder—<<if $pass gt $ass>>the thought that you might return the kiss that $athey pressed to your forehead earlier occurs to you, but you don’t know if you’re brave enough to dare it<<else>>the thought that you might return the kiss that $athey pressed to your forehead earlier occurs to you, but the moment has to be right for it<</if>>. “We can explore it together, if you want.” “How?” $cathey takes your hand in $atheirs once more, then guides it back to the page. The moment you both touch it, the vision of the beach returns to you in a burst of color. This time, $aname is beside you. [[Continue|12.28a]] You inhale a sharp breath as $athey intertwines $atheir fingers between yours, your eyes locked to $atheirs as the crashing waves resounds through your ears once more. But the sea is merely a glimpse in the corner of your eyes, as their focus is how radiant $aname looks in the sunlight. There is fondness in $atheir gaze, sharing this moment—this precious memory—with you freely and openly. How could you have ever thought of $athem as being aloof, when $athey has such a generous heart? “Don’t let go of my hand,” $athey warns you, “or the ward will cast us out again.” You nod, holding onto $atheir fingers a little more tightly, and $aname exhales an amused breath. $cathey is the one who has to tug you along as $athey approaches the edge of the foamy water rolling up and then back across the sand, else you would be standing there and admiring $athem still. “This feels so real,” you muse, amazed when you notice you’re not wearing shoes as you walk over the sand, and neither is $aname. That must have been part of the memory. When the water touches your toes, it feels cold, making you quickly step back with a shudder. “Learning the wards for this wasn’t easy,” $aname admits as $athey lets the water wash over $atheir feet without even flinching. “But $rname helped a lot.” The two of you begin to walk along the beach, yet when you look south, away from the beach, all you see in the distance is a white void. It spreads across the horizon like a cloud, or perhaps a fog, faded at the edges where it meets the beach. “I meant it very literally when I said I captured moments,” $aname says when $athey notices you looking. “Anything outside of my field of vision will look like that. Blank.” As you look ahead, you notice that the length of the beach also has a limit, the fog creeping in where $aname’s eyes must not have reached. “Still, the beach alone is more than enough,” you insist, walking a little closer to $aname as you continue to marvel at the memory. You begin to notice some similarities: seagulls that fly in the same patterns, waves that look a little too identical to ones that came before. The amount of time that was captured must have also had a limit. You peer over at $aname, finding $atheir features relaxed and at ease as $athey strolls along side you, hand-in-hand. $cathey looks at the sea serpent breaching in the distance, and you look at $athem, until $atheir eyes return to you—like the tide returns to the sea. “Maybe, using these wards, I could show you some of my memories of Rojan sometime,” you suggest, the two of you coming to a gradual stop as you stand in the sand, facing each other. $aname raises a brow. “I could simply read your mind.” “Is that comparable to this?” “No,” $athey admits. “Not even close. It feels more like knowledge and information flooding my mind. This is much better.” $cathey hovers for a moment, but then something in $atheir gaze firms with resolve, and $athey steps closer to you. “I’d love to see Rojan through your eyes.” Your heart quickens in your chest as <<if $pass gt $ass>>$aname’s other hand reaches to grab your free one<<else>>you reach to grasp $aname’s other hand with your free one<</if>> as well, the space between you suddenly seeming to have grown so small. “And I’d love to show you. To<<if $res gt $flirt>>…” Your mouth feels dry. “To share it with you<<else>> share it with you<</if>>.” This time, it is $aname who glances at your lips as you speak, and your pulse stutters as you think: <em><<if $res gt $flirt>>Is $athey<<else>>Should I<</if>>—?</em> But then the sharp sound of a knock cracks against wood, and the vision splits apart. [[Continue|12.29a]] In the blink of an eye, you find yourself in your chambers once more, $aname having released both your hands. $cathey appears flustered as $athey briefly meets your eyes and then looks away, quickly closing $atheir journal shut. You avert your gaze the same, needing a moment to recover from what that moment between you almost turned to. “Who is it?” you call out, pretending not to notice the way $aname fidgets beside you, rubbing $atheir palms over $atheir knees. “Ziryan, Your Imperial Majesty.” You frown. One of your guards would not disturb you without a good reason for it. “Come in.” The door opens and Ziryan steps in with their head bowed a moment later, peeking from $aname to you with an apologetic look from beneath their helmet. “I take it you have an important reason for coming to see me,” you note, recalling that you warned your guards not to disturb you unless it concerned an emergency. Something must have happened. “Yes, Your Imperial Majesty.” They glance from you back to $aname, then back to you again. “It regards Keeper Bazo.” It takes you a moment to remember who that is. “You mean from Şevan? The one who did not show up for my coronation? Don’t tell me…” Ziryan inclines their head. “He has arrived at the palace, and is asking for an audience.” [[End Chapter|13.0]] A bloodstained letter found beneath General $dname's armor: <img @src="setup.ImagePath+'bloodstainsres.png'" id="dletter"/><img @src="setup.ImagePath+'bloodstainsresdark.png'" id="dletterdark"/> [[View in regular font|10.36dreg]] [[End Chapter|11.d1]] A bloodstained letter found beneath General $dname's armor: <img @src="setup.ImagePath+'bloodstainsflirt.png'" id="dletter"/><img @src="setup.ImagePath+'bloodstainsflirtdark.png'" id="dletterdark"/> [[View in regular font|10.36dreg]] [[End Chapter|11.d1]]“Come in,” you call, the door opening right after to reveal Ezo. You look at her in question. “Something you needed?” Her dark eyes peer back at you only a few moments before she averts them to the floor, brows furrowing. “It regards the fire in the city, Your Imperial Majesty.” You tense, shoulders locking up as you attempt to combat the reflexive shame that settles in your gut at the mere mention of that fiasco. “Yes?” She approaches the table where you sit, and only then do you notice the piece of papyrus held in her hand. Wordlessly, she extends it to you over the table, and you take it from her partway with curiosity, and partway with dread to what you might find. There are no numbers written on it, and you calm a little with relief: you feared you would find a count of the amount of people that were killed or injured. Instead, what you find are three names. <em>Aban Souna Mizna</em> At once, you realize whose names they are. Belonging to the three people your Imperial Guards and $aname rescued from that burning house, the one you abandoned in your rush to find $aname. You can still vividly recall the look of wide-eyed shock on one of the children, the way they trembled and shook, completely silent. “$rtitle $rname told me to give this to you,” Ezo says quietly. “$crthey said you might wish to know. They’re the names of the citizens that we rescued from that house the other day, during the fire.” $rname was right. “Thank you, Ezo.” You find it just as difficult to meet her eyes as she seems keen to avoid yours, though you wonder if her demeanor is because she feels the same guilt you do. But it should not be equal: <em>you</em> were the one to make the decision, and you bear the responsibility for it far more than she does. You take a breath, and finally look up at her, and your gaze draws hers up to yours as well. “I’ll make this right.” Something in Ezo’s posture seems to ease, relief flitting across her expression before it smooths over again and she inclines her head. “Your Imperial Majesty.” After she has excused herself and left your quarters, you rise from the low table, moving to the desk and the chair near the window instead. From the drawers, you retrieve some sheets of papyrus, a pot of ink, and a reed pen. It is time you take accountability. [[Continue|12.26pal]] Though, as you first put your pen to paper, you realize that is easier said than done. How do you even go about compensating someone for a mistake you have made? This kind of responsibility is new to you, especially one towards strangers—let alone strangers you have inadvertently harmed through your neglect. What can you offer them? Coin? A new house? Wouldn’t that make it seem as if you were trying to bribe them? You decide to start writing a first draft. It need not be perfect, but you should at least try to put something to paper. <<if $intel gt $intu and $blunt gt $charm>>@@.intelblunt;To Aban, Souna and Mizna, I write this letter to you with my deepest regrets for what happened…@@<</if>><<if $intel gt $intu and $charm gt $blunt>>@@.intelcharm;To Aban, Souna and Mizna, I write this letter to you with my deepest regrets for what happened…@@<</if>><<if $intu gt $intel and $blunt gt $charm>>@@.intublunt;To Aban, Souna and Mizna, I write this letter to you with my deepest regrets for what happened…@@<</if>><<if $intu gt $intel and $charm gt $blunt>>@@.intucharm;To Aban, Souna and Mizna, I write this letter to you with my deepest regrets for what happened…@@<</if>> You pause, reconsidering the words: “for what happened” sounds too impersonal, too distant. As if you were trying to avoid even mentioning it. Frowning, you put a line through it, and try again. <<if $intel gt $intu and $blunt gt $charm>>@@.intelblunt;I write this letter to you with my deepest regrets for how I have failed you as your Crown…@@<</if>><<if $intel gt $intu and $charm gt $blunt>>@@.intelcharm;I write this letter to you with my deepest regrets for how I have failed you as your Crown…@@<</if>><<if $intu gt $intel and $blunt gt $charm>>@@.intublunt;I write this letter to you with my deepest regrets for how I have failed you as your Crown…@@<</if>><<if $intu gt $intel and $charm gt $blunt>>@@.intucharm;I write this letter to you with my deepest regrets for how I have failed you as your Crown…@@<</if>> That sounds a little better. You continue writing in this way, filling up the page with ink. At least half the lines you pen onto the page end up being crossed out, while the rest are scattered smatterings of sentences vaguely beginning to take shape. You use both the front and back of the page, not wishing to waste the papyrus, and you become so caught up in writing out your apology that you do not even notice the way time passes. Several sheets of papyrus later, your fingers stained with ink, you think you’re finally getting somewhere. <<if $intel gt $intu and $blunt gt $charm>>@@.intelblunt;To Aban, Souna and Mizna, I write this letter to you with my deepest regrets for how I have failed you as your Crown. Yesterday, when the Half Moon District was set ablaze and you were trapped inside your home, I abandoned you to the flames. Where I should have done my due diligence in searching for you, I placed my own needs above that of yours, and caused you to come to harm because of it. Had I taken action earlier, you would have been spared much suffering, and that is a failure I shall carry upon my conscience always. While I write this letter to express to you my sincerest apologies, I do so without any expectations of understanding or forgiveness. You and the other victims of this disaster will be compensated for the loss of your homes, but that aside, I would like to…@@<</if>><<if $intel gt $intu and $charm gt $blunt>>@@.intelcharm;To Aban, Souna and Mizna, I write this letter to you with my deepest regrets for how I have failed you as your Crown. Yesterday, when the Half Moon District was set ablaze and you were trapped inside your home, I abandoned you to the flames. Where I should have done my due diligence in searching for you, I placed my own needs above that of yours, and caused you to come to harm because of it. Had I taken action earlier, you would have been spared much suffering, and that is a failure I shall carry upon my conscience always. While I write this letter to express to you my sincerest apologies, I do so without any expectations of understanding or forgiveness. You and the other victims of this disaster will be compensated for the loss of your homes, but that aside, I would like to……@@<</if>><<if $intu gt $intel and $blunt gt $charm>>@@.intublunt;To Aban, Souna and Mizna, I write this letter to you with my deepest regrets for how I have failed you as your Crown. Yesterday, when the Half Moon District was set ablaze and you were trapped inside your home, I abandoned you to the flames. Where I should have done my due diligence in searching for you, I placed my own needs above that of yours, and caused you to come to harm because of it. Had I taken action earlier, you would have been spared much suffering, and that is a failure I shall carry upon my conscience always. While I write this letter to express to you my sincerest apologies, I do so without any expectations of understanding or forgiveness. You and the other victims of this disaster will be compensated for the loss of your homes, but that aside, I would like to…@@<</if>><<if $intu gt $intel and $charm gt $blunt>>@@.intucharm;To Aban, Souna and Mizna, I write this letter to you with my deepest regrets for how I have failed you as your Crown. Yesterday, when the Half Moon District was set ablaze and you were trapped inside your home, I abandoned you to the flames. Where I should have done my due diligence in searching for you, I placed my own needs above that of yours, and caused you to come to harm because of it. Had I taken action earlier, you would have been spared much suffering, and that is a failure I shall carry upon my conscience always. While I write this letter to express to you my sincerest apologies, I do so without any expectations of understanding or forgiveness. You and the other victims of this disaster will be compensated for the loss of your homes, but that aside, I would like to…@@<</if>> @@.descriptive;[[View in regular font|2.26palreg]]@@ There, you hesitate, returning to your earlier dilemma. What could you offer them to make this better? <ul class="a"> <li>[[You offer them any amount of coin they ask for, to ensure they will be taken care of for the rest of their lives.|2.27apal]]</li> <li>[[You offer them the opportunity to ask you for any boon they want, and let them decide.|2.27bpal][$apoints to $apoints + 3]]</li></ul> Though, as you first put your pen to paper, you realize that is easier said than done. How do you even go about compensating someone for a mistake you have made? This kind of responsibility is new to you, especially one towards strangers—let alone strangers you have inadvertently harmed through your neglect. What can you offer them? Coin? A new house? Wouldn’t that make it seem as if you were trying to bribe them? You decide to start writing a first draft. It need not be perfect, but you should at least try to put something to paper. <em>To Aban, Souna and Mizna, I write this letter to you with my deepest regrets for what happened…</em> You pause, reconsidering the words: “for what happened” sounds too impersonal, too distant. As if you were trying to avoid even mentioning it. Frowning, you put a line through it, and try again. <em>I write this letter to you with my deepest regrets for how I have failed you as your Crown…</em> That sounds a little better. You continue writing in this way, filling up the page with ink. At least half the lines you pen onto the page end up being crossed out, while the rest are scattered smatterings of sentences vaguely beginning to take shape. You use both the front and back of the page, not wishing to waste the papyrus, and you become so caught up in writing out your apology that you do not even notice the way time passes. Several sheets of papyrus later, your fingers stained with ink, you think you’re finally getting somewhere. <em>To Aban, Souna and Mizna, I write this letter to you with my deepest regrets for how I have failed you as your Crown. Yesterday, when the Half Moon District was set ablaze and you were trapped inside your home, I abandoned you to the flames. Where I should have done my due diligence in searching for you, I placed my own needs above that of yours, and caused you to come to harm because of it. Had I taken action earlier, you would have been spared much suffering, and that is a failure I shall carry upon my conscience always. While I write this letter to express to you my sincerest apologies, I do so without any expectations of understanding or forgiveness. You and the other victims of this disaster will be compensated for the loss of your homes, but that aside, I would like to…</em> There, you hesitate, returning to your earlier dilemma. What could you offer them to make this better? <ul class="a"> <li>[[You offer them any amount of coin they ask for, to ensure they will be taken care of for the rest of their lives.|2.27apal][$apoints to $apoints - 2]]</li> <li>[[You offer them the opportunity to ask you for any boon they want, and let them decide.|2.27bpal][$apoints to $apoints + 2]]</li></ul><<if visited("2.27apal") is 1>><<if $apoints gte 17>><<set $arelationship to 'high'>><<else>><<set $arelationship to 'low'>><</if>><</if>>It seems like the most straightforward solution to you: you trust that they would not ask you for anything outrageous, and they will be able to decide how to best use it. Satisfied with your solution, you add the offer to your letter, though you end up ruminating on the exact wording for a while. With a proposition like that, you do run the risk of appearing as if you are attempting to buy the family off, so you have to be careful in your phrasing. As you ponder it, you are startled by the sound of another knock at your door. Looking up and over your shoulder, it feels as if you suddenly wake from a trance. A glance out the window tells you that you have been at it for quite a while: the moon has risen into the sky while you were writing. “Yes?” you call out, thinking it must be one of the guards or servants again. A muffled voice replies. “It’s me.” You recognize it all the same: it’s $aname. Clearing your throat and standing up from your chair, you suddenly feel slightly nervous. “Come in.” You can’t decide what to do with your ink-stained hands, so you end up folding them together in front of you, standing awkwardly by your desk. $aname opens the door and steps inside a moment later, and when $atheir gaze lifts to you, $atheir brows arch slightly. “Have I interrupted you?” $cathey glances down at the black stains on your fingers. “Not at all, I was almost done,” you hurry to speak, hopeful that $athem visiting your quarters like this is a good sign. $aname closes the door behind $athem and walks further into the room, looking away from you to your desk as $athey approaches it. “Were you studying?” You remain still, watching a little wide-eyed as $aname casts $atheir gaze over all the discarded drafts and half-finished letter spread out across its surface. “I was writing a letter, actually.” $aname leans over, taking a look at the letter, starting to read it out loud. “To…” $cathey drifts off, then falls silent. You almost hold your breath, awaiting $atheir judgment. It was never your intention to show it to $athem, but now you wonder if you could not ask $athem for advice—should $athey be willing to give it, at least. As $aname’s eyes trace across the lines you’ve written, a furrow forms between $atheir brows that you are not certain how to interpret. Finally, $athey hums. “You worked on this?” $athey says, lifting $atheir eyes to look at you. “By yourself?” “Yes.” You frown a little. “I might have hoped to ask for your opinion, but I would not have asked someone else to write it for me. That would defeat the purpose.” $aname gazes back down at your letter, silent for a while. What must be going through $atheir mind? It does not seem to be disapproval, or $athey would have voiced it already. If anything, $athey is clearly surprised you went to such lengths. No doubt $athey could not envision $atheir father ever doing the same. “It’s not bad,” $athey says at long last, and when $athey meets your eyes once more, the guarded look $athey has given you ever since the fire no longer remains. “It comes across as genuine, at least.” “It is genuine.” Your hands cling to each other in some search of stability, staring back into $aname’s eyes with as much openness as you can muster. $cathey regards you cautiously, but attentively. As much as you did not set out to write your letter with the purpose of gaining $aname’s approval, you realize now that you do want it. $cathey has been the one by your side almost every single day since you returned to Marabad as the Crown, and of all the people you have come to know since then, you feel it is $aname who knows you best. Who truly sees you for who you are. If $athey does not think you worthy, it would hurt you immeasurably. “I believe you,” $aname says, and it is as if a weight drops from your chest, allowing you to breathe freely again. “Would you like me to help you with the rest of this?” “Of course!” You smile in relief, and while $aname does not return it, $athey does hold your gaze and does not move away when you shift closer to return to your chair. It feels as if the wall that $athey raised between the two of you has come crumbling down again. “Any advice you can offer me—” Once again, someone knocks on your door. [[Continue|2.28pal]]<<if visited("2.27bpal") is 1>><<if $apoints gte 17>><<set $arelationship to 'high'>><<else>><<set $arelationship to 'low'>><</if>><</if>>Instead of making them an offer while guessing at what they would like most, would it not be better to let them decide on what they want? It seems a bit presumptuous to offer them compensation in the form of <em>your</em> choosing, especially if it is something as simple as a large sum of coin. Better to let the family tell you what they wish from you, and should it be in your power, you will grant it to them to the best of your ability. As you ponder it, you are startled by the sound of another knock at your door. Looking up and over your shoulder, it feels as if you suddenly wake from a trance. A glance out the window tells you that you have been at it for quite a while: the moon has risen into the sky while you were writing. “Yes?” you call out, thinking it must be one of the guards or servants again. A muffled voice replies. “It’s me.” You recognize it all the same: it’s $aname. Clearing your throat and standing up from your chair, you suddenly feel slightly nervous. “Come in.” You can’t decide what to do with your ink-stained hands, so you end up folding them together in front of you, standing awkwardly by your desk. $aname opens the door and steps inside a moment later, and when $atheir gaze lifts to you, $atheir brows arch slightly. “Have I interrupted you?” $cathey glances down at the black stains on your fingers. “Not at all, I was almost done,” you hurry to speak, hopeful that $athem visiting your quarters like this is a good sign. $aname closes the door behind $athem and walks further into the room, looking away from you to your desk as $athey approaches it. “Were you studying?” You remain still, watching a little wide-eyed as $aname casts $atheir gaze over all the discarded drafts and half-finished letter spread out across its surface. “I was writing a letter, actually.” $aname leans over, taking a look at the letter, starting to read it out loud. “To…” $cathey drifts off, then falls silent. You almost hold your breath, awaiting $atheir judgment. It was never your intention to show it to $athem, but now you wonder if you could not ask $athem for advice—should $athey be willing to give it, at least. As $aname’s eyes trace across the lines you’ve written, a furrow forms between $atheir brows that you are not certain how to interpret. Finally, $athey hums. “You worked on this?” $athey says, lifting $atheir eyes to look at you. “By yourself?” “Yes.” You frown a little. “I might have hoped to ask for your opinion, but I would not have asked someone else to write it for me. That would defeat the purpose.” $aname gazes back down at your letter, silent for a while. What must be going through $atheir mind? It does not seem to be disapproval, or $athey would have voiced it already. If anything, $athey is clearly surprised you went to such lengths. No doubt $athey could not envision $atheir father ever doing the same. “It’s a good letter,” $athey says at long last, and when $athey meets your eyes once more, the guarded look $athey has given you ever since the fire no longer remains. “It comes across as genuine, at least, and your offer is a thoughtful one.” “It is genuine.” Your hands cling to each other in some search of stability, staring back into $aname’s eyes with as much openness as you can muster. $cathey regards you cautiously, but attentively. As much as you did not set out to write your letter with the purpose of gaining $aname’s approval, you realize now that you do want it. $cathey has been the one by your side almost every single day since you returned to Marabad as the Crown, and of all the people you have come to know since then, you feel it is $aname who knows you best. Who truly sees you for who you are. If $athey does not think you worthy, it would hurt you immeasurably. “I believe you,” $aname says, and it is as if a weight drops from your chest, allowing you to breathe freely again. “Would you like me to help you with the rest of this?” “Of course!” You smile in relief, and to both your surprise and delight, $aname returns it with a faint one of $atheir own. $cathey remains standing by your chair as you return to sit on it, and you feel $atheir hand resting on the back of it, $atheir knuckles lightly pressing your back when you try to recline. Your skin warms with even such a small touch<<if $res gt $flirt>> as you quickly straighten again<</if>>, and you have to take a moment to refocus. “Any advice you can offer me—” Once again, someone knocks on your door. [[Continue|2.28pal]] You sigh, vexed to be interrupted after you just repaired your relationship with $aname. Reluctantly, you twist to the side on your chair to look at the door, $aname turning to face it as well. “Who is it?” you call. “Ziryan, Your Imperial Majesty.” You frown. One of your guards would not disturb you without a good reason for it. “Come in.” The door opens and Ziryan steps in with their head bowed a moment later, peeking from $aname to you with an apologetic look from beneath their helmet. “I take it you have an important reason for coming to see me,” you note, recalling that you warned your guards not to disturb you unless it concerned an emergency. Something must have happened. “Yes, Your Imperial Majesty.” They glance from you back to $aname, then back to you again. “It regards Keeper Bazo.” It takes you a moment to remember who that is. “You mean from Şevan? The one who did not show up for my coronation? Don’t tell me…” Ziryan inclines their head. “He has arrived at the palace, and is asking for an audience.” [[End Chapter|13.0]] Would you like to activate a personality cheat sheet? During the first 4 chapters, this will show you which choice will give you points with which specific personality trait in order to easily customize your Crown. It is recommended to play your first playthrough with the cheat sheet off. [[Continue without the cheat sheet.|0.1]] [[Activate the cheat sheet.|0.1][$cheatsheet to true]]<<set $progress to "13">><<unset $aspirits>><<if $bazo lt 0>><<set $bazocourt to 'condemned'>><</if>><<if $bazo is 0>><<set $bazocourt to 'wait'>><</if>><<if $bazo gt 0>><<set $bazocourt to 'forgiven'>><</if>><div id="13.1">@@.chaptertitleact1;CHAPTER THIRTEEN@@</div>@@.titleblack;The Weight@@ Your thoughts race as you walk down the hallway, following Ziryan to whichever room the guards have allowed Keeper Bazo into for the time being. <<if $rfriend is false>>$rname<</if>><<if $dfriend is false>>$dname<</if>><<if $afriend is false>>$aname<</if>><<if $xfriend is false>>$xname<</if>> went to alert the others of the keeper’s arrival, as you would very much like more counsel regarding what to do with Bazo now that he has appeared at your doorstep so unexpectedly. What does he want? That is the predominant question in your mind. If he was comfortable enough to miss out on your coronation, then something in Şevan must have changed. Perhaps for the better, allowing him to take time away to make the journey—or for the worse, and now he has come crawling to you to beg for your aid. You suppose you will find out which one it is shortly. On your way to the sitting room where Keeper Bazo awaits you, Keko and Ishrah join you. As you hoped, Keko has more to tell you about Bazo’s arrival. “He professes a desire to ask for your forgiveness regarding his absence at the coronation.” You glance over at Keko, but the old servant’s face gives nothing of his own thoughts away. “And, of course, he brings more news from Şevan. The stalemate there has drawn on, but the situation sounds precarious.” “The stewards of the major cities have positioned themselves as loyalists to the Empire,” you recount, having learned more of Şevan over the past couple weeks. “Though that begs the question why Bazo would slight the head of the Empire he claims to be aligned with.” “Bazo may have supposed you were nothing but a puppet installed to throne in order to stabilize the Empire, and not someone with any true power,” Keko considers. “Over the past ten years, he has relied on the Mîrs of the other provinces for support, rather than hoping for a Crown to appear. His visit now means he must have realized he miscalculated after <<if $law is 'outwitted'>>you replaced the Office of Law.<<else>>seeing the replacements you made at the Imperial Court.<</if>>” <<if $bazo gte 0>>“Could he be an ally?” You think back to how you handled his absence before. “<<if $bazo gt 0>>I was rather generous despite his insult<<else>>While I did not forgive him, neither did I condemn him for his insult<</if>>.”<<else>>“You say he has come begging to me for forgiveness,” you muse, “but I wonder if he would still have done so had I not condemned him. I am not sure he is trustworthy: he could be either an ally or an actor with his own agenda, and I mislike the lack of clarity.”<</if>> Rather than responding, Keko looks over at Ishrah. You follow his eyes, and Ishrah looks uncertain for a moment, as if being called upon by a teacher to answer a question. She meets your gaze with thought, and then offers, “<<if $bazo gte 0>>From his perspective, Keeper Bazo would think it wise to remain on your good side.<<else>>Whether he proves to be ally or not depends on whether you think he will be of use to you, my Crown.<</if>> He is not without his own leverage, however: he represents the stewards of Şevan, after all. It is something to keep in mind.” Keko appears pleased by her answer, and you catch the subtle nod he gives her. You would ask about the exchange, but you spot the door to the sitting room up ahead, two Imperial Guards posted beside it. “I suppose I’ll have to make my decision after speaking with him,” you murmur, more to yourself than to your servants as you approach the door. One of the guards opens it for you, and you step inside. [[Continue|13.2]] Inside, you find Keeper Bazo seated at a low table, though he is quick to stand when you appear, even with the wooden cane he uses to lean on. You recognize the similar style of his linen robes: light-colored beige wrappings around his head and draped down the sides, similar to what Tûjo wears, except the keeper does not conceal his face. He does not look at you, bowing as soon as he stands. “Your Imperial Majesty.” You remain on the other side of the table, watching him for a long moment while Ishrah and Keko take position along the edges of the room behind you. With the keeper bowing, however, you cannot make out his expression. “Lift your head.” Keeper Bazo does, gradually straightening again. His skin has a deep tan, looking rough and almost leathery in texture, with thin wisps of gray hair peeking out from under his headwrappings. “Why have you come here, keeper?” you ask, still remaining standing. Keeper Bazo blinks, eyes flitting away for a moment, before he slowly replies, “I am aware that I have insulted you gravely by—” “No.” You lift your palm to gesture for him to quiet as you interject. “I meant, why now? Were you unable to come before?” The keeper inclines his head slightly. “Indeed, Your Imperial Majesty. Matters in Şevan did not allow me to make such a long journey until now.” You weigh his words, then gesture for him to take a seat, keeping your eyes on his every move as you both lower yourself to the cushions. “Tell me about these matters you speak of. As far as I am aware, the stalemate has been holding for months now.” “Only due to the efforts of the council.” Keeper Bazo places his cane down again, the handle of it catching light that reflects over its silver. “I assume you are aware of the civil war that has brought our province low, Your Imperial Majesty?” “Of course.” You recall all that you have learned about it so far during your tutoring lessons. “There are various factions of nobles and former officials at the Mîr’s court fighting over Şevan’s place in the Empire. Some wish to stay, others wish to become independent, and some desire a compromise.” Bazo looks at you with thought. “As the Crown, you would be well within your rights to put to death all who call for Şevan to secede.” “And how would I accomplish that?” you pose. “By invading Şevan?” “It would not be an invasion—” “Do not take me for a fool, keeper.” You frown at him. “I know well that the people of Şevan consider themselves different from the rest of the Empire. Its history is unique, and centuries older than the kingdom of Ardia.” “I meant no offense, Your Imperial Majesty,” Bazo amends. “Nor would I ever suggest taking the Imperial Army into Şevan and going on a hunt. It would cause chaos and upheaval. What I was going to say was that it would not be an invasion if you ordered Şevan’s own army to do so.” You take a moment to consider the keeper’s words. “A clever way to circumvent accusations of tyranny, perhaps, but an act of aggression all the same. Is that what you are hoping for?” “My only hope is for the conflict to end sooner rather than later.” Bazo clears his throat before adding, “With as little bloodshed as possible.” “So you don’t think I should execute them?” You arch a brow. “Then why suggest it?” “Merely to know your thoughts on the matter, Your Imperial Majesty.” He inclines his head once more. “Forgive me if I have frustrated you with my ambiguity.” He’s trying to discover your intentions—perhaps in order to avoid positioning himself against you, or in order to be forewarned if he <em>does</em> plan on doing so. You cannot tell which. [[Continue|13.3]]“I am in no position to decide what should happen in Şevan as of yet,” you finally say. “I plan on making a pilgrimage to the Armas Mountains soon, in order to seek Şahmaran’s counsel. After that, however, Şevan will have my full attention.” Bazo bows his head. If the announcement of your pilgrimage is surprising to him, you cannot tell—not that he would be in a position to protest it either way. “As you say.” <<if $bazo lte 0>>“Now,” you continue, “if your curiosity has been sated, there is still the matter of your absence from my coronation.” Perhaps Bazo hoped that your conversation would have smoothed it all over, or at least diverted you from it, because you see his eyes widen slightly. “I would like to offer my sincerest apologies,” Bazo speaks, not meeting your eyes. <<if $bazo lt 0>>“You were well within your rights to censure me for shirking my duty in attending your coronation. I await your judgment.”<<else>>“You were most gracious in not censuring me publicly for my insult. Should you deem it necessary to punish me now, you would be justified in doing so.”<</if>> That surprises you a little: you almost expected an entire song and dance justifying why Bazo wasn’t able to show up. “You’re not going to defend yourself?” You watch him a few moments longer as Bazo lifts his head again, although he keeps his gaze aimed at the low table between the two of you. “I admit, the situation was dire,” Bazo replies, his phrasing careful. “There were attacks from rebellious factions on those loyal to the Empire: many were injured, a handful of people were killed. Regardless of my circumstances, however, my priority should have been to swear my fealty to our new Crown.” That certainly sheds light on why Bazo chose to remain. But what need would Şevan have had for their keeper in such a crisis? It would have been handled by the provincial army first and foremost, and attending your coronation to gain your support instead would have been a much smarter move. Still, it has been ten years since there was a Crown. People have grown accustomed to living without one: you could see how this would have been the case for Keeper Bazo and those in Şevan as well. What matters now is how you decide to handle this. Keko mentioned the stewards and Bazo himself are loyalists to the Empire. Fundamentally, they should be your allies, although your lack of knowledge on the situation on the ground still troubles you. As such, you still don’t know how much you can trust Bazo, regardless of how loyal he claims to be. You could certainly punish him instead—the question is whether that will make things in Şevan more difficult later on. On the other hand, punishing him could drive home that you are no mere puppet, and are owed due respect. <ul class="a"> <li>[[Accept Bazo’s apology: he and the stewards are too valuable as potential allies to upset.|13.4anotforgiven]]</li> <li>[[Punish Bazo by making him declare a formal apology to the public: a mild reprimand, purely symbolic but with a clear message.|13.4bnotforgiven]]</li> <li>[[Punish Bazo by imprisoning him in the dungeons for three days: you need to ensure he learns his lesson and takes you seriously.|13.4cnotforgiven][$bazostate to 'imprisoned']]</li></ul><<else>>“Now,” you continue, “if your curiosity has been sated, I wanted to return to the matter of your absence from my coronation.” This clearly takes the keeper aback, perhaps having been at ease due to the fact that you forgave him for it when it first happened. You see his eyes widen slightly right before he bows his head. “You were most gracious in forgiving my insult,” Bazo replies, recovering from his momentary surprise. It was less so grace and more so caution about throwing your weight around as the Crown on the very day of your coronation, especially what with having next to no knowledge about the situation in Şevan. Making potential enemies that early on in your reign struck you as a bad idea: giving the keeper the benefit of the doubt felt more prudent at the time. “What specific matters kept you from attending?” you ask, curious for the answer, and Bazo appears willing to give it. “There were a series of attacks on the capital by rebels who seek to secede from the Empire,” he informs you gravely. “Many were injured, a handful of citizens were killed. They targeted those loyal to Arsur.” That certainly sheds light on why Bazo chose to remain. But what need would Şevan have had for their Keeper in such a crisis? It would have been handled by the provincial army first and foremost, and attending your coronation to gain your support instead would have been a much smarter move. Still, it has been ten years since there was a Crown. People have grown accustomed to living without one: you could see how this would have been the case for Keeper Bazo and those in Şevan as well. You already forgave him for it, and you could leave it at that, or reconsider your judgment now that you have spoken to him. Keko mentioned the stewards and Bazo himself are loyalists to the Empire. Fundamentally, they should be your allies, although your lack of knowledge on the situation on the ground still troubles you. Bazo has been forthcoming with you so far, at least. Then again, you could still change your mind and punish him instead—the question is whether that will make things in Şevan more difficult later on, especially as you would be going back on your word of forgiving him earlier. <ul class="a"> <li>[[Move on from the matter and explore a potential alliance with Bazo and the stewards.|13.4aforgiven]]</li> <li>[[Change your mind and punish Bazo by making him declare a formal apology to the public: a mild reprimand, purely symbolic but with a clear message|13.4bforgiven]]</li> <li>[[Change your mind and punish Bazo by imprisoning him in the dungeons for three days: you need to ensure he learns his lesson and takes you seriously.|13.4cforgiven][$bazostate to 'betrayed']]</li></ul><</if>><<if visited('13.4anotforgiven') is 1>><<set $bazo += 2>><</if>>It seems unwise to upset the faction that is supposed to be on your side before you’ve even stepped foot in Şevan. Bazo and the stewards will undoubtedly have considerable influence in the province, and to anger them or alienate them would make things more difficult for you later on. “I appreciate your apology,” you say, <<if $intu gt $intel>>feeling a mild throbbing coming on between your temples as your head has been thoroughly overworked with all the thinking you’ve been doing. Bazo appearing at the very end of a day that was already this long was rather unfortunate timing.<<else>>your mind still filled with thoughts and considerations even at the end of what has already been a long day. You are naturally suited for such things, finding it almost more fun than it is tiring<</if>>. “My priority is to stabilize Şevan so that its citizens may live in peace again. I hope we can work together to make that a reality.” Bazo finally meets your eyes, and smiles for the first time as some of the tension in his posture eases. “I thank you for your mercy, Your Imperial Majesty. That would be my hope as well.” <<if $intu gt $intel>><<if $charm gt $blunt>>As eager as you are to retire to your chambers, however, simply cutting the conversation short and leaving immediately seems far too rude for someone you have decided is a guest. Using your usual charm, you look at Bazo with friendly interest.<<else>>As much as you’d love to cut the conversation short and leave immediately, you know you must move more carefully around Bazo. You force yourself to show an interest, even if it does feel like pulling teeth.<</if>><<else>>While you don’t feel tired yet, you do know it’s getting rather late, and you’ll need your energy for your court meeting tomorrow morning. <<if $charm gt $blunt>>Simply cutting the conversation short and leaving immediately seems far too rude for someone you have decided is a guest. Using your usual charm, you look at Bazo with friendly interest.<<else>>You can’t just cut the conversation short and tell him to leave, however, as much as you’d love to. Instead, you force yourself to show an interest, even if it does feel like pulling teeth.<</if>><</if>> “Do you have accommodations for the night?” “Indeed.” Bazo reaches for his cane—either he is as eager as you are to rest after his long journey, or he can tell you have tired of the meeting. “A friend in the city has been so kind as to allow me to stay at his estate. I do not intend to remain in Marabad for long, however: the plan is to depart the day after tomorrow.” He won’t be staying long enough to try and influence the Imperial Court, then, although a single day is plenty of time for some politicking nonetheless. You make note of it as you return a polite smile and rise to your feet. Bazo follows your example, rising more slowly as he leans on his cane. “Then I wish you a comfortable stay,” you say. A thought occurs to you as you look at Bazo: he mentioned staying at a friend’s estate, and it may be perfectly innocent, but what if this ‘friend’ is someone of political importance? Perhaps you’re being paranoid, but in your position, caution may be wise. If Bazo happens to be involved with someone hostile towards you, it’s better to know of that beforehand. Then again, sending someone with him may well be as good as declaring that you’re spying on him. It could antagonize him. <ul class="a"> <li>[[Let him go alone.|13.5anotforgiven][$bazostate to 'halftrust']]</li> <li>[[Send a servant with him to spy on him.|13.5bnotforgiven][$bazostate to 'fakehalftrust']]</li> <li>[[Send a guard with him to intimidate him.|13.5cnotforgiven][$bazostate to 'halfintimidation']]</li></ul><<if visited('13.4bnotforgiven') is 1>><<set $bazo -= 1>><</if>>While you don’t want to be too harsh on Bazo and risk making an enemy of him and his faction, you have your reputation as a Crown to think about. <<if $bazocourt is 'condemned'>>You already condemned him for his absence, but Bazo has yet to respond publicly: herein lies an opportunity for you to make an example of him, and illustrate that you are no meek ruler who will let others walk all over $them.<<else>>Having chosen to wait before making a decision, you now see an opportunity: you can make an example of him, and illustrate that you are no meek ruler who will let others walk all over $them.<</if>> “I do appreciate your apology,” you say, <<if $intu gt $intel>>feeling a mild throbbing coming on between your temples as your head has been thoroughly overworked with all the thinking you’ve been doing. Bazo appearing at the very end of a day that was already this long was rather unfortunate timing.<<else>>your mind still filled with thoughts and considerations even at the end of what has already been a long day. You are naturally suited for such things, finding it almost more fun than it is tiring<</if>>. “However, you understand that in my position, I must be careful with how I am perceived. If you truly wish to earn my forgiveness, then declare a public apology.” Bazo finally meets your eyes, and does not look surprised—or insulted—by your request. “Of course, Your Imperial Majesty. It is the very least I can do to prove my sincerity.” You can’t help but be relieved that the keeper has taken it so well. Then again, it’s hardly a great ask: more symbolic than anything else. “Then consider the matter resolved.” <<if $intu gt $intel>><<if $charm gt $blunt>>As eager as you are to retire to your chambers, however, simply cutting the conversation short and leaving immediately seems far too rude for someone you have decided is a guest. Using your usual charm, you look at Bazo with friendly interest.<<else>>As much as you’d love to cut the conversation short and leave immediately, you know you must move more carefully around Bazo. You force yourself to show an interest, even if it does feel like pulling teeth.<</if>><<else>>While you don’t feel tired yet, you do know it’s getting rather late, and you’ll need your energy for your court meeting tomorrow morning. <<if $charm gt $blunt>>Simply cutting the conversation short and leaving immediately seems far too rude for someone you have decided is a guest. Using your usual charm, you look at Bazo with friendly interest.<<else>>You can’t just cut the conversation short and tell him to leave, however, as much as you’d love to. Instead, you force yourself to show an interest, even if it does feel like pulling teeth.<</if>><</if>> “Do you have accommodations for the night?” you speak again after a short pause. “Indeed.” Bazo reaches for his cane—either he is as eager as you are to rest after his long journey, or he can tell you have tired of the meeting. “A friend in the city has been so kind as to allow me to stay at his estate. I do not intend to remain in Marabad for long, however: the plan is to depart the day after tomorrow.” He won’t be staying long enough to try and influence the Imperial Court, then, although a single day is plenty of time for some politicking nonetheless. You make note of it as you return a polite smile and rise to your feet. Bazo follows your example, rising more slowly as he leans on his cane. “Then I wish you a comfortable stay,” you say. A thought occurs to you as you look at Bazo: he mentioned staying at a friend’s estate, and it may be perfectly innocent, but what if this ‘friend’ is someone of political importance? Perhaps you’re being paranoid, but in your position, caution may be wise. If Bazo happens to be involved with someone hostile towards you, it’s better to know of that beforehand. Then again, sending someone with him may well be as good as declaring that you’re spying on him. It could antagonize him. <ul class="a"> <li>[[Let him go alone.|13.5anotforgiven][$bazostate to 'reprimandtrust']]</li> <li>[[Send a servant with him to spy on him.|13.5bnotforgiven][$bazostate to 'reprimandfaketrust']]</li> <li>[[Send a guard with him to intimidate him.|13.5cnotforgiven][$bazostate to 'reprimandintimidation']]</li></ul><<if visited('13.4cnotforgiven') is 1>><<set $bazo -= 4>><<set $nazapoints += 4>><</if>>You could certainly let the matter go, but thinking of it now, does it not make you seem rather meek for receiving Bazo a month later without addressing it at all? <<if $kind gt $calc>>While you do not enjoy thinking the worst of people, despite your innate instincts tending towards being charitable, in these circumstances you can no longer afford to soften your heart. Should anyone take advantage of you, they are taking advantage of the Crown of the Empire, not a nobody on the run. As such, you have to act decisively, and you cannot let anyone walk over you, even if their reasons are understandable.<<else>>Situations like these reawaken that tendency within you—perhaps innate, perhaps created through survival—to suspect ulterior motives. From your conversation so far, Bazo appears cautious of you at best, and deceptive at worst. Claiming that he and his faction are loyal to the Empire is all well and good, but it would be naive to think that translates to being loyal to <em>you</em>. And being the Crown, you cannot afford letting someone like him walk all over you.<</if>> “I understand your reasons for missing the coronation,” you begin, and from the way Bazo stiffens in his seat, he must be able to tell that what is to follow won’t be beneficial to him. “That being said, they are no excuse. Are you the only one capable of dealing with such a crisis? I find that hard to believe. The keeper of the council of stewards is not a Mîr, you are merely a representative without any authority of your own. In your absence, the other stewards surely could have chosen a substitute, or decided among themselves how to handle the attacks together with the provincial army.” “You are right,” Bazo starts, but you raise your palm, casting him a sharp look. He snaps his mouth shut again. “I wasn’t finished.” You keep your tone civil, though Bazo lowers his head all the same, as if waiting for the executioner’s axe to fall. “Your foremost duty was to attend the coronation of your Crown—one you have been lacking for the past decade. Perhaps you have grown complacent without one, as it seems I must remind you of your priorities.” <<if $calc gt $kind>>It was rather shortsighted of the keeper not to rush to meet the new ruler of the Empire. Even if he did not think you anything more than a mere puppet to keep the throne warm, it would have been wise to at least get a look at the situation in the Imperial Court, such as it was. Instead, he chose to disregard it entirely, as if it was of no concern to Şevan.<<else>>Even while you chastise the keeper, you cannot help but feel remorse: the man is old enough to be your grandfather. Were you not the Crown, scolding him would have been unthinkable, and you abhor every moment of it even as you force yourself to push on.<</if>> Turning your head towards the door, you call out, “Guards, please escort Keeper Bazo to the palace dungeons. He shall be staying there for the coming three days.” Bazo shows absolutely no reaction to your command, <<if $kind gt $calc>>which only makes you feel worse. It takes all your self-restraint to keep from wincing as you watch him slowly stand with the aid of his cane, clearly incapable of getting up on his own two legs. At least the palace dungeons are comfortable, you reminds yourself. It’s not as if you were locking him up in a decrepit basement. At most, he’ll likely be bored for a couple of days—what matters most is sending a message, to prevent such insults from happening to you in the future.<<else>>making you wonder if he already expected as much. Or perhaps he knows better than to object and gain your disfavor even further, especially as he needs you more than you need him. You watch placidly as Bazo slowly rises from his seat with the aid of his cane, feeling little sympathy. The palace dungeons are downright comfortable, their cells more luxurious than any inn you’ve ever slept in, let alone all the nights you had to camp out in the wilderness. He might be old in age, but he will be resting easy in the dungeons. At most, he might suffer some boredom.<</if>> Two guards enter the room to escort him out, and before he leaves, Bazo still bows to you. <<if $bazo lt 0>>“I thank you for your mercy, Your Imperial Majesty.” Your brows arch slightly as you watch him leave. It seems like he expected even worse based on how you condemned him for his absence, though you doubt your punishment has endeared you to him regardless.<<else>>“Your Imperial Majesty.”<</if>> You take a moment to watch him leave, and as soon as the door closes behind him, you let out a sigh. At least that’s over with, for now. [[Continue|13.7]]<<if visited('13.4aforgiven') is 1>><<set $bazo += 2>><</if>>It seems unwise to upset the faction that is supposed to be on your side before you’ve even stepped foot in Şevan. Bazo and the stewards will undoubtedly have considerable influence in the province, and to anger them or alienate them would make things more difficult for you later on. Besides, you have already forgiven Bazo for not attending your coronation. Going back on your word and punishing him now would make you seem fickle at best, and two-faced at worst. “I appreciate your apology,” you say, <<if $intu gt $intel>>feeling a mild throbbing coming on between your temples as your head has been thoroughly overworked with all the thinking you’ve been doing. Bazo appearing at the very end of a day that was already this long was rather unfortunate timing.<<else>>your mind still filled with thoughts and considerations even at the end of what has already been a long day. You are naturally suited for such things, finding it almost more fun than it is tiring<</if>>. “My priority is to stabilize Şevan so that its citizens may live in peace again. I hope we can work together to make that a reality.” Bazo finally meets your eyes, and smiles for the first time as some of the tension in his posture eases. “I thank you for your mercy, Your Imperial Majesty. That would be my hope as well.” <<if $intu gt $intel>><<if $charm gt $blunt>>As eager as you are to retire to your chambers, however, simply cutting the conversation short and leaving immediately seems far too rude for someone you have decided is a guest. Using your usual charm, you look at Bazo with friendly interest.<<else>>As much as you’d love to cut the conversation short and leave immediately, you know you must move more carefully around Bazo. You force yourself to show an interest, even if it does feel like pulling teeth.<</if>><<else>>While you don’t feel tired yet, you do know it’s getting rather late, and you’ll need your energy for your court meeting tomorrow morning. <<if $charm gt $blunt>>Simply cutting the conversation short and leaving immediately seems far too rude for someone you have decided is a guest. Using your usual charm, you look at Bazo with friendly interest.<<else>>You can’t just cut the conversation short and tell him to leave, however, as much as you’d love to. Instead, you force yourself to show an interest, even if it does feel like pulling teeth.<</if>><</if>> “Do you have accommodations for the night?” “Indeed.” Bazo reaches for his cane—either he is as eager as you are to rest after his long journey, or he can tell you have tired of the meeting. “A friend in the city has been so kind as to allow me to stay at his estate. I do not intend to remain in Marabad for long, however: the plan is to depart the day after tomorrow.” He won’t be staying long enough to try and influence the Imperial Court, then, although a single day is plenty of time for some politicking nonetheless. You make note of it as you return a polite smile and rise to your feet. Bazo follows your example, rising more slowly as he leans on his cane. “Then I wish you a comfortable stay,” you say. A thought occurs to you as you look at Bazo: he mentioned staying at a friend’s estate, and it may be perfectly innocent, but what if this ‘friend’ is someone of political importance? Perhaps you’re being paranoid, but in your position, caution may be wise. If Bazo happens to be involved with someone hostile towards you, it’s better to know of that beforehand. Then again, sending someone with him may well be as good as declaring that you’re spying on him. It could antagonize him. <ul class="a"> <li>[[Let him go alone.|13.5aforgiven][$bazostate to 'fulltrust']]</li> <li>[[Send a servant with him to spy on him.|13.5bforgiven][$bazostate to 'fakefulltrust']]</li> <li>[[Send a guard with him to intimidate him.|13.5cforgiven][$bazostate to 'fullintimidation']]</li></ul><<if visited('13.4cnotforgiven') is 1>><<set $bazo -= 10>><<set $nazapoints -= 4>><<set $nazastate to 'unimpressed'>><</if>>It is true that you already forgave him for his absence, but now that you think about it, does it not make you seem rather meek for brushing over the insult so easily and then receiving Bazo a month later, without addressing it at all? <<if $kind gt $calc>>While you do not enjoy thinking the worst of people, despite your innate instincts tending towards being charitable, in these circumstances you can no longer afford to soften your heart. Should anyone take advantage of you, they are taking advantage of the Crown of the Empire, not a nobody on the run. As such, you have to act decisively, and you cannot let anyone walk over you, even if their reasons are understandable.<<else>>Situations like these reawaken that tendency within you—perhaps innate, perhaps created through survival—to suspect ulterior motives. From your conversation so far, Bazo appears cautious of you at best, and deceptive at worst. Claiming that he and his faction are loyal to the Empire is all well and good, but it would be naive to think that translates to being loyal to <em>you</em>. And being the Crown, you cannot afford letting someone like him walk all over you.<</if>> “I understand your reasons for missing the coronation,” you begin, and from the way Bazo stiffens in his seat, he must be able to tell that what is to follow won’t be beneficial to him. “That being said, they are no excuse. Are you the only one capable of dealing with such a crisis? I find that hard to believe. The keeper of the council of stewards is not a Mîr, you are merely a representative without any authority of your own. In your absence, the other stewards surely could have chosen a substitute, or decided among themselves how to handle the attacks together with the provincial army.” “You are right,” Bazo starts, but you raise your palm, casting him a sharp look. He snaps his mouth shut again. “I wasn’t finished.” You keep your tone civil, though Bazo lowers his head all the same, as if waiting for the executioner’s axe to fall. “Your foremost duty was to attend the coronation of your Crown—one you have been lacking for the past decade. Perhaps you have grown complacent without one, as it seems I must remind you of your priorities.” <<if $calc gt $kind>>It was rather shortsighted of the keeper not to rush to meet the new ruler of the Empire. Even if he did not think you anything more than a mere puppet to keep the throne warm, it would have been wise to at least get a look at the situation in the Imperial Court, such as it was. Instead, he chose to disregard it entirely, as if it was of no concern to Şevan.<<else>>Even while you chastise the keeper, you cannot help but feel remorse: the man is old enough to be your grandfather. Were you not the Crown, scolding him would have been unthinkable, and you abhor every moment of it even as you force yourself to push on.<</if>> Turning your head towards the door, you call out, “Guards, please escort Keeper Bazo to the palace dungeons. He shall be staying there for the coming three days.” Bazo’s eyes go wide, shock writ across his face. “The dungeons? Your Imperial Majesty—” “I do not recall giving you permission to speak,” you interject again, “let alone protest.” The keeper’s bewilderment must cause him to take leave of his senses, for he continues speaking despite your warning. “You forgave me for missing your coronation, yet now I am being punished for it and treated like a miscreant?” Your jaw tightens with tension while guards swiftly enter the room, standing on either side of Bazo. The keeper exhales a short sigh, grabbing his cane and slowly rising to his feet. His eyes narrow as he looks at you, before his expression turns placid once more. He bows. “Your Imperial Majesty.” You do not respond, watching as the guards escort him out. The keeper might be thinking that your initial forgiveness was to lure him out and lock him up, though you had no such designs. You simply changed your mind after talking to him, and realizing how your easy acceptance of his actions might look to the public. Admittedly, locking him up now <em>will</em> seem contradictory at best, and underhanded at worst. You’ll simply have to think of a way to <<if $calc gt $kind>>spin it in your favor<<else>>explain your actions so that everyone else will understand why you thought this necessary<</if>>. [[Continue|13.7]]<<if visited('13.4bforgiven') is 1>><<set $bazo -= 1>><</if>>While you don’t want to be too harsh on Bazo and risk making an enemy of him and his faction, you have your reputation as a Crown to think about. It is true that you already forgave him for his absence, but now that you think about it, does it not make you seem rather meek for brushing over the insult so easily and then receiving Bazo a month later, without addressing it at all? That being said, you don’t want to go back on your word. Bazo declaring his apology in public, then, seems like a good compromise: it’s hardly a real punishment, and it would display that you are not a Crown to be walked all over without burdening Bazo too much. “It is good of you to apologize,” you say, <<if $intu gt $intel>>feeling a mild throbbing coming on between your temples as your head has been thoroughly overworked with all the thinking you’ve been doing. Bazo appearing at the very end of a day that was already this long was rather unfortunate timing.<<else>>your mind still filled with thoughts and considerations even at the end of what has already been a long day. You are naturally suited for such things, finding it almost more fun than it is tiring<</if>>. “And in my eyes, you are already forgiven for your misstep. That being said, I would appreciate it if you could declare your apology in public as well.” Bazo finally meets your eyes, and while he looks slightly surprised, he does not look betrayed or angered by the request. “Of course, Your Imperial Majesty. It is the very least I can do to prove my sincerity.” You can’t help but be relieved that the keeper has taken it so well. Then again, it’s hardly a great ask: more symbolic than anything else. “Then consider the matter resolved.” <<if $intu gt $intel>><<if $charm gt $blunt>>As eager as you are to retire to your chambers, however, simply cutting the conversation short and leaving immediately seems far too rude for someone you have decided is a guest. Using your usual charm, you look at Bazo with friendly interest.<<else>>As much as you’d love to cut the conversation short and leave immediately, you know you must move more carefully around Bazo. You force yourself to show an interest, even if it does feel like pulling teeth.<</if>><<else>>While you don’t feel tired yet, you do know it’s getting rather late, and you’ll need your energy for your court meeting tomorrow morning. <<if $charm gt $blunt>>Simply cutting the conversation short and leaving immediately seems far too rude for someone you have decided is a guest. Using your usual charm, you look at Bazo with friendly interest.<<else>>You can’t just cut the conversation short and tell him to leave, however, as much as you’d love to. Instead, you force yourself to show an interest, even if it does feel like pulling teeth.<</if>><</if>> “Do you have accommodations for the night?” you speak again after a short pause. “Indeed.” Bazo reaches for his cane—either he is as eager as you are to rest after his long journey, or he can tell you have tired of the meeting. “A friend in the city has been so kind as to allow me to stay at his estate. I do not intend to remain in Marabad for long, however: the plan is to depart the day after tomorrow.” He won’t be staying long enough to try and influence the Imperial Court, then, although a single day is plenty of time for some politicking nonetheless. You make note of it as you return a polite smile and rise to your feet. Bazo follows your example, rising more slowly as he leans on his cane. “Then I wish you a comfortable stay,” you say. A thought occurs to you as you look at Bazo: he mentioned staying at a friend’s estate, and it may be perfectly innocent, but what if this ‘friend’ is someone of political importance? Perhaps you’re being paranoid, but in your position, caution may be wise. If Bazo happens to be involved with someone hostile towards you, it’s better to know of that beforehand. Then again, sending someone with him may well be as good as declaring that you’re spying on him. It could antagonize him. <ul class="a"> <li>[[Let him go alone.|13.5aforgiven][$bazostate to 'reprimandfulltrust']]</li> <li>[[Send a servant with him to spy on him.|13.5bforgiven][$bazostate to 'reprimandfakefulltrust']]</li> <li>[[Send a guard with him to intimidate him.|13.5cforgiven][$bazostate to 'reprimandtrustintimidation']]</li></ul><<if visited('13.5anotforgiven') is 1>><<set $bazo += 2>><</if>>You say nothing further, gesturing to the door instead. Bazo leaves first, and you follow him out to the corridor. Sending someone with him, whether a guard to intimidate him or a servant to spy on him, seems rather aggressive. You’d rather build up your relationship with Bazo and his faction instead, rather than create distrust through your own actions. After all, aside from that initial absence, Bazo has given you no reason to think he’s an enemy. It does not necessarily mean he is an ally, but it would be better to wait and see rather than <em>making</em> him an enemy. The keeper turns to face you once more. “I wish you good fortune on your pilgrimage, Your Imperial Majesty. Şahmaran is a being of great wisdom. It would be of benefit to us all for you to regain her support.” <<if $charm gt $blunt>>You muster up another smile<<else>>You nod in agreement<</if>>. “I will do my best, keeper. But rest assured, regardless of the outcome, Şevan will be my priority once I have returned.” Bazo appears gladdened to hear this as he bows to you more fully. “I have no doubt. But I have taken up enough of your time. With your permission, I shall take my leave.” “Take care, Keeper Bazo,” you reply, dismissing him, your eyes following the keeper as he straightens from his bow and retreats into the corridor, his cane tapping onto the stone tiles together with his footsteps. With that out of the way, it’s time for you to rest. [[Continue|13.7]]<<set $ishrah to 'absent'>>“Allow one of my servants to see to your needs while you’re in the city, then,” you add before you let Bazo go. “I am sure they could be of use to you.” The keeper appears surprised at your suggestion. “You are kind to offer, but that is not necessary—” “I insist.” You <<if $charm gt $blunt>>smile<<else>>leave no room to argue<</if>> as you gesture to the door, waiting for Bazo to leave first before you follow him out. In the hallway, Bazo turns around to face you, giving you a thoughtful look. “I would not want to be an imposition…” “<<if $charm gt $blunt>>Not at all! <</if>>We must be careful in times like these, keeper,” you reply benignly, patting him on the shoulder. “You have had a long journey, which I am certain was not an easy thing at your age. Allow me to make your stay more comfortable while you’re here.” Keeper Bazo nods, still appearing at ease. “Then I thank you for your consideration, Your Imperial Majesty. With your permission, I shall take my leave.” “Take care, Keeper Bazo,” you reply, dismissing him, and Bazo bows his head to you once more. You look over your shoulder to see Keko and Ishrah standing behind you by the door, having followed you outside. Catching your gaze, Keko says, "If I might make a suggestion, Your Imperial Majesty, I believe Ishrah would be well-suited for this task." You see the sense in it: you don’t want to assign a sensitive task like this to simply <em>any</em> servant. Keko cannot go, as he is the head servant of the palace, so it would have to be Ishrah. Mostly, you hope that she will pay enough attention to give you any valuable information about Bazo, although you’re not sure if Ishrah will recognize that that is your intention. Spying on your guests for you is not something you have ever discussed with her beforehand, after all. Ishrah appears surprised to be mentioned, but she and Keko exchange a look, something passing between them you're not privy to. Then, she turns back to you and inclines her head. “It would be my pleasure, Your Imperial Majesty.” You watch as she joins Keeper Bazo and the two of them take their leave. Ishrah seems to have been the perfect choice for such a task: you see them chat with each other as they walk down the corridor, Ishrah’s natural cheerful demeanor seeming to put Bazo at ease as he smiles back at her. [[Continue|13.7]]<<if visited('13.5cnotforgiven') is 1>><<set $bazo -= 4>><</if>>“Allow one of my guards to escort you to your friend’s estate, then,” you say. “It is rather late out, and the streets may not be safe this time of night.” The keeper appears a little startled at your suggestion. “You are kind to offer, but that is not necessary—” “I insist.” You <<if $charm gt $blunt>>smile<<else>>leave no room to argue<</if>> as you gesture to the door, waiting for Bazo to leave first before you follow him out. In the hallway, Bazo turns around to face you, brows drawn together with hesitance. “If you are certain it wouldn’t be a bother…” “<<if $charm gt $blunt>>Not at all! <</if>>We must be careful in times like these, keeper,” you reply, placing a seemingly friendly hand on his shoulder, although the true meaning of the gesture is anything but <em>Don’t try to worm your way out of this.</em> “Who knows what kind of danger could lurk around the corner? Your enemies in Şevan may even have followed you here. It’s better to be safe than sorry.” You feel Bazo’s shoulder tense beneath your fingers, and he bows his head to you once more. “You are right, of course,” he says, gaze aimed at the ground. “Then I thank you for your consideration, Your Imperial Majesty. With your permission, I shall take my leave.” “Take care, Keeper Bazo,” you reply, dismissing him as you remove your hand from his shoulder, and Bazo bows his head to you once more. You watch the keeper leave, one of your guards becoming visible and greeting him to walk beside him. Even if you accepted his apology before, that does not mean you’re not still wary of him. If he is a true ally, he won’t hold it against you. And besides, a little intimidation never hurt anyone. [[Continue|13.7]]<<if $peritrader is false>><<set $day to 18>><<else>><<set $day to 23>><</if>>You turn in for the night soon after that, ready to put an end to your day that has already stretched on for far too long. Whatever the consequences of your decision, you’ll witness it in the daylight. At least your fatigue proves good for something: as soon as you’ve finished your usual evening routine and get into your bed, it takes mere moments after your head hits your pillow for you to fall asleep. By the time you find yourself stirring back to consciousness, the sunlight is streaming through your windows and you do not remember any of your dreams. You squint at curtains, fluttering gently with a soft breeze and showing you glimpses of a clear blue sky. Birds are chirping loudly outside, and you hear water splashing from one of the small lakes in the gardens. It seems like a beautiful day. A shame that you’ll spend most of it cooped up inside: it is on days like these that you find yourself missing the wild forest trails and rolling meadows you have become accustomed to wandering. As if having heard your thoughts, a knock sounds on your door. “Your Imperial Majesty, have you woken?” You sigh, pushing yourself up into a sitting position at the sound of Siham’s voice. Before you can say anything, however, another chimes in. “You have overslept already, $name!” $rname calls to you through the door, and that jolts you wide awake as you push the covers back and hurriedly get out of bed. <<if $rfriend is false>>“We brought breakfast with us.”<</if>><<if $dfriend is false>>“We brought breakfast with us.”<</if>><<if $afriend is false>> Then, you hear $aname, though $athey speaks to the others in a wry tone. “If $they would rather sleep in, perhaps we should enjoy breakfast without $them.”<</if>><<if $xfriend is false>> Then, you hear $xname. “Did you get caught up in dreaming about me? I suppose that’s understandable…”<</if>> “<<if $afriend is false>>Very funny, $aname. <</if>><<if $xfriend is false>>You wish, $xname. <</if>>Come in,” you call<<if $dfriend is false and $rfriend is false>> with an unimpressed look at your door<</if>>, pacing over to your windows and drawing the curtains back. As the door opens behind you, you lift a hand to shield your eyes from the bright light, though you notice the sun is indeed much higher in the sky than you thought it was. <<if $xfriend is false>><<if $xrelationship is 'high' and $bazostate isnot 'betrayed'>>“Good morning.” $xname strolls in first, $xtheir tone softer than you expected, sounding genuinely pleased to see you. You turn to look at $xthem with a smile lifting your lips, but by the time you face $xthem $xname has already crossed the room to your side. Before you know it, $xthey is leaning <<if $height is 'short' or $height is 'very short' or $height is 'average'>>down<</if>><<if $height is 'tall'>>in<</if>><<if $height is 'very tall'>>up<</if>> and pressing a gentle peck to your mouth, lasting only for a moment. Even as chaste as it is, the warmth of $xtheir lips and the unexpected softness of the kiss has your heart beating a little faster, chasing away the last of your drowsiness in an instant. <<if $res gt $flirt>>Your eyes flit to the others who are entering with more subdued good mornings, heat flushing up your neck as you catch<<else>>You’re hardly aware of the others entering until you hear their subdued good mornings, catching<</if>> $rname and $aname glancing at the two of you with knowing looks before proceeding to the low table on the other end of your room. Siham and $dname are kind enough to ignore the display completely beyond greeting you, the former carrying a wide tray filled with plates of food.<<if $ishrah isnot 'absent'>> Ishrah shows no such self-restraint, giggling to herself while following after Siham with another tray.<</if>> “What?” $xname says when $xthey notices your attention straying, $xtheir eyes curious even while $xthey grins at you. <<if $res gt $flirt>>“I’m just not used to…” You trail off, glancing at the group seating themselves around the low table on the other end of the room, politely pretending not to see your exchange with $xname. $xname follows your gaze, $xtheir own lighting up with understanding. “Ah. I’ll keep it subtle then.” $cxthey smirks, lowering $xtheir voice further as $xthey adds teasingly, “Though you didn’t seem very concerned about it in the hallway yesterday.” The flush around your neck rises to your cheeks like vines crawling up your skin. “That was different! There wasn’t anyone around then… was there?” Surely your guards weren’t standing a stone’s throw away and watching the two of you lock lips? “There wasn’t,” $xname reassures you, though a gleam of mirth still dances in $xtheir eyes. “A shame, really. You looked so good when you—” You quickly press your hand over $xtheir mouth, $xname’s warm breath swelling against it as $xthey huffs a chuckle. “Hush, you menace!” $xname kisses your palm, and you nearly jolt in place, quickly removing your hand again while your stomach flutters. “You love it.” You decide not to humor $xthem with a response before you get subjected to more teasing, taking a breath and turning away to join the others at the table. None of them remark on the redness in your face, thankfully, allowing you to maintain some semblance of dignity as you sit between $dname and $rname.<<else>>“You really don’t care about drawing attention, do you?” you reply with a slight tilt of your head, your gaze teasing. “Why should I?” $xname gives a casual, one-shouldered shrug. “No one reasonable would get upset at seeing other people exchanging a little affection. Why? Do you care?” $cxtheir last remark is asked a little more seriously, $xname watching you with consideration. You smile and shake your head. “A kiss here and there doesn’t bother me,” you say, though you cannot resist the urge to continue teasing $xthem. “Just don’t take it too far. I know I’m hard to resist, but we should mind our friends.” You cast a pointed look towards the others now seated around the low table, politely ignoring your exchange. $xname laughs brightly, peering back at you with fondness. “Alright, I’ll try my best not to be overbearing. In return, don’t tempt me too much.” You cast $xthem an innocent look, walking past $xthem and brushing your fingers along $xtheir waist. “Tempt you? I don’t know what you mean.” $xname groans with frustration behind you as $xthey follows after you. Aside from a few looks, none of your friends remark on your exchange, and you settle down between $rname and $dname without any fuss while $xname sits across the table beside $aname.<</if>><<else>>“Good morning!” $xname strolls in first, $xtheir voice booming through the chambers and all but demanding your attention. You turn to look at $xthem with arched brows and $xname grins at you, seeming amused by your clearly still sleep-dazed state. “Hungry?” $xthey offers, approaching you by the windows while the others follow $xthem inside, Siham and <<if $ishrah is 'absent'>>another servant<<else>>Ishrah<</if>> both carrying large trays filled with plates of breakfast foods. Aside from $rname, $dname and $aname are also present, walking in after the rest and offering you brief greetings. They all cast a look at you and $xname, then decide to pretend they do not see your exchange, heading for the low table on the other end of your chambers instead. “A little,” you consider, eyeing the plates that Siham and <<if $ishrah is 'absent'>>the other servant<<else>>Ishrah<</if>> set down, but then you sigh. “Though I’m more tired than anything else. I can’t believe I overslept.” “You probably needed the rest.” $xname lightly takes your hand, tugging your fingers but not pulling you. “Come on, a cup of tea should wake you up.” “It better be some strong tea.” $cxthey smirks playfully. “Only the finest for you, Your Imperial Majesty.” You both turn to join the others at the table, $xname releasing your hand as you take seats on opposite sides of the table. None of your friends remark on your exchange, and you settle down between $rname and $dname without any fuss while $xname settles on the other side next to $aname.<</if>><</if>><<if $dfriend is false>>“Good morning,” $rname says, walking in first and smiling at you. $aname and $xname follow $rthem, both of them greeting you similarly, followed by Siham and <<if $ishrah is 'absent'>>another servant<<else>>Ishrah<</if>> who each carry a large tray filled with breakfast plates. The very last person to enter the room is $dname. While everyone else congregates around the low table on the other end of your chambers, the moment $dname lifts $dtheir eyes and meets your gaze, $dthey stops walking. As if arrested by the sight of you. You stare back at $dthem, your brows furrowing as you wonder what it is $dthey sees. “Good morning, $dname.” <<if $drelationship is 'low'>>$dname snaps out of whatever trance $dthey was in, averting $dtheir eyes. “Your Imperial Majesty.” At this point, you didn’t expect anything else.<<else>>$dname blinks, as if waking from a dream, and briefly averts $dtheir eyes. If you didn’t know better, you’d almost think $dthey was embarrassed. When $dtheir gaze returns to you, however, it seems calmer. “Good morning, $name.” <<if $res gt $flirt>>Heat flushes up your neck, and the absurdity of it is not lost on you: every time you hear $dthem say your name, it feels intimate. Especially in front of other people, even if they are your friends.<<else>>Perhaps you are deluding yourself out of wishful thinking, but every time $dthey says your name feels so <em>intimate</em> compared to hearing it from anyone else’s lips. $cdthey usually only says it in private, but now it seems $dthey is comfortable enough to say it in front of your friends as well. It brings a pleased smile to your face, and you bite on the inner side of your cheek to refrain from teasing $dthem over it.<</if>> The rest of your companions cast glances at both of you during the brief interaction, although they thankfully keep their remarks to themselves. You wait for $dname to pick a seat, and then realize the only other one left is between $dname and $rname. <<if $res gt $flirt>>As if you haven’t felt flustered enough already<<else>>As if you haven’t been tempted enough already<</if>>. You take a subtle breath and join them, keeping your face aimed ahead at $aname sitting across from you, even as you can see $dname from the corner of your eye.<</if>><</if>><<if $rfriend is false>>“Good morning,” $rname says as $rthey walks in first with a smile, $rtheir feet not slowing once as $rthey crosses the room to join you by the windows. $aname, $dname and $xname enter after $rthem, greeting you similarly, followed by Siham and <<if $ishrah is 'absent'>>another servant<<else>>Ishrah<</if>> who carry large trays filled with breakfast platters. They all take one look at you and $rname, and immediately move over to the low table on the other end of your chambers instead, giving you space. You take the opportunity to study $rname’s face, noticing that the dark rings beneath $rtheir eyes still linger. “Good morning, $rname. Did you have a rough night?” “I’m fine,” $rthey attempts to say, until $rthey sees your skeptical stare and exhales a sigh. “Perhaps my sleep was not the best last night, but I assure you it’s nothing more than fatigue. A cup of tea or two should help.” <<if $pass gt $ass>>“Okay,” you say, though you clearly don’t mean it as you continue to watch $rname with worry. $crthey smiles warmly, reaching for your hand and taking it in $rtheirs, $rtheir fingers soft and warm around yours.<<else>>“Okay,” you say, though you clearly don’t mean it as you continue to watch $rname with worry, reaching for $rtheir hand and taking it in yours. $crthey smiles at you warmly, squeezing your fingers back with reassurance.<</if>> “You’re sweet for worrying, but focus on the day ahead. We can talk more after the court meeting.” You nod in agreement, <<if $pass gt $ass>>and with $rname having made the first move you feel more comfortable reciprocating as you shift<<else>>shifting<</if>> your hand to caress the inner side $rname’s wrist. The vein that carries $rtheir very life’s force pulses against your thumb as you stroke over it, feeling the way it picks up in speed while little tingles of magic ripple up your hand, sizzling sparks that give you goosebumps. $rname averts $rtheir eyes as $rthey sucks in a quiet breath, the sunlight falling through the windows highlighting the darker coloring of $rtheir cheeks. “Ah, should we… should we join our friends?” To your surprise, $rthey does not let go of your hand, though $rthey continues to avoid your gaze as $rthey tugs you over to the table. <<if $res gt $flirt>>Now the heat that rushes up to your face is rather similar to $rtheirs<<else>>It makes you smile, endeared by $rtheir bashfulness even while $rthey pushes through it.<</if>> You both join the others at the table, ignoring $aname and $xname’s amused looks as best you can while you and $rname settle down across from $xthem and $aname, with $dname seated on your right. The general is the only one not reacting to your private conversation with $rname, thankfully—most likely because $dthey does not care.<</if>><<if $afriend is false>><<if $bazostate isnot 'betrayed' and $arelationship is 'high'>>“Morning,” $aname says as $athey walks in first, $atheir gaze aimed solely at you and remaining there as $athey crosses the room to join you. It almost makes you forget about everyone else, until the rest of your companions appear behind $athem through the doorway, $rname, $dname and $xname enter after $athem, greeting you similarly, followed by Siham and <<if $ishrah is 'absent'>>another servant<<else>>Ishrah<</if>> who carry large trays filled with breakfast platters. They all take one look at you and $aname, and immediately move over to the low table on the other end of your chambers instead, giving you space. $aname snorts as $athey casts your friends a glance. “Subtle.” “I’d rather they do that than eavesdrop on us,” you jest, and $aname smirks at you with amusement. “Why? Are you planning on telling me something scandalous?” Your breath almost catches in your chest at the implication. <<if $flirt gt $res>>Managing to steady yourself, you lean in ever so slightly, accepting $aname’s invitation as you reply, “Do you want me to?” $aname’s eyes widen in surprise, and you realize $athey <em>wasn’t</em>, in fact, implying that you should say something salacious. The misunderstanding makes you laugh. “Sorry, I thought—” “That’s not what I meant, but…” $aname looks away from you, shifting a little in place. “If I did, then I wouldn’t ask for it with $xname in earshot.” “Oh?” Now you’re the one grinning. “I’ll keep that in mind.” You already have more than a couple of ideas of what you could whisper in $atheir ear in private, some merely suggestive while others are outright lewd. You suppose it’ll depend on how much $aname could take before flustering. “Let’s…” $aname clears $atheir throat. “Let’s join the others.”<<else>>It makes it difficult to string a coherent sentence together, your face burning with heat and muddling your thought. “If… if you want me to, but- well, I don’t think I could do it with other people in the room.” $aname’s eyes widen in surprise, and you realize $athey <em>wasn’t</em>, in fact, implying that you should say something salacious. “That’s not what I—” “I’m so sorry—” You talk at the same time, and both stop talking at the same time as well, leaving you unable to look at $aname out of sheer embarrassment. $aname, on the other hand, lets out a chuckle, shaking $atheir head. “That’s not what I meant,” $athey continues what $athey was trying to say earlier, “but if I did, then I wouldn’t ask for it with $xname in earshot.” It draws your gaze back to $aname with shock, and $athey meets it with a mischievous smile, clearly enjoying how flustered you’ve become. You can’t even think to react, your mind caught on the thought that $athey’d <em>want</em> you to do something like that. You’re not exactly sure whether you’re even capable of it, never having spoken in a lewd way to anyone before… but if $aname really did want you to, you’d at least give it a try. “Still with me, $name?” $aname draws you out of your thoughts, looking entertained by your reaction. “Let’s join the others.”<</if>><<else>>“Morning,” $aname says as $athey walks in first, $atheir gaze aimed solely at you and remaining there as $athey crosses the room to join you. It almost makes you forget about everyone else, until the rest of your companions appear behind $athem through the doorway. $rname, $dname and $xname enter after $athem, greeting you similarly, followed by Siham and <<if $ishrah is 'absent'>>another servant<<else>>Ishrah<</if>> who carry large trays filled with breakfast platters. They all take one look at you and $aname, and immediately move over to the low table on the other end of your chambers instead, giving you space. $aname snorts as $athey casts your friends a glance. “Subtle.” “I’d rather they do that than eavesdrop on us,” you jest, and $aname smirks at you with amusement. “Why? Are you planning on telling me something scandalous?” You grin back at $athem, pleased that you’re able to banter with each other now where before your relationship was strained. It seems $athey is truly moving past your mistake with the city fire. “I’m sure you’d know much more scandalous gossip than I would,” you reply teasingly. “I can only imagine the things the guards see and overhear.” “If only it were anything useful.” $aname sighs. “The latest rumors making the rounds are about how two nobles have been seen constantly wearing the same clothes in some sort of petty game, and everyone has been trying to guess who is copying who.” You can’t even pretend to be interested in this. “That really does sound boring.” $cathey gives a halfhearted shrug. “You have to find something to entertain yourself with when your only duty is to watch people day and night.” $catheir eyes shift towards the table, where the rest of your companions cast the occasional glances your way. “Speaking of which, shall we join the others?”<</if>> You both join the others at the table, ignoring $rname’s little smile and $xname’s amused grin as best you can. $aname joins $xname across the table, while you sit down between $rname and $dname, the latter of whom at least has the tact not to react to your private conversation with $aname. Or, more likely, $dthey simply does not care.<</if>> [[Continue|13.8]]<<if visited('13.5aforgiven') is 1>><<set $bazo += 2>><</if>>You say nothing further, gesturing to the door instead. Bazo leaves first, and you follow him out to the corridor. Sending someone with him, whether a guard to intimidate him or a servant to spy on him, seems rather aggressive. You’d rather build up your relationship with Bazo and his faction instead, rather than create distrust through your own actions. After all, aside from that initial absence, Bazo has given you no reason to think he’s an enemy. It does not necessarily mean he is an ally, but it would be better to wait and see rather than <em>making</em> him an enemy. The keeper turns to face you once more. “I wish you good fortune on your pilgrimage, Your Imperial Majesty. Şahmaran is a being of great wisdom. It would be of benefit to us all for you to regain her support.” <<if $charm gt $blunt>>You muster up another smile<<else>>You nod in agreement<</if>>. “I will do my best, keeper. But rest assured, regardless of the outcome, Şevan will be my priority once I have returned.” Bazo appears gladdened to hear this as he bows to you more fully. “I have no doubt. But I have taken up enough of your time. With your permission, I shall take my leave.” “Take care, Keeper Bazo,” you reply, dismissing him, your eyes following the keeper as he straightens from his bow and retreats into the corridor, his cane tapping onto the stone tiles together with his footsteps. With that out of the way, it’s time for you to rest. [[Continue|13.7]]<<set $ishrah to 'absent'>>“Allow one of my servants to see to your needs while you’re in the city, then,” you add before you let Bazo go. “I am sure they could be of use to you.” The keeper appears surprised at your suggestion. “You are kind to offer, but that is not necessary—” “I insist.” You <<if $charm gt $blunt>>smile<<else>>leave no room to argue<</if>> as you gesture to the door, waiting for Bazo to leave first before you follow him out. In the hallway, Bazo turns around to face you, giving you a thoughtful look. “I would not want to be an imposition…” “<<if $charm gt $blunt>>Not at all! <</if>>We must be careful in times like these, keeper,” you reply benignly, patting him on the shoulder. “You have had a long journey, which I am certain was not an easy thing at your age. Allow me to make your stay more comfortable while you’re here.” Keeper Bazo nods, still appearing at ease. “Then I thank you for your consideration, Your Imperial Majesty. With your permission, I shall take my leave.” “Take care, Keeper Bazo,” you reply, dismissing him, and Bazo bows his head to you once more. You look over your shoulder to see Keko and Ishrah standing behind you by the door, having followed you outside. Catching your gaze, Keko says, "If I might make a suggestion, Your Imperial Majesty, I believe Ishrah would be well-suited for this task." You see the sense in it: you don’t want to assign a sensitive task like this to simply <em>any</em> servant. Keko cannot go, as he is the head servant of the palace, so it would have to be Ishrah. Mostly, you hope that she will pay enough attention to give you any valuable information about Bazo, although you’re not sure if Ishrah will recognize that that is your intention. Spying on your guests for you is not something you have ever discussed with her beforehand, after all. Ishrah appears surprised to be mentioned, but she and Keko exchange a look, something passing between them you're not privy to. Then, she turns back to you and inclines her head. “It would be my pleasure, Your Imperial Majesty.” You watch as she joins Keeper Bazo and the two of them take their leave. Ishrah seems to have been the perfect choice for such a task: you see them chat with each other as they walk down the corridor, Ishrah’s natural cheerful demeanor seeming to put Bazo at ease as he smiles back at her. Even if you accepted his apology before, that does not mean you’re not still wary of him. [[Continue|13.7]]<<if visited('13.5cforgiven') is 1>><<set $bazo -= 4>><</if>>“Allow one of my guards to escort you to your friend’s estate, then,” you say. “It is rather late out, and the streets may not be safe this time of night.” The keeper appears a little startled at your suggestion. “You are kind to offer, but that is not necessary—” “I insist.” You <<if $charm gt $blunt>>smile<<else>>leave no room to argue<</if>> as you gesture to the door, waiting for Bazo to leave first before you follow him out. In the hallway, Bazo turns around to face you, brows drawn together with hesitance. “If you are certain it wouldn’t be a bother…” “<<if $charm gt $blunt>>Not at all! <</if>>We must be careful in times like these, keeper,” you reply, placing a seemingly friendly hand on his shoulder, although the true meaning of the gesture is anything but <em>Don’t try to worm your way out of this.</em> “Who knows what kind of danger could lurk around the corner? Your enemies in Şevan may even have followed you here. It’s better to be safe than sorry.” You feel Bazo’s shoulder tense beneath your fingers, and he bows his head to you once more. “You are right, of course,” he says, gaze aimed at the ground. “Then I thank you for your consideration, Your Imperial Majesty. With your permission, I shall take my leave.” “Take care, Keeper Bazo,” you reply, dismissing him as you remove your hand from his shoulder, and Bazo bows his head to you once more. You watch the keeper leave, one of your guards becoming visible and greeting him to walk beside him. Even if you accepted his apology before, that does not mean you’re not still wary of him. If he is a true ally, he won’t hold it against you. And besides, a little intimidation never hurt anyone. [[Continue|13.7]] From beside you, $rname is the first to start the conversation. <<if $bazostate isnot 'betrayed'>><<if $bazostate is 'imprisoned'>>“From the sounds of it, I take it your meeting with Keeper Bazo did not go well last night?” You raise your eyes from the platters of fruit and pastries that Siham and <<if $ishrah is 'absent'>>the other servant<<else>>Ishrah<</if>> laid out for you, looking over at $rname on your right who pours a cup of tea for you. “It was nothing personal,” you start, which gets you a wry look from $aname. “I’m not certain he would agree, what with spending the night in the dungeons.” “Then he should have known better than to miss my coronation.” You sigh at the recollection. “Him and his faction are meant to be loyal to the Crown, but I didn’t get that sense at all: he struck me as an opportunist, if anything. He claimed his absence was due to the rebels in Şevan attacking its capital at the time, but I don’t buy it.”<<else>>“How did your meeting with Bazo go?” You raise your eyes from the platters of fruit and pastries that Siham and <<if $ishrah is 'absent'>>the other servant<<else>>Ishrah<</if>> laid out for you, looking over at $rname on your right who pours a cup of tea for you. “As well as can be expected,” you reply, sighing at the recollection. “Him and his faction are meant to be loyal to the Crown, so it is strange that he would ignore my coronation. He claimed it was because the rebels in Şevan attacked its capital at the time, preventing him from leaving.”<</if>> $rname frowns slightly. “I do recall hearing of something like that, so it may not be a mere excuse. Still, to miss your coronation is a grave offense.” “Keko suggested that it is because he assumed I was nothing but a puppet placed on the throne,” you reply, taking the cup of tea that $rname slides over to you with a murmured word of thanks. “Even if that’s true, shouldn’t he still have visited in that case?” $xname says, already filling up $xtheir plate with three different kinds of cheeses, apple slices, sweet pastries and olives. “If not for you, then for whoever he assumed was pulling your strings.” “Not if he was already in touch with these supposed puppet masters,” $dname considers, eyes narrowing in thought as $dthey stares into $dtheir own cup. “Most likely, Mîr Mêrxas.” Zerat and Şevan share very large parts of their borders, after all. Should the situation in Şevan spiral out of control, you assume Zerat will be the province that would be impacted most. “How much support has Mêrxas been giving Şevan?” you ask, pondering their relationship further. “Formally? Nothing.” $dname looks across the table at $xname. “The provincial army in Zerat has been lending a hand to the one in Şevan, but as you know, the Mîrs have no command over them. Informally, however…” “There’s been talk of Mêrxas hiring mercenaries to fight on behalf of the loyalists and bolster the army there,” $xname explains, taking over from $dname. “Tûjo mentioned such an offer being extended to Blades as well, but he told me to decline.” That surprises you. “Isn’t Tûjo from Şevan? I’d think he would have an interest.” “He does, which is why he didn’t want to fight.” $xname takes a bite of one of the round pastries, seeming to be filled with a dark red jam. $cxthey chews and swallows before continuing. “The offer was made many months ago, before you appeared as the Crown. Fighting for the loyalists would have meant fighting for Mîr Mêrxas to take over the province. A necessity to restore order, he claimed, but… well, Tûjo wasn’t taken in by it.” Now <em>that</em> is rather valuable knowledge. “It will be interesting to see what Mîr Mêrxas does now that I am here, then.” “Will it?” $xname casts you a thoughtful look. “I’m more interested in seeing what you will do.” “But don’t feel pressured,” $aname adds dryly, glancing at $xname with amusement before continuing. “<<if $bazostate is 'fulltrust' or $bazostate is 'fakefulltrust' or $bazostate is 'fullintimidation'>>I have to ask: is it your intention to court the loyalists? You were certainly merciful in forgiving Bazo and receiving him as a guest.” “It seems the best place to start from,” you explain, though you’re curious to hear the thoughts of your companions on this. “Just by being the Crown in this situation, it’s impossible for me to be impartial. I may as well make use of the allies—or so they have professed—at my disposal.” “Even if that might make negotiations more difficult?” $aname pauses a beat, and then adds, “I’m not refuting the logic, but you should know that this will send a message to the rebels. Is it one you intended?” “It was.” A month in this position was long enough to teach you the importance in being decisive. “Whether the rebels have any valid concerns or not, presenting a united front will give me more leverage than entering the fray with fractures between me and the loyalists.” “It’s a sound strategy,” $dname comments, and you ease a little with relief, glad to know you haven’t made some kind of blunder in your attempt to appear resolute. <<if $dfriend is false>>$cdtheir praise especially means more to you than anyone else’s, and you wonder if $dthey knows that. <</if>>“You are showing that you are consistent in your actions and words, which will help with potential negotiations. Of course, appearing to support the loyalists from the start will have its own downsides, but there is no perfect way of approaching a situation like this.” You’re pleased that your decision has been taken well: none of the others seem to disapprove, either. It would have certainly taken the wind out of your sails if you’d had to argue and justify yourself.<<if $bazostate is 'fakefulltrust'>> “Besides, it’s not as if I trust Bazo and his side unquestioningly,” you say, drawing inquisitive looks from the others. “The other night, I sent Ishrah with him to the estate he is residing at in Marabad. If he gets up to anything suspicious while he’s here, she’ll be able to tell me.” “I was wondering where she was!” $rname exclaims. “I’m impressed, $name. That is a clever ploy.” <<if $rfriend is false>>You smile, pleased by the praise, and $rname offers you a shy smile back before quickly averting $rtheir eyes again, appearing bashful. Adorable.<<else>>While you appreciate $rtheir compliment, you appreciate <<if $dfriend is false>>the slight smile tugging $dname’s lips up even more. $cdthey looks pleased, and that alone is enough to make you feel giddy with a sense of accomplishment.<</if>><<if $xfriend is false>>$xname’s attention even more, watching you with a look of intrigue from across the table, chin leaning against $xtheir hand and $xtheir fingers curved over $xtheir smirking lips. Somehow, that look alone is enough to warm your skin beneath your garments.<</if>><<if $afriend is false>>$aname’s reaction even more. $cathey appears surprised at first, but then lets a smile slip, something of admiration in $atheir eyes as $athey watches you from across the table. It makes you break out into a smile of your own, taking pride in it.<</if>><</if>><</if>><</if>><<if $bazostate is 'reprimandfulltrust' or $bazostate is 'reprimandfakefulltrust' or $bazostate is 'reprimandtrustintimidation'>>I have to ask: did you change your mind about Bazo after speaking with him? I thought you forgave him for his absence, but now I hear he is to make a public apology.” “It occurred to me that I was too tolerant before,” you explain, though you’re curious to hear the thoughts of your companions on this. “I didn’t want to cause an issue on the day of my coronation, but now that I have gained some experience as the Crown, I have come to understand how damaging it can be to let such slights go unanswered.” “That is true enough.” $aname pauses a beat, and then adds, “Though there is a risk Bazo and the loyalists will take umbrage with this, having been under the assumption that it wasn’t an issue any longer.” “If the Crown had made a public statement of $their own demanding an apology, that would certainly have grated, but that is not what happened,” $dname comments, you ease a little with relief, glad to know you haven’t made some kind of blunder. <<if $dfriend is false>>$cdtheir defense of your decision means more to you than anyone else’s, and you wonder if $dthey knows that. <</if>>“By having Bazo apologize on his own, he will get to appear as a humble and loyal servant, all while the Crown’s reputation is improved. It is the best way of handling this without letting his insult go unanswered.” You’re pleased that your decision has been taken well: none of the others seem to disapprove, either. It would have certainly taken the wind out of your sails if you’d had to argue and justify yourself.<<if $bazostate is 'reprimandfakefulltrust'>> “I’ve also taken more covert precautions with Bazo,” you say, drawing inquisitive looks from the others. “The other night, I sent Ishrah with him to the estate he is residing at in Marabad. If he gets up to anything suspicious while he’s here, she’ll be able to tell me.” “I was wondering where she was!” $rname exclaims. “I’m impressed, $name. That is a clever ploy.” <<if $rfriend is false>>You smile, pleased by the praise, and $rname offers you a shy smile back before quickly averting $rtheir eyes again, appearing bashful. Adorable.<<else>>While you appreciate $rtheir compliment, you appreciate <<if $dfriend is false>>the slight smile tugging $dname’s lips up even more. $cdthey looks pleased, and that alone is enough to make you feel giddy with a sense of accomplishment.<</if>><<if $xfriend is false>>$xname’s attention even more, watching you with a look of intrigue from across the table, chin leaning against $xtheir hand and $xtheir fingers curved over $xtheir smirking lips. Somehow, that look alone is enough to warm your skin beneath your garments.<</if>><<if $afriend is false>>$aname’s reaction even more. $cathey appears surprised at first, but then lets a smile slip, something of admiration in $atheir eyes as $athey watches you from across the table. It makes you break out into a smile of your own, taking pride in it.<</if>><</if>><</if>><</if>><<if $bazostate is 'halftrust' or $bazostate is 'fakehalftrust' or $bazostate is 'halfintimidation'>>I have to ask: is it your intention to court the loyalists? I heard you forgave Bazo for his absence.” “It seems the best place to start from,” you explain, though you’re curious to hear the thoughts of your companions on this. “<<if $bazocourt is 'condemned'>>I know I condemned his absence before, but he offered his apologies for it and seemed sincere in doing so.<<else>>He offered his apologies for it and seemed sincere in doing so.<</if>> Besides, just by being the Crown in this situation, it’s impossible for me to be impartial. I may as well make use of the allies—or so they have professed—at my disposal.” “Even if that might make negotiations more difficult?” $aname pauses a beat, and then adds, “I’m not refuting the logic, but you should know that this will send a message to the rebels. Is it one you intended?” “It was.” A month in this position was long enough to teach you the importance in being decisive. “Whether the rebels have any valid concerns or not, presenting a united front will give me more leverage than entering the fray with fractures between me and the loyalists.” “It’s a sound strategy,” $dname comments, and you ease a little with relief, glad to know you haven’t made some kind of blunder. <<if $dfriend is false>>$cdtheir praise especially means more to you than anyone else’s, and you wonder if $dthey knows that. <</if>>“You have showed the loyalists that you have a mind of your own without outright alienating them in the process. Of course, appearing to support the loyalists from the start will have its own downsides, but there is no perfect way of approaching a situation like this.” You’re pleased that your decision has been taken well: none of the others seem to disapprove, either. It would have certainly taken the wind out of your sails if you’d had to argue and justify yourself.<<if $bazostate is 'fakehalftrust'>> “Besides, it’s not as if I trust Bazo and his side unquestioningly,” you say, drawing inquisitive looks from the others. “The other night, I sent Ishrah with him to the estate he is residing at in Marabad. If he gets up to anything suspicious while he’s here, she’ll be able to tell me.” “I was wondering where she was!” $rname exclaims. “I’m impressed, $name. That is a clever ploy.” <<if $rfriend is false>>You smile, pleased by the praise, and $rname offers you a shy smile back before quickly averting $rtheir eyes again, appearing bashful. Adorable.<<else>>While you appreciate $rtheir compliment, you appreciate <<if $dfriend is false>>the slight smile tugging $dname’s lips up even more. $cdthey looks pleased, and that alone is enough to make you feel giddy with a sense of accomplishment.<</if>><<if $xfriend is false>>$xname’s attention even more, watching you with a look of intrigue from across the table, chin leaning against $xtheir hand and $xtheir fingers curved over $xtheir smirking lips. Somehow, that look alone is enough to warm your skin beneath your garments.<</if>><<if $afriend is false>>$aname’s reaction even more. $cathey appears surprised at first, but then lets a smile slip, something of admiration in $atheir eyes as $athey watches you from across the table. It makes you break out into a smile of your own, taking pride in it.<</if>><</if>><</if>><</if>><<if $bazostate is 'reprimandtrust' or $bazostate is 'reprimandfaketrust' or $bazostate is 'reprimandintimidation'>>I have to ask: did you decide to distance yourself from the loyalists after speaking with him? I hear he is to make a public apology.” “<<if $bazocourt is 'wait'>>I wouldn’t go as far as distancing myself, but it occurred to me that I was too tolerant before<<else>>I wouldn’t go as far as distancing myself, but I couldn’t receive him as a guest without addressing it after I publicly condemned him for it before<</if>>,” you explain, though you’re curious to hear the thoughts of your companions on this. “<<if $bazocourt is 'wait'>>I didn’t want to make a decision without having all the facts, but now that I have gained some experience as the Crown, I have come to understand how damaging it can be to let such slights go unanswered.<<else>>As much as he may have been dealing with difficult circumstances, now that I have gained some experience as the Crown, I have come to understand how damaging it can be to let such slights go unanswered.<</if>>” “That is true enough.” $aname pauses a beat, and then adds, “Though there is a risk that Bazo and the loyalists will take umbrage with this, especially as they have grown used to operating without a Crown.” “<<if $bazocourt is 'wait'>>If the Crown had made a public statement of $their own demanding an apology, that would certainly have grated, but that is not what happened<<else>>All the more reason that the Crown reestablishes $their authority<</if>>,” $dname comments, you ease a little with relief, glad to know you haven’t made some kind of blunder in your attempt to appear resolute. <<if $dfriend is false>>$cdtheir defense of your decision means more to you than anyone else’s, and you wonder if $dthey knows that. <</if>>“<<if $bazocourt is 'wait'>>By having Bazo apologize on his own, he will get to appear as a humble and loyal servant, all while the Crown’s reputation is improved. It is the best way of handling this without letting his insult go unanswered.<<else>>Bazo and the loyalists may be vexed by this, but at the same time, they will now know that the Crown is not a mere puppet. $cthey <<if $pronouns isnot 'theythem'>>is<<else>>are<</if>> someone with power and influence, deserving of respect.<</if>>” You’re pleased that your decision has been taken well: none of the others seem to disapprove, either. It would have certainly taken the wind out of your sails if you’d had to argue and justify yourself.<<if $bazostate is 'reprimandfaketrust'>> “I’ve also taken more covert precautions with Bazo,” you say, drawing inquisitive looks from the others. “The other night, I sent Ishrah with him to the estate he is residing at in Marabad. If he gets up to anything suspicious while he’s here, she’ll be able to tell me.” “I was wondering where she was!” $rname exclaims. “I’m impressed, $name. That is a clever ploy.” <<if $rfriend is false>>You smile, pleased by the praise, and $rname offers you a shy smile back before quickly averting $rtheir eyes again, appearing bashful. Adorable.<<else>>While you appreciate $rtheir compliment, you appreciate <<if $dfriend is false>>the slight smile tugging $dname’s lips up even more. $cdthey looks pleased, and that alone is enough to make you feel giddy with a sense of accomplishment.<</if>><<if $xfriend is false>>$xname’s attention even more, watching you with a look of intrigue from across the table, chin leaning against $xtheir hand and $xtheir fingers curved over $xtheir smirking lips. Somehow, that look alone is enough to warm your skin beneath your garments.<</if>><<if $afriend is false>>$aname’s reaction even more. $cathey appears surprised at first, but then lets a smile slip, something of admiration in $atheir eyes as $athey watches you from across the table. It makes you break out into a smile of your own, taking pride in it.<</if>><</if>><</if>><</if>><<if $bazostate is 'imprisoned'>>I have to ask: is it your intention to court the rebels? The loyalists will certainly see imprisoning the keeper as a harsh punishment.” “I wouldn’t go as far as to say that I want to court them, but I wanted to send a message that they shouldn’t take me lightly,” you explain, though you’re curious to hear the thoughts of your companions on this. “As much as he may have been dealing with difficult circumstances, now that I have gained some experience as the Crown, I have come to understand how damaging it can be to let such slights go unanswered.” If Keeper Bazo and his faction truly thought of you as a puppet only there to warm the throne, you’re certain you will thoroughly disabuse them of that notion with this punishment. “That is true enough.” $aname pauses a beat, and then adds, “Though there is a risk that this will make any future dealings with the loyalists strained.” “But it may help in making you appear more impartial,” $dname comments, and you ease a little with relief, glad to know you haven’t made some kind of blunder. “That could be useful for any potential negotiations with all the factions involved.” You’re pleased that your decision has been taken well: none of the others seem to disapprove, either. It would have certainly taken the wind out of your sails if you’d had to argue and justify yourself.<</if>> [[Continue|13.9]]<</if>><<if $bazostate is 'betrayed'>>“From the sounds of it, I take it your meeting with Keeper Bazo did not go well last night?” You raise your eyes from the platters of fruit and pastries that Siham and <<if $ishrah is 'absent'>>another servant<<else>>Ishrah<</if>> laid out for you, looking over at $rname on your right who pours a cup of tea for $rthemselves. $crthey does not look at you, even when you know $rthey must be able to tell that you’re staring at $rthem. “It was nothing personal,” you start, which gets you a pointed look from $aname. “I’m not certain he would agree, what with spending the night in the dungeons.” “Then he should have known better than to miss my coronation.” You sigh at the recollection. “Him and his faction are meant to be loyal to the Crown, but I didn’t get that sense at all: he struck me as an opportunist, if anything. He claimed his absence was due to the rebels in Şevan attacking its capital at the time, but I don’t buy it.” Your other companions all remain silent for a few moments, but you catch the way that they exchange looks amongst each other. Finally, $aname speaks again, seeming to address you on behalf of them all. “Bazo’s motives aside, you know how this will make you look, don’t you?” You tense, glancing around the faces of everyone seated at the table. Even Siham and Ishrah seem to be avoiding your gaze, Siham’s eyes aimed at the table while Ishrah fidgets uneasily with one of her woven bracelets. “What do you mean?” you ask, trying to remain composed even while you feel an impulse to defend your decision. “You forgave him for attending your coronation,” $aname points out, “yet now that he visits the palace, you put him in the dungeons for it? It will make you seem fickle at best, two-faced at worst.” Your heart sinks. <ul class="a"> <li>[[Defend yourself.|13.8.lol][$incompetent += 1]]</li> <li>[[Agree that you’ve made a mistake.|13.8.rip]]</li></ul><</if>><<if visited("13.8.lol") is 1>><<if $rfriend is false>><<set $rpoints -= 2>><<else>><<set $rfriendship -= 1>><</if>><<if $afriend is false>><<set $apoints -= 4>><<else>><<set $afriendship -= 2>><</if>><<if $xfriend is false>><<set $xpoints -= 4>><<else>><<set $xfriendship -= 2>><</if>><<if $dfriend is false>><<set $dpoints -= 2>><<else>><<set $dfriendship -= 1>><</if>><</if>>“I simply thought he did not seem sincere after meeting him in person,” you rush to say, glancing around the room and becoming tenser by the moment. “Am I not allowed to change my mind?” “Of course you are,” $rname says, speaking in a calm voice, but it only irks you further. As if you are a child that needs to be placated. “But there is a way of doing that without causing others to doubt your trustworthiness. The loyalists in Şevan will look at this and wonder whether your initial forgiveness was a ploy to lure Bazo in. Surely you can see how that would harm your own position in the negotiations?” “What does it matter what they think?” you retort, frowning deeply. “If they are loyalists, then they are obligated to obey me as their Crown.” <<if $afriend is false>>From across the table, $aname narrows $atheir eyes at you sharply, crossing $atheir arms over $atheir chest. It makes you hesitate, if only for a moment, but the discomfort it causes only makes you lash out further.<</if>><<if $dfriend is false>>You glance at your left where $dname sits, and find $dtheir expression to be a stony one—not outright disapproval, but certainly no approval either. $cdthey is hiding $dtheir true thoughts from you, which only agitates you further.<</if>><<if $xfriend is false>>From across the table, $xname’s brows are arched slightly, watching you without any of $xtheir usual easygoing cheer or warmth. If anything, $xthey looks genuinely surprised that you would defend your decision, which only irritates you further.<</if>><<if $rfriend is false>>$rname does not reply to that, but $rtheir brows draw together as if in concern. Does $rthey think you’re being irrational, merely because you stand by your own judgment?<</if>> “If anything,” you continue when no one else says anything, “my willingness to punish Bazo should help prove how impartial I am to all the other factions in Şevan.” “No one here cares that Bazo is getting punished,” $aname replies, addressing you much less gently than $rname did as $athey frowns at you. “It’s the manner in which you did it that will cause an issue down the line.” “We’re saying this as your friends, $name,” $rname adds before you can counter. “We all want to see you do well as the Crown, and part of that is telling you when one of your decisions might end up backfiring.” “Well, that’s merely your opinion.” You avert your gaze dismissively. “We’ll see if it actually does backfire, won’t we?” A strained silence settles across the table, which only fuels your annoyance further. From the corner of your eyes, you can see $rname’s shoulders turn in on $rthemselves a little, and $aname’s stare on you heats into an outright glare. You’re almost certain this is going to turn into a major fight, until $xname suddenly interjects. “I’ll take that wager.” $cxthey smirks at you, and you cannot tell whether it is openly derisive or if your own anger is making you think that it is. “How about it? If your reputation takes a hit from this, I win. If not, you win.” Some of the tension seems to lift at $xtheir antics, however, as $dname casts them an exasperated look. “Politics aren’t a game.” “Oh, I take my betting very seriously.” “Fine,” you say, eager to put the argument behind you. “What are we betting for?” $xname gives a single-shouldered shrug. “Bragging rights.” You suspect this is all simply a ploy to smooth over the conflict, but in this instance you can’t say you mind. “Alright then. It’s a bet.” [[Continue|13.9.lol]]“Is it really going to be that bad?” you say as you glance around the table, dread creeping up your throat. “I just thought… he didn’t seem very sincere after I met him, and I wanted to make him take me seriously.” $rname and $aname look at each other, and $xname’s brows arches slightly as $xthey stares at you, but it’s $dname who replies to you first. “Imprisoning him will seem rather harsh,” $dthey says. “Asking him to make a public apology would have been more fitting. But now, as $aname said, it will appear as if you lured him in to then make a fool of him and the loyalists.” “Spirits.” You take a moment to rub your hands over your face, embarrassment and frustration heating your skin. “<<if $blunt gt $charm>>I really screwed this up,<<else>>I really made a mess of things,<</if>> didn’t I?” “We can still salvage this,” $rname is quick to reassure you. “Release him early and pretend that you were merely giving him a warning not to cross you in the future. I will ensure none of the servants spread any further gossip about this, either.” Some hope alights within you, though you look at $rname in doubt. “You really think that will make a difference?” “It’s better than keeping him locked up, no?” $xname points out, and you can’t argue with that. “Alright.” You glance over at Siham. “Can you inform one of the guards to release the keeper and send him on his way? Tell him that…” You hesitate, not wanting to do anything to make things worse, and $dname supplies helpfully, “Tell him that $ctheir Imperial Majesty is keeping an eye on him.” “Thanks.” You say this not only to $dname, but to everyone gathered around the table. “I didn’t realize I was making such a blunder.” $xname smiles at you, bumping the side of your knee with $xtheir foot underneath the table in a playful gesture. “What are friends for?” [[Continue|13.9.rip]] The rest of breakfast passes in a more peaceful manner, although you can tell your companions aren’t as at ease with you as they were before, speaking less even amongst each other with the occasional glance thrown your way. As your indignation cools, you decide to ignore it, hoping it will pass soon as you inquire more after Bazo and the situation in Şevan. “Keko suggested that Bazo missed my coronation because he assumed I was nothing but a puppet placed on the throne,” you reply, taking the cup of tea that Siham slides over to you with a murmured word of thanks. “Even if that’s true, shouldn’t he still have visited in that case?” $xname says, filling up $xtheir plate with three different kinds of cheeses, apple slices, sweet pastries and olives. “If not for you, then for whoever he assumed was pulling your strings.” “Not if he was already in touch with these supposed puppet masters,” $dname considers, eyes narrowing in thought as $dthey stares into $dtheir own cup. “Most likely, Mîr Mêrxas.” You do remember Mîr Mêrxas being one of the people defending Keeper Bazo for missing your coronation. Zerat and Şevan share very large parts of their borders, after all. Should the situation in Şevan spiral out of control, you assume Zerat will be the province that would be impacted most. “How much support has Mêrxas been giving Şevan?” you ask, pondering their relationship further. “Formally? Nothing.” $dname looks across the table at $xname. “The provincial army in Zerat has been lending a hand to the one in Şevan, but as you know, the Mîrs have no command over them. Informally, however…” “There’s been talk of Mêrxas hiring mercenaries to fight on behalf of the loyalists and bolster the army there,” $xname explains, taking over from $dname. “Tûjo mentioned such an offer being extended to Blades as well, but he told me to decline.” That surprises you. “Isn’t Tûjo from Şevan? I’d think he would have an interest.” “He does, which is why he didn’t want to fight.” $xname takes a bite of one of the round pastries, seeming to be filled with a dark red jam. $cxthey chews and swallows before continuing. “The offer was made many months ago, before you appeared as the Crown. Fighting for the loyalists would have meant fighting for Mîr Mêrxas to take over the province. A necessity to restore order, he claimed, but… well, Tûjo wasn’t taken in by it.” Now <em>that</em> is rather valuable knowledge. “It will be interesting to see what Mîr Mêrxas does now that I am here, then.” [[Continue|13.9]]<<if $peritrader is false>>With the topic of Bazo dealt with and the hour of your court meeting approaching, you decide to discuss what happened with Eshkar yesterday. $rname and $aname both have been filled in by $xname and $dname, but you have yet to go over it as a group. “Has he woken yet?” you ask, recalling the pitiful state the peri had been reduced to after your battle yesterday. “He has, but using my usual methods of interrogation will be difficult,” $aname answers, frowning with annoyance. “Peris are made entirely of magic: it overwhelms my ability to look into their minds. I could use it as a last resort, if need be, but…” But it will take a lot out of $athem, you gather. The last time $athey struggled reading someone’s mind it gave $athem a severe migraine, and you’d rather not <<if $afriend is false or $afriendship gt 0>>risk hurting $athem<<else>>have your Royal Protector indisposed<</if>> if you can help it. “Then, preferably, we will have to persuade him to tell us the truth another way.” You don’t think it will take much to make Eshkar crack at least. “Do we have enough time to speak to him before the court meeting begins?” “Even if we don’t, the court can’t begin without you present,” $rname replies. “They will simply have to wait.” With all of you having finished eating by now, you rise from the table and head out to make your way towards the dungeons. The corridors are a little busier than usual around this time of day, servants and clerks running about to no doubt tend to the court officials that are gathering at the palace. Thankfully, the dungeons are located opposite from the hall where you usually hold your court meetings, minimizing the risk of running into any officials on the way there. The palace aids you in navigating, besides: within its labyrinthine corridors, you take three turns before you suddenly find yourself before the tall, stone doors that lead down to the dungeons. Two guards stand on either side, both saluting at the sight of you, before opening the doors for you. <<if $prisoner is 'palace'>> It seems like there is more security present ever since the assassin that you locked up here escaped.<</if>> You and your companions descend the stairs, the servants staying behind and the guards closing the doors behind you again. “Where is Eshkar’s cell?” “Further in,” $dname says, leading the way. “He has not yet fully recovered, but he will be well enough to speak.” <<if $bazostate is 'imprisoned'>> A vast majority of the cells you pass by are empty, until you come upon one where the torches on the walls outside have been lit. Through the translucent barrier, you spot Keeper Bazo standing in the center of his room, having no doubt heard you approach. He bows as you pass him by. “Your Imperial Majesty.” You cast him a glance, but say nothing. $rname hums with thought beside you. “At least he doesn’t seem to hold the punishment against you.” “That, or he’s a very good actor,” you reply, putting it out of your mind for now. As you continue through the dimly-lit hallway, you also spot the prison warden sitting at a desk, seeming absorbed in reading a book. He lifts his head when he notices your party, and you catch a glimpse of his shocked expression before you pass by his cell. “Your Imperial Majesty!” he calls out after you. “Please, I beg your forgiveness—” “Be silent!” you hear one of your guards interject. You can’t say you feel any kind of sympathy for the warden, considering how he completely failed in his duty of looking after the prisoners. He isn’t the only one down here you encounter unexpectedly, however.<<else>><<if $afriend is false or $divination is true>> A vast majority of the cells you pass by are empty, but then you find one that isn’t. It doesn’t hold Eshkar, but the prison warden: sitting at a desk and seeming absorbed in reading a book. He lifts his head when he notices your party, and you catch a glimpse of his shocked expression before you pass by his cell. “Your Imperial Majesty!” he calls out after you. “Please, I beg your forgiveness—” “Be silent!” you hear one of your guards interject. You can’t say you feel any kind of sympathy for the warden, considering how he completely failed in his duty of looking after the prisoners. He isn’t the only one down here you encounter unexpectedly, however.<</if>><</if>> Once you reach the deepest parts of the dungeons, you spot a cell where someone sits on the floor rather than on any of the furniture. Their back is against the wall, eyes gazing aimlessly ahead, until they notice you. You don’t know why, but you stop in front of their cell. Something about them seems vaguely familiar. “Your Imperial Majesty,” $dname speaks quietly, $dtheir voice sounding a little strained and causing you to shift your eyes from the prisoner back to $dthem. “Eshkar is right up ahead.” You frown. “Who is this prisoner?” “No one of importance—” The prisoner scoffs. “Important enough to keep confined in here, clearly.” Disregarding $dname’s attempt to usher you away, you approach the barrier, staring down at the prisoner with curiosity. “What is your name?” They meet your eyes. “Nima.” <<if $dfriend is false>>Your eyes widen with realization: this was once $dname’s friend. One of the soldiers under $dtheir command, who turned into a spy for the Followers of Vidarna and then attempted to kill you back in the forest, when you first tried to reach $rname. $rname looks at $dname with a questioning frown. “Why is she still here? All the other traitors have long been executed.” $dname remains silent, peering at Nima who returns a mocking smile. “I haven’t decided what to do with her yet,” you chime in, covering for $dname as best you can. $dname looks at you with almost as much surprise as Nima. “I figured it wouldn’t be a bad idea to keep her on hand, just in case.” Admittedly, your reasoning doesn’t make much sense: like the other spies and traitors, Nima’s memories were carefully manipulated and warded to remove anything that could have been useful to you about the Followers of Vidarna. But clearly, $dname still has some kind of attachment to Nima as someone $dthey used to be close friends with. Her execution is unavoidable: it’s only a matter of when. But before then, you want to give $dname the opportunity to decide whether $dthey wants to forgive Nima or not for $dthemselves, while Nima is still alive. You never had that opportunity with your parents, after all. “Let’s move on,” you say despite the doubtful looks you receive from your other friends. “We shouldn’t waste too much time before the court gathers.” You meet $dname’s eyes, finding $dtheir gaze softened with gratitude as $dthey gives you a subtle nod, before leading you down the corridor once more. $cdthey does not look at Nima again as you pass her cell, but you feel Nima’s stare burning on your back until you leave her sight.<<else>>“That tells me nothing.” You look over at $dname, suspecting that $dthey knows who this is, judging by how eager $dthey was to get you to move along. “Who are they, $dname?” $dname sighs deeply, shoulders deflating slightly with the motion. “She is one of the traitors who attempted to assassinate you when you were trying to get to $rtitle $rname.” Now you remember: $dname murmured her name back then, and you recall $dthey seemed regretful about her involvement. $rname looks at $dname with a questioning frown. “Why is she still here? All the other traitors have long been executed.” $dname remains silent, peering at Nima who returns a mocking smile. “Well, isn’t it up to $name to decide what happens to her?” $xname interject unexpectedly, glancing at $dname. $cxthey seems concerned for the same reason you are: $dname is not acting like $dthemselves, with $dtheir usual steadfast determination. “She was the highest ranking among the spies, wasn’t she?” $dname meets $xname’s eyes, seeming a little surprised at $xname’s defense of $dthem. $xname returns a knowing look, and something in $dname’s posture eases before $dthey replies to $rname. “Her fate is in the Crown’s hands,” $dthey says, and your brows furrow with question. The only judgment you can truly give her is to execute her. Surely $dname and $xname both know that too? “I’ll consider this another time,” you decide, wanting to stay focused on what you’re really there for. “Let’s see Eshkar before the court gathers.”<</if>> [[Continue|13.10.esh]]<<else>>With the topic of Bazo dealt with and the hour of your court meeting approaching, you and your friends finish up breakfast. $rname and $aname were filled in about your meeting with Kham yesterday, and they both agree that any further action will have to wait until after the expedition to the mountains. “I will say one thing,” $aname says as you all start getting up from the table, “I don’t trust Kham. Her personally delivering Eshkar to $name and controlling the conversation was calculated at best. Either she wants to avoid potential scandal for Anshan, or she is implicated in all this somehow.” “You really think she could have a hand in the abuse of the prisoners?” $rname’s brows furrow. “It seems like such a great risk for someone of her station… if she gets caught, it would reflect terribly on Anshan. I find it more likely that she’s trying to save face.” “Not if she did not expect for the Crown to appear,” $xname points out. $rname’s frown deepens. “Didn’t she only arrive in Marabad after $name was announced as the Crown?” “As far as <em>we</em> know, but who is to say she has not visited Marabad before?” You consider your friends’ discussion with some thought, but you admittedly struggle to focus on the topic when you are about to walk into another court meeting—and not simply <em>any</em> other meeting, either. This will be the first one where you will be offered public petitions from the citizens of your Empire. During the first month of court meetings, much of them had been regarding the vacant positions that needed to be filled in court, as well as questions of allocating funding for each office and recruiting more people to work for Arsur’s governing bodies. While essential, these topics have been far from riveting. These petitions will be different, however: your first opportunity to directly affect the lives of your subjects. You suspect most of the requests will be from Rojan for the time being, seeing as those would have been the easiest to collect, but no doubt more will be coming in from all over Arsur soon. As you and your companions head into the palace’s corridors towards the meeting hall, you feel a nudge of someone’s elbow in your side. “Nervous?” You look over at $xname walking beside you. “<<if $incompetent gt 0>>You’ll do fine. <</if>>Just try not to make any decisions that’ll ruin someone’s life.” <<if $blunt gt $charm>>“You should stop giving advice,” you reply. “You’re bad at it.”<<else>>“Can I hire you for another job?” you reply. $xname gives you a questioning look. “Sure. What is it?” “Don’t give me advice anymore.” You hear $aname breathe out a laugh behind you.<</if>> $xname smiles with amusement, <<if $xfriend is false>>though it is quick to falter. Ignoring the presence of your friends, $xthey takes your hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “<<if $incompetent gt 0>>I mean it. You’ll do fine. <</if>>I’m only sorry I can’t attend the meeting to support you.” $cxtheir earnest concern warms you, and you squeeze $xtheir hand back, marveling at how natural the gesture already feels to do. “Will you be staying at the palace?” $cxthey sighs. “No, I should head back into the city. Might as well do something useful in the meantime and see to some of those supplies for the expedition.” The moment $xname releases your hand as the five of you come to a stop in an intersection of hallways, you immediately miss $xtheir warmth. “I’ll see you in the afternoon, then,” you say, <<if $pass gt $ass>>pausing for a moment to see how $xname will choose to bid you goodbye. $cxthey holds your eyes as $xthey leans in, <<if $res gt $flirt>>yet makes it very clear $xthey’s aiming for a kiss to your cheek with $xtheir deliberate movements. You smile as $xthey gives you a gentle peck, pleased and appreciative that $xthey remembered your earlier conversation and is keeping it toned down in front of your friends.<<else>>head tilting and lips brushing against yours in what is meant to be a brief kiss, yet you cannot help but make it linger just a little as you kiss $xtheir back. $xname pulls back with a look of pure accusation on $xtheir face, making you laugh as you remember what $xthey said about not <em>tempting</em> $xthem too much.<</if>><<else>>then lean in first to bid $xthem a proper goodbye. $cxthey holds your eyes <<if $height is 'tall' or $height is 'very tall' or $height is 'average'>>as you move closer,<<else>>and bends down to spare you from having to stand on your toes,<</if>> allowing you to <<if $res gt $flirt>>press a chaste peck to $xtheir cheek. You smile a little, pleased and appreciative that $xthey remembered your earlier conversation and is keeping it toned down in front of your friends.<<else>>brush your lips to $xtheirs in what is meant to be a brief kiss, yet you cannot help but make it linger just a little than it should. When you pull back, $xname levels you with a look of pure accusation on $xtheir face, making you laugh as you remember what $xthey said about not <em>tempting</em> $xthem too much.<</if>><</if>> “Go on,” you say, knowing that the longer $xname chooses to hover the longer you’ll be distracted, and the later you’ll be to your meeting. “I’m going, I’m going.” $cxthey lets out a deep, melancholy sigh as $xthey turns around to walk away. You watch $xthem go down the corridor until $xthey suddenly stops and turns around. “Oh, right—good luck to the rest of you, as well!” “How kind of you to remember,” $aname teases loudly, and $xname flashes $xthem a grin before continuing on $xtheir way.<<else>>though it is quickly replaced by a sigh. “While you handle that, I should head back into the city. Might as well see to the supplies for the expedition in the meantime.” You suppose $xthey might as well: $xthey can’t attend the court meeting, after all. If you really wanted to, you probably <em>could</em> invite $xthem in as your guest, but it would do nothing but antagonize the court needlessly. “Sounds like a plan,” you reply. “See you in the afternoon, then?” “Definitely before supper.” $xname’s gaze flits over you and the rest of your friends. “Good luck with the bureaucrats! I’ll think of you while I enjoy my freedom.” The others bid their goodbyes in turn—if $dname’s grunt can be called that—and soon after $xname turns the corner into a different corridor, splitting off and going $xtheir own way.<</if>> [[Continue|13.courtmeeting]]<</if>> The rest of breakfast passes in a more peaceful manner. Your embarrassment dissipates as you realize none of them hold your mistake against you, all acting as normal as they make conversation. $xname and $rname especially go out of their way to distract you with idle chatter, perhaps able to sense how awkward you’re still feeling. <<if $dfriend is false or $afriend is false>><<if $afriend is false>>$aname<</if>><<if $dfriend is false>> does not treat you any differently either, which is of great relief.<</if>> As you all move past your misstep, you inquire more after Bazo and the situation in Şevan. “Keko suggested that Bazo missed my coronation because he assumed I was nothing but a puppet placed on the throne,” you reply, taking the cup of tea that Siham slides over to you with a murmured word of thanks. “Even if that’s true, shouldn’t he still have visited in that case?” $xname says, filling up $xtheir plate with three different kinds of cheeses, apple slices, sweet pastries and olives. “If not for you, then for whoever he assumed was pulling your strings.” “Not if he was already in touch with these supposed puppet masters,” $dname considers, eyes narrowing in thought as $dthey stares into $dtheir own cup. “Most likely, Mîr Mêrxas.” You do remember Mîr Mêrxas being one of the people defending Keeper Bazo for missing your coronation. Zerat and Şevan share very large parts of their borders, after all. Should the situation in Şevan spiral out of control, you assume Zerat will be the province that would be impacted most. “How much support has Mêrxas been giving Şevan?” you ask, pondering their relationship further. “Formally? Nothing.” $dname looks across the table at $xname. “The provincial army in Zerat has been lending a hand to the one in Şevan, but as you know, the Mîrs have no command over them. Informally, however…” “There’s been talk of Mêrxas hiring mercenaries to fight on behalf of the loyalists and bolster the army there,” $xname explains, taking over from $dname. “Tûjo mentioned such an offer being extended to Blades as well, but he told me to decline.” That surprises you. “Isn’t Tûjo from Şevan? I’d think he would have an interest.” “He does, which is why he didn’t want to fight.” $xname takes a bite of one of the round pastries, seeming to be filled with a dark red jam. $cxthey chews and swallows before continuing. “The offer was made many months ago, before you appeared as the Crown. Fighting for the loyalists would have meant fighting for Mîr Mêrxas to take over the province. A necessity to restore order, he claimed, but… well, Tûjo wasn’t taken in by it.” Now <em>that</em> is rather valuable knowledge. “It will be interesting to see what Mîr Mêrxas does now that I am here, then.” [[Continue|13.9]] Once you finally arrive at Eshkar’s cell, you see him in his human form, sitting at the edge of the modest bed. He merely lifts his head to look at you when you appear, seeming to have anticipated your visit, but otherwise he remains silent. His complexion looks pale and haggard, and his thick, curly hair seems dry and brittle, as if he were suffering from an illness—possibly he has exhausted his magic during your battle yesterday, but you did not know that would affect his human appearance as well. “So this is Eshkar,” $rname murmurs from beside you, looking him over with vague interest. “A rather pitiful sight.” Eshkar merely sighs, hanging his head low. “No threats this time?” $xname says, raising an eyebrow at his defeated posture. “Nothing about how Her Highness Princess Kham will hear of this?” “I am certain you will deal with me before her return.” Eshkar seems to have well and truly given up. All the better for you. “Then it seems you understand the position you’re in.” You approach the barrier, standing right in front of it as you peer through it at Eshkar. “Good. You can start by telling me everything you know about the blue siren. Particularly the ways in which it can be enhanced by magic.” Eshkar exhales another, deep sigh. “I do not suppose that my honesty might save my life?” “That depends on your role in all this, and how forthcoming you are.” He says nothing for a while, gazing down at the hands he has loosely folded between his knees. $xname starts growing restless beside you, shifting from one foot to the other until $aname nudges $xthem in the side to make $xthem stop. Finally, Eshkar starts to talk. “Its distinctive sound is most commonly enhanced.” He does not lift his head as he speaks. “To what extent?” you press. “Usually, for ambiance.” He shrugs. “Nothing that would cause a disturbance. It is all very benign.” The fact that he feels the need to add that last remark to his answer gives you the sense he is aware of less benign uses for the flower. “If enhanced enough,” you say, “would it be able to paralyze someone?” For the first time, Eshkar tenses. “I have… I mean, there have been some customers that have asked—” “What customers?” you demand, cutting through his rambling. “The city guard.” Your brows arch sharply, and you hear $aname make a displeased noise beside you. “Are you saying that Marabad’s city guard are the ones who asked you to grow magically enhanced flowers, strong enough to paralyze people with?” Eshkar nods once, glancing up at you through the mess of bangs framing his face. “They said it was in cases of emergency, such as public commotions and riots.” You cannot make sense of it. Would Welat truly do something so reckless as to attempt to assassinate you, and using the city guard to do it? Not to mention letting this peri trader continue to operate in the city. Surely he must have known that Eshkar might betray their dealings, and not risk a loose end like that? Then again, you know that Welat disapproves of you as a Crown—perhaps disapproves of being ruled by any Crown, accustomed to having the run of Marabad over the course of ten years. The assassination attempt may have been a desperate maneuver to keep you from the throne. “And what is the process of enhancing a flower to that extent?” $dname asks while you consider the possibilities. If Eshkar appeared nervous before, it is nothing to the way he grips at his arms now, fingers digging into his skin and his jaw clenching. “It requires more than ordinary magic can give,” he says, the skin of his knuckles turned white. “We had a deal, the prison warden and I.” It cannot be. [[Continue|13.11.esh]] By the time you reach the opened doors that lead into the meeting hall, the entirety of the court has already gathered. A guard by the entrance announced your presence, killing all the chatter in the hall as the officials and the ministers fall silent and wait for you to appear. Like always, they are standing in rows on the left and the right side of the hall, leaving a path in the center empty that leads to your throne. You take a steadying breath before stepping inside, watching all the court officials bowing for you and realizing you are far less nervous now than you were the first time you did this. Over the course of a month, it seems you have already started growing accustomed to it, to where even the many gazes of the court officials following you as you walk to your throne do not bother you much at all anymore. $rname and $aname follow you up the steps to the raised platform where your throne stands, while $dname joins the officials on the right side of the room, taking $dtheir usual place near<<if $nazaminister is true>> Lady Naza and <</if>>the rest of the military officials<<if $nazaminister is false>>, including your newly appointed Minister of Defense<<else>><</if>>. You reach your throne, turning around to face the court and sitting down, with $rname standing on your right and $aname on your left. <<if $dfriend is true and $xfriend is true>> Many new faces fill out the throne room, a little over a hundred uniform robes in various colors denoting which office each official belongs to. Only half of those have legitimate votes to cast during discussions, while the other half are either junior officials or administrators keeping track of the meetings. The representatives of the Mîrs are all present as well, having been assigned during the same time you were appointing your own officials. Mîr Behram’s representative in particular stands near the front of the court in bright red robes, marked with the subtle embroidery of mountains along the hem. As you recall, having memorized everyone who has become part of your court, he is a noble lord named Samal. He, much like the rest of the officials, gazes up at you with expectation. They all watch and wait for the court meeting to begin. Their silence is deceptive, their demands sealed within their mouths like the fangs of a serpent, unleashed only at the moment of striking. <</if>>As you peer out over the crowd, you notice the tension in the air: officials shifting or fidgeting, exchanging glances with each other. Perhaps they are as anxious as you were to speak about more than filling empty court positions this time. “Before we begin,” you start, deciding it best to get this part over with early, “I would like to formally announce that I will be leaving for pilgrimage to the Armas Mountains in a week’s time.” A rippling of murmurs travels through the court, and before anyone can think to respond, you continue. “This is not up for debate or discussion. Şahmaran has been of great aid to Arsur in the past, up until she decided to isolate herself from us for reasons unknown. I hope that I may change her mind.” You watch Steward Welat<<if $law isnot 'outwitted'>> and Minister Besna<</if>> particularly closely. <<if $law isnot 'outwitted'>>Unfortunately, the former appears as composed and inscrutable as ever, while the latter merely seems surprised.<<else>>Unfortunately, the steward appears as composed and inscrutable as ever, holding your gaze with ease.<</if>> Not much you can deduce from that. “Now, let’s move on.” You look over to the Voice of the Crown, Karwan Feylî, the chief minister presiding over the meeting. “What is first on the agenda today, chief minister?”<<if $xfriend is true and $dfriend is true>> Minister Karwan is a veteran of politics and the oldest member of your court. He looks surprisingly fit at first glance, broad-shouldered and tall with a full head of thick black hair. His face is the only thing that betrays his age: deep brown skin wrinkled so deep that its rolls nearly swallow his facial features. From his straight-backed posture, you get the sense he must have served as a soldier at some point. <</if>> The chief minister bows with his neck as you address him. His hands are folded behind his back, and he stands from across Lord Samal on the right side of the court. <<if $rfriend is false>>“Before we discuss the public petitions that have been submitted by the citizens, the court has a concern that they wish to address,” he says, and you do not like the sound of that at all. “It regards $rtitle $rname, and $rtheir recent absence.” [[Continue|13.r1]]<</if>><<if $afriend is false>>“Before we discuss the public petitions that have been submitted by the citizens, the court has a concern that they wish to address,” he says, and you do not like the sound of that at all. “It regards the fire that recently struck the city, and the Royal Protector’s involvement in it.” [[Continue|13.a1]]<</if>><<if $dfriend is false and $tempreplacement is true>>“Before we discuss the public petitions that have been submitted by the citizens, the court has an inquiry to make,” he says, and you do not like the sound of that at all. “It regards the possible substitute for the High General.” [[Continue|13.d1]]<</if>><<if $dfriend is false and $tempreplacement is false or $xfriend is false>>“The Office of Diplomacy has gathered many public petitions from the citizens, as instructed, and stands ready to present them to you,” he says, motioning toward the diplomats who work in the office on the other end of the room. “They have brought with them a selection of petitions chosen blindly and at random for you to judge.” $rname has told you about this: $rthey asked the servants to watch the Office of Diplomacy in their selection to ensure they did not try to sneak anything in. As far as they have seen, the process was done fairly—but you can never be too certain. “Present the first one,” you say to the Minister of Diplomacy, who looks to one of her officials and gives a curt nod. The diplomat steps forward in their orange robes, and only then do you notice a low table at the front of the hall filled with a tall stack of scrolls. Judging by the amount of petitions, you suspect you’re going to be here for a while. [[Continue|13.gen1]]<</if>>“You shameless vultures,” $xname spits, the very air around $xthem seeming to heat with $xtheir rising anger. “What did you do to the prisoners?” Eshkar shrinks back a little, even with a magic-warding barrier between him and $xname, but he does not find any safety in any of your other companions as he glances at them either. “Answer the question,” $rname orders, ice in $rtheir gaze. “First, you must understand that the type of magic used in such a process is essential.” Eshkar’s shoulders ease somewhat as he begins to explain, perhaps finding some comfort in elaborating on his area of expertise. “Using the idle magic that exists in the air may give one some benefits, but it would not be sufficient for any significant enhancements. Not to mention, finding a way to funnel it to the flower would be far too tedious, requiring constant attention.” One would have to cast constant spells to ensure the flower would absorb it from the air, you imagine. “Then what is a better way to do it?” “You would want to draw from a source that already contains potent amounts of magic,” Eshkar answers, his words stiff with his reluctance. “Even more ideal would be one that refreshes itself naturally.” <<if $intel gt $intu>>You put his meaning together before anyone else in the room, your eyes widening with the realization. “You enhanced the flowers by letting them absorb it from the prisoners?”<<else>>You frown, a foreboding sensation settling like a stone in the pit of your stomach. “Speak plainly, Eshkar. What did you do?” Eshkar sighs, eyes closing shut as if he were facing his own execution. “The prisoners were used as a source.”<</if>> “So you used them like <em>cattle</em>.” $aname crosses $atheir arms, $atheir expression hard as $atheir glares at Eshkar. “Draining them of magic as you pleased.” “Describe it to me,” you state, your voice now cold rather than calm, anger simmering right beneath it. “What does the process look like?” “The…” Eshkar swallows thickly. “The roots of the plants that were enhanced were wrapped around their wrists, and their magic was absorbed over staggered periods of four to five hours. I assure you that it was painless.”<<if $divination is true>> You recall the letter that you were brought, from the grieving father who pleaded with you to find his son’s abductors who had broken his mind, erased his sense of self, and twisted him into a tool for killing. A person with a family, with loved ones, treated like an animal for something as insignificant as smuggling magic artifacts. <<if $name is 'Ardil'>> Someone who shared the same name as you.<</if>><</if>> “Does that make it better?” you snap, your head feeling hot, and not only because of $xname shedding heat like a bonfire beside you. “The fate of these prisoners was not for the prison warden to decide! The courts have already sentenced them, who do you think you are to take advantage of that?” Eshkar flinches as your voice thunders through the corridor, no doubt filled with regret now—only in hindsight, after he and the prison warden were both caught. Were it not for that, you’re certain he and the prison warden would have continued their deal without hesitation. Coin mattered more to Eshkar than any semblance of morality. “What did the prison warden get out of this arrangement?” $dname asks while you take a breath to reign in your anger. Eshkar winces. “I did not have to pay him anything. It was all part of the arrangement with the city. The prison warden merely oversaw the exchanges of the prisoners, he didn’t have anything to do with it otherwise.” You are beginning to make sense of the bigger picture. “So the city commissioned you these flowers, and to improve the offer, they gave you the prisoners as a source?” $xname scoffs, disgust curling in $xtheir lip. “It got them a great discount, I bet.” Eshkar does not deny it, chewing on his lower lip. “Steward Welat ordered it. He was the one I had the arrangement with.” Somehow, you are not surprised to hear that, for more reasons than the steward's obvious dislike of you. He is in control of both the city guard and the prison warden, after all, so if he somehow had not been aware of it, that would’ve been absurdly incompetent. Still, something about this feels too easy. Is the answer really so simple, with the steward as the culprit behind it? It’s rather convenient for you, and something Eshkar might imagine you would be eager to hear. “That’s not all, is it?” You narrow your eyes at him. “There is something more at play here. After all, you are a merchant who trades on behalf of Anshan.” Eshkar stiffens, eyes widening slightly as he keeps them aimed to the floor, and you know you’re onto something. You say nothing for several moments, Eshkar starting to shift and fidget on the bed as his anxiety grows with your silence, until you finally say: “Kham knows about this. Perhaps was even personally involved?” Eshkar squeezes his eyes shut, and you know you have him. [[Continue|13.12.esh]]“I cannot speak of it,” he says, speaking the words as if it pains him to voice them. “I <em>cannot</em>, and neither should you wish to hear it. An incident like this, it could cause a war—” “And whose fault would that be?” $rname sneers. “Surely not ours?” To your surprise, $dname says, “He has a point.” You all turn to $dthem in disbelief—even Eshkar opens his eyes to stare at $dname in shock. “Arsur is in no position to start a war with Anshan,” $dthey says to you, unperturbed by your incredulous reaction. “Şevan has already become a battleground in the south, and if Rojan were to be attacked by Queen Nis on top of that, it would tear the Empire apart. The Thalloi city-states in the west would be certain to attack, not to mention the Sacati tribes in the north who have been harassing our borders for years. I’m not saying to disregard Kham’s role in this, but we must handle her involvement with the utmost care.” You see the sense in what $dname is saying. A war on Arsur’s soil from an enemy as formidable as the peris would be a disaster, not to mention the risk of opportunists who may seek to take advantage of it. “If we were to reveal Kham’s involvement to Queen Nis,” you say, thinking of how to go about this delicately rather than attempting to arrest Kham, “would she be willing to let her daughter be subject to punishment from the Arsurian courts?” $dname frowns with thought. “As much as Arsur would not want a war, neither would Anshan. While they might possess powerful magics as peris, they know they could not withstand the full might of even a weakened Arsur.” “We would have to discuss the matter with Queen Nis in private,” $rname considers. “Very likely it would be a negotiation for the appropriate punishment and reparation for Kham’s involvement. Queen Nis is wise enough to understand what is at stake: she would not put Anshan’s safety at risk for the sake of her daughter. She has banished members of her family for similar misdeeds in the past, although none of them targeted Arsurian citizens.” It sounds like a political headache, though you suppose it will turn into one no matter what you decide. “Could we not approach Kham herself with this?” you suggest, trying to think of other potential options. You look over at Eshkar. “How much does she know about the agreement between Welat and the prison warden?” Eshkar hesitates to answer, eyeing you reluctantly, and now $xname steps closer to the barrier. “You’re already out of options, Eshkar,” $xthey advises, tapping on the barrier with $xtheir knuckles. “Still, it’s not all hopeless. Fortunately for you, you hold value as both a perpetrator and a witness. If you tell us everything, there is at least a chance that the Crown might strike a bargain with the queen to return you to Anshan. Isn’t that worth gambling on?” You expected that it wouldn’t take much to crack Eshkar, but it is rather pathetic to witness as he lowers his head into his hands, trembling for a few moments before he sucks in a lungful of air and sits up again. “She knows everything,” he speaks, his voice shaking almost as much as his shoulders. “She was the one who approved everything!” $aname lets out a curse, and $rname shakes $xtheir head. $dname is the only one who appears wholly unsurprised. “I hate being right about people,” $xname murmurs, meeting your eyes with question. “So, Kham would likely be able to implicate everyone else involved. Not a bad way to get rid of Steward Welat, and it would avoid causing a political incident.” Not having to deal with Queen Nis certainly sounds like a much simpler way of handling it, but— “Wouldn’t that also mean letting Kham get away with it?” you say, frowning at the thought. “I doubt she’d be eager to subject herself to punishment, and if we spook her, she might run back to Anshan.” “You wouldn’t be able to subject her to the courts, but that doesn’t mean letting her get away with it.” $xname glances over at Eshkar, pointing at him with a thumb. “Keep this one on hand as blackmail against her, and you’ll have enormous leverage over her.” “That is a dangerous game to play, $xname,” $rname says, not seeming wholly at ease with the idea. “It’s not without risks, but neither is negotiating with Queen Nis.” $xname looks back at you. “There is no guarantee the queen will punish Kham adequately either, after all. At least this way you’d have greater control of the situation.” “I concur,” $dname says. “I would rather take the risk of striking a deal with Kham directly to get rid of the true threat: Welat has to be dealt with. Should anything go awry with Kham, at the very least, you could still expose her involvement to the queen.” “You don’t think Kham meddling in our affairs and using our citizens to her benefit is a threat?” $aname questions. “Certainly Welat is equally culpable, but he’s merely a steward while Kham is a princess. She holds far greater influence. I say we speak to the queen first.” Your friends seem split on their advice. Now it’s up to you to decide for yourself. <ul class="a"> <li>[[Negotiate with Queen Nis.|13.13a.esh][$khamstatus to false]]</li> <li>[[Approach Kham about it.|13.13b.esh][$khamstatus to true]]</li></ul>“After the expedition, I’ll send a message to Queen Nis,” you say, finding yourself in agreement with $aname and $rname. “Too many things could go wrong in trying to blackmail the princess. I’d rather play this safe and trust that we’ll still get the evidence we need from Kham to put Welat away.” “Fair enough,” $dname replies. “So long as we avoid provoking Anshan, that is what matters most. But what about him?” $cdthey nods at Eshkar, who glances between you and your companions nervously. “The wards for the dungeons have been strengthened, and the guards are keeping it under constant watch,” $rname says. “He <em>should</em> be safe here, but…” “Take me with you!” Eshkar suddenly gets up to his feet. “These barriers will not be enough to keep the princess’ guards from reaching me if they wish to. Take me with you on your expedition instead! I swear I’ll be no trouble, you can even keep me in the bag you used before.” $xname lifts a hand to $xtheir mouth in a failed attempt to smother $xtheir laughter, drawing a disapproving look from $rname. “What? It’s funny!” “There are ways to restrict a peri’s powers through magic,” $rname says, ignoring $xname’s snickering. “Wards that can limit their ability to absorb nature’s idle energies, and trap them in their human form. That way, we could ensure he won’t be able to attempt an escape at the first opportunity.” “Or,” $xname prompts, grinning at $rname. $crthey rolls $rtheir eyes. “Or keep him in a bag.” “Can we place the wards on him before Kham returns, and take him out of the city until the expedition?” you ask, looking at $xname in question. “We’ll need to keep him somewhere safe.” While Eshkar exhales a relieved sigh, the humor fades from $xname’s expression. “I know a couple of places around Rojan to hide him away for a while. The Blades can take him and keep him under guard, though Kham is certain to notice his absence.” If anything, you consider that an advantage. “Let her fret, then. It’ll make it easier to pressure her once we return.” [[Continue|13.14.esh]]“After the expedition, I’ll broach this matter with Kham,” you say, finding yourself in agreement with $dname and $xname. “Welat worries me more than the princess. If we can use her to ensure he is punished justly, then that should be our priority.” “Well, I won’t protest Welat getting what he deserves,” $aname replies. “But what about him? We’ll need him if we want to blackmail Kham.” $cathey looks at Eshkar, who glances between you and your companions nervously. “The wards for the dungeons have been strengthened, and the guards are keeping it under constant watch,” $rname says. “He <em>should</em> be safe here, but…” “Take me with you!” Eshkar suddenly gets up to his feet. “These barriers will not be enough to keep the princess’ guards from reaching me if they wish to. Take me with you on your expedition instead! I swear I’ll be no trouble, you can even keep me in the bag you used before.” $xname lifts a hand to $xtheir mouth in a failed attempt to smother $xtheir laughter, drawing a disapproving look from $rname. “What? It’s funny!” “There are ways to restrict a peri’s powers through magic,” $rname says, ignoring $xname’s snickering. “Wards that can limit their ability to absorb nature’s idle energies, and trap them in their human form. That way, we could ensure he won’t be able to attempt an escape at the first opportunity.” “Or,” $xname prompts, grinning at $rname. $crthey rolls $rtheir eyes. “Or keep him in a bag.” “Can we place the wards on him before Kham returns, and take him out of the city until the expedition?” you ask, looking at $xname in question. “We’ll need to keep him somewhere safe.” While Eshkar exhales a relieved sigh, the humor fades from $xname’s expression. “I know a couple of places around Rojan to hide him away for a while. The Blades can take him and keep him under guard, though Kham is certain to notice his absence.” If anything, you consider that an advantage. “Let her fret, then. It’ll make it easier to pressure her once we return.” [[Continue|13.14.esh]] With Eshkar dealt with and the hour of your court meeting approaching, you and your friends leave the dungeons and reemerge into the palace proper. While $xname discusses how to best smuggle Eshkar out of the dungeons with your other friends, you struggle to focus on their conversation when you are about to walk into another court meeting—and not simply <em>any</em> other meeting, either. This will be the first one where you will be offered public petitions from the citizens of your Empire. During the first month of court meetings, much of them had been regarding the vacant positions that needed to be filled in court, as well as questions of allocating funding for each office and recruiting more people to work for Arsur’s governing bodies. While essential, these topics have been far from riveting. These petitions will be different, however: your first opportunity to directly affect the lives of your subjects. You suspect most of the requests will be from Rojan for the time being, seeing as those would have been the easiest to collect, but no doubt more will be coming in from all over Arsur soon. As you and your companions navigate the corridors towards the meeting hall, you feel a nudge of someone’s elbow in your side. “Nervous?” You look over at $xname walking beside you. “<<if $incompetent gt 0>>You’ll do fine. <</if>>Just try not to make any decisions that’ll ruin someone’s life.” <<if $blunt gt $charm>>“You should stop giving advice,” you reply. “You’re bad at it.”<<else>>“Can I hire you for another job?” you reply. $xname gives you a questioning look. “Sure. What is it?” “Don’t give me advice anymore.” You hear $aname breathe out a laugh behind you.<</if>> $xname smiles with amusement, <<if $xfriend is false>>though it is quick to falter. Ignoring the presence of your friends, $xthey takes your hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “<<if $incompetent gt 0>>I mean it. You’ll do fine. <</if>>I’m only sorry I can’t attend the meeting to support you.” $cxtheir earnest concern warms you, and you squeeze $xtheir hand back, marveling at how natural the gesture already feels to do. “Will you be staying at the palace?” $cxthey sighs. “No, I should head back into the city. Might as well do something useful in the meantime and see to some of those supplies for the expedition.” The moment $xname releases your hand as the five of you come to a stop in an intersection of hallways, you immediately miss $xtheir warmth. “I’ll see you in the afternoon, then,” you say, <<if $pass gt $ass>>pausing for a moment to see how $xname will choose to bid you goodbye. $cxthey holds your eyes as $xthey leans in, <<if $res gt $flirt>>yet makes it very clear $xthey’s aiming for a kiss to your cheek with $xtheir deliberate movements. You smile as $xthey gives you a gentle peck, pleased and appreciative that $xthey remembered your earlier conversation and is keeping it toned down in front of your friends.<<else>>head tilting and lips brushing against yours in what is meant to be a brief kiss, yet you cannot help but make it linger just a little as you kiss $xtheir back. $xname pulls back with a look of pure accusation on $xtheir face, making you laugh as you remember what $xthey said about not <em>tempting</em> $xthem too much.<</if>><<else>>then lean in first to bid $xthem a proper goodbye. $cxthey holds your eyes <<if $height is 'tall' or $height is 'very tall' or $height is 'average'>>as you move closer,<<else>>and bends down to spare you from having to stand on your toes,<</if>> allowing you to <<if $res gt $flirt>>press a chaste peck to $xtheir cheek. You smile a little, pleased and appreciative that $xthey remembered your earlier conversation and is keeping it toned down in front of your friends.<<else>>brush your lips to $xtheirs in what is meant to be a brief kiss, yet you cannot help but make it linger just a little. When you pull back, $xname levels you with a look of pure accusation on $xtheir face, making you laugh as you remember what $xthey said about not <em>tempting</em> $xthem too much.<</if>><</if>> “Go on,” you say, knowing that the longer $xname chooses to hover the longer you’ll be distracted, and the later you’ll be to your meeting. “I’m going, I’m going.” $cxthey lets out a deep, melancholy sigh as $xthey turns around to walk away. You watch $xthem go down the corridor until $xthey suddenly stops and turns around. “Oh, right—good luck to the rest of you, as well!” “How kind of you to remember,” $aname teases loudly, and $xname flashes $xthem a grin before continuing on $xtheir way.<<else>>though it is quickly replaced by a sigh. “While you handle that, I should head back into the city. Might as well see to the supplies for the expedition in the meantime.” You suppose $xthey might as well: $xthey can’t attend the court meeting, after all. If you really wanted to, you probably <em>could</em> invite $xthem in as your guest, but it would do nothing but antagonize the court needlessly. “Sounds like a plan,” you reply. “See you in the afternoon, then?” “Definitely before supper.” $xname’s gaze flits over you and the rest of your friends. “Good luck with the bureaucrats! I’ll think of you while I enjoy my freedom.” The others bid their goodbyes in turn—if $dname’s grunt can be called that—and soon after $xname turns the corner into a different corridor, splitting off and going $xtheir own way.<</if>> [[Continue|13.courtmeeting]]“The first petition of the day was submitted by a commander from Rojan’s provincial army,” the diplomat introduces, reading from a scroll unfurled in their hands. “It concerns the potential use of spirits to aid soldiers in battle.” This is certainly one you did not expect to hear. Your father always taught you that spirits are pacifists by their nature: the elements they are bound to may harm someone unintentionally, but they do not harbor any desires to hurt or destroy. Their purpose is to dispense blessings to those in need. You glance over at $rname, <<if $rconfidence isnot 'false'>>whose brows are deeply furrowed. You can tell in an instant that $rthey does not like the idea. <<else>>but $rthey is not looking at the diplomat. Instead, $rthey stares off into the distance, $rtheir thoughts seeming elsewhere. No doubt the argument with the court regarding $rthem is still weighing heavily on $rtheir mind. You’ll have to talk to $rthem about it later to make sure $rthey doesn’t let it get to $rthem too much. <</if>>Beside $rthem, $aname seems indifferent—whatever thoughts $athey has, you cannot read them from $atheir face. Down among the crowd of officials, on the other hand, $dname looks thoughtful. The diplomat continues, now looking up at you while putting their scroll away. “The commander in question is present to argue his petition in person, should you desire it, $ctheir Imperial Majesty.” You’re certainly curious as to his reasoning. “Send him in.” One of the servants present at the back of the hall pushes one of the doors open, calling the commander inside. He does not look nervous as he enters, marching steadily to the very front of the chambers and bowing before you. “Tell me more about your proposal,” you prompt, the commander straightening again to address you. “Thank you for lending me your ear, Your Imperial Majesty.” The commander does not waste any time, immediately proceeding into his argumentation. “I am certain you are more than aware that the state of Arsur’s armies: without a Crown, they have weakened severely. Should we contend with another invasion from the Sacati Steppes, or even a potential war with the Thalloi states, we would be at a great disadvantage.” “So you seek to use spirits in order to compensate?” $rname remarks, $rtheir frown deepening further. “In what way?” “Even the use of simple magic spells would be a great boon,” the commander answers. “We are lacking in magi who are specialized in battle, and without magic, we would stand little chance against a more organized force.” He certainly seems convinced that this is all but a necessity in order to bolster your armies, and while you could make a decision about it immediately, you think it best to allow others to voice their opinions as well. You yourself are not very fond of the notion because of how your parents taught you to respect the spirits—using them in such a way feels wrong. Imagining the water spirits that you befriended being used to hurt someone, even be they an enemy, does not sit right in your gut. But that also makes you biased. You turn to $dname who stands among the other court officials, dressed in $dtheir usual ceremonial armor. “What say you, general? Would the Imperial Army also want to make use of the spirits in battle?” “It would be of considerable benefit,” $dthey answers, pausing for a moment as $dthey thinks a little longer, and then adds, “And it would help compensate for the lack of funding and resources that has crippled our logistics for the past several years. That being said, I’m far from knowledgeable regarding spirits, and cannot say how being used in battle would affect them.” $cdthey seems in favor of the idea on its face. <<if $nazaminister is true>>You look over at Minister Naza, who gives a short nod. “I would agree with the general.” She glances over at the commander. “Rojan’s provincial army in particular has been contending with a shrinking number of soldiers to protect against raiders and beasts. Enlisting the aid of spirits would bolster them.”<</if>> It’s not particularly surprising<<if $nazaminister is true>> that they both see the benefits in it<</if>>, but you should hear from anyone with different opinions instead. Particularly those who <em>do</em> have a better understanding of the spirits. [[Continue|13.gen2]] Your gaze falls on the Wisdom of the Crown, Senger Hesinan, whose office consists of experts in various fields who attend these court meetings precisely so you may consult them on such matters. Senger is rather short of stature, possibly the shortest among all the court officials, yet somehow also possesses a very deep, booming voice that seems to reach all four corners of the meeting hall with ease. “My Wisdom,” you say, “is there anyone from your office who could speak more to how such a plan would affect the spirits?” “There is, Your Imperial Majesty.” He turns his gaze on one of the officials, who steps out of the row of people to join the commander in front of your throne. The official bows to you, and when they straighten again, you nod to give them permission to speak. “I am a priest who serves at the Sky Temple, Your Imperial Majesty.” They wear the light blue robes associated with their office, rather than traditional silver robes and mouth-covering veil associated with the element of the Sky. It must be due to palace etiquette. “I have worked with and studied the spirits for many decades, and graduated from the School of Marabad as a Master in the research of elemental spirits.” You’re reminded of your father, your brows twitching before you control your expression and speak. “What is your opinion on the commander’s petition, then?” The priest clears their throat before answering. “I do not mean to cause alarm, but the repercussions would be disastrous.” Their statement causes a minor fuss in the court, murmurs and rumblings from the other officials filling the air while the army commander looks over at the priest with blatant skepticism. They then turn their gaze back at you. “May I respond to that, Your Imperial Majesty?” It can’t hurt to get a debate going. “You may.” “With all due respect, if the spirits would be willing to help,” the commander argues, “then why should we not allow them to? How could that possibly be ‘disastrous’ in any way? It would be a temporary measure, until we bolster our forces enough to recover.” You shift your gaze to the priest, giving them permission to respond in turn. “The elemental spirits are highly malleable creatures.” The priest addresses you rather than the commander, although they cast an irritated glance in the commander’s direction. “There is a reason we do not use them for battle: history has proven they tend to become unstable and aggressive as a consequence. I understand Arsur’s armies are in a difficult position, but the short term gains are not worth the long term consequences.” “The history that the priest refers to was many centuries ago,” the commander says to you. “Not to mention, it was the result of experiments gone wrong: magi who abused the spirits in order to test their limits. We would not exploit them in such a way. In fact, we would accept whatever restrictions you deem necessary—” “So you say,” the priest interrupts. “But how are you to oversee such an undertaking? Can you guarantee that none of the soldiers under your command would misuse the spirits?” The commander exhales a short breath, seeming to be getting annoyed, though they respond in a measured tone: “That would be part of the agreement we would discuss. Even if it is in a limited capacity, it would be of great aid.” “It cannot be in any capacity, commander.” The priest remains firm. “Setting spirits upon others—” “On our enemies—” “Whatever spirit you use to cause harm will have their nature changed forever, into one that is capable of violence on a whim.” The commander smiles sardonically. “No different than people, then?” Now, the priest begins to lose their temper. “They are not comparable and you know it! Elemental spirits are much simpler creatures: they do not possess the restraint to control their impulses like people do.” “Then we will find a way to control them. Surely you could contribute, with your expertise?” The priest begins to raise their voice. “You speak of turning them into <em>weapons</em>—” You decide to cut in before this devolves into shouting. “Enough.” They have both made their points. All that there is left to do now is for you to make a decision. <ul class="a"> <li>[[Accept the petition: it could prove a useful tool for you.|13.gen3.accepttool][$elitefavored += 3]]</li> <li>[[Accept the petition: you need to protect Arsur through whatever means necessary.|13.gen3.acceptprotect][$publicfavored += 3]]</li> <li>[[Reject the petition: you don’t want to risk harming the spirits.|13.gen3.rejectprotect][$publicfavored += 3]]</li> <li>[[Reject the petition: if it goes wrong, you don’t want to give your political enemies an opening to use against you.|13.gen3.rejecttool][$elitefavored += 3]]</li></ul><<set $spiritsused to 'yestool'>>“You have convinced me, commander,” you say, the priest’s face falling with disappointment. “That being said, you stated this would be a temporary measure and that you would accept any restrictions that were deemed necessary. In which case, you as well as the Minister of Defense will work together with the Wisdom of the Crown and their experts, and heed their judgment on this matter. I expect a plan for implementation by the time I return from my pilgrimage.” Even with being allowed to impose limitations on the idea, the priest and your Wisdom do not appear pleased with this outcome. You cannot disagree with the commander, however: the armies of Arsur are in dire straits. Furthermore, if the application of this idea proves successful for the armies, then you could potentially make use of it in other areas—such as your Imperial Guards. They would be strengthened even further if they were allowed to use the spirits. You’d certainly like to see potential assassins try to go up against the protection of spirits. The priest bows and the commander salutes, the former retreating to their previous position among the crowd of officials while the latter speaks to you. “I thank you for your wise judgment, Your Imperial Majesty,” the commander says, and you give a brief nod, dismissing them as the commander turns around and heads back out of the throne room. That’s one petition taken care of. You look over at the diplomat who still stands in front of their considerable stack of scrolls, and you can tell this is going to take quite a while. “What next?” The diplomat picks up the next one, unrolling it and clearing her throat before announcing its contents. “The next petition concerns the sewage system in Marabad. This petition in particular has been signed by the community leaders of several districts on behalf of the citizens. They ask you for aid in repairing the sewers that have been becoming clogged regularly over the past several years, particularly affecting the citizens who live at the bottom of the hills.” Your eyes flit to Steward Welat. “Why are Marabad’s citizens petitioning <em>me</em>, steward? Is it not your responsibility to see to issues like these?” “The city does not possess the resources to rebuild something as extensive as the sewage system,” the steward replies, not so much as blinking at being addressed. His unshakable composure consistently gets on your nerves. “Perhaps this would be an inquiry better suited for Mîr Behram.” Your brows twitch with annoyance, but you turn your gaze to Mîr Behram’s representative all the same. Lord Samal’s eyes are slightly wide, glancing from Steward Welat back to you. It is an interesting move from Welat: you assumed the two were allied, but perhaps it was merely out of convenience. “Well?” you prompt when Lord Samal remains silent. “With respect to the steward, Mîr Behram has an entire province to oversee,” Samal finally says, frowning deeply as he casts Welat a brief glare. “Had the steward indicated there were such problems in Marabad, the Mîr would have seen to it.” “I’m sure.” You decide to move on: pressing any further on who holds the blame will only devolve to them finger-pointing at each other and wasting everyone’s time. [[Continue|13.gen4]]<<set $spiritsused to 'yesprotect'>>“You have convinced me, commander,” you say, the priest’s face falling with disappointment. “That being said, you stated this would be a temporary measure and that you would accept any restrictions that were deemed necessary. In which case, you as well as the Minister of Defense will work together with the Wisdom of the Crown and their experts, and heed their judgment on this matter. I expect a plan for implementation by the time I return from my pilgrimage.” Even with being allowed to impose limitations on the idea, the priest and your Wisdom do not appear pleased with this outcome. You cannot disagree with the commander, however: the armies of Arsur are in dire straits. If this is what’s necessary to fill up the gap until conditions improve and protect Arsur in the meantime, then that is what must be done. Hopefully, the priests and experts on spirits can figure out a way to allow the spirits to aid the soldiers without their nature being changed by the violence. The priest bows and the commander salutes, the former retreating to their previous position among the crowd of officials while the latter speaks to you. “I thank you for your wise judgment, Your Imperial Majesty,” the commander says, and you give a brief nod, dismissing them as the commander turns around and heads back out of the throne room. That’s one petition taken care of. You look over at the diplomat who still stands in front of their considerable stack of scrolls, and you can tell this is going to take quite a while. “What next?” The diplomat picks up the next one, unrolling it and clearing her throat before announcing its contents. “The next petition concerns the sewage system in Marabad. This petition in particular has been signed by the community leaders of several districts on behalf of the citizens. They ask you for aid in repairing the sewers that have been becoming clogged regularly over the past several years, particularly affecting the citizens who live at the bottom of the hills.” Your eyes flit to Steward Welat. “Why are Marabad’s citizens petitioning <em>me</em>, steward? Is it not your responsibility to see to issues like these?” “The city does not possess the resources to rebuild something as extensive as the sewage system,” the steward replies, not so much as blinking at being addressed. His unshakable composure consistently gets on your nerves. “Perhaps this would be an inquiry better suited for Mîr Behram.” Your brows twitch with annoyance, but you turn your gaze to Mîr Behram’s representative all the same. Lord Samal’s eyes are slightly wide, glancing from Steward Welat back to you. It is an interesting move from Welat: you assumed the two were allied, but perhaps it was merely out of convenience. “Well?” you prompt when Lord Samal remains silent. “With respect to the steward, Mîr Behram has an entire province to oversee,” Samal finally says, frowning deeply as he casts Welat a brief glare. “Had the steward indicated there were such problems in Marabad, the Mîr would have seen to it.” “I’m sure.” You decide to move on: pressing any further on who holds the blame will only devolve to them finger-pointing at each other and wasting everyone’s time. [[Continue|13.gen4]]<<set $spiritsused to 'noprotect'>>“As much as I understand the dire straits that Arsur’s armies are in, I cannot accept this petition,” you say, the commander frowning up at you. “The risks are clearly too great. Spirits are powerful beings, and should they become corrupted by violence, it would be difficult for anyone to reign them back in. The potential damage they could cause is frightening to consider.” As far as you know, the only way to subdue a spirit is to seal them within powerful wards—and that is only <em>if</em> one manages to catch them to begin with. Depending on their element, it may be close to impossible. The thought that an elemental spirit could spiral out of control and commit wanton acts of destruction is a chilling one, especially since you have no idea whether such a change would be permanent or not. It doesn’t seem right to risk corrupting and harming the spirits merely for your own benefit, not to mention the danger they could pose to innocent people. “I will search for other ways to improve the resources of Arsur’s armies,” you say to the commander, not wanting to give the impression that you don’t take their concerns seriously. “In the meantime, perhaps you might speak to the Minister of Defense to see what can be done for Rojan’s army.” While it isn’t want the commander wanted, they still bow to you respectfully. “As you say, Your Imperial Majesty.” You give a nod, dismissing them, and the commander turns around and heads back out of the throne room. The priest, meanwhile, smiles up at you. “I thank you for your prudence, Your Imperial Majesty.” That’s one petition taken care of. You look over at the diplomat who still stands in front of their considerable stack of scrolls, and you can tell this is going to take quite a while. “What next?” The diplomat picks up the next one, unrolling it and clearing her throat before announcing its contents. “The next petition concerns the sewage system in Marabad. This petition in particular has been signed by the community leaders of several districts on behalf of the citizens. They ask you for aid in repairing the sewers that have been becoming clogged regularly over the past several years, particularly affecting the citizens who live at the bottom of the hills.” Your eyes flit to Steward Welat. “Why are Marabad’s citizens petitioning <em>me</em>, steward? Is it not your responsibility to see to issues like these?” “The city does not possess the resources to rebuild something as extensive as the sewage system,” the steward replies, not so much as blinking at being addressed. His unshakable composure consistently gets on your nerves. “Perhaps this would be an inquiry better suited for Mîr Behram.” Your brows twitch with annoyance, but you turn your gaze to Mîr Behram’s representative all the same. Lord Samal’s eyes are slightly wide, glancing from Steward Welat back to you. It is an interesting move from Welat: you assumed the two were allied, but perhaps it was merely out of convenience. “Well?” you prompt when Lord Samal remains silent. “With respect to the steward, Mîr Behram has an entire province to oversee,” Samal finally says, frowning deeply as he casts Welat a brief glare. “Had the steward indicated there were such problems in Marabad, the Mîr would have seen to it.” “I’m sure.” You decide to move on: pressing any further on who holds the blame will only devolve to them finger-pointing at each other and wasting everyone’s time. [[Continue|13.gen4]]<<set $spiritsused to 'notool'>>“As much as I understand the dire straits that Arsur’s armies are in, I cannot accept this petition,” you say, the commander frowning up at you. “The risks are clearly too great. Spirits are powerful beings, and should they become corrupted by violence, it would be difficult for anyone to reign them back in. The potential damage they could cause is frightening to consider.” As far as you know, the only way to subdue a spirit is to seal them within powerful wards—and that is only <em>if</em> one manages to catch them to begin with. Depending on their element, it may be close to impossible. The thought that an elemental spirit could spiral out of control and commit wanton acts of destruction is a chilling one, and not worth the benefits. It would give your enemies in the Imperial Court great leverage to undermine your reputation as the Crown with. “I will search for other ways to improve the resources of Arsur’s armies,” you say to the commander, not wanting to give the impression that you don’t take their concerns seriously. “In the meantime, perhaps you might speak to the Minister of Defense to see what can be done for Rojan’s army in the meantime.” While it isn’t want the commander wanted, they still bow to you respectfully. “As you say, Your Imperial Majesty.” You give a nod, dismissing them, and the commander turns around and heads back out of the throne room. The priest, meanwhile, smiles up at you. “I thank you for your prudence, Your Imperial Majesty.” That’s one petition taken care of. You look over at the diplomat who still stands in front of their considerable stack of scrolls, and you can tell this is going to take quite a while. “What next?” The diplomat picks up the next one, unrolling it and clearing her throat before announcing its contents. “The next petition concerns the sewage system in Marabad. This petition in particular has been signed by the community leaders of several districts on behalf of the citizens. They ask you for aid in repairing the sewers that have been becoming clogged regularly over the past several years, particularly affecting the citizens who live at the bottom of the hills.” Your eyes flit to Steward Welat. “Why are Marabad’s citizens petitioning <em>me</em>, steward? Is it not your responsibility to see to issues like these?” “The city does not possess the resources to rebuild something as extensive as the sewage system,” the steward replies, not so much as blinking at being addressed. His unshakable composure consistently gets on your nerves. “Perhaps this would be an inquiry better suited for Mîr Behram.” Your brows twitch with annoyance, but you turn your gaze to Mîr Behram’s representative all the same. Lord Samal’s eyes are slightly wide, glancing from Steward Welat back to you. It is an interesting move from Welat: you assumed the two were allied, but perhaps it was merely out of convenience. “Well?” you prompt when Lord Samal remains silent. “With respect to the steward, Mîr Behram has an entire province to oversee,” Samal finally says, frowning deeply as he casts Welat a brief glare. “Had the steward indicated there were such problems in Marabad, the Mîr would have seen to it.” “I’m sure.” You decide to move on: pressing any further on who holds the blame will only devolve to them finger-pointing at each other and wasting everyone’s time. [[Continue|13.gen4]]“Perhaps someone who is more familiar with the sewage system in Marabad could first explain what exactly the issue is,” $rname says, smoothly directing the conversation back to the matter at hand. <<if $rfriendship gt 2>>When you cast $rthem a grateful look, $rthey gives you a small smile back before continuing to speak.<</if>> “Do we know what is causing the sewers to be clogged? And how that is affecting the citizens?” There is a brief moment of deliberation as officials murmur amongst each other, until finally, someone from Steward Welat’s office steps forward. “The sewers run from the tops of the hills to the bottom, where the waste is collected in underground pits to be used as fertilizer for crops. Over the past year, however, the narrower parts of the sewer canals have been getting clogged by things other than human waste.” “So, only the people at the tops of the hills have access to these sewers?” you surmise. “That is correct.” You’re not surprised by that: the average citizen wouldn’t be wealthy enough to afford a toilet at home. At most, they’d have to use the ones at the public bathhouses, and otherwise empty their chamberpots into the gutters on the streets. “And they have been flushing, what, common garbage?” “We have found a great variety of things that are not meant to be flushed,” the city official replies, shifting uneasily on their feet. “Animal bones, rotten fruits and vegetables, dead pets—on one occasion I have even heard that someone had attempted to flush their sandals. As a result, the sewers have become congested in various parts of the city, and liquid waste has been flooding into the streets from the gutters. The magi have managed to contain the issue on several occasions, yet it keeps happening, and the sewers have become damaged.” You hadn’t noticed an issue when you wandered into Marabad over a month ago, but then, you hadn’t been there for very long either. And, thinking back on it, you <em>do</em> recall thinking some parts of the city smelled especially bad, but you had brushed it off as a natural consequence of so many people living together in such close quarters. “Is this not a danger to the public health of the citizens?” $rname says, casting a glower in Steward Welat’s direction. “Human waste flooding the streets would surely cause disease.” “We have indeed seen a rise in those who have fallen ill ever since this became an issue,” the city official replies gravely. “The engineers responsible for the sewers are concerned that there is a real risk that the waste might seep into the water wells of the city if this keeps happening.” “Are you telling me Marabad’s citizens may end up without clean water?” you say sharply. “And <em>none</em> of you thought to do anything about this?” The official pauses, glancing at their peers in search of aid, but none of them meet their eyes. Reluctantly, they look back up at you. “As I mentioned before, the magi have it contained—” You exhale a heavy sigh, the sound alone making the city official snap their mouth shut again, and you make a mental note to formally reprimand or dismiss all the city officials who have been neglectful of the situation thus far. “Fine. Past incompetence notwithstanding, how do we resolve this problem?” [[Continue|13.gen5]]“Why not redirect the sewers into the river?” another official from the Office of Defense suggests. From across the aisle, the Minister of Rites turns red in the face as he turns to face the other official. “You wish to defile our rivers with human waste? They are sacred!” “So is the element of water,” the military official argues. “Yet I do not see you protesting its use in the sewers.” “A natural river and a magically created flow of water are two different things!” “Sacred or not, I must agree with the Minister of Rites,” Senger, your Wisdom, interjects. “Whether we can dump the waste in the rivers or not is a moot point. Redirecting the sewage will not resolve the issue of congestion. We must rebuild the damaged parts of the sewers as soon as possible.” The military official frowns. “With what funds do you propose we do that?” “We raise taxes, of course.” “You would force the people suffering from the problem to pay for it?” a diplomat challenges, frowning deeply. “It is the people residing atop the hills that have caused this issue, not the ones at the bottom who now have to live in filth.” <<if $publicfavored gt 3>>“Can we not fine the ones who caused this problem to begin with?” you suggest, the court’s attention turning back to you as you speak. Senger looks thoughtful at the idea, not seeming opposed to it. “It may not be enough to fully fund rebuilding it without using taxes, but it would go a long way. Besides which, those responsible should be reprimanded for their careless dumping of waste. At the very least, they are putting the health of those less fortunate at risk.” “How would you propose we find the individuals who are doing so, Your Imperial Majesty?” Steward Welat replies. “We cannot survey every single household. Unless you are suggesting we fine everyone who lives at the top of the hills?” “A tempting idea.” Your lips lift into a wry smile. “But no, that is not what I am suggesting. We could have someone keep an eye on each neighborhood instead. Those neighborhoods that are found to have excessive dumping of waste will be fined.” “That is still collective punishment,” Steward Welat argues. “To an extent.” Your smile does not waver from your face. “A lesson must be learned, and what better way than to be despised by your blameless neighbors? Besides, if they can afford to live at the top of the hills, then they can afford the fines.” “We could also spread the burden by drawing on the tithes paid across all of Arsur,” a tax official who works for the city suggests. “Fining certain citizens may lead to… conflicts. And taxing only Marabad’s citizens would be steep for them to pay.”<<else>>“They are all citizens of Arsur, are they not?” you consider, the court’s attention turning back to you as you speak. “Whether we use the taxes for the sewage system or not, they have already been paid in equal share. What is so unjust about using them?” “It would require raising the taxes for the following year, Your Imperial Majesty,” Steward Welat answers. “It would only be this once in order to fund the endeavor, but it would be a raise all the same. A steep raise if you charge only the citizens of Marabad, or a smaller raise if you charge all of Rojan. Although I imagine other cities would be displeased with having to pay for this.” You narrow your eyes at him. “If only someone had addressed this issue before it became a pressing problem during the past ten years.” Welat’s expression does not so much as twitch, bending his head. “What can a lowly steward do, without the authority of a Crown?” It is a retort disguised as modesty, and one you do not appreciate. “We could also spread the burden by drawing on the tithes paid across all of Arsur,” a tax official who works for the city suggests. “Raising only the taxes of Marabad’s citizens would be steep for them to pay. Or, perhaps a more controversial option, we could try issuing fines to those neighborhoods that are found to cause the clogging.”<</if>> From beside your throne, having been quiet and out of sight this entire time, $aname murmurs to you, “Raising the taxes in all of Arsur solely to fund something for Marabad alone may still end up upsetting people, particularly the other Mîrs. You’re a Crown who hails from Rojan. Keep that in mind.” That is true: a decision like that may appear as you favoring your home province. Should you choose to go this route, you will have to take care to treat the other provinces with equal consideration in the future. You take a moment to think, ignoring the many dozens of eyes watching you with anticipation. This isn’t a decision to make lightly. Finally, to fund the rebuilding of the sewers, you decide… [[…to raise the taxes of all of Marabad’s citizens.|13.gen6.a][$elitefavored += 3]] [[…to raise the taxes of all of Arsur’s citizens.|13.gen6.b]] [[…to use hefty fines together with taxes.|13.gen6.c][$publicfavored += 3]] While you know this will cause some discontent among Marabad’s citizens, you’re certain they will come to see the sense in it. Something must be done about the sewers, after all, and it does not seem fair to you to single out a group using fines or have all of Arsur pay for the rebuilding efforts. “We will raise the taxes of Marabad’s citizens to fund this endeavor,” you decide. “Steward Welat, I expect you to handle this in a timely manner. My Wisdom, if you could give me a recommendation for an expert, I should like to commission them to oversee the steward’s office.” You do so enjoy the way the steward’s eyes narrow ever so slightly before he gives you a curt bow. With that petition taken care of, you turn your attention to the next one, and soon find that your earlier thought of how long this would take was a considerable underestimation. As the court discusses petition after petition, time passes by both far too quickly and not at all. At one point, you notice that the pillars of sunlight that beam through the windows across the floor have shifted significantly from where they started when you entered the throne room—hours must have passed already. The servants have brought you water and tea during that time, but now you’re starting to feel hungry as well. A reprieve would be welcome. You eye the diplomat in charge of the petitions: the stack has shrunk to only having a couple scrolls left. It is important to attend to these petitions with due care and consideration, but anyone would grow tired after so much deliberating and debating back and forth. Especially on such serious issues you have thus far been confronted with. When the diplomat picks up another scroll, you take a breath and try to focus as best you can, even with your mind growing more fatigued by the moment. “This petition…” The diplomat frowns, trailing off as they stare at the contents of the scroll, and they do not continue speaking. “Yes?” you prod, your fingers tapping on the armrest of your throne. The diplomat lifts their eyes from the scroll to look at you apologetically. “Forgive me, Your Imperial Majesty. I was merely taken aback.” They clear their throat. “This petition concerns the estate of House Urbarak, whose head of house requests an imperial decree to declare the meadows around their estate protected, in order to allow her pet wolves to roam freely within its bounds.” You follow along up until the very last part of the diplomat’s explanation, blinking as the words register. “I’m sorry, her pet <em>what</em>?” Beside your throne—now seated on a chair for comfort—$rname perks up, $rtheir eyes alighting with interest. “Her pet wolves, Your Imperial Majesty.” The diplomat puts the scroll away and gives an awkward smile. “She is present to plead her case.” Breathing in deep, you exhale a heavy sigh as you recline back into your chair. “Call her in, I suppose.” [[Continue|13.gen7]] Spreading the burden of funding the rebuilding seems like the best and fairest option to you. It would be an incremental increase in everyone’s taxes, and would avoid upsetting Marabad’ citizens by taxing or fining them heavily. It might strike some as favoritism at first, but you will simply have to prove that you hold all the provinces and cities in equal regard. The Empire is not a loosely connected collection of city-states, after all: everyone shares in each other’s burdens. “We will raise the taxes in each province to fund this endeavor,” you decide. “Steward Welat, I expect you to handle this in a timely manner. My Wisdom, if you could give me a recommendation for an expert, I should like to commission them to oversee the steward’s office.” You do so enjoy the way the steward’s eyes narrow ever so slightly before he gives you a curt bow. With that petition taken care of, you turn your attention to the next one, and soon find that your earlier thought of how long this would take was a considerable underestimation. As the court discusses petition after petition, time passes by both far too quickly and not at all. At one point, you notice that the pillars of sunlight that beam through the windows across the floor have shifted significantly from where they started when you entered the throne room—hours must have passed already. The servants have brought you water and tea during that time, but now you’re starting to feel hungry as well. A reprieve would be welcome. You eye the diplomat in charge of the petitions: the stack has shrunk to only having a couple scrolls left. It is important to attend to these petitions with due care and consideration, but anyone would grow tired after so much deliberating and debating back and forth. Especially on such serious issues you have thus far been confronted with. When the diplomat picks up another scroll, you take a breath and try to focus as best you can, even with your mind growing more fatigued by the moment. “This petition…” The diplomat frowns, trailing off as they stare at the contents of the scroll, and they do not continue speaking. “Yes?” you prod, your fingers tapping on the armrest of your throne. The diplomat lifts their eyes from the scroll to look at you apologetically. “Forgive me, Your Imperial Majesty. I was merely taken aback.” They clear their throat. “This petition concerns the estate of House Urbarak, whose head of house requests an imperial decree to declare the meadows around their estate protected, in order to allow her pet wolves roam freely within its bounds.” You follow along up until the very last part of the diplomat’s explanation, blinking as the words register. “I’m sorry, her pet <em>what</em>?” Beside your throne—now seated on a chair for comfort—$rname perks up, $rtheir eyes alighting with interest. “Her pet wolves, Your Imperial Majesty.” The diplomat puts the scroll away and gives an awkward smile. “Lady Asilal of House Urbarak is present to plead her case.” Both the lady’s given name and the name of her house sound ancient to your ears, which likely means it predates the Arsurian Empire—similar to Naza. It would certainly explain the entitlement in petitioning the Crown to give her permission to keep wild animals as her pets. Breathing in deep, you exhale a heavy sigh as you recline back into your chair. “Call her in, I suppose.” [[Continue|13.gen7]] Why should those that are not even able to use the sewers be punished for problems caused by those that do? The citizens at the bottom of the hills should not have to suffer for the sins of their wealthier neighbors. It’s only right that the people who are abusing the sewers should be the ones foremost responsible for helping to fix it—and, hopefully, the fines will be a sufficient deterrent for having them flush whatever they please. The rest of Marabad’s citizens will still contribute through their taxes, but hopefully, the fines will take care of the bulk of the funding. “We will fine the neighborhoods and districts responsible for the sewer clogging, and if need be use some portion of taxes to fund this endeavor,” you decide. “Steward Welat, I expect you to handle this in a timely manner. My Wisdom, if you could give me a recommendation for an expert, I should like to commission them to oversee the steward’s office.” You do so enjoy the way the steward’s eyes narrow ever so slightly before he gives you a curt bow. With that petition taken care of, you turn your attention to the next one, and soon find that your earlier thought of how long this would take was a considerable underestimation. As the court discusses petition after petition, time passes by both far too quickly and not at all. At one point, you notice that the pillars of sunlight that beam through the windows across the floor have shifted significantly from where they started when you entered the throne room—hours must have passed already. The servants have brought you water and tea during that time, but now you’re starting to feel hungry as well. A reprieve would be welcome. You eye the diplomat in charge of the petitions: the stack has shrunk to only having a couple scrolls left. It is important to attend to these petitions with due care and consideration, but anyone would grow tired after so much deliberating and debating back and forth. Especially on such serious issues you have thus far been confronted with. When the diplomat picks up another scroll, you take a breath and try to focus as best you can, even with your mind growing more fatigued by the moment. “This petition…” The diplomat frowns, trailing off as they stare at the contents of the scroll, and they do not continue speaking. “Yes?” you prod, your fingers tapping on the armrest of your throne. The diplomat lifts their eyes from the scroll to look at you apologetically. “Forgive me, Your Imperial Majesty. I was merely taken aback.” They clear their throat. “This petition concerns the estate of House Urbarak, whose head of house requests an imperial decree to declare the meadows around their estate protected, in order to allow her pet wolves roam freely within its bounds.” You follow along up until the very last part of the diplomat’s explanation, blinking as the words register. “I’m sorry, her pet <em>what</em>?” Beside your throne—now seated on a chair for comfort—$rname perks up, $rtheir eyes alighting with interest. “Her pet wolves, Your Imperial Majesty.” The diplomat puts the scroll away and gives an awkward smile. “Lady Asilal of House Urbarak is present to plead her case.” Both the lady’s given name and the name of her house sound ancient to your ears, which likely means it predates the Arsurian Empire—similar to Naza. It would certainly explain the entitlement in petitioning the Crown to give her permission to keep wild animals as her pets. Breathing in deep, you exhale a heavy sigh as you recline back into your chair. “Call her in, I suppose.” [[Continue|13.gen7]] The lady who walks into the meeting hall looks rather normal, to your surprise. Somehow you had expected the appearance of a huntress clad in furs and leathers, but instead Lady Asilal looks like any other noble you have laid your eyes on. Her dress and jewelery are what one would expect from someone of her station, her hair neatly done and her bearing one of practiced elegance as she approaches the throne. Perhaps she merely dressed nicely for the occasion, or perhaps you’re dealing with a spoiled noble who thinks it’s fun to try and tame a pack of wolves. You watch as she bows before you, already finding yourself wishing the diplomat had sorted another petition among the randomized selection. This feels like a complete waste of your time. “Lady Asilal,” you say, prompting her to straighten again and gaze up at you expectantly. “Give me one reason why I shouldn’t ban you from owning wolves.” She rears back a little, frowning deeply. “Your Imperial Majesty, I assure you, they have not caused problems for anyone.” Lord Samal clears his throat, and at least this time, you are inclined to let him speak. When he sees you looking, he says, “With due respect to Lady Asilal, Mîr Behram has been receiving multiple complaints from travelers that the lady’s wolves have been spooking their horses and donkeys, at times causing accidents. Her estate borders the southern part of the Crown’s Road in Rojan, and many a merchant has had unpleasant encounters.” “The lands of my estate have been warded to keep them inside the bounds,” Lady Asilal argues. “Those travelers have never been in any danger! They are exaggerating.” Rubbing your forehead with your fingers, you take a moment to resign yourself to the absurdity of the situation before you finally address the owner again. “Why do you have wolves to begin with? How many are we talking about?” “It started with a pair of wolves, who built a den on my lands and gave birth to three cubs,” Lady Asilal explains. “However, there are many predators near where I live—lions, hyenas, bears—and I was certain they wouldn’t make it if left to themselves. In order to protect them while they raised their cubs, I created wards around the area and contained them.” “So these are completely wild wolves that you decided to simply… keep captive on your estate?” you repeat incredulously. “Did I understand that right?” “They are not kept <em>captive</em>—” “Can they leave your estate, yes or no?” Lady Asilal sighs. “Not with the wards in place.” “Then you are keeping them in captivity.” “I assure you, if the wolves did not wish to be there, they could have left a long time ago,” she insists. “With the pups now grown, I take the five of them hunting with me regularly. I do not compel them to follow me back to the estate: they come willingly. I believe we have formed a bond.” You arch your brows, turning to Senger. “Is that even possible?” He looks over at Lady Asilal with curiosity. “Perhaps. Peris have been known to be able to form such bonds with wild animals on many an occasion.” “One of my ancestors was a peri,” Lady Asilal says. “My family has always gotten along well with all manner of animals, and my great-grandfather too used to hunt together with a pride of lions. I am certain that I share this affinity.” Maybe the lady was not as deluded as you first assumed, then. “Still, you understand that having them roaming right beside the Crown’s Road is an issue?” you reply, softening your tone a little. “Imagine being a merchant trying to transport your wares to the city, and suddenly being confronted with a pack of wolves watching you from behind a barrier. It would scare anyone out of their wits.” Lady Asilal is silent for a moment, clearly reluctant to concede your point, though she does do so if begrudgingly. “I suppose that would be uncomfortable to most. I would be willing to adjust the wards so that they are hidden from sight, if you truly think it necessary.” “I do.” You consider her initial request, asking to make her lands protected to let the wolves keep roaming there. “As for your petition…” <ul class="a"> <li>[[Agree to her petition and allow her to keep the wolves.|13.gen8.a]]</li> <li>[[Ask whether she would be willing to let the Imperial Army make use of her wolves.|13.gen8.b][$elitefavored += 3]]</li> <li>[[Order her to set the wolves free: if they are truly bonded, she can seek them out in the wild rather than keeping them on her estate.|13.gen8.c][$publicfavored += 3]]</li></ul> It seems as if there isn’t any real danger here: the wards are enough to keep the travelers safe, and if Lady Asilal truly has a bond with the wolves, you don’t see the harm in letting her carry on as she has been doing. “I will send an expert to evaluate whether you truly share a bond with these wolves,” you begin, Lady Asilal tensing with worry. “If it is proven that you do, and you adjust the wards around your estate appropriately, then I will agree to your petition.” Lady Asilal lets out a deep breath of relief. “My sincerest thanks, Your Imperial Majesty.” She bows once more. “I shall adjust the wards as soon as I return to my estate- no, in fact, I shall send a message ahead to have it done immediately. I swear that there will be no more complaints!” You smile at her. “I’m glad to hear it.” No doubt petitioning the Crown was an attempt on her part to prevent Mîr Behram from intervening and taking her wolves away—or worse, having them killed. In any other circumstance, having wild wolves that are accustomed to human interaction would spell disaster. “If you do not mind, Lady Asilal,” $rname chimes in now that you are finished. “Could I ask you a couple questions after the meeting?” Just as you expected. You let out a chuckle, sharing an amused glance with $aname, though $rname does not seem to notice at all. “Of course, my <<if $rgender is 'male'>>lord<<else>>lady<</if>>,” Lady Asilal agrees readily. “You may find me at the Red Lantern should you wish to speak.” All’s well that ends well, you suppose. <<if $xfriend is false>>[[Continue|13.x1]]<</if>><<if $dfriend is false>>[[Continue|13.dd1]]<</if>><<if $rfriend is false>>[[Continue|13.rr1]]<</if>><<if $afriend is false>>[[Continue|13.aa1]]<</if>> Having someone bonded to a pack of wild wolves makes you wonder if they could be put to use—all for a good cause, of course. What with the commander’s petition earlier to make use of spirits, you have started to ponder other ways to strengthen your armies. <<if $spiritsused is 'yesprotect' or $spiritsused is 'yestool'>>If you’re willing to use spirits, why not use wolves as well? You know there are soldiers who already use dogs in battle, and while wolves cannot be tamed in the same manner, there could still be potential there.<<else>>While you rejected his petition, wolves should be easier to control than spirits, especially if they are truly bonded to someone like Lady Asilal. Besides, the army already uses dogs in battle, and while wolves cannot be tamed in the same manner, there could still be potential there.<</if>> “I will send an expert to evaluate whether you truly share a bond with these wolves,” you begin, Lady Asilal tensing with worry. “But I am curious about one thing, if you’d humor me. Do you think the wolves could be of use to Arsur’s armies?” Lady Asilal looks at you with surprise, but does not seem to oppose the idea as her expression becomes thoughtful. “It is an interesting idea. If I were the one guiding them, then I am certain they would aid me greatly in a battle against an enemy. I cannot guarantee how they would react to my allies, however.” $rname’s brows furrow deeply, looking at you with hesitance. “I’m not so sure this would be worth the risks.” “Then we’ll test it first,” you say, mostly to placate $rname with. “In a safe and controlled environment, of course. Would you be willing to try it, general?” You look over at $dname, who appears open to the experiment as well. “It’s worth exploring, if nothing else.” “Then that is what we’ll do.” You smile at Lady Asilal. “And in the meantime, of course, your wolves may stay on your estate, so long as you adjust the wards as discussed.” Lady Asilal lets out a deep breath of relief. “My sincerest thanks, Your Imperial Majesty.” She bows once more. “I shall adjust the wards as soon as I return to my estate- no, in fact, I shall send a message ahead to have it done immediately. I swear that there will be no more complaints!” “I’m glad to hear it.” No doubt petitioning the Crown was an attempt on her part to prevent Mîr Behram from intervening and taking her wolves away—or worse, having them killed. In any other circumstance, having wild wolves that are accustomed to human interaction would spell disaster. “If you do not mind, Lady Asilal,” $rname chimes in now that you are finished. “Could I ask you a couple questions after the meeting?” Just as you expected. You let out a chuckle, sharing an amused glance with $aname, though $rname does not seem to notice at all. “Of course, my <<if $rgender is 'male'>>lord<<else>>lady<</if>>,” Lady Asilal agrees readily. “You may find me at the Red Lantern should you wish to speak.” All’s well that ends well. <<if $xfriend is false>>[[Continue|13.x1]]<</if>><<if $dfriend is false>>[[Continue|13.dd1]]<</if>><<if $rfriend is false>>[[Continue|13.rr1]]<</if>><<if $afriend is false>>[[Continue|13.aa1]]<</if>>“As much as I appreciate your bond to these wolves and understand you only did this with the best of intentions,” you start, Lady Asilal tensing with worry, “surely you agree that wild animals are not meant to be contained like this? They should roam freely in nature. If that means some might not survive, then that is merely the natural course of things. It is not for us to interfere with that.” “I…” Lady Asilal looks as if she wishes to protest for a moment, but then seems to lose the energy for it before she has even managed to speak a full sentence, shoulder deflating. “I understand, Your Imperial Majesty.” “If you are to have the wolves set free, then I would recommend you have them relocated elsewhere—far from the Crown’s Road,” $rname chimes in. “Otherwise you risk them returning and attacking the travelers there. By this point, they may have grown accustomed to human contact.” Lady Asilal looks entirely disheartened by the prospect, but there is nothing else to be done for it. You cannot risk setting the wolves roam nearby and having them kill people. “Then let’s do that,” you decide, turning to Senger. “If you know anyone who has any experience with wolves, have them evaluate these ones to see if they will form a danger to humans, as well as give a recommendation on where to best relocate them to.” When you turn back to Lady Asilal, she bows before you have even dismissed her, clearly eager to leave. “I’m sorry my judgment is not what you wanted to hear,” you offer, and she straightens again, giving you a wan smile. “I knew the risks—it is still better than having Mîr Behram order them to be killed.” She inclines her head. “Your Imperial Majesty.” You give a nod, dismissing her. Beside you, $rname looks as if $rthey wants to say something to Lady Asilal, but does not get the words out before the lady has already turned her back and started to leave. Probably for the best. You doubt Lady Asilal would be in the mood to talk about her wolves right now. <<if $xfriend is false>>[[Continue|13.x1]]<</if>><<if $dfriend is false>>[[Continue|13.dd1]]<</if>><<if $rfriend is false>>[[Continue|13.rr1]]<</if>><<if $afriend is false>>[[Continue|13.aa1]]<</if>><b>Welcome to the new update!</b> Would you like a summary of all the most consequential choices you've made so far? [[Yes.|13.summary]] [[No, take me to Chapter 13.|13.1]]<b>YOUR JOURNEY SO FAR. . .</b> In CH6, you chose to <<if $prisoner is 'prison'>>send the assassin that you caught to <b>Marabad's prison</b>. As a result of your choices regarding security during the coronation, when the assassin attempted to escape in CH9, <<if $innocents is 'fine'>><b>no one was hurt</b><</if>><<if $innocents is 'injured'>>a couple guards <b>were injured</b><</if>><<if $innocents is 'dead'>>two guards and several citizens <b>were killed</b><</if>><<else>>send the assassin that you caught to <b>the palace's dungeons</b>. As a result of your choices regarding security during the coronation, when the assassin attempted to escape, <<if $yekbun is 'fine'>><b>no one was seriously hurt</b><</if>><<if $yekbun is 'injured'>>Ezo was <b>seriously injured</b><</if>><<if $yekbun is 'dead'>>Scholar Yekbûn <b>was killed</b><</if>><</if>>. In CH7, Keeper Bazo--the head of the Council of Stewards in Şevan--did not show up for your Crown's coronation. You chose to <b><<if $bazo lt 0>>condemn him<</if>><<if $bazo gt 0>>forgive him<</if>><<if $bazo is 0>>wait before judging him for it<</if>></b>. In CH9, you <<if $law isnot 'outwitted'>><b>did not</b> manage to dismiss Minister Besna and her officials. When Noble Nûdem proposed to be placed in her office as your spy, you <<if $lawminister is 'patient game'>><b>agreed</b><<else>><b>did not agree</b><</if>>.<<else>><b>did</b> manage to dismiss Minister Besna and her officials. When Noble Nûdem applied for the position of Minister of Law, you <<if $lawminister is 'zar'>><b>did not</b> choose to appoint them<<else>><b>did</b> appoint them<</if>>.<</if>> In CH10, you <<if $nazaminister is true>>gained enough of Lady Naza's respect in order for her to <b>retake her previous position</b> as Minister of Defense<</if>><<if $nazaminister is false>>chose <b>not to appoint Lady Naza</b> as Minister of Defense<</if>><<if ndef $nazaminister>><b>did not gain enough of Lady Naza's respect</b> for her to apply to the position of Minister of Defense<</if>>. In CH10, you <<if $historyalliance is true>><b>allied yourself</b> with Minister Awir and the Office of Imperial Decrees<</if>><<if $historyalliance is 'conditional' or ndef $historyalliance>><b>agreed</b> to Minister Awir's proposal to give the Office of Imperial Decrees more votes, provided that they give you valuable information on other nobles and court officials<</if>><<if $historyalliance is false>><b>did not agree</b> with Minister Awir's proposal, which was to give the Office of Imperial Decrees more votes in exchange for information<</if>>. In CH10, you had the choice to either approach Kham regarding the peri trader, or go to the peri trader yourself. <<if $peritrader is false>>You chose to <b>approach Eshkar directly</b> and captured him<<else>>You chose to <b>approach Kham</b>, and regarding Eshkar, you chose to <<if $khamally isnot true>><b>subject him to the judgment of the courts</b><<else>><b>let Kham and the peris decide his fate</b><</if>><</if>>.<<if $dfriend is false>> Up to CH11, <<if $tempreplacement is true>>you had too many enemies and lacked allies in the Imperial Court. As a result you were <b>unable to dissuade the court</b> from considering a temporary replacement for $dname while $dthey recovers from $dtheir injuries<<else>><<if $law is 'outwitted'>>having dismissed Minister Besna, you strengthened your position in the Imperial Court.<<else>>you recruited allies in the Imperial Court.<</if>> As a result, you were able to dissuade the court from considering a temporary replacement for $dname while $dthey recovers from $dtheir injuries<</if>>.<</if>><<if $xfriend is false>> In CH11, <<if $behramsoldiers is true>>you had too many enemies and lacked allies in the Imperial Court. As a result you were <b>unable to dissuade the court</b> from sending Mîr Behram more soldiers for protection.<<else>><<if $law is 'outwitted'>>having dismissed Minister Besna, you strengthened your position in the Imperial Court.<<else>>you had enough allies recruited in the Imperial Court.<</if>> As a result, you were able to <b>dissuade the court</b> from sending Mîr Behram more soldiers for protection.<</if>><</if>> [[Continue to CH13|13.1]] You cannot say you are wholly surprised. After all, you $rname did not make any formal announcement regarding $rtheir absence while $rthey recovered, so of course some in the court would see it as an opportunity. “Oh?” You keep your expression impassive and relaxed, even while your hands clench around the armrests of your throne. From the corner of your eyes, you see $rname standing very, very still. “What about it?” “There are a few among the court who consider it unseemly for $rtitle $rname to have abandoned $rtheir duties on a whim—their words, not mine.” Already you feel blood rushing to your head. “Let me make myself clear to the court, then.” Your steely gaze wanders the crowd of court officials, not a single one meeting your eyes<<if $nazaminister is true>> save for Lady Naza, who watches you with a faint smile<</if>>. “$rtitle $rname did not ‘abandon’ $rtheir duties on a whim. $crthey was overcome with illness, and on <em>my</em> insistence, $rthey took a much-needed reprieve in order to recover. That is all. Any questions?” Several glances are exchanged, more whispers traveling through the room. Finally, Lord Samal steps forward. Against your will, you give him a turn to speak: “Lord Samal.” “Your Imperial Majesty.” He bows customarily before speaking. “As far as the court is aware, the royal physicians did not treat $rtitle $rname for any illnesses. If $rtheir health was truly so dire, surely they would have tended to $rthem day and night?” Your eyes narrow sharply as you glare down at Lord Samal. “You are a representative of Mîr Behram, are you not? What concern is this of yours?” “It should be a concern to everyone and anyone who calls themselves a citizen of Arsur, Your Imperial Majesty.” Should you take that to mean this is an attack ordered by Mîr Behram himself? Perhaps a ploy to undermine your support, and weaken your position as a consequence. <<if $law isnot 'outwitted'>>[[Continue|13.r2besna]]<<else>>[[Continue|13.r2zn]]<</if>>$aname’s <em>involvement</em> in it? You glance over to $athem, and $athey meets your eyes with a subtle frown, seeming as surprised by this as you are. “What do you mean by involvement?” you question, trying to figure out where this line of attack is going. “It has been noted by members of the court that you traveled to the Half Moon district in search of the Royal Protector,” Minister Karwan elaborates. “Some consider this to be a grave failure on Captain $aname’s part—their words, not mine.” “How can $athey be to blame for this when I was the one who chose to put myself in danger?” You shift your gaze from Karwan to the court, trying to figure out who it is that would try and undermine $aname. Several glances are exchanged, more whispers traveling through the room. Finally, Lord Samal steps forward. Against your will, you give him a turn to speak: “Lord Samal.” “Your Imperial Majesty.” He bows customarily before speaking. “The Royal Protector’s foremost duty is to guard the Crown, not the citizens. Captain $aname should not have been in the city to begin with, but to add to that misstep, $atheir absence forced you to look for $athem and thereby place yourself in danger.” Your eyes narrow sharply as you glare down at Lord Samal. “You are a representative of Mîr Behram, are you not? What concern is this of yours?” “It should be a concern to everyone and anyone who calls themselves a citizen of Arsur, Your Imperial Majesty.” Should you take that to mean this is an attack ordered by Mîr Behram himself? Perhaps a ploy to undermine your support, and weaken your position as a consequence. <<if $law isnot 'outwitted'>>[[Continue|13.a2besna]]<<else>>[[Continue|13.a2zn]]<</if>> Returning your attention to the entirety of your court, you gaze back out over the crowd of officials gathered in the chamber. “What do the rest of you have to say on this matter?” As expected—and perhaps, dreaded—Minister Besna steps forward. <<if $law is 'rejected'>>You keep your expression devoid of emotion, forcing a blankness to settle over your mind. She will not rattle you this time.<<else>>You keep your expression carefully neutral, not wanting to have any of the wariness you feel filter through your words.<</if>> “Minister Besna?” She bows, then says, “I must agree with Lord Samal, Your Imperial Majesty. In fact, this raises the question of $rname’s appointment to begin with. What qualifications does $rthey truly possess to lay claim on such an important position?” So this was the real goal all along: using $rname’s absence as a cover to sow doubt about $rtheir merit as the Crown’s Sorcerer. They must know that even if $rname were to be removed from $rtheir position, however, that it would not harm you materially. No, you suspect this is about undermining your support and shaking your confidence as the Crown. “A very valid question, minister,” Lord Samal says in response to Besna, before turning around to address the rest of the court. “As we all know, $rtitle $rname never received a formal education at a distinguished school, as all the Sorcerers did before $rthem. Instead, all $rtheir tutelage came only from Lady Zerya and the teachers she chose—” “What is wrong with that?” Minister Karwan demands. “Lady Zerya was a wise Sorcerer—” “She failed to find the Crown, and Crown Ferzan was assassinated under her watch.” “The Crown’s Sorcerer is an advisor, not a guard!” “That does not change the fact that it casts doubt on her competence, let alone whether she was capable of producing a worthy successor.” Lord Samal redirects his gaze back to you—not that you have been watching him in turn. No, your eyes have been focused on $rname, $rtheir posture frozen in place and $rtheir expression entirely blank as $rthey has silently followed the debate, listening to others casually disparaging $rthem as well as $rtheir mentor. One $rthey now has complicated feelings towards, after all that was revealed. Your heart aches at the sight: you can’t imagine what must be going through $rtheir head having to listen to all of this. If only you could reach out your hand to $rthem, to comfort $rthem in some way, but such a display would not be taken well by the court. In the end, the best thing you can do in such circumstances is to put a stop to this ridiculous argument. “$rname’s skill in magic is irrefutable,” you interject, silencing the court. “I am certain there are many respectable magi and scholars who would attest to that.” “Of course, Your Imperial Majesty,” Minister Besna responds. “$crtheir skill in magic was not in question, but the Crown’s Sorcerer is a position of import to the governance of the Empire. For $rthem to be absent without any justification given to the Imperial Court is unbefitting of $rtheir station, at the very least.” <<if $nazaminister is true>>Before you can respond to Minister Besna’s argument, however, someone else steps forward. You take a breath, trying to calm yourself. The interference is welcome, as you’re not sure you would’ve been able to keep from shouting down the court otherwise. “Minister Naza,” you greet, watching her with curiosity. “You have something to say?” Minister Besna scowls, looking over at Lady Naza standing on the other side of the room. “Your Imperial Majesty, if I may, Minister Naza oversees the Office of Defense. She has no relevance to this issue.” You meet Minister Naza’s eyes once more, and she gives you a slight, imperceptible nod. As if telling you to trust her. “Did Lord Samal not just say that this matter concerns any and every citizen of Arsur?” you challenge, and take some satisfaction from the way Minister Besna and Lord Samal frown at your statement. “As such, she should also be permitted to express her opinion. Minister Naza, you wished to speak?” “I did.” Naza inclines her head towards you, then turns to face Minister Besna. “As for your so-called concerns, the two of you and Mîr Behram are both overstepping your authority. It is not the business of the Office of Law or a Mîr to oversee the Imperial Household. That domain is the sole purview of the Crown: if $ctheir Imperial Majesty gave $rtitle $rname permission for $rtheir absence, then $rthey did not abandon $rtheir duties.” “The Imperial Household becomes our responsibility should there be reason to doubt it is being managed adequately,” Lord Samal interjects irritably, now even making slights in your direction as well. “Need I remind you of all the many scandals in the households of past Crowns that have led not only to incompetence, but even violence? Lately there has been talk of how close $ctheir Imperial Majesty and $rtitle $rname have become. Is the potential for favoritism and coddling not a valid concern?” You tense in your seat, taken by surprise at the sudden barb aimed at your blossoming relationship with $rname—beside you, $rname lowers $rtheir head, and you see $rtheir fingers gripping $rtheir wrist tight and squeezing it behind $rtheir back. As far as you know, it is not a taboo for the Crown and their Sorcerer to become involved, but clearly that does not mean the court is above using it to cast aspersions. <ul class="a"> <li>[[Let Naza handle it.|13.r3nazaa][$nazapoints -= 4]]</li> <li>[[Interrupt and take care of it yourself.|13.r3nazab][$nazapoints += 4]]</li> </ul><<else>>“Who are you to make that assessment?” you snap, your indignation sharpening your words, though you do manage to keep from raising it. “The Imperial Household is mine to manage. My judgment is the only one that matters.” “With all due respect, Your Imperial Majesty, your household becomes our responsibility should there be reason to doubt it is being managed adequately,” Lord Samal interjects irritably, now even making slights in your direction as well. “Need I remind you of all the many scandals in the households of past Crowns that have led not only to incompetence, but even violence? Lately there has been talk of how close you and $rtitle $rname have become. Is the potential for favoritism and coddling not a valid concern?” You tense in your seat, taken by surprise at the sudden barb aimed at your blossoming relationship with $rname—beside you, $rname lowers $rtheir head, and you see $rtheir fingers gripping $rtheir wrist tight and squeezing it behind $rtheir back. As far as you know, it is not a taboo for the Crown and their Sorcerer to become involved, but clearly that does not mean the court is above using it to cast aspersions. <<if $historyalliance is true>>As you struggle to come up with a response, Minister Awir steps forward to speak. [[Continue|13.r3hawir]]<<else>>[[Continue|13.r3halone]]<</if>><</if>> Returning your attention to the entirety of your court, you gaze back out over the crowd of officials gathered in the chamber. “What do the rest of you have to say on this matter?” As expected, Steward Welat steps forward. Unlike your last confrontation with him, however, this time you do not feel threatened. He is the mere steward of a city, which affords him very little authority when it comes to matters of the Imperial Court now that all its vacant seats have been filled. Even his presence in your court now is a mere courtesy. “Steward Welat?” He bows, then says, “Lord Samal is within his rights to raise the issue, Your Imperial Majesty. It is known that $rtitle $rname’s appointment was rather controversial when made at the time, and perhaps it is wise to reconsider it now.” So this was the real goal all along: using $rname’s absence as a cover to sow doubt about $rtheir merit as the Crown’s Sorcerer. “Indeed, steward,” Lord Samal says in response to Welat, before turning around to address the rest of the court. “As we all know, $rtitle $rname never received a formal education at a distinguished school, as all the Sorcerers did before $rthem. Instead, all $rtheir tutelage came only from Lady Zerya and the teachers she chose—” “What is wrong with that?” Minister Karwan demands. “Lady Zerya was a wise Sorcerer—” “She failed to find the Crown, and Crown Ferzan was assassinated under her watch.” “The Crown’s Sorcerer is an advisor, not a guard!” “That does not change the fact that it casts doubt on her competence, let alone whether she was capable of producing a worthy successor.” Lord Samal redirects his gaze back to you—not that you have been watching him in turn. No, your eyes have been focused on $rname, $rtheir posture frozen in place and $rtheir expression entirely blank as $rthey has silently followed the debate, listening to others casually disparaging $rthem as well as $rtheir mentor. One $rthey now has complicated feelings towards, after all that was revealed. Your heart aches at the sight: you can’t imagine what must be going through $rtheir head having to listen to all of this. If only you could reach out your hand to $rthem, to comfort $rthem in some way, but such a display would not be taken well by the court. In the end, the best thing you can do in such circumstances is to put a stop to this ridiculous argument. “$rname’s skill in magic is irrefutable,” you interject, silencing the court. “I am certain there are many respectable magi and scholars who would attest to that.” “Doubtlessly there would be, Your Imperial Majesty,” Steward Welat responds. “$crtheir skill in magic was not in question, but the Crown’s Sorcerer is a position with great influence. It is only natural that $rtheir absence would raise some doubt.” <<if $nazaminister is true>>Before you can respond to Steward Welat’s argument, however, someone else steps forward. You take a breath, trying to calm yourself. The interference is welcome, as you’re not sure you would’ve been able to keep from shouting down the court otherwise. “Minister Naza,” you greet, watching her with curiosity. “You have something to say?” Lord Samal frowns deeply, looking over at Lady Naza standing on the other side of the room. “Your Imperial Majesty, if I may, Minister Naza oversees the Office of Defense. She has no relevance to this issue.” You meet Minister Naza’s eyes once more, and she gives you a slight, imperceptible nod. As if telling you to trust her. “Did you not just say that this matter concerns any and every citizen of Arsur?” you challenge, and take some satisfaction from the way Steward Welat and Lord Samal frown at your statement. “As such, she should also be permitted to express her opinion. Minister Naza, you wished to speak?” “I did.” Naza inclines her head towards you, then turns to face Steward Welat and Lord Sama;. “As for your so-called concerns, the two of you and Mîr Behram are both overstepping your authority. It is not the business of a steward or a Mîr to oversee the Imperial Household. That domain is the sole purview of the Crown: if $ctheir Imperial Majesty gave $rtitle $rname permission for $rtheir absence, then $rthey did not abandon $rtheir duties.” “The Imperial Household becomes our responsibility should there be reason to doubt it is being managed adequately,” Lord Samal interjects irritably, now even making slights in your direction as well. “Need I remind you of all the many scandals in the households of past Crowns that have led not only to incompetence, but even violence? Lately there has been talk of how close $ctheir Imperial Majesty and $rtitle $rname have become. Is the potential for favoritism and coddling not a valid concern?” You tense in your seat, taken by surprise at the sudden barb aimed at your blossoming relationship with $rname—beside you, $rname lowers $rtheir head, and you see $rtheir fingers gripping $rtheir wrist tight and squeezing it behind $rtheir back. As far as you know, it is not a taboo for the Crown and their Sorcerer to become involved, but clearly that does not mean the court is above using it to cast aspersions. <ul class="a"> <li>[[Let Naza handle it.|13.r3nazac][$nazapoints -= 4]]</li> <li>[[Interrupt and take care of it yourself.|13.r3nazad][$nazapoints += 4]]</li> </ul><<else>>“Who are you to make that assessment?” you snap, your indignation sharpening your words, though you do manage to keep from raising it. “The Imperial Household is mine to manage. My judgment is the only one that matters.” “With all due respect, Your Imperial Majesty, your household becomes our responsibility should there be reason to doubt it is being managed adequately,” Lord Samal interjects irritably, now even making slights in your direction as well. “Need I remind you of all the many scandals in the households of past Crowns that have led not only to incompetence, but even violence? Lately there has been talk of how close you and $rtitle $rname have become. Is the potential for favoritism and coddling not a valid concern?” You raise your brows, taken by surprise at the sudden barb aimed at your blossoming relationship with $rname—beside you, $rname lowers $rtheir head, and you see $rtheir fingers gripping $rtheir wrist tight and squeezing it behind $rtheir back. As far as you know, it is not a taboo for the Crown and their Sorcerer to become involved, but clearly that does not mean the court is above using it to cast aspersions. Even with being ambushed, however, you are more than capable of handling this issue yourself<<if $historyalliance is true>>—but it is at that moment Minister Awir steps forward. [[Continue|13.r3znawir]]<<else>>. [[Continue|13.r3znalone]]<</if>><</if>> You look over at Minister Naza, searching for more support from her to avoid being ganged up on by the court. Naza briefly meets your gaze, brows arching, but then returns her attention to Lord Samal and Minister Besna. “The Crown can coddle $rtitle $rname as much as $they please<<if $pronouns isnot 'theythem'>>s<</if>>,” she replies curtly. “Again, what business is it of yours so long as it has no effect on the Imperial Court? Did $rtitle $rname’s absence cause the Empire to burn down while I was not looking, or are you hallucinating catastrophes in order to undermine $ctheir Imperial Majesty?” You think you hear $aname breathe a laugh on your left, while $rname’s posture begins to ease on your right, $rtheir eyes lifted to watch Minister Naza with both surprise and consideration. No doubt $rthey did not expect Naza to defend either of you to this extent. “Hallucinating?” Lord Samal repeats, offended. “Need I remind you of the reign of Crown Medya and what a mockery that made of the Imperial Court?” You recall your history lessons, among which was a brief discussion of the Fourth Crown of the Arsurian Empire: Medya the Would-Be Priest. He was a highly religious ruler, who prioritized the advice of priests and held an extreme devotion to the spirits. Back then, he even appointed one of the highest priests in the lands the position of the Crown’s Sorcerer, leaving all matters of state in her hands while he devoted himself to prayer, rituals and meditations. In the end, he became known as nothing more than a figurehead. “Are you implying that the Crown will give up $ctheir rule to $rtitle $rname?” Minister Naza mocks. “I rather think if you and the court had your way, $ctheir Imperial Majesty’s reign would rather end up like that of Crown Lorîcan.” The Seventh Crown, Lorîcan the Bullheaded. Her stubbornness and conviction in being always right allowed the Imperial Court to manipulate her and turn her against her own Sorcerer while a plague swept the lands. It culminated in Lorîcan refusing to listen to his advice on how to best contain the plague, causing huge arguments between them until she even went so far as to imprison him for it. Eventually, the disease spread out of control, and Lorîcan herself succumbed to it as a result. The Fourth and Seventh Crown’s reigns are two extreme examples of how the relationship between the Crown and their Sorcerer can affect Arsur, but you cannot imagine either possibility for you and $rname. $crthey would never wish to usurp you as happened to Crown Medya, and you would never mistreat $rthem like Crown Lorîcan did her own Sorcerer. “What a baseless accusation—” “Perhaps you would like a detailed account of $ctheir Imperial Majesty’s involvement with $rtitle $rname to reassure you?” Minister Naza continues to deride, loudly speaking over Lord Samal. “Should $ctheir Imperial Majesty petition the court when $they wish<<if $pronouns isnot 'theythem'>>es<</if>> to bed $rtitle $rname, to ensure it does not look like favoritism to you?” <<if $res gt $flirt>>Your eyes go wide at her rather crass statements, even if in defense of you. When you look over at $rname, $rtheir expression mirrors yours as $rthey lifts a hand to cover $rtheir mouth, $rtheir cheeks darkening with color. On your other side, $aname's lips twist like $athey is trying to keep from grinning, but is failing at it spectacularly. You clear your throat, awkwardly shifting on your throne. “Minister Naza…”<<else>>You can’t help it. A choked laugh escapes your mouth, unable to smother it in time while beside you $rname looks thoroughly embarrassed, eyes wide and a hand covering $rtheir mouth as $rtheir cheeks darken with color. On your other side, $aname's lips twist like $athey is trying to keep from grinning, but is failing at it spectacularly. You clear your throat, trying to smooth out your expression. “Minister Naza…”<</if>> “My apologies, though I believe I have made my point.” She looks around the room. “Anyone else who would like to join Lord Samal and Minister Besna’s complaints?” No one responds. [[Continue|13.r4]] It’s enough that Minister Naza voiced her support for you: letting her fight your battles for you on top of that would come across as weak. At some point, you have to learn how to handle the court officials on your own, and what better time than now to start? “As Minister Naza said, $rtitle $rname’s absence is not the court’s concern,” you state, eyes flitting between Lord Samal and Minister Besna in challenge. You notice the approving smile Naza casts you as well. “Need I remind you that the Crown’s Sorcerer is an advisory position to the Crown? $rtitle $rname not attending a couple meetings has had no effect on the court or the governance of Arsur whatsoever. Bringing this up is a waste of everyone’s time.” You notice $rname’s posture beginning to ease on your right, glancing over at you to meet your eyes with a look of warm gratitude. You smile back at $rthem in reassurance: so long as you are here, you won’t let anyone try to besmirch $rtheir reputation or cast doubt on $rtheir right to be here. “It may be meant as an advisory position, but the Crown’s Sorcerer is capable of wielding far greater influence than that,” Lord Samal replies, seeming determined to make an issue of this. “One need only study the reign of the Fourth Crown to see the danger.” You recall your history lessons, among which was a brief discussion of the Fourth Crown of the Arsurian Empire: Medya the Would-Be Priest. He was a highly religious ruler, who prioritized the advice of priests and held an extreme devotion to the spirits. Back then, he even appointed one of the highest priests in the lands the position of the Crown’s Sorcerer, leaving all matters of state in her hands while he devoted himself to prayer, rituals and meditations. In the end, he became known as nothing more than a figurehead. “I would be very careful with that implication, Lord Samal,” you say coldly, insulted on $rname’s behalf that Samal would even dare draw such a comparison. $rname has been nothing but devoted to $rtheir duty, wishing only to do $rtheir best. Minister Naza scoffs at it as well. “I rather think if you and the court had your way, $ctheir Imperial Majesty’s reign would rather end up like that of Crown Lorîcan.” The Seventh Crown, Lorîcan the Bullheaded. Her stubbornness and conviction in being always right allowed the Imperial Court to manipulate her and turn her against her own Sorcerer while a plague swept the lands. It culminated in Lorîcan refusing to listen to his advice on how to best contain the plague, causing huge arguments between them until she even went so far as to imprison him for it. Eventually, the disease spread out of control, and Lorîcan herself succumbed to it as a result. The Fourth and Seventh Crown’s reigns are two extreme examples of how the relationship between the Crown and their Sorcerer can affect Arsur, but you cannot imagine either possibility for you and $rname. $crthey would never wish to usurp you as happened to Crown Medya, and you would never mistreat $rthem like Crown Lorîcan did her own Sorcerer. “What a baseless accusation—” “Perhaps you would like a detailed account of $ctheir Imperial Majesty’s involvement with $rtitle $rname to reassure you?” Minister Naza continues to deride, loudly speaking over Lord Samal. While she speaks, she meets your gaze and casts you a conspiratorial grin. “Should $ctheir Imperial Majesty petition the court when $they wish<<if $pronouns isnot 'theythem'>>es<</if>> to bed $rtitle $rname, to ensure it does not look like favoritism to you?” <<if $res gt $flirt>>Your eyes go wide at her rather crass statements, even if in defense of you. When you look over at $rname, $rtheir expression mirrors yours as $rthey lifts a hand to cover $rtheir mouth, $rtheir cheeks darkening with color. On your other side, $aname's lips twist like $athey is trying to keep from grinning, but is failing at it spectacularly. You clear your throat, awkwardly shifting on your throne. “Minister Naza…”<<else>>You can’t help it. A choked laugh escapes your mouth, unable to smother it in time while beside you $rname looks thoroughly embarrassed, eyes wide and a hand covering $rtheir mouth as $rtheir cheeks darken with color. On your other side, $aname's lips twist like $athey is trying to keep from grinning, but is failing at it spectacularly. You clear your throat, trying to smooth out your expression. “Minister Naza…”<</if>> “My apologies, though I believe I have made my point.” She certainly has. You look around at the rest of your court. “Any others with <em>concerns</em> about my personal relationships that they would like to bring forward?” No one responds. [[Continue|13.r4]]“Minister Awir,” you speak with some measure of relief, remembering the deal you struck with him before the court meeting. You’re hopeful that he will offer you some way out of this. Awir does not disappoint. He bows shortly before you, before he turns to address Minister Besna. “I must point out, Minister Besna, that it is unprecedented for a Minister of Law to involve themselves in matters of the Imperial Household, when no laws have been broken.” For the first time, Minister Besna’s composure slips, expression marred with distaste as her lips thin into a tense line, before smoothing out again. “We live in unprecedented times—” “No matter the times, the Crown has been and always will be the sole purveyor of their household,” Minister Awir counters briskly. “To involve yourselves and demand the Crown’s Sorcerer be disciplined is far beyond overstepping your bounds. It is an insult to $ctheir Imperial Majesty’s authority.” “We did not make any demands, we only wish to caution $ctheir Imperial Majesty to treat the members of $their household with care,” Lord Samal replies, seeming determined to make an issue of this. “One need only study the reign of the Fourth Crown to see the danger.” You recall your history lessons, among which was a brief discussion of the Fourth Crown of the Arsurian Empire: Medya the Would-Be Priest. He was a highly religious ruler, who prioritized the advice of priests and held an extreme devotion to the spirits. Back then, he even appointed one of the highest priests in the lands the position of the Crown’s Sorcerer, leaving all matters of state in her hands while he devoted himself to prayer, rituals and meditations. In the end, he became known as nothing more than a figurehead. “I would be very careful with that implication, Lord Samal,” you say coldly, insulted on $rname’s behalf that Samal would even dare draw such a comparison. $rname has been nothing but devoted to $rtheir duty, wishing only to do $rtheir best. Minister Awir is not impressed by the reference either. “If there are comparisons to be drawn from history, the reign of the Seventh Crown is far more apt.” The Seventh Crown, Lorîcan the Bullheaded. Her stubbornness and conviction in being always right allowed the Imperial Court to manipulate her and turn her against her own Sorcerer while a plague swept the lands. It culminated in Lorîcan refusing to listen to his advice on how to best contain the plague, causing huge arguments between them until she even went so far as to imprison him for it. Eventually, the disease spread out of control, and Lorîcan herself succumbed to it as a result. The Fourth and Seventh Crown’s reigns are two extreme examples of how the relationship between the Crown and their Sorcerer can affect Arsur, but you cannot imagine either possibility for you and $rname. $crthey would never wish to usurp you as happened to Crown Medya, and you would never mistreat $rthem like Crown Lorîcan did her own Sorcerer. “What a baseless accusation—” “As baseless as your own, I’m certain,” Awir speaks over Samal. “In which case, let us put this frivolous debate to rest and turn the court’s attention to more important matters.” You look over at $rname as silence settles over the court, no one else seeming willing to take Lord Samal’s side. $rname meets your gaze as the tension in $rtheir shoulders eases, a look of relief in $rtheir face that you share. It’s a good thing you made an ally out of Awir. [[Continue|13.r4]]<<set $rconfidence to false>>For a moment, you feel cornered, realizing you haven’t formed any alliances with anyone in court who could help you with this. That is, none except for $dname—but everyone knows that $dthey has become part of your inner circle by now. Having $dthem intervene might do more harm than good. You avoid looking in $dtheir direction as you instead attempt to take Lord Samal and Minister Besna on yourself. “You are basing all of this on, what, $rname being absent for a couple of days?” “During a time when the Empire is suffering from great inner turmoil,” Minister Besna chimes in. “How can we trust that $rtitle $rname will not desert $rtheir station in much more stressful circumstances, such as the civil war in Şevan?” “We are only looking out for your best interests, Your Imperial Majesty,” Lord Samal is quick to add, and you feel as if you were being circled by two hungering hyenas. “You deserve a Sorcerer who you can rely upon.” You bite your tongue before you become too tempted by the urge to shout them down about how $rname was in a <em>coma</em>—$rthey would never neglect $rtheir duties without good reason. Of course, you cannot tell the court that. If they caught wind of what happened to $rname, the uproar would be immense: you can already imagine the attempts they would make to have $rname replaced as a result. “I am not entertaining this debate any longer,” you snap, at the end of your rope. You know it makes you look weak, but you’d rather have your own reputation harmed than have them keep undermining and insulting $rname like this. $crthey deserves better. “Well, now I am certainly growing concerned, Your Imperial Majesty,” Lord Samal says, feigning a worried expression that only infuriates you more. “Might I remind you of the reign for the Fourth Crown? We would not wish to see you walk that same path.” You recall your history lessons, among which was a brief discussion of the Fourth Crown of the Arsurian Empire: Medya the Would-Be Priest. He was a highly religious ruler, who prioritized the advice of priests and held an extreme devotion to the spirits. Back then, he even appointed one of the highest priests in the lands the position of the Crown’s Sorcerer, leaving all matters of state in her hands while he devoted himself to prayer, rituals and meditations. In the end, he became known as nothing more than a figurehead. Just as you part your lips to tell Samal to shut up, $dname intervenes. “Do you think before you speak?” $dthey says, and you hear $aname breathe a laugh beside you while Lord Samal glares back at the remark. $dname continues, entirely unperturbed while $dthey dismantles Samal’s argument with ease. “If $rtitle $rname had any such designs, $rthey would have made a grab for power while the Crown had not been found yet. Why would $rthey wait for the Crown to appear and only then try to take advantage? If anything, all this political maneuvering on your part is much more reminiscent of the Seventh Crown’s reign.” The Seventh Crown, Lorîcan the Bullheaded. Her stubbornness and conviction in being always right allowed the Imperial Court to manipulate her and turn her against her own Sorcerer while a plague swept the lands. It culminated in Lorîcan refusing to listen to his advice on how to best contain the plague, causing huge arguments between them until she even went so far as to imprison him for it. Eventually, the disease spread out of control, and Lorîcan herself succumbed to it as a result. The Fourth and Seventh Crown’s reigns are two extreme examples of how the relationship between the Crown and their Sorcerer can affect Arsur, but you cannot imagine either possibility for you and $rname. $crthey would never wish to usurp you as happened to Crown Medya, and you would never mistreat $rthem like Crown Lorîcan did her own Sorcerer. “What a baseless accusation—” “But your accusation isn’t?” $dname mocks. “Enough of this pitiful display, Lord Samal. You’re embarrassing your master, and $ctheir Imperial Majesty’s time is better spent than wasting it on your ill-conceived ploy.” You look over at $rname as silence settles over the court, no one else seeming willing to take Lord Samal’s side. $rname meets your gaze as the tension in $rtheir shoulders eases, a look of relief in $rtheir face that you share. Although you cannot count this as a victory. At most, the perception now is that one of your confidantes has managed to silence the opposition. Without any other allies in court, that still leaves you in a vulnerable place. [[Continue|13.r4]]<<if $rconfidence is false>>While you certainly could have handled that better, there is still an entire court meeting to get through. You cast another worried glance in $rname’s direction, whose expression is shuttered as $rthey is clearly trying to regain $rtheir composure. Hopefully, the rest of the meeting will distract $rthem from it all. <<else>>It’s only $aname subtly clearing $atheir throat on your left that snaps you out of the trance $rname has lulled you into, remembering that there is still an entire court meeting to get through. After that, though, the first thing on your mind is to spend some time with $rname alone. <</if>>“Let’s turn our attention to what was originally planned for this meeting,” you say, looking over at Minister Karwan to signal him to move on. “The Office of Diplomacy has gathered many public petitions from the citizens, as instructed, and stands ready to present them to you,” he says, motioning toward the diplomats who work in the office on the other end of the room. “They have brought with them a selection of petitions chosen blindly and at random for you to judge.” $rname has told you about this: $rthey asked the servants to watch the Office of Diplomacy in their selection to ensure they did not try to sneak anything in. As far as they have seen, the process was done fairly—but you can never be too certain. “Present the first one,” you say to the Minister of Diplomacy, who looks to one of her officials and gives a curt nod. The diplomat steps forward in their orange robes, and only then do you notice a low table at the front of the hall filled with a tall stack of scrolls. Judging by the amount of petitions, you suspect you’re going to be here for a while. [[Continue|13.gen1]]“Minister Awir,” you speak with some measure of relief, remembering the deal you struck with him before the court meeting. You’re hopeful that he will offer you some way out of this. Awir does not disappoint. He bows shortly before you, before he turns to address Steward Welat. “I must point out, Steward Welat, that it is unprecedented for a steward to involve themselves in matters of the Imperial Household, when your mere presence here is nothing more but a courtesy from the Crown.” Steward Welat stares back at him steadily, though it is clear this is an argument he will not win. “These are unprecedented times—” “No matter the times, the Crown has been and always will be the sole purveyor of their household,” Minister Awir counters briskly. “To involve yourselves and demand the Crown’s Sorcerer be disciplined is far beyond overstepping your bounds. It is an insult to $ctheir Imperial Majesty’s authority.” “We did not make any demands, we only wish to caution $ctheir Imperial Majesty to treat the members of $their household with care,” Lord Samal replies, seeming determined to make an issue of this. “One need only study the reign of the Fourth Crown to see the danger.” You recall your history lessons, among which was a brief discussion of the Fourth Crown of the Arsurian Empire: Medya the Would-Be Priest. He was a highly religious ruler, who prioritized the advice of priests and held an extreme devotion to the spirits. Back then, he even appointed one of the highest priests in the lands the position of the Crown’s Sorcerer, leaving all matters of state in her hands while he devoted himself to prayer, rituals and meditations. In the end, he became known as nothing more than a figurehead. “I would be very careful with that implication, Lord Samal,” you say coldly, insulted on $rname’s behalf that Samal would even dare draw such a comparison. $rname has been nothing but devoted to $rtheir duty, wishing only to do $rtheir best. Minister Awir is not impressed by the reference either. “If there are comparisons to be drawn from history, the reign of the Seventh Crown is far more apt.” The Seventh Crown, Lorîcan the Bullheaded. Her stubbornness and conviction in being always right allowed the Imperial Court to manipulate her and turn her against her own Sorcerer while a plague swept the lands. It culminated in Lorîcan refusing to listen to his advice on how to best contain the plague, causing huge arguments between them until she even went so far as to imprison him for it. Eventually, the disease spread out of control, and Lorîcan herself succumbed to it as a result. The Fourth and Seventh Crown’s reigns are two extreme examples of how the relationship between the Crown and their Sorcerer can affect Arsur, but you cannot imagine either possibility for you and $rname. $crthey would never wish to usurp you as happened to Crown Medya, and you would never mistreat $rthem like Crown Lorîcan did her own Sorcerer. “What a baseless accusation—” “As baseless as your own, I’m certain,” Awir speaks over Samal. “In which case, let us put this frivolous debate to rest and turn the court’s attention to more important matters.” You look over at $rname as silence settles over the court, no one else seeming willing to take Lord Samal’s side. $rname meets your gaze as the tension in $rtheir shoulders eases, a look of relief in $rtheir face that you share. It’s a good thing you made an ally out of Awir. [[Continue|13.r4]]“Is this a formal proposal to reconsider $rtitle $rname’s position, then?” you ask, easing back into your throne with your forearms draped over the armrests in an almost lackadaisical pose. Lord Samal blinks, seeming not to have anticipated for you to take his complaints seriously. “A mere suggestion, Your Imperial Majesty,” Steward Welat replies in his stead. “As a steward, I realize it is not my place to make proposals of any kind, nor is it Lord Samal’s.” <<if $blunt gt $charm>>“What is the material difference between a proposal and a suggestion?” While the steward’s face remains as solid as stone, he doesn’t reply immediately. You note the pause. “It is not something the Imperial Court needs to vote on.” You tilts your head, leaning your temple against your knuckles as you stare down at the steward. “You are leaving it entirely to me, then?” The two of them have no way to enforce it. No true allies in court since you removed the former minister from her post in the Office of Law, and no one willing to back them to turn this ‘suggestion’ into a ‘proposal’. Steward Welat begins to incline his head in response, but before he can fully bow you make your statement. “I reject your suggestion.” The way Welat’s head snaps up to look at you again, the only indicator of his surprise, makes you smile with satisfaction. No doubt he expected you would at least pretend to consider it, perhaps giving him an opportunity to make another argument for it, but you have no interest in playing such games. You meet his gaze with the single arch of a brow. He can say nothing in response, and everyone knows it. Even Lord Samal remains silent, knowing better than to attempt to intervene.<<else>>“How generous of you,” you mock, tilting your head to lean your temple against your knuckles. “Allowing me to decide on matters concerning my own household!” Steward Welat and Lord Samal both avert their eyes to the floor, and you enjoy the gesture of submission. They have no other choice. No true allies in court since you removed the former minister from her post in the Office of Law, and no one willing to back them to turn this ‘suggestion’ into a ‘proposal’. “I beg for your forgiveness, Your Imperial Majesty,” Welat says to the stone floor tiles. “This humble servant only wished to be of assistance.” “I’m sure you would be happy to assist from my throne if I allowed you to sit on it.” You enjoy the indignant looks from Welat’s faction in the chamber, though they take their cues from their leader as Welat remains quiet. Lord Samal is smart enough not to come to his assistance, either. There is nothing they could say, either way. “Your Imperial Majesty,” the Minister Karwan speaks in a respectful tone, perhaps taking pity on the steward’s humiliation. “Are you ready to cast your judgment on this matter?” “Yes, chief minister, I think I’ve decided,” you announce with a cheery smile, feeling much better about this court meeting than you thought it would. It helps, being able to take out some of your frustration and anxiety on a deserving target. “Lord Samal and Steward Welat’s suggestion has been rejected.” You meet the steward’s eyes again with a challenging look, daring him to protest.<</if>> “I see.” This time, when Welat bows, you suspect it is to hide his expression. “As you say, Your Imperial Majesty.” Lord Samal clenches his jaw and follows his example, far less able to hide his displeasure. You, on the other hand, smile wide and self-satisfied, enjoying this moment. When you meet $rname's eyes, however, that same smile nearly slips from your face at the look of gratitude and <em>admiration</em> that $rthey gives you, softening $rtheir expression. It makes you forget about the court for a moment, caught up in your staring. You are starting to realize there is very little you would not do for $rname. [[Continue|13.r4]] You look over at Minister Naza, searching for more support from her to avoid being ganged up on by the court. Naza briefly meets your gaze, brows arching, but then returns her attention to Lord Samal and Steward Welat. “The Crown can coddle $rtitle $rname as much as $they please<<if $pronouns isnot 'theythem'>>s<</if>>,” she replies curtly. “Again, what business is it of yours so long as it has no effect on the Imperial Court? Did $rtitle $rname’s absence cause the Empire to burn down while I was not looking, or are you hallucinating catastrophes in order to undermine $ctheir Imperial Majesty?” You think you hear $aname breathe a laugh on your left, while $rname’s posture begins to ease on your right, $rtheir eyes lifted to watch Minister Naza with both surprise and consideration. No doubt $rthey did not expect Naza to defend either of you to this extent. “Hallucinating?” Lord Samal repeats, offended. “Need I remind you of the reign of Crown Medya and what a mockery that made of the Imperial Court?” You recall your history lessons, among which was a brief discussion of the Fourth Crown of the Arsurian Empire: Medya the Would-Be Priest. He was a highly religious ruler, who prioritized the advice of priests and held an extreme devotion to the spirits. Back then, he even appointed one of the highest priests in the lands the position of the Crown’s Sorcerer, leaving all matters of state in her hands while he devoted himself to prayer, rituals and meditations. In the end, he became known as nothing more than a figurehead. “Are you implying that the Crown will give up $ctheir rule to $rtitle $rname?” Minister Naza mocks. “I rather think if you and the court had your way, $ctheir Imperial Majesty’s reign would rather end up like that of Crown Lorîcan.” The Seventh Crown, Lorîcan the Bullheaded. Her stubbornness and conviction in being always right allowed the Imperial Court to manipulate her and turn her against her own Sorcerer while a plague swept the lands. It culminated in Lorîcan refusing to listen to his advice on how to best contain the plague, causing huge arguments between them until she even went so far as to imprison him for it. Eventually, the disease spread out of control, and Lorîcan herself succumbed to it as a result. The Fourth and Seventh Crown’s reigns are two extreme examples of how the relationship between the Crown and their Sorcerer can affect Arsur, but you cannot imagine either possibility for you and $rname. $crthey would never wish to usurp you as happened to Crown Medya, and you would never mistreat $rthem like Crown Lorîcan did her own Sorcerer. “What a baseless accusation—” “Perhaps you would like a detailed account of $ctheir Imperial Majesty’s involvement with $rtitle $rname to reassure you?” Minister Naza continues to deride, loudly speaking over Lord Samal. “Should $ctheir Imperial Majesty petition the court when $they wish<<if $pronouns isnot 'theythem'>>es<</if>> to bed $rtitle $rname, to ensure it does not look like favoritism to you?” <<if $res gt $flirt>>Your eyes go wide at her rather crass statements, even if in defense of you. When you look over at $rname, $rtheir expression mirrors yours as $rthey lifts a hand to cover $rtheir mouth, $rtheir cheeks darkening with color. On your other side, $aname's lips twist like $athey is trying to keep from grinning, but is failing at it spectacularly. You clear your throat, awkwardly shifting on your throne. “Minister Naza…”<<else>>You can’t help it. A choked laugh escapes your mouth, unable to smother it in time while beside you $rname looks thoroughly embarrassed, eyes wide and a hand covering $rtheir mouth as $rtheir cheeks darken with color. On your other side, $aname's lips twist like $athey is trying to keep from grinning, but is failing at it spectacularly. You clear your throat, trying to smooth out your expression. “Minister Naza…”<</if>> “My apologies, though I believe I have made my point.” She looks around the room. “Anyone else who would like to join Lord Samal and Steward Welat’s complaints?” No one responds. [[Continue|13.r4]] It’s enough that Minister Naza voiced her support for you: letting her fight your battles for you on top of that would come across as weak. At some point, you have to learn how to handle the court officials on your own, and what better time than now to start? “As Minister Naza said, $rtitle $rname’s absence is not the court’s concern,” you state, eyes flitting between Lord Samal and Steward Welat in challenge. You notice the approving smile Naza casts you as well. “Need I remind you that the Crown’s Sorcerer is an advisory position to the Crown? $rtitle $rname not attending a couple meetings has had no effect on the court or the governance of Arsur whatsoever. Bringing this up is a waste of everyone’s time.” You notice $rname’s posture beginning to ease on your right, glancing over at you to meet your eyes with a look of warm gratitude. You smile back at $rthem in reassurance: so long as you are here, you won’t let anyone try to besmirch $rtheir reputation or cast doubt on $rtheir right to be here. “It may be meant as an advisory position, but the Crown’s Sorcerer is capable of wielding far greater influence than that,” Lord Samal replies, seeming determined to make an issue of this. “One need only study the reign of the Fourth Crown to see the danger.” You recall your history lessons, among which was a brief discussion of the Fourth Crown of the Arsurian Empire: Medya the Would-Be Priest. He was a highly religious ruler, who prioritized the advice of priests and held an extreme devotion to the spirits. Back then, he even appointed one of the highest priests in the lands the position of the Crown’s Sorcerer, leaving all matters of state in her hands while he devoted himself to prayer, rituals and meditations. In the end, he became known as nothing more than a figurehead. “I would be very careful with that implication, Lord Samal,” you say coldly, insulted on $rname’s behalf that Samal would even dare draw such a comparison. $rname has been nothing but devoted to $rtheir duty, wishing only to do $rtheir best. Minister Naza scoffs at it as well. “I rather think if you and the court had your way, $ctheir Imperial Majesty’s reign would rather end up like that of Crown Lorîcan.” The Seventh Crown, Lorîcan the Bullheaded. Her stubbornness and conviction in being always right allowed the Imperial Court to manipulate her and turn her against her own Sorcerer while a plague swept the lands. It culminated in Lorîcan refusing to listen to his advice on how to best contain the plague, causing huge arguments between them until she even went so far as to imprison him for it. Eventually, the disease spread out of control, and Lorîcan herself succumbed to it as a result. The Fourth and Seventh Crown’s reigns are two extreme examples of how the relationship between the Crown and their Sorcerer can affect Arsur, but you cannot imagine either possibility for you and $rname. $crthey would never wish to usurp you as happened to Crown Medya, and you would never mistreat $rthem like Crown Lorîcan did her own Sorcerer. “What a baseless accusation—” “Perhaps you would like a detailed account of $ctheir Imperial Majesty’s involvement with $rtitle $rname to reassure you?” Minister Naza continues to deride, loudly speaking over Lord Samal. While she speaks, she meets your gaze and casts you a conspiratorial grin. “Should $ctheir Imperial Majesty petition the court when $they wish<<if $pronouns isnot 'theythem'>>es<</if>> to bed $rtitle $rname, to ensure it does not look like favoritism to you?” <<if $res gt $flirt>>Your eyes go wide at her rather crass statements, even if in defense of you. When you look over at $rname, $rtheir expression mirrors yours as $rthey lifts a hand to cover $rtheir mouth, $rtheir cheeks darkening with color. On your other side, $aname's lips twist like $athey is trying to keep from grinning, but is failing at it spectacularly. You clear your throat, awkwardly shifting on your throne. “Minister Naza…”<<else>>You can’t help it. A choked laugh escapes your mouth, unable to smother it in time while beside you $rname looks thoroughly embarrassed, eyes wide and a hand covering $rtheir mouth as $rtheir cheeks darken with color. On your other side, $aname's lips twist like $athey is trying to keep from grinning, but is failing at it spectacularly. You clear your throat, trying to smooth out your expression. “Minister Naza…”<</if>> “My apologies, though I believe I have made my point.” She certainly has. You look around at the rest of your court. “Any others with <em>concerns</em> about my personal relationships that they would like to bring forward?” No one responds. [[Continue|13.r4]] Returning your attention to the entirety of your court, you gaze back out over the crowd of officials gathered in the chamber. “What do the rest of you have to say on this matter?” As expected—and perhaps, dreaded—Minister Besna steps forward. <<if $law is 'rejected'>>You keep your expression devoid of emotion, forcing a blankness to settle over your mind. She will not rattle you this time.<<else>>You keep your expression carefully neutral, not wanting to have any of the wariness you feel filter through your words.<</if>> “Minister Besna?” She bows, then says, “I must agree with Lord Samal, Your Imperial Majesty. It is unacceptable for the Royal Protector to abandon $atheir most important responsibility in such a reckless manner.” Surely both Besna and Samal must know that even if, in some ridiculous hypothetical scenario, you were to demote $aname and remove $athem as Royal Protector, it would not do much harm to you at all. At least, not materially. You suspect this is more a ploy to shake your confidence and undermine your support—have they caught wind of your developing relationship with $aname, and is that why they’re doing this? A Crown courting their Royal Protector is not a taboo, but clearly it is still a target for your enemies to aim at. “In the past, the Royal Protector has always been chosen from among the most experienced and decorated warriors in the Empire,” Lord Samal continues, no doubt bolstered by Minister Besna’s agreement. “Perhaps, then, it is worth reconsidering Captain $aname’s appointment. I have never been clear on $atheir family history—” You tense in your seat, and notice $aname’s composure almost slipping as $atheir eyes begin to widen before $athey catches $athemselves. $cathey looks over at you again, $atheir expression seeming otherwise calm, but you recognize the panic that flashes in $atheir gaze. This is exactly what $athey was trying to avoid: Crown Piruz’ legacy is controversial at best, and if it were widely known that he was $aname’s father, it no doubt add to Samal’s argument to have $athem removed. Not to mention, $rname finding out. You remember $aname making you promise not to tell $rthem. While you doubt $rname would ever judge $aname for who $atheir father was, it should be $aname’s decision to reveal that to $rthem and $xname. Not Samal’s. In that moment of building panic between you and $aname, thankfully, Minister Karwan interjects. “What does $atheir family history have to do with anything?” he demands. “Mîr Lîlan and the High General were the ones who recommended $athem, and $atheir accomplishments in the Imperial Army speak for themselves.” “Winning battles and guarding the most important person in Arsur are two different things—” “How else do you suppose you guard someone if you cannot win a battle?” “This is all beside the point I was making!” Lord Samal finally snaps, and as he begins to lose his temper, Minister Besna takes over. She redirects the court’s attention back to you. “A Royal Protector cannot be permitted to display such carelessness, Your Imperial Majesty. At the very least, is it not reasonable to reevaluate things? If $athey is truly befitting of $atheir rank, then surely the court will come to the same conclusion.” It occurs to you then that Minister Besna, Lord Samal and Mîr Behram may very well be aware of $aname’s ties to Crown Piruz already. They cannot simply blurt out the revelation in court without seeming tactless and malicious, however, so this would be a subtler way of accomplishing it. <<if $nazaminister is true>>Before you can respond to Minister Besna’s argument, however, someone else steps forward. You take a breath, trying to calm yourself. The interference is welcome, as you’re not sure you would’ve been able to keep from shouting down the court otherwise. “Minister Naza,” you greet, watching her with curiosity. “You have something to say?” Minister Besna scowls, looking over at Lady Naza standing on the other side of the room. “Your Imperial Majesty, if I may, Minister Naza oversees the Office of Defense. She has no relevance to this issue.” You meet Minister Naza’s eyes once more, and she gives you a slight, imperceptible nod. As if telling you to trust her. “Did Lord Samal not just say that this matter concerns any and every citizen of Arsur?” you challenge, and take some satisfaction from the way Minister Besna and Lord Samal frown at your statement. “As such, she should also be permitted to express her opinion. Minister Naza, you wished to speak?” “I did.” Naza inclines her head towards you, then turns to face Minister Besna. “As for your so-called concerns, the two of you and Mîr Behram are both overstepping your authority. It is not the business of the Office of Law or a Mîr to oversee the Imperial Household. That domain is the sole purview of the Crown: only $they can decide what happens to the Royal Protector.” “The Imperial Household becomes our responsibility should there be reason to doubt it is being managed adequately,” Lord Samal interjects irritably, now even making slights in your direction as well. “Need I remind you of all the many scandals in the households of past Crowns that have led not only to incompetence, but even violence? Lately there has been talk of how close $ctheir Imperial Majesty and captain $aname have become. Is the potential for favoritism and coddling not a valid concern?” It is as you suspected, then. You glance over at $aname, who is now openly scowling at Lord Samal, but to $atheir credit $athey is remaining silent—as unfair as it is, it would be worse if $athey spoke up to try and defend $athemselves. You and your other allies in court are the most suited to take care of this ploy. <ul class="a"> <li>[[Let Naza handle it.|13.a3nazaa][$nazapoints -= 4]]</li> <li>[[Interrupt and take care of it yourself.|13.a3nazab][$nazapoints += 4]]</li> </ul><<else>>“Who are you to make that assessment?” you snap, your indignation sharpening your words, though you do manage to keep from raising it. “The Royal Protector is part of the Imperial Household, which is mine to manage. My judgment is the only one that matters.” “With all due respect, Your Imperial Majesty, your household becomes our responsibility should there be reason to doubt it is being managed adequately,” Lord Samal interjects irritably, now even making slights in your direction as well. “Need I remind you of all the many scandals in the households of past Crowns that have led not only to incompetence, but even violence? Lately there has been talk of how close you and Captain $aname have become. Is the potential for favoritism and coddling not a valid concern?” It is as you suspected, then. You glance over at $aname, who is now openly scowling at Lord Samal, but to $atheir credit $athey is remaining silent—as unfair as it is, it would be worse if $athey spoke up to try and defend $athemselves. <<if $historyalliance is true>>As you struggle to come up with a response, Minister Awir steps forward to speak. [[Continue|13.a3hawir]]<<else>>[[Continue|13.a3halone]]<</if>><</if>> Returning your attention to the entirety of your court, you gaze back out over the crowd of officials gathered in the chamber. “What do the rest of you have to say on this matter?” As expected, Steward Welat steps forward. Unlike your last confrontation with him, however, this time you do not feel threatened. He is the mere steward of a city, which affords him very little authority when it comes to matters of the Imperial Court now that all its vacant seats have been filled. Even his presence in your court now is a mere courtesy. “Steward Welat?” He bows, then says, “Lord Samal is within his rights to raise the issue, Your Imperial Majesty. The Royal Protector is burdened with one of the most important duties of all: to ensure your safety and survival. If Captain $aname is unable to fulfill this duty, one must wonder why $athey holds the title at all." Surely both Welat and Samal must know that even if, in some ridiculous hypothetical scenario, you were to demote $aname and remove $athem as Royal Protector, it would not do much harm to you at all. At least, not materially. You suspect this is more a ploy to shake your confidence and undermine your support—have they caught wind of your developing relationship with $aname, and is that why they’re doing this? A Crown courting their Royal Protector is not a taboo, but clearly it is still a target for your enemies to aim at. “In the past, the Royal Protector has always been chosen from among the most experienced and decorated warriors in the Empire,” Lord Samal continues, bolstered by Steward Welat’s agreement. “Perhaps, then, it is worth reconsidering Captain $aname’s appointment as Steward Welat says. I have never been clear on $atheir family history—” You tense in your seat, and notice $aname’s composure almost slipping as $atheir eyes begin to widen before $athey catches $athemselves. $cathey looks over at you again, $atheir expression seeming otherwise calm, but you recognize the panic that flashes in $atheir gaze. This is exactly what $athey was trying to avoid: Crown Piruz’ legacy is controversial at best, and if it were widely known that he was $aname’s father, it would doubtlessly add to Samal’s argument to have $athem removed. Not to mention, $rname finding out. You remember $aname making you promise not to tell $rthem. While you doubt $rname would ever judge $aname for who $atheir father was, it should be $aname’s decision to reveal that to $rthem and $xname. Not Samal’s. In that moment of building panic between you and $aname, thankfully, Minister Karwan interjects. “What does $atheir family history have to do with anything?” he demands. “Mîr Lîlan and the High General were the ones who recommended $athem, and $atheir accomplishments in the Imperial Army speak for themselves.” “Winning battles and guarding the most important person in Arsur are two different things—” “How else do you suppose you guard someone if you cannot win a battle?” “This is all beside the point I was making!” Lord Samal finally snaps, and as he begins to lose his temper, Steward Welat takes over. He redirects the court’s attention back to you. “A Royal Protector cannot be permitted to display such carelessness, Your Imperial Majesty. At the very least, is it not reasonable to reevaluate things? If $athey is truly befitting of $atheir rank, then surely the court will come to the same conclusion.” It occurs to you then that Steward Welat, Lord Samal and Mîr Behram may very well be aware of $aname’s ties to Crown Piruz already. They cannot simply blurt out the revelation in court without seeming tactless and malicious, however, so this would be a subtler way of accomplishing it. <<if $nazaminister is true>>Before you can respond to Welat’s argument, however, someone else steps forward. You take a breath, trying to calm yourself. The interference is welcome, as you’re not sure you would’ve been able to keep from shouting down the court otherwise. “Minister Naza,” you greet, watching her with curiosity. “You have something to say?” Lord Samal scowls, looking over at Lady Naza standing on the other side of the room. “Your Imperial Majesty, if I may, Minister Naza oversees the Office of Defense. She has no relevance to this issue.” You meet Minister Naza’s eyes once more, and she gives you a slight, imperceptible nod. As if telling you to trust her. “Did you not just say that this matter concerns any and every citizen of Arsur?” you challenge, and take some satisfaction from the way Steward Welat and Lord Samal frown at your statement. “As such, she should also be permitted to express her opinion. Minister Naza, you wished to speak?” “I did.” Naza inclines her head towards you, then turns to face Steward Welat. “As for your so-called concerns, the two of you and Mîr Behram are both overstepping your authority. It is not the business of a steward or a Mîr to oversee the Imperial Household. That domain is the sole purview of the Crown: only $they can decide what happens to the Royal Protector.” “The Imperial Household becomes our responsibility should there be reason to doubt it is being managed adequately,” Lord Samal interjects irritably, now even making slights in your direction as well. “Need I remind you of all the many scandals in the households of past Crowns that have led not only to incompetence, but even violence? Lately there has been talk of how close $ctheir Imperial Majesty and Captain $aname have become. Is the potential for favoritism and coddling not a valid concern?” It is as you suspected, then. You glance over at $aname, who is now openly scowling at Lord Samal, but to $atheir credit $athey is remaining silent—as unfair as it is, it would be worse if $athey spoke up to try and defend $athemselves. You and your other allies in court are the most suited to take care of this ploy. <ul class="a"> <li>[[Let Naza handle it.|13.a3nazac][$nazapoints -= 4]]</li> <li>[[Interrupt and take care of it yourself.|13.a3nazad][$nazapoints += 4]]</li> </ul><<else>>“Who are you to make that assessment?” you snap, your indignation sharpening your words, though you do manage to keep from raising it. “The Royal Protector is part of the Imperial Household, which is mine to manage. My judgment is the only one that matters.” “With all due respect, Your Imperial Majesty, your household becomes our responsibility should there be reason to doubt it is being managed adequately,” Lord Samal interjects irritably, now even making slights in your direction as well. “Need I remind you of all the many scandals in the households of past Crowns that have led not only to incompetence, but even violence? Lately there has been talk of how close you and Captain $aname have become. Is the potential for favoritism and coddling not a valid concern?” It is as you suspected, then. You glance over at $aname, who is now openly scowling at Lord Samal, but to $atheir credit $athey is remaining silent. As unfair as it is, it would be worse if $athey spoke up to try and defend $athemselves. Even with being ambushed, however, you are more than capable of handling this issue yourself<<if $historyalliance is true>>—but it is at that moment Minister Awir steps forward. [[Continue|13.a3znawir]]<<else>>. [[Continue|13.a3znalone]]<</if>><</if>>“Minister Awir,” you speak with some measure of relief, remembering the deal you struck with him before the court meeting. You’re hopeful that he will offer you some way out of this. Awir does not disappoint. He bows shortly before you, before he turns to address Minister Besna. “I must point out, Minister Besna, that it is unprecedented for a Minister of Law to involve themselves in matters of the Imperial Household, when no laws have been broken.” For the first time, Minister Besna’s composure slips, expression marred with distaste as her lips thin into a tense line, before smoothing out again. “We live in unprecedented times—” “No matter the times, the Crown has been and always will be the sole purveyor of their household,” Minister Awir counters briskly. “To involve yourselves and demand the Crown’s Royal Protector be investigated is far beyond overstepping your bounds. It is an insult to $ctheir Imperial Majesty’s authority.” “We did not make any demands, we only wish to caution $ctheir Imperial Majesty,” Lord Samal replies, seeming determined to make an issue of this. “There is a risk of bias here, where such a personal relationship is concerned—” “Are you implying $ctheir Imperial Majesty is letting $their Royal Protector have the run of things?” Awir challenges coolly, arching his brows ever so slowly. “Was it not $their decision to go into the city? One would think our Crown nothing but a puppet, the way you speak of $them.” Lord Samal flusters. “That is twisting my words most uncharitably, minister!” “I am only trying to find the logic in your argument, but it seems there is none.” Minister Awir turns back to you. “In which case, I recommend we move onto worthier topics, Your Imperial Majesty.” You look over at $aname as silence settles over the court, no one else seeming willing to take Lord Samal’s side. $aname meets your gaze as you share the same feeling: relief that this did not devolve into $aname’s family ties being revealed. It’s a good thing you made an ally out of Awir. [[Continue|13.a4]]<<set $aconfidence to false>>For a moment, you feel cornered, realizing you haven’t formed any alliances with anyone in court who could help you with this. That is, none except for $dname—but everyone knows that $dthey has become part of your inner circle by now. Having $dthem intervene might do more harm than good. You avoid looking in $dtheir direction as you instead attempt to take Lord Samal and Minister Besna on yourself. The most important thing now is to divert them from questioning $aname’s family background further. “I was the one who chose to put myself in danger by heading into the city. How is that Captain $aname’s fault?” “$cathey should have known better than to put you in that position by abandoning $atheir post,” Minister Besna chimes in. “How can we trust that $athey will not do the same thing in even more dangerous circumstances, such as the civil war in Şevan?” “We are only looking out for your best interests, Your Imperial Majesty,” Lord Samal is quick to add, and you feel as if you were being circled by two hungering hyenas. “You deserve a Royal Protector who you can rely upon.” The cynical way in which they are using this incident against $aname and against you is infuriating. They don’t care about your safety—if anything, they’d likely prefer it if you died so they can go back to having no Crown to answer to. It’s not as if they could have someone from their side put in the position of Royal Protector even if they did manage to get $aname dismissed, either. This is purely meant to hurt you by hurting someone close to you. “I am not entertaining this debate any longer,” you snap, at the end of your rope. You know it makes you look weak, but you’d rather have your own reputation harmed than let $aname take the brunt of attacks that are meant for you in the first place. “Of course, this is merely the court’s concern,” Lord Samal says, feigning a worried expression that only angers you further. “If you do not wish to discuss it, that is entirely your decision.” He and Minister Besna are the only ones who have stepped forward, yet Samal is not framing it as if the entire court were in agreement with them. You look around the hall, and realize that so long as no one comes forth to contradict them, they may as well be in support of Samal’s words. Just as you part your lips to tell Samal to shut up, however, $dname intervenes. “The court’s concern?” $dname repeats sharply, and you hear $aname let out a relieved breath beside you while Lord Samal glares back at $dname’s interjection. “Make no mistake: you and Minister Besna do not speak for the court, Lord Samal. You are but two people scheming to undermine the Crown’s household and weaken them as a result. If anything, trying to deprive $ctheir Imperial Majesty of the best possible protection there is by trying to have $aname dismissed could be considered treasonous.” Lord Samal balks at the accusation, turning red in the face. “Treasonous? How dare you call my loyalty to $ctheir Imperial Majesty into question!” “I said it <em>could be</em> considered treasonous.” $dname stares back at Samal unflinchingly. “If you harbor no such ill will, then surely there is no need for you to become so defensive?” $cdthey looks around the room. “So then, are there any others who are in agreement with Lord Samal and Minister Besna?” You look over at $aname as silence settles over the court, no one else seeming willing to take Lord Samal’s side. $aname meets your gaze as the tension in $rtheir shoulders eases, a look of relief in $atheir face that you share. Although you cannot count this as a victory. At most, the perception now is that one of your confidantes has managed to silence the opposition. Without any other allies in court, that still leaves you in a vulnerable place. [[Continue|13.a4]] You look over at Minister Naza, searching for more support from her to avoid being ganged up on by the court. Naza briefly meets your gaze, brows arching, but then returns her attention to Lord Samal and Minister Besna. “The Crown can coddle Captain $aname as much as $they please<<if $pronouns isnot 'theythem'>>s<</if>>,” she replies curtly. “Again, what business is it of yours so long as it has no effect on the Imperial Court? If anything, Captain $aname did an admirable thing in lending $atheir assistance to defenseless citizens, while the Crown was adequately protected by the entire rest of the Imperial Guard. Unless you are calling them all incompetent and useless, save for the Royal Protector?” “You are mischaracterizing my concerns,” Lord Samal starts, but Minister Naza interrupts him. “If anything, I am being quite charitable.” She crosses her arms, casting him a thoroughly unimpressed look. “Were I to be frank, I would expose this scheme as the pathetic posturing that it is. You should thank me for my restraint.” Samal’s face colors into an impressive shade of red. “Are petty insults all you have to offer?” “Are misbegotten diatribes all <em>you</em> have to offer?” Naza’s upper lips curls into a sneer. “I don’t care if Captain $aname and $ctheir Imperial Majesty spent their time defiling the throne room in seventeen different ways—“ <<if $res gt $flirt>>You nearly choke on your own spit, barely managing to smother the sound at the crass remark.<<else>>You nearly let out a laugh, somehow managing to cover it at the last moment while you wonder if Naza would be willing to tell you about all the seventeen ways to defile the throne room that she has in mind. Personally, you can only think of five at most.<</if>> On your left, $aname has bowed $atheir head and lifted $atheir hand to cover $atheir eyes, while on your right, $rname’s mouth hangs open in a scandalized look. Naza seems not to care as she forges on: “None of you have any grounds to rebuke the Royal Protector, and you all well know it. This is nothing more than an attempt to undermine $ctheir Imperial Majesty by stripping $them of $their closest allies, and it is as transparent as it is cowardly.” You are certainly glad that you had the sense to appoint Naza as Minister of Defense and recruit her to your side. She is handling Samal’s attacks and dismantling them with ease, and it is obvious her voice carries weight in court: even Minister Besna has gone silent, no longer seeming willing to back Lord Samal on this topic. Samal himself seems to realize it as well, glancing around the court in search of others for support, but finding none. You clear your throat while you recover from her previous words, trying to smooth out your expression. “Minister Naza…” “My apologies, though I believe I have made my point.” She looks around the room. “Anyone else who would like to join Lord Samal and Minister Besna’s complaints?” No one responds. [[Continue|13.a4]] It’s enough that Minister Naza voiced her support for you: letting her fight your battles for you on top of that would come across as weak. At some point, you have to learn how to handle the court officials on your own, and what better time than now to start? “As Minister Naza said, this matter is not the court’s concern,” you state, eyes flitting between Lord Samal and Minister Besna in challenge. “Captain $aname was looking out for the citizens of Arsur, and to head into the city to search for $athem was my choice. You act as if I were a helpless puppet subject to the Royal Protector’s whims. I would almost call it an insult, Lord Samal.” You notice $aname’s eyes on you from your left, and when you meet them with your own, $aname shoots you a subtle but sincere smile. You return a smile of your own, one of reassurance: you promised to keep $aname’s secret safe, and you meant it. Even beyond that, you won’t let anyone slander $athem like this while you’re around. “Of course, no insult was meant,” Lord Samal is quick to say, perhaps realizing he is losing control of the debate. “But there is a risk of bias here, where your relationship may be concerned—” Minister Naza scoffs at this. “I don’t care if Captain $aname and $ctheir Imperial Majesty spent their time defiling the throne room in seventeen different ways—“ <<if $res gt $flirt>>You nearly choke on your own spit, barely managing to smother the sound at the crass remark.<<else>>You nearly let out a laugh, somehow managing to cover it at the last moment while you wonder if Naza would be willing to tell you about all the seventeen ways to defile the throne room that she has in mind. Personally, you can only think of five at most.<</if>> On your left, $aname has bowed $atheir head and lifted $atheir hand to cover $atheir eyes, while on your left, $rname’s mouth hangs open in a scandalized look. Naza seems not to care as she forges on: “None of you have any grounds to rebuke the Royal Protector, and you all well know it. This is nothing more than an attempt to undermine $ctheir Imperial Majesty by stripping $them of $their closest allies, and it is as transparent as it is cowardly.” Lord Samal’s mouth opens and closes, looking at a loss as he turns back to you and bows his head. “We only wish to ensure you enjoy the best possible protection, Your Imperial Majesty.” You clear your throat, doing your best to recover from Naza’s remark as you reply. “You say <em>we</em>, and yet, I do not see many in court who agree with you.” You look at Minister Besna. “Well?” She glances at Samal, then to you again, starting to shuffle a step back. “It was merely a concern, Your Imperial Majesty. I did not intend for it to turn into such an argument.” Lord Samal scowls at her, and you smile coldly at him. “Not ‘we’, then. Just you.” You look around at the rest of your court. “Any others with <em>concerns</em> about my personal relationships that they would like to bring forward?” No one responds. [[Continue|13.a4]]<<if $aconfidence is false>>While you certainly could have handled that better, there is still an entire court meeting to get through. You cast another worried glance in $aname’s direction, whose expression is shuttered as $athey is clearly trying to regain $atheir composure. Hopefully, the rest of the meeting will distract $athem from it all.<<else>>While you somehow managed to navigate the accusations of your opposition reasonably well, you already feel tired when you remember that there is still an entire court meeting to get through. After that, though, the first thing on your mind is to spend some time with $aname alone.<</if>> “Let’s turn our attention to what was originally planned for this meeting,” you say, looking over at Minister Karwan to signal him to move on. “The Office of Diplomacy has gathered many public petitions from the citizens, as instructed, and stands ready to present them to you,” he says, motioning toward the diplomats who work in the office on the other end of the room. “They have brought with them a selection of petitions chosen blindly and at random for you to judge.” $rname has told you about this: $rthey asked the servants to watch the Office of Diplomacy in their selection to ensure they did not try to sneak anything in. As far as they have seen, the process was done fairly—but you can never be too certain. “Present the first one,” you say to the Minister of Diplomacy, who looks to one of her officials and gives a curt nod. The diplomat steps forward in their orange robes, and only then do you notice a low table at the front of the hall filled with a tall stack of scrolls. Judging by the amount of petitions, you suspect you’re going to be here for a while. [[Continue|13.gen1]]“Minister Awir,” you speak with some measure of relief, remembering the deal you struck with him before the court meeting. You’re hopeful that he will offer you some way out of this. Awir does not disappoint. He bows shortly before you, before he turns to address Steward Welat. “I must point out, Steward Welat, that it is unprecedented for a Minister of Law to involve themselves in matters of the Imperial Household, when no laws have been broken.” Steward Welat stares back at him steadily, though it is clear this is an argument he will not win. “We live in unprecedented times—” “No matter the times, the Crown has been and always will be the sole purveyor of their household,” Minister Awir counters briskly. “To involve yourselves and demand the Crown’s Royal Protector be investigated is far beyond overstepping your bounds. It is an insult to $ctheir Imperial Majesty’s authority.” “We did not make any demands, we only wish to caution $ctheir Imperial Majesty,” Lord Samal replies, seeming determined to make an issue of this. “There is a risk of bias here, where such a personal relationship is concerned—” “Are you implying $ctheir Imperial Majesty is letting $their Royal Protector have the run of things?” Awir challenges coolly, arching his brows ever so slowly. “Was it not $their decision to go into the city? One would think our Crown nothing but a puppet, the way you speak of $them.” Lord Samal flusters. “That is twisting my words most uncharitably, minister!” “I am only trying to find the logic in your argument, but it seems there is none.” Minister Awir turns back to you. “In which case, I recommend we move onto worthier topics, Your Imperial Majesty.” You look over at $aname as silence settles over the court, no one else seeming willing to take Lord Samal’s side. $aname meets your gaze as you share the same feeling: relief that this did not devolve into $aname’s family ties being revealed. It’s a good thing you made an ally out of Awir. [[Continue|13.a4]]“Is this a formal proposal to reconsider Captain $aname’s position, then?” you ask, easing back into your throne with your forearms draped over the armrests in an almost lackadaisical pose. Lord Samal blinks, seeming not to have anticipated for you to take his complaints seriously. “A mere suggestion, Your Imperial Majesty,” Steward Welat replies in his stead. “As a steward, I realize it is not my place to make proposals of any kind, nor is it Lord Samal’s.” <<if $blunt gt $charm>>“What is the material difference between a proposal and a suggestion?” While the steward’s face remains as solid as stone, he doesn’t reply immediately. You note the pause. “It is not something the Imperial Court needs to vote on.” You tilts your head, leaning your temple against your knuckles as you stare down at the steward. “You are leaving it entirely to me, then?” The two of them have no way to enforce it. No true allies in court since you removed the former minister from her post in the Office of Law, and no one willing to back them to turn this ‘suggestion’ into a ‘proposal’. Steward Welat begins to incline his head in response, but before he can fully bow you make your statement. “I reject your suggestion.” The way Welat’s head snaps up to look at you again, the only indicator of his surprise, makes you smile with satisfaction. No doubt he expected you would at least pretend to consider it, perhaps giving him an opportunity to make another argument for it, but you have no interest in playing such games. You meet his gaze with the single arch of a brow. He can say nothing in response, and everyone knows it. Even Lord Samal remains silent, knowing better than to attempt to intervene.<<else>>“How generous of you,” you mock, tilting your head to lean your temple against your knuckles. “Allowing me to decide on matters concerning my own household!” Steward Welat and Lord Samal both avert their eyes to the floor, and you enjoy the gesture of submission. They have no other choice. No true allies in court since you removed the former minister from her post in the Office of Law, and no one willing to back them to turn this ‘suggestion’ into a ‘proposal’. “I beg for your forgiveness, Your Imperial Majesty,” Welat says to the stone floor tiles. “This humble servant only wished to be of assistance.” “I’m sure you would be happy to assist from my throne if I allowed you to sit on it.” You enjoy the indignant looks from Welat’s faction in the chamber, though they take their cues from their leader as Welat remains quiet. Lord Samal is smart enough not to come to his assistance, either. There is nothing they could say, either way. “Your Imperial Majesty,” the Minister Karwan speaks in a respectful tone, perhaps taking pity on the steward’s humiliation. “Are you ready to cast your judgment on this matter?” “Yes, chief minister, I think I’ve decided,” you announce with a cheery smile, feeling much better about this court meeting than you thought it would. It helps, being able to take out some of your frustration and anxiety on a deserving target. “Lord Samal and Steward Welat’s suggestion has been rejected.” You meet the steward’s eyes again with a challenging look, daring him to protest.<</if>> “I see.” This time, when Welat bows, you suspect it is to hide his expression. “As you say, Your Imperial Majesty.” Lord Samal clenches his jaw and follows his example, far less able to hide his displeasure. You, on the other hand, smile pleased and self-satisfied, enjoying this moment. When you meet $aname’s eyes, that same smile brightens even further as you find $aname watching you with a little grin of $atheir own, looking impressed and even a little <em>proud</em> at the way you handled the situation. $cathey mouths a silent ‘well done’, and even that bit of praise is enough to make you feel giddy with accomplishment. Nothing feels better than knowing $aname holds you in high regard. [[Continue|13.a4]] You look over at Minister Naza, searching for more support from her to avoid being ganged up on by the court. Naza briefly meets your gaze, brows arching, but then returns her attention to Lord Samal and Steward Welat. “The Crown can coddle Captain $aname as much as $they please<<if $pronouns isnot 'theythem'>>s<</if>>,” she replies curtly. “Again, what business is it of yours so long as it has no effect on the Imperial Court? If anything, Captain $aname did an admirable thing in lending $atheir assistance to defenseless citizens, while the Crown was adequately protected by the entire rest of the Imperial Guard. Unless you are calling them all incompetent and useless, save for the Royal Protector?” “You are mischaracterizing my concerns,” Lord Samal starts, but Minister Naza interrupts him. “If anything, I am being quite charitable.” She crosses her arms, casting him a thoroughly unimpressed look. “Were I to be frank, I would expose this scheme as the pathetic posturing that it is. You should thank me for my restraint.” Samal’s face colors into an impressive shade of red. “Are petty insults all you have to offer?” “Are misbegotten diatribes all <em>you</em> have to offer?” Naza’s upper lips curls into a sneer. “I don’t care if Captain $aname and $ctheir Imperial Majesty spent their time defiling the throne room in seventeen different ways—“ <<if $res gt $flirt>>You nearly choke on your own spit, barely managing to smother the sound at the crass remark.<<else>>You nearly let out a laugh, somehow managing to cover it at the last moment while you wonder if Naza would be willing to tell you about all the seventeen ways to defile the throne room that she has in mind. Personally, you can only think of five at most.<</if>> On your left, $aname has bowed $atheir head and lifted $atheir hand to cover $atheir eyes, while on your right, $rname’s mouth hangs open in a scandalized look. Naza seems not to care as she forges on: “None of you have any grounds to rebuke the Royal Protector, and you all well know it. This is nothing more than an attempt to undermine $ctheir Imperial Majesty by stripping $them of $their closest allies, and it is as transparent as it is cowardly.” You are certainly glad that you had the sense to appoint Naza as Minister of Defense and recruit her to your side. She is handling Samal’s attacks and dismantling them with ease, and it is obvious her voice carries weight in court: even Steward Welat has gone silent, no longer seeming willing to back Lord Samal on this topic. Samal himself seems to realize it as well, glancing around the court in search of others for support, but finding none. You clear your throat while you recover from her previous words, trying to smooth out your expression. “Minister Naza…” “My apologies, though I believe I have made my point.” She looks around the room. “Anyone else who would like to join Lord Samal and Steward Welat’s complaints?” No one responds. [[Continue|13.a4]] It’s enough that Minister Naza voiced her support for you: letting her fight your battles for you on top of that would come across as weak. At some point, you have to learn how to handle the court officials on your own, and what better time than now to start? “As Minister Naza said, this matter is not the court’s concern,” you state, eyes flitting between Lord Samal and Steward Welat in challenge. “Captain $aname was looking out for the citizens of Arsur, and to head into the city to search for $athem was my choice. You act as if I were a helpless puppet subject to the Royal Protector’s whims. I would almost call it an insult, Lord Samal.” You notice $aname’s eyes on you from your left, and when you meet them with your own, $aname shoots you a subtle but sincere smile. You return a smile of your own, one of reassurance: you promised to keep $aname’s secret safe, and you meant it. Even beyond that, you won’t let anyone slander $athem like this while you’re around. “Of course, no insult was meant,” Lord Samal is quick to say, perhaps realizing he is losing control of the debate. “But there is a risk of bias here, where your relationship may be concerned—” Minister Naza scoffs at this. “I don’t care if Captain $aname and $ctheir Imperial Majesty spent their time defiling the throne room in seventeen different ways—“ <<if $res gt $flirt>>You nearly choke on your own spit, barely managing to smother the sound at the crass remark.<<else>>You nearly let out a laugh, somehow managing to cover it at the last moment while you wonder if Naza would be willing to tell you about all the seventeen ways to defile the throne room that she has in mind. Personally, you can only think of five at most.<</if>> On your left, $aname has bowed $atheir head and lifted $atheir hand to cover $atheir eyes, while on your left, $rname’s mouth hangs open in a scandalized look. Naza seems not to care as she forges on: “None of you have any grounds to rebuke the Royal Protector, and you all well know it. This is nothing more than an attempt to undermine $ctheir Imperial Majesty by stripping $them of $their closest allies, and it is as transparent as it is cowardly.” Lord Samal’s mouth opens and closes, looking at a loss as he turns back to you and bows his head. “We only wish to ensure you enjoy the best possible protection, Your Imperial Majesty.” You clear your throat, doing your best to recover from Naza’s remark as you reply. “You say <em>we</em>, and yet, I do not see many in court who agree with you.” You look at Steward Welat. “Well?” He glances at Samal, then to you again, inclining his head and taking a step back. “It was merely a concern, Your Imperial Majesty. I did not intend for it to turn into such an argument.” Lord Samal scowls at the steward, and you smile coldly at him. “Not ‘we’, then, Lord Samal. Just you.” You look around at the rest of your court. “Any others with <em>concerns</em> about my personal relationships that they would like to bring forward?” No one responds. [[Continue|13.a4]] Your eyes flit reflexively to where $dname stands among the other court officials, dread crawling up your throat as you realize you haven’t spoken to $dthem about it yet. With everything going on, you hadn’t had a chance—and perhaps, part of you was putting off having to do so, hoping that $dthey would recover quickly enough for it to no longer be an issue. $dname does not meet your gaze. $cdtheir expression is a stony one, not showing any outward surprise, or any kind of response whatsoever as $dthey gazes straight ahead of $dthemselves. Even if $dthey <em>looks</em> unperturbed, you know that it’s merely a facade. After everything $dthey told you about $dtheir mother and how $dname came to replace her, you cannot imagine that this doesn’t affect $dthem. You turn back to Minister Karwan, trying to project as much steadiness as you can: you cannot show the court that this issue is personal to you. It would raise questions about your relationship to $dname. “Who is making this inquiry?” Lord Samal steps forward, bowing before you. “Your Imperial Majesty.” Your eyes narrow in suspicion. “Should I take this to mean Mîr Behram himself is asking this question?” Straightening as you address him, Lord Samal gives a slight inclination of his head, not quite nodding. “The Imperial Army is an important part of Arsur’s security, particularly for Rojan. The northern border, as I’m sure you know, has been subject to attacks from Sacati tribes for many years now. The provincial army alone would struggle to defend it: we must have a High General capable of leading our forces.” “I don’t see how General $dname is incapable,” you retort, resisting the urge to tap your fingers onto your armrest with impatience. Keko has advised you not to fidget in such situations: it’ll betray to the court that they are getting to you. “With due respect, $dthey is in no state to lead anyone onto a battlefield.” Lord Samal turns his head to look over at $dname on the other end of the room. “Your injury is not yet healed, is it, general?” $dname continues to face forward, hands folded behind $dtheir back, $dtheir tone even and $dtheir response concise. “It is not.” $cdthey’s not defending $dthemselves. Why? You frown at $dthem, but $dthey refuses to meet your—or anyone’s—eyes. If $dthey’s not going to do so, then you’ll do it for $dthem. Returning your attention to Samal, you state, “Need I remind you, Lord Samal, that it is unusual for the High General to personally partake in such battles? General $dname is an exception due to $dtheir remarkable prowess, but $dthey is meant to be a strategist and an overseer first and foremost.” You look back at $dname. “Does your injury impede you from performing those duties, General $dname?” For the first time, emotion shines through in $dname’s expression as $dthey finally lifts $dtheir gaze to look up at you. From this distance, you can’t see $dtheir eyes well and can’t tell what’s going through $dtheir mind, but $dtheir reply is an almost tentative one. “It does not, Your Imperial Majesty.” “So $dthey says,” Lord Samal interjects, “but from what I have been told, the ambush was far more dire than what the court was initially led to believe. It seems the general was poisoned during the attack, and nearly <em>died</em> as a consequence. Do you expect us to believe that has had no effect on $dtheir capacity to function in such a demanding position?” You tense in your seat, and now even $dname’s composure shows cracks as $dtheir eyes widen slightly at the revelation, the court erupting into murmurs and whispers. You had decided to keep $dname’s exact state hidden in order to avoid exactly this from happening. How did Lord Samal find out? Did he manage to get one of the physicians or the servants who tended to $dname to talk? Perhaps even one of $dtheir soldiers? If so, could $dname’s letter be in Mîr Behram’s hands as well? [[Continue|13.d2]] The Minister of Defense you recently appointed, Metin Balyan, thankfully steps forward to offer a rebuttal to Lord Samal. “Evidently, the royal physicians judged the general recovered enough to attend the court meetings again. No matter how grave $dtheir injury was before, we can all see that $dthey is well enough not to need replacement.” “Are you a physician?” Lord Samal retorts sharply. “What are your qualifications, to be able to make that assessment?” “Then why don’t we ask the physicians themselves?” You don’t like the direction this is taking. Even if in defense of $dname, calling the physicians here for the court to question them feels like a violation of $dname’s privacy. Just as you part your lips to say as much, however, $dname speaks once more. “Call them.” $dname stares at Lord Samal in challenge. “I have nothing to hide.” $cdthey says that, yet you know $dthem well enough to recognize the tension in $dtheir posture. This entire time, $dthey has hardly moved a muscle, standing in place as if a statue affixed to the floor. Yet, $dthey is willing to subject $dthemselves to this all the same. But you’re not going to let that happen. Asserting your authority as the Crown is still new to you, and while you struggle to do it for your own sake, you find it so much easier to do when it is to protect $dname. “There is no need for that.” All the other chatter in the court quiets as you speak, projecting your voice to drown out everyone else’s without having to shout, your golden eyes glaring down at Lord Samal. “While $dthey is not ready for battle, the physicians have assured me General $dname has recovered enough to manage all $dtheir other duties. We may put this matter to rest.” Lord Samal opens his mouth as if to protest, and you arch your brows. “Unless you are doubting my words, Lord Samal?” That gets him to shut up, lowering his gaze as he no doubt realizes he has reached the end of his rope. You have effectively cornered him—it brings you a moment of satisfaction, until you glance back at $dname to see $dthey has returned the blank, cold look on $dtheir face from before. You’ll have to speak to $dthem about this after the meeting, however. There is much more that you need to attend to as the Crown. “Now then, let’s turn our attention to what was originally planned for this meeting,” you say, looking over at Minister Karwan to signal him to move on. “The Office of Diplomacy has gathered many public petitions from the citizens, as instructed, and stands ready to present them to you,” he says, motioning toward the diplomats who work in the office on the other end of the room. “They have brought with them a selection of petitions chosen blindly and at random for you to judge.” $rname has told you about this: $rthey asked the servants to watch the Office of Diplomacy in their selection to ensure they did not try to sneak anything in. As far as they have seen, the process was done fairly, but you can never be too certain. “Present the first one,” you say to the Minister of Diplomacy, who looks to one of her officials and gives a curt nod. The diplomat steps forward in their orange robes, and only then do you notice a low table at the front of the hall filled with a tall stack of scrolls. Judging by the amount of petitions, you suspect you’re going to be here for a while. [[Continue|13.gen1]] The court meeting gradually approaches its end as you render judgment on the last few petitions left, trying your best to keep your focus even as it splinters further and further. By the end, you are more than ready to leave, and not only because your mind has tired—your conscience has, as well. They all want something from you. Asking you to help them, pleading for their cause, begging for your compassion, and yet there is no way to make everyone happy. No matter what you decide, someone will lose, and that will be a responsibility that you have to carry. One you didn’t ask for, but one that was entrusted to you. How could you ever refuse? How could you abandon your home, your people, to their fate? These thoughts weigh heavily on you as Minister Karwan announces you have finished everything on the agenda for the day, and even the court officials look relieved it is over with. You do not wait any longer, rising from your throne and heading down the steps. The members of the court bow as you pass them by, $aname and $rname following along right behind you. Outside in the corridor, you turn to your two companions. “I’d like some time alone, if you two don’t mind,” you say. “That meeting really took it out of me.” “Of course.” $rname touches your shoulder in a reassuring gesture. “We’ll be nearby if you have need of us.” “Get some rest,” $aname adds. “I’ll make sure you aren’t disturbed.” You look at them both in gratitude, thankful for their understanding. This was your first time making so many difficult decisions that were submitted to you by petitioners, with direct consequences. You didn’t feel it in the moment, but now that the meeting is over with, the magnitude of it is starting to sink in. Taking your leave, you let your feet guide you wherever they may. After having been sitting on your throne for so long, your legs appreciate being stretched as you begin to wander the hallways. Your only wish for the palace is that you not run into anyone who would disturb you, and the palace seems to fulfill it as it guides you into an inner courtyard that looks like a miniature version of the palace’s training grounds, embraced by a veil of pleasant shade as the sun’s light doesn’t quite reach. There are weapons racks standing along the edge of its square. One of them holds daggers, but the others ones have <<if $weapon is 'sword'>>a variety of curved and straight swords lined up for your perusal. At the center of the square are three straw dummies, meant for practice. You shed the outer <<if $clothes isnot 'robes'>>coat<<else>>robe<</if>> of your garments, then approach the rack and pick out a sword. Testing its balance in your hand, you’re surprised to find it indistinguishable from the training sword you usually practice with. Your current attire is not ideal for the occasion, so you decide to keep things light as you run through the slower version of a few forms and movements to warm up, stretching your limbs in the process. Once you feel looser and nimbler, you turn to practice in earnest on one of the dummies.<</if>><<if $weapon is 'bow'>>several shortbows lined up for your perusal, including arrows. At the other end of the square are three straw dummies, meant for practice. You shed the outer <<if $clothes isnot 'robes'>>coat<<else>>robe<</if>> of your garments, then approach the rack and pick out a bow. Testing its weight and its bowstring, you’re surprised to find it indistinguishable from the training bow you usually practice with. Your current attire is not ideal for the occasion, so you decide to keep things light as you warm up by stretching your wrists, arms and shoulders. Once you feel looser and nimbler, you pick up the bow you chose and turn to practice on one of the dummies.<</if>><<if $weapon is 'spear'>>a variety of short and long spears lined up for your perusal. At the center of the square are three straw dummies, meant for practice. You shed the outer <<if $clothes isnot 'robes'>>coat<<else>>robe<</if>> of your garments, then approach the rack and pick out a spear. Testing its balance in your hand, you’re surprised to find it indistinguishable from the training spear you usually practice with. Your current attire is not ideal for the occasion, so you decide to keep things light as you run through the slower version of a few forms and movements to warm up, stretching your limbs in the process. Once you feel looser and nimbler, you turn to practice in earnest on one of the dummies.<</if>> As you focus your attention on your training—even if a milder variety of it—you find that it is exactly what you needed. <<if $intel gt $intu>>You wonder what kind of magic it is that allows the palace to respond to your wishes in such a way, pondering the matter<<else>>You allow your mind to empty itself, giving it a reprieve and letting your senses take over<</if>> for a while as you <<if $weapon is 'bow'>>let your arrows fly one by one<<else>>assail one of the dummies with blows from your $weapon<</if>>. You’re not aware of how much time passes, save for that the sunlight glowing along the tops of the pillars surrounding the courtyard eventually fades, the shadows growing stronger in its absence. Once you feel yourself starting to sweat, you put your $weapon away and turn towards the weapons rack with daggers, figuring you should get a little training in for that as well before you call it a day. Looking over the daggers placed on display, one of them catches your eye. It’s a momentary glimpse, but you swear you see the familiar white of a pearl-decorated handle in the periphery of your vision—but what would $xname’s dagger be doing here? When you look at it, you see that it is a different dagger with a plain white handle. Your brows furrow, wondering if your imagination was playing tricks on you, or the palace was. Picking the dagger up from the rack, you study it, idly twisting it around in your hand as you recall $xname’s dagger is still safely stored away in your chambers. Or rather, $xname’s <em>mother’s</em> dagger. “Plotting a murder?” You startle at the sudden sound of $xname’s voice, turning around to find $xthem walking into the courtyard with an amused smile. Putting the dagger back on the rack, you watch $xthem approach you as $xthey crosses the courtyard to your side. <<if $blunt gt $charm>>“If I wanted someone dead that I couldn’t simply execute, I hope I’d be clever enough to make it look like an accident.” $xname snorts, winding $xtheir arms around your back, your own settling along $xtheir waist in a gesture that already feels so natural to do. “What a terrifying answer. Something attractive about it, though, I must admit.” “You <em>would</em> be the sort to be attracted to danger,” you tease, coaxing a smirk from $xthem before $xthey leans in to kiss you.<<else>>“Can’t I simply enjoy some finely crafted weaponry without any sinister motives for it?” $xname smirks, winding $xtheir arms around your back, your own settling along $xtheir waist in a gesture that already feels so natural to do. “Seductive motives, then?” You stare at $xthem, perplexed. “Only you would find a dagger seductive.” “In your hands it is,” $xthey teases before $xthey leans in to kiss you.<</if>> [[Continue|13.x2]] The court meeting gradually approaches its end as you render judgment on the last few petitions left, trying your best to keep your focus even as it splinters further and further. By the end, you are more than ready to leave, and not only because your mind has tired—your conscience has, as well. They all want something from you. Asking you to help them, pleading for their cause, begging for your compassion, and yet there is no way to make everyone happy. No matter what you decide, someone will lose, and that will be a responsibility that you have to carry. One you didn’t ask for, but one that was entrusted to you. How could you ever refuse? How could you abandon your home, your people, to their fate? These thoughts weigh heavily on you as Minister Karwan announces you have finished everything on the agenda for the day, and even the court officials look relieved it is over with. You do not wait any longer, rising from your throne and heading down the steps. The members of the court bow as you pass them by, $aname and $rname following along right behind you. Outside in the corridor, you turn to your two companions, your gaze lingering on $rname. $crthey looks weary, no doubt the confrontation with the court about $rtheir position having taken as much out of $rthem as the petitions did out of you. Turning to $aname, you say, “Could you give me some time alone with $rname?” $cathey looks between the two of you, understanding flickering in $atheir gaze as $athey nods. “I’ll make sure the two of you aren’t disturbed.” “Thank you, $aname.” <<if $pass gt $ass>>You hold out your hand to $rname, waiting for $rthem to take it. $crthey musters a weak smile as $rthey threads $rtheir fingers through yours, and the two of you begin to walk the corridors together.<<else>>You reach out to grasp $rname’s hand, $rname mustering a weak smile for you as $rthey threads $rtheir fingers through yours. The two of you begin to walk the corridors together, silent at first.<</if>> Both of you seem content not to speak, and you let the palace guide you as it wishes. The only thought in your mind is to find a place where both you and $rname can rest comfortably together. Perhaps it isn’t surprising, then, that the palace leads you into the familiar hallways of the eastern wing, where your personal chambers are located. Only, it isn’t the doors to your own quarters that you see once you turn a corner. These ones are silver rather than gold, and not as large. “Oh.” $rname glances over at you. “These are my chambers. You have only been in here once before, haven't you?” “Yes, after that incident with the Void,” you realize with a start. Thus far, $rname has always been the one to visit you, and there has been little reason for you to venture into $rtheir quarters beyond that particular emergency. Back then, you had paid little attention to the interior of $rname's quarters. You can’t deny your immediate curiosity as you both approach the doors, $rname opening one of them to reveal what lies beyond. [[Continue|13.rr2]] The court meeting gradually approaches its end as you render judgment on the last few petitions left, trying your best to keep your focus even as it splinters further and further. By the end, you are more than ready to leave, and not only because your mind has tired—your conscience has, as well. They all want something from you. Asking you to help them, pleading for their cause, begging for your compassion, and yet there is no way to make everyone happy. No matter what you decide, someone will lose, and that will be a responsibility that you have to carry. One you didn’t ask for, but one that was entrusted to you. How could you ever refuse? How could you abandon your home, your people, to their fate? These thoughts weigh heavily on you as Minister Karwan announces you have finished everything on the agenda for the day, and even the court officials look relieved it is over with. You do not wait any longer, rising from your throne and heading down the steps. The members of the court bow as you pass them by, $aname and $rname following along right behind you. Outside in the corridor, you turn to your two companions, your gaze lingering on $aname. At first glance, $athey seems fine, but you know $athem well enough by now to recognize the tension in $atheir mouth and the slight wrinkle between $atheir brows. No doubt the confrontation with the court about $atheir position has taken as much out of $athem as the petitions did out of you. Turning to $rname, you say, “Could you give me some time alone with $aname?” “Of course.” $crthey does not hesitate in $rtheir reply, looking between the two of you with understanding. “I’ll be nearby should either of you have need of me.” “Thank you, $rname.” You glance over at $aname, and find $atheir expression looks a little lighter now, even mustering a faint smile as you meet $atheir eyes. You are glad that $athey seems happy to spend time with you as well, if nothing else. As you get going, both of you seem content not to speak, and you let the palace guide you as it wishes. The only thought in your mind is to find a place where both you and $aname can rest comfortably together. Perhaps it isn’t surprising, then, that the palace leads you into the familiar hallways of the eastern wing, where your personal chambers are located. You expect to find the golden doors of your own quarters when you turn a corner, but instead, you find another pair of stone doors entirely—though ones you recognize all the same. It’s the entrance to the underground bathing chambers. [[Continue|13.aa2]] The court meeting gradually approaches its end as you render judgment on the last few petitions left, trying your best to keep your focus even as it splinters further and further. By the end, you are more than ready to leave, and not only because your mind has tired—your conscience has, as well. They all want something from you. Asking you to help them, pleading for their cause, begging for your compassion, and yet there is no way to make everyone happy. No matter what you decide, someone will lose, and that will be a responsibility that you have to carry. One you didn’t ask for, but one that was entrusted to you. How could you ever refuse? How could you abandon your home, your people, to their fate? These thoughts weigh heavily on you as Minister Karwan announces you have finished everything on the agenda for the day, and even the court officials look relieved it is over with. You do not wait any longer, rising from your throne and heading down the steps. The members of the court bow as you pass them by, $aname and $rname following along right behind you. Your eyes glance in $dname’s direction, finding $dtheir head bowed like all the others, not looking at you.<<if $tempreplacement is true>> For a moment, you consider waiting for $dthem, worried about how $dthey must be feeling after Lord Samal’s attack regarding $dtheir position. But would $dname even let you close enough to comfort $dthem? It seems unlikely.<</if>> Exhaling a sigh, you leave the throne room. Outside in the corridor, you turn to your two companions. “I’d like some time alone, if you two don’t mind,” you say. “That meeting really took it out of me.” “Of course.” $rname touches your shoulder in a reassuring gesture. “We’ll be nearby if you have need of us.” “Get some rest,” $aname adds. “I’ll make sure you aren’t disturbed.” You look at them both in gratitude, thankful for their understanding. This was your first time making so many difficult decisions that were submitted to you by petitioners, with direct consequences. You didn’t feel it in the moment, but now that the meeting is over with, the magnitude of it is starting to sink in. Taking your leave, you let your feet guide you wherever they may. After having been sitting on your throne for so long, your legs appreciate being stretched as you begin to wander the hallways. Your only wish for the palace is that you not run into anyone who would disturb you, and the palace seems to fulfill it as it guides you into an inner courtyard with a fountain at the center. It is illuminated by a singular beam of light, the sun still high enough in the air to cast its radiance down into the glimmering water. You approach it with curiosity, eyes trailing over the small statues of snakes that spew water from their mouths into the circular pool. White and pink flower petals drift along the surface, and you pick up a floral scent drifting through the air. You settle down at the stone edge of the pool, inhaling its fragrance and watching the ripples in its surface, the sound of rushing water and the distant chirping of birds gradually easing the tightness that had begun to constrict your chest. It is exactly what you needed. <<if $intel gt $intu>>You wonder what kind of magic it is that allows the palace to respond to your wishes in such a way, pondering the matter for a while as you stare into the fountain<<else>>You allow your mind to empty itself, giving it a reprieve and letting your senses take over for a while as you stare into the fountain<</if>>—until the noise of approaching footsteps draws you out of your thoughts. Didn’t $aname say $athey would ensure you wouldn’t be disturbed? You look up with a frown, confused by the presence of the interloper, but then you see who it is. “$dname?” You look at $dthem in surprise, watching as $dthey hovers in an open doorway and watches you uncertainly. It is the same corridor you came through earlier. Did $aname let $dname through on purpose? “You left quickly after the court meeting,” $dthey says, remaining in place at the threshold of the door, where the sunlight doesn’t reach. “I wanted to ensure you were well.” $cdthey could have asked $rname or $aname, but you don’t point that out. Instead, you offer tentatively, “I am. I just needed to <<if $intu gt $intel>>rest my mind for a bit<<else>>divert myself for a while<</if>>.” $dname nods, $dtheir eyes flitting down to the fountain, then back to you. You look away from $dthem, assuming $dthey will leave as you drop your hand into the water, cooling your fingers as you drift them idly through the pool. Yet, $dname remains as a shadow in the periphery of your vision. Still standing there, looking at you. Your brows furrow as you meet $dtheir gaze in question, wondering why $dthey hasn’t left yet. So far, you have always been the one chasing after $dthem, but you are in no mood for it today. So why isn’t $dthey retreating? $dname peers back into your eyes, $dtheir lips parting ever so subtly as $dthey takes a breath, and then $dthey steps into the courtyard. [[Continue|13.dd2]] It’s a simple peck to your lips, more chaste than you expected considering no one is around, and you can’t fully keep the disappointment from showing on your face as $xname pulls back. $cxthey chuckles at your expression. “Don’t worry, you can have more later. I wanted to ask how your court meeting went first.” You ease a little at the response, warmed by $xtheir consideration. “It was long and tiring. I’ve never had to make those kinds of decisions before, let alone so many of them one after the other.” $xname hums, tugging you a little closer in invitation. You take $xthem up on it, settling into $xtheir embrace<<if $height is 'short' or $height is 'very short'>>, <<if $xgender is 'female'>>though you are careful about where you lean your head—you angle it up as much as you can so you don’t end up with your face pressed right into $xtheir breasts. $xname notices your efforts to shift your head away from $xtheir bosom, even while you still feel the swell of it pressing against you. $cxthey laughs, $xtheir shoulders shaking with it. “You’re adorable.” <<if $flirt gt $res>>“I’m trying to be polite,” you mumble, thinking that at this point, <em>had</em> you pressed your face between $xtheir breasts it would have been less embarrassing.<<else>>Your face colors, thinking it better not to respond to that lest this embrace turn into something else entirely. Not that you’re opposed to it, but it’s not the right moment for it.<</if>><<else>> and resting your head against $xtheir chest. You never noticed before, but you realize the muscle of $xtheir pecs is rather more pillowy than you expected. The thought makes you a little self-conscious, and you shift your head a little so you don’t end up burying your face into $xtheir chest, the soft hairs along $xtheir skin tickling your cheek. $xname notices your efforts to shift your head away from $xtheir pecs, even while you still feel the swell of it pressing against you. $cxthey laughs, $xtheir shoulders shaking with it. “You’re adorable.” <<if $flirt gt $res>>“I’m trying to be polite,” you mumble, thinking that at this point, <em>had</em> you pressed your face between $xtheir pecs it would have been less embarrassing.<<else>>Your face colors, thinking it better not to respond to that lest this embrace turn into something else entirely. Not that you’re opposed to it, but it’s not the right moment for it.<</if>><</if>><</if>><<if $height is 'average' or $height is 'tall'>> and resting your head comfortably against $xtheir shoulder, your face turned towards $xtheir neck. You don’t mean to brush your lips against it, wanting merely to enjoy the warmth of $xtheir skin, but that’s what ends up happening as you nuzzle close. For once, however, $xname does not react flirtatiously. Instead, $xthey lets out a contented sigh, wrapping $xtheir arms a little tighter around you. “Holding you is so comfortable, I could stay like this forever.” You smile against $xtheir neck, enjoying the closeness and the intimacy for what it is without needing it to turn into anything else.<</if>><<if $height is 'very tall'>> and letting $xtheir head rest against your shoulder, $xtheir face pressing against your neck and nuzzling close like a cat rubbing itself all over you in affection. You curl your arms around $xtheir back, holding $xtheir a little tighter and enjoying the comfort of being held like this. $xname seems to share the sentiment, sighing with satisfaction. $cxtheir heated breath heats the skin of your neck, but it seems unintentional as $xthey doesn’t do anything more. “This is so nice. It’s not often I get to hug someone taller than me. I should make you my personal pillow.” You chuckle against $xtheir hair, enjoying the closeness and the intimacy for what it is without needing it to turn into anything else.<</if>> $xname’s hands caress up and down your back in a soothing motion, easing the last of the tension out of your body that you hadn’t managed to get out through your training alone. “Want to talk about it?” $xname says after a moment, referring to the court meeting. “There’s not much to say,” you start, but then your brows furrow as you recall all the petitions you have had to render judgment on. “I’m worried whether I made the right decisions or not. How that will affect people. But…” You pull back a little to look at $xname, meeting $xtheir eyes as $xthey shifts back to peer back at you. “Someone once gave me the advice not to obsess over my choices, or else I’d end up paralyzed by fear.” $xname appears surprised that you recall the conversation you had with $xthem about it, shortly after you arrived at the palace. “You still remember that?” “Of course I do.” You reach up to <<if $xgender is 'female'>>brush a wayward lock of $xtheir hair behind $xtheir ear<<else>>brush some of the bangs along the side of $xtheir forehead back<</if>>. “You’re an experienced leader. I took it to heart.” $cxtheir gaze softens. “Then I’m glad it helped.” [[Continue|13.x3]] You part your lips to ask how $xtheir outing into the city went, until you notice a speck of white in the corner of your eyes from the dagger you held in your hands earlier. It seems a sensitive subject to broach considering what $xname told you of $xtheir past, but the thought won’t leave you alone. “$xname,” you start, your careful tone causing $xname’s brows to arch in question. “Why did you give me your dagger?” $xname is very still for a moment, not even blinking, but then $xthey replies with such ease that you wonder if you imagined the tension. “You needed a weapon to defend yourself with. After that…” $cxthey shrugs. “I have plenty of weapons. I didn’t need to have it back.” Had you not known what you do, you would have bought it. You watch $xtheir expression closely as you finally ask what you really want to know: “Even though it was your mother’s?” $xname’s expression does not change, but you feel $xtheir fingers twitch against your back. $cxthey says nothing for several heartbeats, $xtheir gaze flitting between your eyes, seemingly searching for something. <<if $xrelationship is 'high'>>You feel the tension tightening in $xtheir posture, like a spooked animal trying to decide whether to bolt or not. Maybe $xthey’s looking for a reason to run. You want to know why $xthey would give such a thing to you—to the <em>Crown</em>, of all people—but you know you have to go about it delicately if you want to get anything out of $xname. “I only want to know if it means something to you.” It seems to be the right thing to say, because you feel $xname ease again in your hold, letting out a soft breath through $xtheir nose and relaxing $xtheir tense shoulders. $cxthey averts $xtheir gaze for a moment, features twisting with something conflicted. “It does,” $xthey finally says, $xtheir voice quiet. You wait for $xthem to continue, and when $xthey looks at you again, $xtheir eyes are open and vulnerable. “How could it not? But it’s not what you think. It’s not related to what Crown Piruz did. At least, not directly.” This is starting to make less and less sense. “Then what is it related to?” $xname sighs, <<if $height isnot 'very tall'>>bending $xtheir neck to rest $xtheir forehead<<else>>resting $xtheir forehead<</if>> against your shoulder. “I thought you would need it. Can we leave it at that?” You frown, lifting a hand to cradle the back of $xname’s neck who seems to be all but hiding $xtheir face from you. “$xname…” When $xthey lifts $xtheir head again to look at you, any uncertainty in $xtheir gaze is gone, and just as how you hold onto $xtheir nape, $xthey reaches $xtheir hand up to cup one of your cheeks against $xtheir warm, callused palm. “Later on, I asked you to keep it because I found myself caring for you, and wanting you to be safe. I trust you with it.” $cxtheir confession affects you, the sincerity in it something you believe even if $xthey isn’t being wholly forthcoming about the dagger. $xname leans closer, tilting $xtheir head, the tips of your noses brushing and $xtheir words almost felt against your lips as $xthey continues to speak. “You’re important to me, $name,” $xthey murmurs against your mouth, so easily provoking that familiar heat to rise to your skin—tugging on urges and impulses that still hunger within you after being alone for so long, playing them like strings on an instrument. “I find myself wanting to be with you all the time. Even today, when we were apart only for a couple of hours. I missed you, I longed for you…”<<else>>You don’t know how to interpret the shrug $xname gives you moments later, $xtheir expression still impassive. “It’s a weapon, and I thought you would need it to protect yourself. It’s not any more meaningful than that.” “But it was—” “My mother’s, yes, you mentioned that.” $xname smiles sadly at you, a hint of emotion finally flickering in $xtheir eyes. “She died a long time ago, $name. I’ve had my time to make peace with it. Your safety is my priority now.” You frown at $xtheir response, thinking that it surely can’t be as simple as $xname makes it seem. Were it your own parents who had left you with something tangible, you would be far more attached to it than $xname apparently is—then again, your parents died a year ago, while $xname’s mother died over a decade ago. Maybe it <em>is</em> different? As you ponder the matter, $xname reaches $xtheir hand up to cup one of your cheeks against $xtheir warm, callused palm. “I asked you to keep it because I found myself caring for you, and wanting you to be safe. I trust you with it.” $cxtheir confession affects you, the sincerity in it something you believe even if $xthey isn’t being wholly forthcoming about the dagger. $xname leans closer, tilting $xtheir head, the tips of your noses brushing and $xtheir words almost felt against your lips as $xthey continues to speak. “You’re important to me, $name,” $xthey murmurs against your mouth, so easily provoking that familiar heat to rise to your skin—tugging on urges and impulses that still hunger within you after being alone for so long, playing them like strings on an instrument. “I find myself wanting to be with you all the time. Even today, when we were apart only for a couple of hours. I missed you, I longed for you…”<</if>> <ul class="a"> <li><<if $xgender is 'male'>>[[Kiss him.|13.x4a][$xpoints -= 4]]<<else>>[[Kiss her.|13.x4a][$xpoints -= 4]]<</if>></li> <li><<if $xgender is 'male'>>[[Let him kiss you.|13.x4b][$xpoints -= 4]]<<else>>[[Let her kiss you.|13.x4b][$xpoints -= 4]]<</if>></li> <li>[[Pull away: you want to talk about this instead.|13.x4c][$xpoints += 6]]</li></ul><<if visited("13.x4a") is 1>><<if $xpoints gte 20>><<set $xrelationship to 'high'>><<set $xhighcount += 1>><<else>><<set $xrelationship to 'low'>><<set $xlowcount += 1>><</if>><</if>>It is as simple as breathing to lean closer and erase the last of the space between your lips, losing yourself to the heat of $xtheir mouth within moments and letting go of all your worries. <<if $pass gt $ass>>Usually, it’s not in your nature to initiate things like this, but $xname makes it <em>so easy</em> for you—everything else falls away.<<else>>You do not think twice about it, and $xname makes it <em>so easy</em> for you—everything else falls away.<</if>> $cxthey certainly puts effort into making you forget. $cxtheir tongue slides hot over your lower lip, and when you part your mouth with a pleased noise it slips inside to taste you, the heat of $xtheir breath making you burn. It flares with dancing lights behind your eyes as you pull $xname even closer, needing more, needing everything $xthey is willing to give you. $xname hums long and low into your mouth, as if savoring something delectable. $cxtheir hands grasp at your back and the nape of your neck with as much urgency as you feel, radiating a dizzying warmth that licks across your skin like flames, spreading further and deeper until you’re starting to sweat again. You’re short of air, thinking you might suffocate as this continues, yet unable to bring yourself to stop. The only reason you keep breathing is because $xname abandons your mouth to kiss down your chin and jaw to trail fire down your neck, and you tilt your head back with a heated sigh. The blazing magic that courses through $xname sinks into you with startling familiarity—it rushes through your veins, to your head, sensitizing you to even the slightest contact. When you feel $xname’s teeth graze your neck you jolt with a gasp, your spine tensing at how strongly even such a small touch arouses you. Your eyes flutter open and you startle even further when you notice <<if $magicpref is 'inner'>>the golden glow that is shining from your skin<<else>>the golden glow coloring the air around you<</if>>, and the burning sparks that flicker from $xname’s body like embers. “$xname,” you start to say, breathing out the name unsteadily with how lightheaded you feel—it’s almost as if you were drunk, but instead of dulling your senses, everything feels much sharper and brighter. Instead of responding, $xname sucks on a patch of your neck, seeming unwilling to part with it, and you feel another heady rush of <em>magic</em> coursing through you, drawing a soft groan from your mouth. It’s what $xname finally responds to when $xthey’s had $xtheir fill of marking your neck, pulling away with a heavy breath as $xthey looks at you, $xtheir deep green eyes glazed over with lingering desire. $cxthey smirks when $xthey sees the magic <<if $magicpref is 'inner'>>gleaming from your skin<<else>>shimmering around you<</if>>, licking $xtheir reddened and kiss-swollen lips as if to catch the last taste of you from $xtheir mouth to relish it. “So, it turns out,” $xthey murmurs, $xtheir voice rough in $xtheir throat, “our affinities are <em>very</em> compatible.” “I noticed,” you reply wryly, still panting slightly from both the kissing and how incredibly heated your skin feels. “I think I absorbed some of your magic.” You suppose it makes sense, considering fire and the sun go hand in hand, but you hadn’t expected it to feel so energizing. Whatever weariness you felt in the aftermath of the court meeting and then your training seems to have evaporated. “I did yours, too—we exchanged it.” $xname looks thoughtful, an admiring look in $xtheir eyes as $xthey watches the magic <<if $magicpref is 'inner'>>along your skin<<else>>around you<</if>> gradually cool again. “It felt invigorating. I don’t think I’ve ever experienced that before.” $cxthey caresses your cheek with a tender look, a last touch of heat, and you smile back at $xthem just as affectionately. The dagger is long forgotten. [[End Chapter|14.1]]<<if visited("13.x4b") is 1>><<if $xpoints gte 20>><<set $xrelationship to 'high'>><<set $xhighcount += 1>><<else>><<set $xrelationship to 'low'>><<set $xlowcount += 1>><</if>><</if>>You sense what $xname’s intention is as $xthey, little by little, closes the small gap still left between your lips. The heat of $xtheir mouth is too seductive, coaxing you to let go of all your worries and lose yourself to the kiss that finds you eager and willing. Whatever might have been plaguing your mind moments before, it readily falls away in the face of $xname’s affection. $cxthey certainly puts effort into making you forget. $cxtheir tongue slides hot over your lower lip, and when you part your mouth with a pleased noise it slips inside to taste you, the heat of $xtheir breath making you burn. It flares with dancing lights behind your eyes as you pull $xname even closer, needing more, needing everything $xthey is willing to give you. $xname hums long and low into your mouth, as if savoring something delectable. $cxtheir hands grasp at your back and the nape of your neck with as much urgency as you feel, radiating a dizzying warmth that licks across your skin like flames, spreading further and deeper until you’re starting to sweat again. You’re short of air, thinking you might suffocate as this continues, yet unable to bring yourself to stop. The only reason you keep breathing is because $xname abandons your mouth to kiss down your chin and jaw to trail fire down your neck, and you tilt your head back with a heated sigh. The blazing magic that courses through $xname sinks into you with startling familiarity—it rushes through your veins, to your head, sensitizing you to even the slightest contact. When you feel $xname’s teeth graze your neck you jolt with a gasp, your spine tensing at how strongly even such a small touch arouses you. Your eyes flutter open and you startle even further when you notice <<if $magicpref is 'inner'>>the golden glow that is shining from your skin<<else>>the golden glow coloring the air around you<</if>>, and the burning sparks that flicker from $xname’s body like embers. “$xname,” you start to say, breathing out the name unsteadily with how lightheaded you feel—it’s almost as if you were drunk, but instead of dulling your senses, everything feels much sharper and brighter instead. Instead of responding, $xname sucks on a patch of your neck, seeming unwilling to part with it, and you feel another heady rush of <em>magic</em> coursing through you, drawing a soft groan from your mouth. It’s what $xname finally responds to when $xthey’s had $xtheir fill of marking your neck, pulling away with a heavy breath as $xthey looks at you, $xtheir deep green eyes glazed over with lingering desire. $cxthey smirks when $xthey sees the magic <<if $magicpref is 'inner'>>gleaming from your skin<<else>>shimmering around you<</if>>, licking $xtheir reddened and kiss-swollen lips as if to catch the last taste of you from $xtheir mouth to relish it. “So, it turns out,” $xthey murmurs, $xtheir voice rough in $xtheir throat, “our affinities are <em>very</em> compatible.” “I noticed,” you reply wryly, still panting slightly from both the kissing and how incredibly heated your skin feels. “I think I absorbed some of your magic.” You suppose it makes sense, considering fire and the sun go hand in hand, but you hadn’t expected it to feel so energizing. Whatever weariness you felt in the aftermath of the court meeting and then your training seems to have evaporated. “I did yours, too—we exchanged it.” $xname looks thoughtful, an admiring look in $xtheir eyes as $xthey watches the magic <<if $magicpref is 'inner'>>along your skin<<else>>around you<</if>> gradually cool again. “It felt invigorating. I don’t think I’ve ever experienced that before.” $cxthey caresses your cheek with a tender look, a last touch of heat, and you smile back at $xthem just as affectionately. The dagger is long forgotten. [[End Chapter|14.1]]<<if visited("13.x4c") is 1>><<if $xpoints gte 20>><<set $xrelationship to 'high'>><<set $xhighcount += 1>><<else>><<set $xrelationship to 'low'>><<set $xlowcount += 1>><</if>><</if>>You said $xthey didn’t have to tell you, and you meant it, but this doesn’t feel entirely honest. This feels like a performance, and you don’t want to be treated like someone $xthey needs to appease merely to avoid talking about something that makes $xthem uncomfortable. Just as $xname’s lips touch against your own as $xthey goes in for the kiss, you place a hand against $xtheir shoulder, gently pushing $xthem back. $cxthey looks at you in confusion, brows drawing together. “If you’d rather not speak of it, then don’t,” you say, even as you worry that doing this will end up pushing $xthem away. “But don’t try to distract me like this.” $cxthey frowns at you, a blend of incomprehension and irritation tensing in $xtheir mouth. “I just told you how much you matter to me, and you call that a <em>distraction</em>?” Now you’re the one becoming agitated, your eyes narrowing sharply. “When you’re trying to draw my attention away from something you clearly don’t want me to be thinking about, yes. I would call it a distraction.” $cxthey withdraws $xtheir arms from you and steps back, the distance settling like a stone in your gut, but you refuse to yield to it even as $xname scoffs at you. “Fine, think want you want. I’ll leave you be, I need to speak to $rname anyway—” You let out a breath as $xthey begins to turn away from you, scowling at $xthem. “Is that going to be your response to everything? Running away?” $cxthey stops and turns back around to face you with an indignant glare. “I’m not running away.” “All I’m asking is for you to be honest with me—” “But I am being honest with you, I’m telling you how I feel—” “I know you’re hiding something!” you finally erupt, at the end of your patience, and $xname finally falls quiet, $xtheir eyes wide. “And I hate to think about what it could be, but I’m willing to let you tell me at your own pace, so long as you at least, <em>at least</em>, have enough respect for me not to play me for a fool!” You’re out of breath once you finish speaking—or yelling, rather—the heat of your anger sizzling <<if $magicpref is 'inner'>>along your skin in sparks that flicker even through your garments<<else>>in the air around you, sparking in flashes of light<</if>>. If you expected $xname to return it, however, instead $xthey looks rattled by your outburst, regret flickering across $xtheir expression. $cxthey closes $xtheir eyes, letting out a heavy breath. “Fuck.” [[Continue|13.x5b]] You blink at the unexpected response, uncertain of how to interpret it, until $xthey opens $xtheir eyes and looks at you in apology. “I’m sorry,” $xthey offers, $xtheir shoulders slumping in weariness. “I meant every word I said about how much I care for you, but you were right that I was trying to distract you with it. I didn’t want you asking more questions than I was prepared to answer.” "You could have told me that,” you point out. “I would have understood.” $xname pauses for a moment, as if the possibility hadn’t even occurred to $xthem. “I… I should have. I don’t know why I didn’t.” $cxthey looks down at the ground for a moment. “Most people are content not to dig too deep. I should have known it would be different for you, after your parents…” You almost wince at the reminder, your response subdued. “They kept secrets from me all my life, until the day they died. I know they thought it was in my best interest, but it just makes me feel as if they didn’t believe in me.” $cxthey takes a step towards you, closing the distance between you again as $xthey tentatively touches your shoulder. When you allow $xthem to, $xthey grips it more firmly, rubbing a comforting circle over it with $xtheir thumb, the warmth of $xtheir body sinking into yours and sending a pleasant shiver down your spine. “Trust me when I say that my reasons have nothing to do with me doubting you,” $xthey promises, peering into your eyes with $xtheir own brimming with a sincere plea. “If anything, it’s the opposite. I think so highly of you that the thought of you coming to resent me, coming to <em>hate me</em> if you knew—it scares me. I just… I need time to figure this out.” You almost open your mouth in a reflex to ask more, frowning at the thought that whatever $xthey’s keeping from you is something so monumental that $xthey’s convinced you’ll react poorly to it. If you could move past $xthem attacking one of your Mîrs and causing a political incident in your court, what more could $xthey possibly be afraid of? In the end, you keep your questions to yourself, deciding to give $xname the time $xthey asked for. “How long?” $xname takes a breath, hand dropping from your shoulder. “Before we reach the mountains. I promise.” It’s a very specific time limit, more than you expected: you figured $xthey would give a vaguer answer, but it seems $xthey’s taken your concern to heart. That, at least, you can accept. “Alright.” <<if $pass gt $ass>>You extend your arms in invitation, and $xname’s expression brightens as $xthey eagerly leans into your embrace once more.<<else>>You move closer to wrap your arms around $xthem, and feel the tension in $xtheir body melt away as $xthey eagerly leans into your embrace once more.<</if>> “I’m sorry for shouting at you.” $xname huffs. “You call that shouting? Come, let’s get you to your chambers. You need a bath.” “Is that your way of telling me I stink?” Rather than responding to your humorous quip, $xthey tucks $xtheir face against your neck and inhales a deep breath, then hums with consideration, making you squirm a little. “What are you <em>doing</em>?” you exclaim, incredulous more than anything else, and when $xthey pulls back $xthey smirks at you. “You smell lovely to me.” You cast $xthem a dubious look. “I’m covered in sweat.” “Why wouldn’t I like having you flushed and sweaty?” $xthey teases, grasping one of your hands and tugging you along. “But I assumed it would bother you, hence why I suggested a bath. Did you eat yet? I can fetch you a meal while I call the others over.” <<if $res gt $flirt>>You follow along with your face even redder than it was from the exertion of your exercise.<<else>>You smile and shake your head, unable to suppress your mirth at $xtheir complete and utter shamelessness.<</if>> “I can’t believe the things that come out of your mouth sometimes.” $cxthey laughs as the two of you leave the courtyard behind, heading into the corridors of the palace. “Is that all it takes? You haven’t even heard any of the debauched things that come to mind whenever I look at you, sweetheart.” <<if $res gt $flirt>>“Please do not start regaling me with them in public,” you rush to say, your cheeks glowing with heat, and $xname casts you a roguish look. “In private, then?”<<else>>“Dare I ask?” you tease right back, giving $xthem a mischievous look. “On second thought, don’t tell me yet. You can whisper it in my ear later, when we’re alone.” “I’ll hold you to that.”<</if>> [[End Chapter|14.1]] You straighten, removing your hand from the fountain as you watch $dname approach. The golden scales of $dtheir ceremonial armor gleam as $dthey steps into the sunlight, coming closer and closer, until $dthey stands beside you. <<if $tempreplacement is true>>Looking at $dthem then, the words leave your mouth before you can stop yourself. “$dname, about what Lord Samal said—” For an instant, you think you see $dname flinch. Your concern only grows, and it must show on your face as $dname smooths $dtheir expression again. “It was handled, was it not?” $dthey says simply, even while $dthey lowers $dtheir eyes. You feel the urge to press, none of your worry abated with what is clearly a deflection, and $dname sighs. “It was far from the first time someone has tried to undermine me.” That, at least, looks honest—and also makes you sad, and angry on $dtheir behalf. $cdthey smiles at you, albeit faintly. “You are kind to worry, but there is no need. I have dealt with worse.” You’re certain this has hurt $dthem far more than $dthey’s letting on, whether $dthey is used to it or not. But $dthey seems unwilling to talk about it right now, and you don’t want to be overbearing, so you accept $dtheir answer with a nod. $cdthey glances down at the fountain. “May I sit?” $dthey then asks,<<else>>“May I sit?” $dthey asks,<</if>> and you nearly swallow your tongue in your hurry to answer. “Yes, of course.” You can’t help but stare at $dthem as $dthey settles down beside you on the edge of the pool, a polite gap between the two of you, but then you realize your hand is still drenched. You reach down to your own garments to dry your fingers, but to your shock, $dname catches your wrist. “Allow me,” $dthey says, $dtheir gaze lowered to your hand as $dthey lifts the edge of $dtheir red cape and uses it to dry your fingers instead, carefully patting them dry as $dthey holds onto you ever so gently. You almost stop breathing as you watch $dthem, utterly thrown by this approach. <<if visited("12.28db") gte 1>>You lost your patience with $dthem yesterday, having grown tired of $dthem pulling away from you over and over—did $dthey take that to heart? Or will $dthey distance $dthemselves again?<<else>>It is what you wanted from $dthem all along, and it reminds you of the night of your coronation: when $dthey came to the room where you were resting after your conversation with Scholar Yekbûn, and tended to you similarly. Looking back on it, that was the very moment things started to shift into something more meaningful for the both of you, and $dname began pulling away from you after that. Will $dthey do that again now? Show you care and consideration, only to distance $dthemselves from you afterwards?<</if>> “It’s only water,” you mutter, your mood souring at the prospect. $dname must notice, because $dthey pauses in patting your hand, but then continues. $cdthey does not say anything until your fingers are sufficiently dry, pulling $dtheir cape away but not releasing your wrist. “It would not do for the Crown to be seen with a stain on $their clothes, water or not,” $dname replies, finally lifting $dtheir stare to meet your gaze. The intensity in $dtheir eyes renders you mute, all the words lost to your tongue as if stolen by $dthem with a single look. $cdtheir gloved fingers slide down your wrist to your palm, curling around it to hold your hand, and your heartbeat pulses through the limb as if called to the touch, heat warming your skin as your magic gathers to your fingertips in reaction. When you finally regain the ability to speak, you can only ask, “What are you doing?” $dname peers back at you attentively. “Should I stop?” $dthey asks, $dtheir voice soft. “Should I leave?” Your mouth opens and closes. Your heart pounds through your chest in both excitement and confusion. Your head is <em>spinning</em>. [[Continue|13.d3]]“Why?” The question escapes you on impulse, your eyes searching $dname’s expression, trying to make sense of this. “I thought you didn’t want…” Something bares itself to you in $dtheir face, in the wrinkling of $dtheir brows, in the sad tilt of $dtheir lips. “I don’t want to hurt you,” $dthey speaks after a moment, still holding your hand. “I don’t want to be your weakness. I should not be here, I should not be doing this—I know that.” Hope flickers to life inside your chest. “But?” “I could not stand the thought of you shouldering it all alone.” $cdthey looks at you with the most earnest gaze you have ever seen $dthem give you, and you realize it’s because $dthey understands. “I know it weighs on you. As resilient as you are, I saw it take its toll on you during the meeting.” “So you want to comfort me,” you say, uncertain of whether to read into it. Whether to push for more, or leave it be. $dname does not reply at first, and you watch $dtheir eyes trail over your face, taking you in. $cdtheir fingers squeeze a little around your hand, almost startling you. “We both know I want more than that,” $dthey murmurs into the space between you, which suddenly seems to have become much smaller. You squeeze $dtheir hand back reflexively, your mouth dry as sand. $dname casts you a humorless smile, then shifts away again to sit straight, releasing your hand yet taking your heart with $dthem, beating so rapidly against your ribs it is as if it were trying to break free. Yet, $dname goes on as if $dthey had confessed nothing at all, even though this was the first time $dthey spoke $dtheir feelings for you out loud, acknowledging them to you rather than evading or denying them. “$dname,” you say, your voice strained. <<if $blunt gt $charm>>“I have to say, for someone who claims to want distance between us, you’re absolute shit at keeping to your word.” $cdthey looks surprised for a brief moment, but then breathes out a chuckle, shaking $dtheir head as $dthey looks off into the courtyard. “I never claimed to be adept at it.”<<else>>“If this is your idea of keeping away from me, might I suggest doing it in a way that is less liable to drive me mad?” $cdthey looks surprised for a brief moment, but then breathes out a chuckle, shaking $dtheir head as $dthey looks off into the courtyard. “You’re not the only one being driven mad.”<</if>> $cdtheir self-deprecating laughter is quick to fade as $dthey peers back at you, however. “I’ve never had to withhold myself from pursuing someone I wanted before.” You don’t even think it’s meant to be seductive at all: $dthey’s merely being truthful. But surely $dthey must know what it does to you? “Spirits help me,” you speak under your breath, your blood rushing hot through your veins, through your hands, urging you to reach out and- do <em>something</em>. At this point, there’s an equal chance of you grasping $dname by $dtheir shoulders and shaking $dthem as there is to you pulling $dthem closer. “Where is all this sudden honesty coming from?” “You have enough on your mind without having to wonder about where I stand,” $dname replies honestly, though $dtheir gaze turns more cautious again as $dthey speaks. “Especially considering the long journey we are about to embark on.” The expedition, where you’ll both be far away from the city and the court and any potential prying eyes. You hadn’t even considered it. [[Continue|13.d4]]“So, you want to explore this,” you say slowly, watching $dthem closely. <<if $flirt gt $res>>“You want me, but you’re telling me no? Or merely <em>suggesting</em> no because you think it would be a bad idea?” “$name,” $dname warns, $dtheir posture tensing as $dthey frowns at you, and you raise your brows as innocently as you can. $cdthey’s out of $dtheir mind if $dthey thinks $dthey can say all those things to you and you won’t respond in any way. What else are you supposed to do?<<else>>“But you also don’t?” “I want…” $dname makes a frustrated noise. “I’m telling you that regardless of how either of us feel, that we shouldn’t continue this.” “Shouldn’t,” you repeat quietly, daring to point it out even as it makes your palms sweat. You’re not used to being so direct about your feelings either, but with $dname you have no choice, or else $dthey’ll use it as an excuse. “Not <em>can’t</em>. Your words.” “$name,” $dname warns, $dtheir posture tensing as $dthey frowns at you, and you raise your brows in question.<</if>> “I’m seeking clarity,” you reply, keeping your tone even. “Isn’t that what you wanted?” $cdthey hangs $dtheir head with a sigh, rubbing $dtheir gloved hands over $dtheir face. When $dthey straightens again, $dtheir expression is stern. “You know what it would mean should this be discovered by the court.” <ul class="a"> <li>[[“And if I say I don’t care?”|13.d5a][$dpoints -= 4]]</li> <li>[[“They don’t have to find out.”|13.d5b][$dpoints += 4]]</li></ul><<if visited("13.d5a") is 1>><<if $dpoints gte 20>><<set $drelationship to 'high'>><<set $dhighcount += 1>><<else>><<set $drelationship to 'low'>><<set $dlowcount += 1>><</if>><</if>>$dname’s eyes go wide. “How could you not care? Do you not understand—” “I’m willing to take the risk,” you state without hesitation, “no matter the consequences.” $dname lets out a breath, frayed from $dtheir lips as $dthey looks away. “It is easy for you to say now, but as someone who has seen $dtheir own mother’s reputation ruined in the eyes of the public, I assure you, it is a heavy burden to bear. The court will hound you with it for the rest of your life.” You had truthfully not thought that far ahead—up until now, you have only been taking it one step at a time, having grown accustomed to living that way while on the run. Tomorrow was never guaranteed, and it seems you have yet to shake that mindset. “Now I fear I’ve only added to your exhaustion,” $dname remarks when you remain silent, concern heavy in $dtheir eyes as $dthey looks at you, but you shake your head. “This is something we needed to talk about.” You smile slightly. “Even if the outcome wasn’t as straightforward as I hoped it would be. Really, it’s nothing compared to the court meeting.” $dname regards you with concern, picking up on the weariness in your voice. “What’s on your mind?” You look down at your lap, recalling all the many petitions that you have had to make a judgment on. “I suppose I’m worried about the decisions that I’ve made. Whether they were the right ones, or…” You pause for a moment, tension gathering in your shoulders. “What if I harm the people I’m trying to help?” $dname does not reply immediately, and you weren’t truly hoping for a solution to be offered to you anyway—you know that there is no easy answer. “Do you know how many soldiers I have lost under my command over the years?” $dname eventually speaks, and you look up at $dthem, surprised that $dthey is being so honest. “Hundreds. Some directly, some indirectly, but ones I bear responsibility for all the same.” “Because of choices you’ve made?” “Of course.” $dname’s eyes briefly lower to the ground, fingers tightening around $dtheir knees where $dtheir hands rest. “Countless families have had to grieve the loss of their loved ones because of mistakes that I have made. Because of errors in my judgment.” “How do you keep going?” you say, even while you’re afraid to hear the answer. “Knowing that?” “To do otherwise would be to betray the trust they placed in me.” $dname looks at you, $dtheir gaze an aged one. “It would be to abandon my duty, to give up on Arsur, and to admit that all the lives lost were ones lost in vain. Does that sound right to you?” It doesn’t, yet— “So I should just accept it?” you say, struggling with the notion. “Resign myself to hurting people, no matter what I do?” “Do not resign yourself to it,” $dname replies, $dtheir tone softening. “Do as much as you can to prevent it, but know that in the end, you are as flawed as anyone else. Tormenting yourself over your mistakes will help no one but your enemies.” As you ponder this, a figurative weight lightening from your shoulders, you feel a physical one pressing down upon one of them as $dname’s hand gently settles on top of it. “If it becomes too much for you to bear alone, then share it with me,” $dname murmurs, your eyes widening in surprise, even that softest of touches enough to make your heart hammer against your chest. “Your sins are my sins. We shall carry them together.” “All of them?” You lift your hand, gently touching $dname’s fingers on your shoulder. “What if they become too heavy for both of us?” When $dname smiles this time, it is heartfelt in its melancholy. “Then your undoing shall be mine as well.” [[End Chapter|14.1]]<<if visited("13.d5b") is 1>><<if $dpoints gte 20>><<set $drelationship to 'high'>><<set $dhighcount += 1>><<else>><<set $drelationship to 'low'>><<set $dlowcount += 1>><</if>><</if>>$dname stares at you, $dtheir eyes widening slightly, a conflicted look passing over $dtheir face. “Do you truly think we could keep it a secret?” $cdthey <em>wants</em> to believe it. You can see it in $dtheir gaze, but $dtheir caution and pragmatism won’t let $dthemselves entertain the idea. “Why not?” You search for ways to make it work, unwilling to give up on this connection you share with $dname that is unlike any other you have felt before. “The Imperial Guards are sworn to secrecy, and there are plenty of places in the palace where we could enjoy privacy like this—” “All it would take is one mistake,” $dname replies, $dtheir mouth tensing as $dthey seems to recall something. “One I fear I have already made.” It’s not hard to guess what $dthey’s referring to. “You’re talking about your letter.” You fall quiet, troubled by the reminder. If someone <em>did</em> steal $dname’s letter, why have they not come forward yet, either to expose it or to use it to extort $dname and you? Perhaps they’re keeping it on hand for now, or perhaps you are both fretting over nothing and the letter was simply lost in the process of the healers tending to $dname’s wound. “Now I fear I’ve only added to your exhaustion,” $dname remarks when you remain silent, concern heavy in $dtheir eyes as $dthey looks at you, but you shake your head. “This is something we needed to talk about.” You smile slightly. “Even if the outcome wasn’t as straightforward as I hoped it would be. Really, it’s nothing compared to the court meeting.” $dname regards you with concern, picking up on the weariness in your voice. “What’s on your mind?” You look down at your lap, recalling all the many petitions that you have had to make a judgment on. “I suppose I’m worried about the decisions that I’ve made. Whether they were the right ones, or…” You pause for a moment, tension gathering in your shoulders. “What if I harm the people I’m trying to help?” $dname does not reply immediately, and you weren’t truly hoping for a solution to be offered to you anyway—you know that there is no easy answer. “Do you know how many soldiers I have lost under my command over the years?” $dname eventually speaks, and you look up at $dthem, surprised that $dthey is being so honest. “Hundreds. Some directly, some indirectly, but ones I bear responsibility for all the same.” “Because of choices you’ve made?” “Of course.” $dname’s eyes briefly lower to the ground, fingers tightening around $dtheir knees where $dtheir hands rest. “Countless families have had to grieve the loss of their loved ones because of mistakes that I have made. Because of errors in my judgment.” “How do you keep going?” you say, even while you’re afraid to hear the answer. “Knowing that?” “To do otherwise would be to betray the trust they placed in me.” $dname looks at you, $dtheir gaze an aged one. “It would be to abandon my duty, to give up on Arsur, and to admit that all the lives lost were ones lost in vain. Does that sound right to you?” It doesn’t, yet— “So I should just accept it?” you say, struggling with the notion. “Resign myself to hurting people, no matter what I do?” “Do not resign yourself to it,” $dname replies, $dtheir tone softening. “Do as much as you can to prevent it, but know that in the end, you are as flawed as anyone else. Tormenting yourself over your mistakes will help no one but your enemies.” As you ponder this, a figurative weight lightening from your shoulders, you feel a physical one pressing down upon one of them as $dname’s hand gently settles on top of it. “If it becomes too much for you to bear alone, then share it with me,” $dname murmurs, your eyes widening in surprise, even that softest of touches enough to make your heart hammer against your chest. “Your sins are my sins. We shall carry them together.” “All of them?” You lift your hand, gently touching $dname’s fingers on your shoulder. “What if they become too heavy for both of us?” When $dname smiles this time, it is heartfelt in its melancholy. “Then your undoing shall be mine as well.” [[End Chapter|14.1]]$rname’s chambers face a different part of the gardens than yours do, the sunlight angled differently as it falls diagonally to illuminate one end of the room in golden light, while the other of $rtheir quarters—the one where $rname’s bed is positioned—is bathed in dim shadow. The furniture is similar to yours, the fabrics colored in dark reds and warm shades of purple all lending it an elegant air. There are also many more books than there are in your quarters: in the illuminated side of the room there is a high table with several chairs, and the walls there are covered in shelves upon shelves of bookcases containing all manner of tomes and scrolls. It looks like a miniature library. “What do you think?” $rname says as you step inside, the doors closing behind you with an idle wave of $rtheir hand. “It suits you.” You draw your eyes away from all the books to look back at $rthem, noticing how very weary $rthey looks now that you are in the privacy of $rtheir room. You hesitate for a moment, not wanting to tire $rthem even further, but asking seems harmless enough. “Do you want to talk about the court meeting?” $rname lets out a heavy sigh. “Let’s sit.” $crthey leads you to the couch that is placed near the windows where it catches plenty of sunlight, seeming to be a perfect spot for reading. You both settle down on the comfortable cushions, <<if $pass gt $ass>>and you keep a polite gap between you at first, until $rname shifts closer to press against your side, pulling your still linked hands over to place them atop $rtheir lap. $crthey seems to need the comfort, and you squeeze $rtheir fingers gently in reassurance<<else>>and you press against $rtheir side, pulling your still linked hands over to place them atop your lap. $crthey seems to appreciate the comfort, squeezing your fingers gently<</if>>. “It was quite the trial for both of us,” $rname finally speaks, staring down at your hands with a distant look in $rtheir eyes. “More so for you than for me.” <<if $rconfidence is false>>You frown, only barely resisting the impulse to wince as you recall how it took $dname’s interference to protect $rname from Samal’s attempt at undermining $rthem. “I’m sorry, $rname.” You look away, shame weighing heavily on your shoulders. “I wish I could have done better to defend you from Samal.” You see $rname’s head lift stare at you from the periphery of your vision, but you find yourself unable to do the same “You did all you could,” $rname insists. “If I wasn’t—” Sensing $rname is about to blame $rthemselves is the only thing that pulls you from your wallowing, looking at $rthem again as you interject. “This wasn’t your fault, no matter what anyone says.” $rname falls quiet, and you can tell $rthey doesn’t wholly believe you as $rthey averts $rtheir gaze. You don’t know what you can say to get through to $rthem, either, but you hate seeing $rthem like this. “$rname?” you ask gently, and the look $rthey gives you when $rthey meets your eyes again is so vulnerable and brittle that it makes your chest ache. “Could you…” $rname takes an unsteady breath, $rtheir voice small and quiet. “Could you hold me for a while?”<<else>>You frown, unable to keep the lingering anger from your expression as you recall the way Samal tried to undermine $rthem in such an underhanded way. “I’m not the one who had to listen to that little rat insult me in front of the entire court,” you reply, your thumb rubbing soothingly over $rname’s knuckles. “Are you alright?” “It…” $rname takes a breath, $rtheir eyes wavering as something pained passes over $rtheir face, and you wish you could have Lord Samal dragged back in here so you could wring his neck. “I won’t say that it wasn’t hurtful, because it was, but nothing came of it in the end.” $crtheir expression softens as $rthey looks at you. “Thank you, $name.” You raise your brows. “For what?” “For defending me.” “You don’t have to thank me for that.” You smile at $rthem with all the warmth and fondness you feel for $rthem. “I’ll always protect you.” $crthey returns your smile, radiant on $rtheir face as $rthey gazes back at you with such adoration it leaves you short of breath. “You are more than I deserve.” Before you can open your mouth to protest the notion, $rthey continues to speak. “Would you like to get a little more comfortable? We could…” $crtheir lashes flutter, glancing away with bashfulness. “I could hold you for a while, if you’d like.”<</if>> You don’t need to think twice to accept, your eyes trailing along the couch that seems to have enough space for the both of you to recline together in each other’s arms. <ul class="a"> <li><<if $rgender is 'female'>>[[Lay back with Rozerîn on top of you.|13.rr3a]]<<else>>[[Lay back with Rêzan on top of you.|13.rr3a]]<</if>></li> <li><<if $rgender is 'female'>>[[Let Rozerîn lay back and settle on top of her.|13.rr3b]]<<else>>[[Let Rêzan lay back and settle on top of him.|13.rr3b]]<</if>></li></ul> Instead of answering with words, you shift to lay back along the couch cushions, settling your head on the pillow by the armrest and lifting your arms in invitation. $rname stands up and hesitates for a moment, though $rthey appears shy rather than uncomfortable. “Are you sure?” $rthey says even as $rthey steps closer. “What if I’m too heavy?” <<if $height is 'tall' or $height is 'very tall' or $height is 'average'>>You snort. “I really doubt that. You were as light as a feather when I carried you to the water temple.” “You carried me?” $rthey repeats, eyes widening and $rtheir cheeks darkening even further. “With ease.” <<if $height is 'average'>>Maybe a bit of an embellishment, but if you were fit enough to carry $rthem, you highly doubt having $rthem on top of you is going to crush you into the couch<<else>>Not exactly difficult considering you’re both taller and have more muscle than $rthey does. Not as much as $xname or $aname or $dname do, of course, but you’re more than comfortable letting $rthem rest on top of you<</if>>. “If you don’t want to—”<<else>>You snort. “I’m not <em>that</em> short, and it’s not as if I’m carrying you. I think I can manage having your head on my chest.” “But it might be uncomfortable,” $rthey starts, and you give $rthem a questioning look, your arms drooping slightly. “If you don’t want to—”<</if>> “I do want to,” $rthey blurts out, and you chuckle, as ever endeared by $rthem. $crthey fidgets for a moment, taking $rtheir decorated silver waist belt off and setting it aside on the table, which you appreciate: all that metal wouldn’t have felt comfortable pressed into your ribs. Carefully, $rthey presses a knee on the edge of the couch, then slowly leans down into your arms. $crthey rests $rtheir head against your shoulder, settling on top of you while you wind your arms around $rtheir back, and you realize that maybe you didn’t fully think through how this position would affect you. You can feel every line and contour of $rtheir body pressing against yours, drawing heat to the surface of your skin as your pulse beats a little faster and a little harder with reflexive excitement. You don’t <em>mean</em> to make it anything desirous, and you suppress the urge as best you can—but neither can you ignore what it does to you. $rname’s head shifts slightly, and $rthey lets out a soft hum. “Your heart is pounding.” You let out a breath, your mouth feeling dry. <<if $blunt gt $charm>>“That’s your fault.”<<else>>“I can’t imagine why.”<</if>> $rname chuckles, $rtheir breath tickling the slip of skin visible along your chest while the sound of $rtheir gentle laughter reverberates through you, making your stomach flip. “My apologies.” $crthey pauses for a beat, then confesses softly, “Mine is too.” You both fall silent, and as you continue to simply hold them, the novelty of it gradually recedes and your heartbeat slows again, neither of you in the mood to take it anywhere further. You’re both too exhausted for it. [[Continue|13.rr4a]]“Do you want to lay down first?” you ask, gesturing to the width of the couch. $rname blinks, glancing at the cushions. “Oh, but you’d have to…” $crthey finally seems to realize your intent, $rtheir eyes going slightly wide. “We don’t have to—” Before you can finish your reassurance, $rthey all but shoots up to $rtheir feet, blurting out, “No, it’s fine! I mean—” $crthey clears $rtheir throat, avoiding your eyes. “I’d… I’d like that.” You smile, standing up as well to allow $rname space. $crthey moves to one end of the couch, sitting down and then reclining against the pillow in the corner, the skin of $rtheir face darkened even further with the blush spread across $rtheir cheeks. $crthey peeks up at you, then shyly lifts $rtheir arms in invitation. It’s so adorable that it makes you bite the inner side of your cheek, unable to keep from grinning as you place a knee on the edge of the couch<<if $height is 'tall' or $height is 'very tall'>>, but then hesitate. “I might be too heavy,” you consider, and now mirth alights in $rname’s eyes. “You won’t be,” $rthey assures. “Unless you intend to smother me on purpose.” You laugh, shaking your head. “I’m sure you could lift me off of you with a flick of your finger.” $rname grins back at you. “I very well could, yes.” As fun as it sounds to have $rname levitate you with magic, you’d much rather be in $rtheir arms right now. You still keep your taller stature in mind as you carefully position yourself, settling your head against $rtheir shoulder and the top of $rtheir chest while $rname’s arms wrap gently around your back. Once you’re laying on top of $rthem, you realize that maybe you didn’t fully think through how this position would affect you.<<else>>, leaning down to join $rthem. You settle your head against $rtheir shoulder and the top of $rtheir chest while $rname’s arms wrap gently around your back. It surprises you how easy and natural it feels to do, especially since you have never cuddled up like this with anyone else before. Any past dalliances you had were extremely short-lived, with little space for things like this. “This feels very comfortable,” $rname says with slight surprise. “How does it compare to having your usual blankets at night?” you jest, but $rname answers you seriously. “I’d much prefer to have you.” <<if $res gt $flirt>>You let out a sharp breath, flustered by the statement, and $rname seems to feel similarly as $rthey quickly adds, “For sleeping, I mean!”<<else>>You let out a sharp breath, tempted to latch onto the statement and reply with something suggestive, until $rname seems to panic and quickly adds, “For sleeping, I mean!”<</if>> “Right.” You try not to move around on top $rthem, fearing your imagination will really spiral out of control then. Though really, it seems to be too late for that already.<</if>> You can feel every line and contour of $rtheir body pressing against yours, drawing heat to the surface of your skin as your pulse beats a little faster and a little harder with reflexive excitement. You don’t <em>mean</em> to make it anything desirous, and you suppress the urge as best you can—but neither can you ignore what it does to you. It seems you’re not the only one affected by it, either. You can feel $rname’s heartbeat against your ear, beating loud and fast. Listening to it feels incredibly intimate, especially when it tells you that $rthey is just as affected as you are. “Your heart is racing,” you murmur, your own mouth feeling dry when you say the words, and you feel $rname’s chest move beneath your head as $rthey takes a deep breath. “Sorry.” You let out a huff. “You don’t need to apologize for that.” Lifting a hand to rest it on $rtheir shoulder, you rub it with encouragement, confessing quietly, “Mine is too.” You both fall silent after that, and as $rname continues to hold you, the novelty of it gradually recedes and both your heartbeats slows again, neither of you in the mood to take it anywhere further. You’re both too exhausted for it. [[Continue|13.rr4b]]“How are you feeling?” $rname murmurs after a while. “All those petitions… I’m sure they weigh on your mind.” Your arms curl a little tighter around $rname as your thoughts return to all the decisions you have had to make, as well as their potential consequences. $rname hums. “That bad?” $rthey says, and your lips lift momentarily in a tired smile. “I don’t mean to exaggerate—” “You’re not.” $rname pushes up a little to look down at you, shifting $rtheir arm and lifting a hand to caress your cheek. “You’re taking your duty as the Crown seriously. That only speaks well of you.” Your eyes flutter shut as you enjoy $rname’s gentle touches on your face, soothing you so easily. “I’m worried,” you finally admit. “What if I chose wrong? What if I made a mistake and end up hurting people? I can’t stop thinking about it.” $rname settles $rtheir head back down against your shoulder and chest, and the weight and warmth of $rthem on top of you is unexpectedly comforting now that you’re no longer caught up in less than innocent thoughts. It is a different kind of intimacy, its affection warm and gentle as opposed to the heat of desire, but not lesser for it. “You’re only a person, $name,” $rthey replies quietly, $rtheir hand now curling around your shoulder and rubbing it with $rtheir thumb, helping relieve some of your tension. “Slipping up every now and then is inevitable. So long as you try your best, and make up for the mistakes you <em>do</em> make, no one could ask you for anything more.” The urge to sleep starts tugging gently on your mind with your eyes still closed, though you manage to cling to awareness long enough to respond to $rname. “I know you’re right… but it doesn’t seem to stop me from dwelling on it.” “It will get easier with experience,” $rname reassures you. “This was your first time, after all. If it ever gets too much, confide in me just as you did now. I’ll be here to listen.” Fondness swells in your chest at $rtheir support, helping you feel less alone with this burden that has been given to you. “You know just what to say to put me at ease, $rname. Thank you for being by my side.” You feel the smile on $rtheir lips as $rthey presses a tender kiss to your collarbone, warming you from the inside out. “I always will be.” [[End Chapter|14.1]]“How are you feeling?” $rname murmurs after a while. “All those petitions… I’m sure they weigh on your mind.” You nuzzle a little closer against $rname’s neck as your thoughts return to all the decisions you have had to make, as well as their potential consequences. $rname hums. “That bad?” $rthey says, and your lips lift momentarily in a tired smile against $rtheir skin. “I don’t mean to exaggerate—” “You’re not.” $rname’s hands start to stroke up and down your back, slow and gentle across your spine. “You’re taking your duty as the Crown seriously. That only speaks well of you.” Your eyes flutter shut as you enjoy $rname’s touches, soothing you so easily. “I’m worried,” you finally admit. “What if I chose wrong? What if I made a mistake and end up hurting people? I can’t stop thinking about it.” One of $rname’s hands lifts to the nape of your neck, $rtheir thumb brushing over the soft skin and leading you to discover how sensitive it is as a pleasant shudder runs through you. Being held by $rthem like this is unexpectedly comforting now that you’re no longer caught up in less than innocent thoughts. It is a different kind of intimacy, its affection warm and gentle as opposed to the heat of desire, but not lesser for it. “You’re only human, $name,” $rthey replies quietly, $rtheir hands continuing to relieve you of your tension with their attentive caresses. “Slipping up every now and then is inevitable. So long as you try your best, and make up for the mistakes you <em>do</em> make, no one could ask you for anything more.” The urge to sleep starts tugging gently on your mind with your eyes still closed, though you manage to cling to awareness long enough to respond to $rname. “I know you’re right… but it doesn’t seem to stop me from dwelling on it.” “It will get easier with experience,” $rname reassures you. “This was your first time, after all. If it ever gets too much, confide in me just as you did now. I’ll be here to listen.” Fondness swells in your chest at $rtheir support, helping you feel less alone with this burden that has been given to you. “You know just what to say to put me at ease, $rname. Thank you for being by my side.” You feel the smile on $rtheir lips as $rthey presses a tender kiss to the top of your head, warming you from the inside out. “I always will be.” [[End Chapter|14.1]]<<if $citizens is true>><<if $res gt $flirt>>Your heart seems to trip over itself, stuttering in your chest as your face warms—you certainly were not wishing to <em>bathe together</em> with $aname when you wandered around the palace and let it decide where to put you. Not that you would be opposed to that, but you haven’t so much as kissed each other yet. Of course, $aname notices your reaction. “I can wait outside,” $athey offers, and you immediately shake your head. The whole point of going off alone with $athem was to spend time together. You take a breath as you consider the bathing chambers. There are separate pools where you could both bathe comfortably if you wished—if you recall right, there is even one large heated pool that is separated in the center by a half-wall. Bathing in the nude around others is usually not considered indecent or provocative, but with $aname, it feels very different compared to stripping down in front of your servants or in a public bathhouse around strangers. “I don’t mind,” you finally offer, unable to look $aname in the eyes as you do so. “If you want a bath too, that is. Or you could stay in the lounge area. Either way…” $aname does not say anything at first, seeming hesitant when you peek at $atheir face. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.” “Not uncomfortable.” You shift a little on your feet, restless. “Just shy.” That coaxes a pleased smile from $athem, dimpling $atheir cheeks before $athey turns to open one of the doors. From over $atheir shoulder, $athey teases, “I’ll behave, I promise.” You swallow thickly, resigning yourself to impending embarrassment as you follow $athem down the stairs.<<else>>Your heart seems to trip over itself, stuttering in your chest as your skin heats beneath your garments—you certainly were not expecting to <em>bathe together</em> with $aname when you wandered around the palace and let it decide where to put you. Not that you would be opposed to that, far from it. But it might be moving a little too fast for $aname. There are separate pools where you could both bathe comfortably if you wished—if you recall right, there is even one large heated pool that is separated in the center by a half-wall. Bathing in the nude around others is usually not considered indecent or provocative, but with $aname, it feels very different compared to stripping down in front of your servants or in a public bathhouse around strangers. You look over at $aname to assess $atheir reaction, uncertain of how to interpret the surprise on $atheir face as $athey looks at the doors. “Are you alright with this?” $cathey meets your eyes, then glances back at the entrance to the bathing chambers, clearing $atheir throat before replying. “Alright with what, exactly?” You watch $athem a moment longer. “Bathing together.” $cathey crosses $atheir arms, then uncrosses them again, looking restless and suddenly rather pent-up. “I’m fine with it. Why wouldn’t I be? It’s perfectly normal.” “Are you sure?” $aname casts you a narrow-eyed look, though you can tell it is meant to be in jest from the way $atheir lips twitch almost into a smile. “So long as you promise to behave.” You smirk, raising your palms innocently. “I wouldn’t dare do otherwise.” $cathey exhales a sigh, clearly not believing you as $athey turns to open one of the doors, and you follow $athem down the stairs.<</if>><<else>><<if $res gt $flirt>>Your heart seems to trip over itself, stuttering in your chest as your face warms—you certainly were not wishing to <em>bathe together</em> with $aname when you wandered around the palace and let it decide where to put you. While $aname seems to have forgiven you for your mistake during the city fire, this may be a little too intimate too soon for what is a newly-mended relationship. Of course, $aname notices your reaction. “I can wait outside,” $athey says in a genuine offer, though you sense the careful distance still threading through each word. After a brief hesitation, you shake your head. The whole point of going off alone with $athem was to spend time together, and you can’t expect to grow closer to $athem by keeping away. You take a breath as you consider the bathing chambers. There are separate pools where you could both bathe comfortably if you wished—if you recall right, there is even one large heated pool that is separated in the center by a half-wall. Bathing in the nude around others is usually not considered indecent or provocative, but with $aname, it feels very different compared to stripping down in front of your servants or in a public bathhouse around strangers. “I don’t mind,” you finally offer, unable to look $aname in the eyes as you do so. “If you want a bath too, that is. Or you could stay in the lounge area. Either way…” $aname does not say anything at first, seeming hesitant when you peek at $atheir face. “I’ll keep to my side,” $athey finally replies, opening the door with deliberate slowness. The warmth that spills out fogs the air between you. You nod, heart thudding unevenly. “I trust you.” The words slip out before you can stop them, soft but firm. $aname pauses and glances over $atheir shoulder at you, eyes catching the light. $catheir gaze softens, if only for a moment, and the tightness in your chest eases with relief and a giddy anticipation. Whatever your past mistakes, $aname is choosing to give you another chance. You follow $athem down into the steam-filled room, shy under $atheir steady calm, and for the first time in a long while, the quiet between you feels safe.<<else>>Your heart seems to trip over itself, stuttering in your chest as your skin heats beneath your garments—you certainly were not expecting to <em>bathe together</em> with $aname when you wandered around the palace and let it decide where to put you. Not that you would be opposed to it, far from it. But while $aname seems to have forgiven you for your mistake during the city fire, this may be a little too intimate too soon for what is a newly-mended relationship. You look over at $aname to assess $atheir reaction, uncertain of how to interpret the surprise on $atheir face as $athey looks at the doors. “Are you alright with this?” $cathey meets your eyes, then glances back at the entrance to the bathing chambers, clearing $atheir throat before replying. “Alright with what, exactly?” You watch $athem a moment longer. “Bathing together.” $cathey crosses $atheir arms, then uncrosses them again, looking restless and suddenly rather pent-up. “I’m fine with it. Why wouldn’t I be? It’s perfectly normal.” “Are you sure?” $aname finally sighs, shaking $atheir head as if to shake away $atheir tension, and looks you in the eyes in an attempt at assurance. “I’m sure.” A flicker of a smile twitches in $atheir lips. “But if you start trouble, you’re scrubbing the floors yourself.” You grin. “Wouldn’t dream of it.” $cathey exhales a sigh, clearly not believing you as $athey turns to open one of the doors, and you follow $athem down the stairs.<</if>><</if>> In the changing area, the both of you each find a bath robe to put on. $aname slips into a room on the side of the changing area while you undress in the main chamber, your pulse pounding all the while. The robe is long enough to cover you comfortably, although it does nothing to distract you from the knowledge that it is a single layer between you and being fully nude in front of $aname—not to mention the other way around. “Have you changed yet?” you hear $aname ask you through the door of the side room that $athey’s in. <<if $res gt $flirt>>You try your best to calm yourself before you respond<<else>>You resolve not to stare and stay as respectful as you can before you respond<</if>>. “I have, you can come out.” The door opens and $aname emerges. You allow yourself only a glance of $athem in the robe before quickly lifting your eyes up and aiming them at $atheir face. It helps that there really isn’t much to see aside from bare ankles and feet in sandals, yet your thoughts fracture apart all the same, your attention completely splintered as you <<if $res gt $flirt>>suddenly have no idea how to act around $athem anymore. $aname raises $atheir brows slowly, and you can’t stand to look $athem in the eyes any longer either, so you avert your gaze. “I know a pool we can use,” you say, quickly walking ahead so you can try and get your head on straight again before it overheats. $aname thankfully does not tease you for it, remaining silent as $athey follows along behind you, even while you feel $atheir gaze burning on your back.<<else>>know that it would not take much to have your mind spiraling out of control with less than innocent thoughts. $aname raises $atheir brows slowly, and you bite the inner side of your cheek. “I want you to know that I’m doing my best to keep my promise,” you say sincerely, and $aname looks confused for half a second, until it dawns on $athem, $atheir eyes widening slightly. Then, $athey lets out a laugh, shaking $atheir head and lifting a hand to cover $atheir smile. “You’re ridiculous.” You grin back at $athem, feeling a little less tense now. “Come on, I know a room we can use.”<</if>> The pool you had in mind is in a closed off chamber, the half-wall down the center providing privacy while still allowing you to speak to each other. There are regular walls on the right path of the divide as well, ensuring neither of you accidentally catches a glimpse of each other while taking your robes off. “I’ll take the other end,” $aname volunteers, heading through the door to the other side of the pool, and you ease a little as you approach the stairs that lead down into the pool on your own end. Discarding your robe, you step into the heated water, sinking down into the pool until you reach the floor and the water is at your chest. <<if $hairstyle is 'shoulder-length' or $hairstyle is 'down to your waist' or $hairstyle is 'down to your hips' or $hairstyle is 'in long locs'>>You pulled up your hair in a loose bun to keep it from getting wet, moving carefully to avoid splashing it accidentally as you wade through the pool. Gradually, the tension in your body ebbs away.<<else>><<if $hairstyle isnot 'shaved'>>You resist the urge to submerge yourself, not thinking it worth the hassle of wetting your hair as you wade through the pool.<<else>>You hold your breath and submerge yourself, enjoying the sensation before going up for air again—you don’t have to worry about wetting your hair, considering it’s shaved short and will dry again quickly.<</if>> Gradually, the tension in your body ebbs away.<</if>> From $aname’s end, you hear the sound of $atheir sandals against the stone, and then a rustle of fabric. You can’t help but fixate on the sound, <<if $res gt $flirt>>embarrassed at yourself for it even as your mind does its utmost to force the image of $aname’s disrobed into your head<<else>>as even with your promise to behave you cannot say the same about your imagination: trying its utmost to conjure an image of $aname’s disrobed into your head<</if>>. [[Continue|13.aa3]] Your hear water sloshing gently, and then a deep, relieved sigh. “This is just what I needed.” $aname’s voice echoes slightly against the walls and the water, clear enough for you to speak while you both enjoy the relaxing bath. $catheir remark does remind you of what happened during the court meeting earlier, particularly Lord Samal’s attempts to undermine $atheir position. “Do you want to talk about it?” you ask while you float idly in the water, worried that $athey’s taking it hard and simply bottling it up for your benefit. $aname certainly sounds nonchalant about it when $athey responds. “Not much to talk about.” <<if $aconfindence is false>>A sense of guilt rises up inside your chest as you recall that it took $dname’s intervention to protect $aname from Samal’s attacks. “I’m sorry,” you blurt out before you can stop yourself. “I should have done better against Samal’s accusations—” “Stop.” $aname’s voice turns stern, closer to you than it was before, and you wonder if $athey has approached the wall on the other side. “You did what you could. It isn’t the first time someone has questioned my appointment, either.” $catheir tone eases again after a pause. “It all worked out in the end, so no harm done.” But you’re not willing to let it go so easily. “It’s just…” You hesitate whether to say it, but if you don’t, $aname won’t understand why this bothers you so much. “I wish I could have protected you.” $aname is silent for a long moment, making you worry that you have said too much. “That’s…” $cathey lets out a breath, and you can <em>hear</em> the smile in $atheir words. “That’s very sweet of you, $name.” Spirits, you wish you didn’t have this stupid wall between you so you could’ve seen the look on $atheir face.<<else>>A sense of frustration rises up inside your chest as you recall all of Samal’s accusations—even if $aname claims to be fine with it, that doesn’t calm your own indignation in the least. “Well, even if you’re not angry, I certainly am.” You frown down at the water. “The nerve of them—” $aname’s chuckle cuts through your impending rant, and you stop talking with surprise. “Sorry, it’s just…” $aname lets out a breath, and you can <em>hear</em> the smile in $atheir words. “That’s very sweet of you, $name.” Spirits, you wish you didn’t have this stupid wall between you so you could’ve seen the look on $atheir face.<</if>> “But truly, I’m fine.” You hear more water shifting around from $atheir end of the pool, indicating that $athey’s moving around again. “I’ve never been as attached to my position as $rname and $dname are to theirs. I told you before, becoming Royal Protector was always just a means to an end.” To help $athem in $atheir search for $atheir sister. “So you wouldn’t mind if I had to remove you?” $aname doesn’t reply at first, no doubt thinking about it. When $atheir response finally comes, it’s different from what you expected. “Maybe not before, but…” There is a hesitation there, if only for a moment. “I admit, I’ve come to enjoy my duties much more than I expected.” “Really?” You begin to drift in the water again, peering at the wall between the two of you. “Why?” $aname huffs. “Guess.” Your brows draw together in thought, but you don’t know what $athey’s getting at. $aname is difficult to read at the best of times, let alone when you can’t see $atheir expressions. “I honestly have no idea.” $cathey goes quiet again, and you wonder where this is going, until $athey finally says, “Take a hint, $name.” Your mouth opens to insist you still don’t know, until it finally hits you—$athey means because of <em>you</em>. <<if $res gt $flirt>>“Oh,” you say eloquently, the heat of the bath nothing compared to the heat that rushes up your head. $aname snorts. “Oh?” “I mean- I’m glad that…” You almost wince as you fumble your words, your tongue not seeming to want to cooperate. “I’m glad.” $cathey hums, a teasing lilt to it. “Me too.” You resist the urge to sink down into the water, but only barely.<<else>>You lift a hand to your mouth, covering your giddy smile, delight rushing through you. Taking a breath, you lower your palm again and feign, “I don’t understand.” $aname must be able to hear the glee in your voice, however, because $athey lets out a frustrated noise. “Stop pretending.” “But $aname, I need you to explain—” “I’m not going to say it.” “Why not?” You move a little closer to the wall. “I want to hear you admit it. Please? Just once.” There is another stretch of silence between you, and you think you must have pushed too hard, but then $aname says exactly what you have been hoping for. “It’s because of you.” Even as quiet as $atheir voice is, you hear it clearly in the quiet of the chamber with the gentle ripples of water a distant noise in the background. “Satisfied?” “Very,” you reply earnestly, your heart beating fast and your grin so wide it almost hurts your cheeks.<</if>> [[Continue|13.aa4]] The two of you fall quiet after that, spending a while drifting through the water and enjoying the bath in an easy and comfortable quiet. There aren’t many people you know—or anyone really—who it would feel so natural to simply linger in silence with, but with $aname, nothing about it feels forced or tense. “What about you?” $aname eventually says. “How are you feeling about the court meeting?” You know $athem well enough to tell $athey’s digging deeper than what the question sounds like on its face, while still giving you the space to evade it if you want to. Which, you find that you don’t want to. The thought of confiding in $athem feels reassuring, in fact. “I’m struggling with it a little,” you admit, drifting towards the side of the pool beside the half-wall. You find a stone bench beneath the water where you can sit on, and you lean back against the stone, letting out a deep sigh. “I keep thinking, what if I made a decision that ends up hurting people?” Your gaze drifts to the half-wall separating you from $aname, and you realize with a start that along this side of the pool, the wall does not stretch any further. The path beside your head is unobstructed, and if you leaned a little out of the pool, you’d easily be able to look over into $aname’s end. Quickly averting your eyes, you keep them aimed ahead of you, sinking a little in the water until you’re neck-deep. $aname does not reply at first, though you hear $athem moving through the water. You listen to it, wondering what $athey’s up to, and then realize $athey’s coming closer, and closer, and closer. “Do you mind?” You startle a little, reflexively looking over when $aname’s voice sounds almost like it’s coming from right beside you. You don’t see $athem, but $athey must be right behind the other side of the wall—after a moment, you spot $atheir hand waving at you. “I just want to look at your face while we talk.” <<if $res gt $flirt>>Your mouth feels dry, nerves tensing your posture, and you remind yourself that it’s just to be able to look at each other.<<else>>You try to ignore your impulses to make a flirtatious remark—$aname clearly doesn’t intend it in that way, so you should keep from doing anything that might make $athem uncomfortable.<</if>> Slowly, you shift nearer to the wall, and after a moment of hesitation you fold your arms over the edge of the pool, resting your chin on top of them as you wait. [[Continue|13.aa5]] After a moment, $aname leans out from around the edge of the wall, taking a similar pose to you with their arms resting on the edge, $atheir eyes roaming over your face. “I can’t say I know how it feels,” $athey says, “but from where I was standing, you did your best to make sense of it all.” Your gaze flits down to $aname’s bare, muscular arms, noticing a variety of scars standing out in pale lines and spots against $atheir skin. Most of them are small, though you notice a large one along $atheir right bicep, thick and rough, curving around $atheir arm. It looks like the large claw of some kind of beast tore into $athem there. “And if my best isn’t good enough?” you say quietly, still feeling $aname’s stare on your face, taking you in. “Then do what my father couldn’t,” $athey says, drawing your eyes back up to $atheirs. “Atone, and learn from your mistakes.” $catheir expression softens, and $athey reaches out a hand to you from around the wall. <<if $arelationship is 'high'>>“We made a pact, remember?”<</if>> You smile, heartened by the <<if $arelationship is 'high'>>reminder<<else>>silent encouragement<</if>> as you take $atheir hand in yours. The magic in $atheir skin rushes up to meet yours, especially potent as it cools you from the heat of the bath, flooding through you in a gentle wave that tempers the sun ever-burning within you—it feels so much stronger than you remember. Is it because $athey’s close to $atheir affinity, you wonder? <<if $arelationship is 'high'>>“We did,”<<else>>“You're right,”<</if>> you start to say, peering back at $aname with fondness. “I’m—” Before you can finish your sentence, $aname averts $atheir eyes and pulls your hand to $atheir lips, pressing a kiss to your knuckles. Your lips go slack, the rest of your words lost, and $aname releases your hand again to disappear behind the wall, all but fleeing from your sight. You stare at the stone in astonishment, retracting your hand and looking down at it in a daze. “You’ll do fine,” $aname says from behind the wall in a nonchalant tone, as if $athey hadn’t done anything at all. You turn to rest your back against the edge of the pool, exhaling a heavy breath. “That was cruel.” $cathey sounds slightly mischievous when $athey replies, and you realize $athey didn’t run away because $athey was shy, but because $athey was purposefully teasing you. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You snort, shaking your head as you wade back into the water. “I’m sure.” $aname’s going to be the death of you. The two of you spend a while longer in the pool, this time filling the air with idle chatter about the court meeting, but speaking of it in lighter ways, this time. Making fun of a court official’s especially eye-catching hairstyle, snickering over $rname’s silent glaring contest with most of the ministers, and of course, thoroughly insulting Lord Samal. It’s more relaxing than you expected, making you feel better about the meeting as the two of you talk. While $aname makes a snide remark about one of the minister’s terrible taste in shoes, you try your hand at floating in the water on your front, trying not to let your feet touch the ground. You never learned how to do it—the icy rivers in Rojan hardly make for good places to practice—but how hard could it be? As it turns out, it’s very hard. No matter how you flail your arms and legs you can’t seem to manage it, dipping down so much you nearly swallow a mouthful of water. Your coughing and sputtering makes $aname stop talking. “$name, what on earth are you doing over there?” “$aname,” you say, your voice strained, “I just remembered I don’t know how to swim.” There’s a moment of silence, and then $aname bursts into laughter, the sound reverberating through the entire chamber. “It’s not funny!” You scowl at the wall. “What if I accidentally drown right now? Do you know how embarrassing that would be?” $aname starts laughing even harder, the loudest you’ve ever heard $athem, and eventually it infects you too as your lips break out into a smile and you start chuckling to yourself. It feels unexpectedly nice, a moment of friendship between the two of you that only makes you more certain of your own feelings for $athem. Shared laughter is such a simple thing, not like the intensity of romance or the intimacy of affection, but it doesn’t need to be either. It’s companionship. Knowing that you’re not alone, sharing joy and laughter with another, being so comfortable with each other that you can be yourself, <em>show</em> yourself to $athem fully— <em>I’m falling for $athem</em>, you realize, unable to stop smiling. [[End Chapter|14.1]]<<if $peritrader is false>><<set $day to 22>><<else>><<set $day to 26>><</if>><div id="14.1">@@.chaptertitleact1;CHAPTER FOURTEEN@@</div>@@.titleblack;They Watch You@@ Following your first time addressing court petitions, the days pass by in a flurry of activities, blurring into each other from one into the next. When you’re not in the court room reading more requests from citizens you’re either studying, training, or overseeing the preparations for the expedition. <<if $rfriend is false>>It leaves you precious little time to spare for yourself, though you are determined to set some aside—albeit for selfless reasons.<<else>>It leaves you with precious little time to spend with <<if $dfriend is false>>$dname, who usually leaves early in the morning to Kartan’s Outpost in order to prepare the soldiers who will be joining you on your pilgrimage. Usually, this would make you worry that $dthey is using it as an excuse to create more distance between the two of you, but despite how busy $dthey is, $dthey always returns to the palace in the evenings to join you for supper. What spare time you do have, you decide to use to the fullest—albeit for selfless reasons.<</if>><<if $afriend is false>>$aname, who has taken it upon $athemselves to drill the palace guards as best as possible before you leave. It would not do for anyone to try and sneak into your personal wing while you are away, after all, though it is vexing that it keeps $aname busy. At the very least, $athey always joins you during mealtimes, and you remind yourself that $athey will be by your side constantly during the expedition. What spare time you do have, you decide to use to the fullest—albeit for selfless reasons.<</if>><<if $xfriend is false>>$xname, who usually heads out into the city to prepare the Crescent Blades for the expedition and sees to additional preparations for the road. You understand the necessity, and part of you is rather impressed with seeing this different, more serious side of $xname—$xthey enjoys pretending at being a pretty face—though you wish it wouldn’t keep $xthem so busy. If nothing else, $xname always returns to you in the evenings, and you remind yourself that $xthey will be by your side constantly during the expedition. What spare time you do have, you decide to use to the fullest—albeit for selfless reasons.<</if>><</if>> One afternoon finds you sitting at the desk in your bedchambers, bowed over a woven bracelet that you are painstakingly creating by hand, glowing as you push your magic into it. It is meant to be a belated birthday gift for $rname, one you wanted to finish before heading out to your pilgrimage. It would have been easiest simply to buy a piece of jewelry, but that would mean spending coin that does not truly belong to you. $rname is also able to buy whatever jewelry $rthey wishes besides, and you wanted to do something more thoughtful for $rthem to show your appreciation—especially considering how prone $rthey is to putting $rthemselves down. Feeling your fingers start to cramp, you exhale a sigh and release the strings you have been trying to tie and knot into patterns based on an example bracelet that you saw one of your guards wearing. She generously gave it to you for you to base your own design off of, so you wouldn’t have to start from scratch, but it has proven more tiring than you anticipated. It’s not merely making the bracelet itself: you are infusing it with your magic signature little by little, continuously. The lavender bead at the center of the deep purple strings has a ward inscribed to it that you carved into the back of it yourself, one that holds warmth. Seeing as how you’ll be traveling up the mountains, you figured it would be a useful gift in helping to combat the cold. $crtheir garments will likely be warded as well, but a little added protection could not hurt. It is more tiring than you expected, however. The ward you chose after doing some research has a lot more capacity to absorb magic than the usual ones. You wanted to ensure it would last for a long time, but that also means infusing more of your magic into it. By this point you must have spent at least six hours pouring more and more of your sun affinity into the bracelet over the past several days. On the upside, that means your endurance and your magic reserves have been growing noticeably thanks to your training. A month ago even a single hour of this would have drained you entirely. “How are things going?” Siham’s voice sounds from behind you as he approaches, and moments later he peers over your shoulder to glance down at your handiwork. “Do you need any help? I’ve made bracelets and necklaces before.” You flex your fingers and massage your wrists one after the other. Spending all that time writing during your lessons and then doing this kind of delicate work has taken it out of your hands. As for Siham’s kind offer— <ul class ="a"> <li><<if $blunt gt $charm>>[[“I’m shit at this, please help me.”|14.2a][$fiberarts to false]]<<else>>[[“I have no idea what I’m doing, so yes, I’d really appreciate it.|14.2a][$fiberarts to false]]<</if>></li> <li>[[“I know enough to get by.”|14.2b][$fiberarts to true]]</li> <li>[[“That’s alright, I’ve done this plenty of times before.”|14.2c][$fiberarts to true]]</li></ul> Siham takes the bracelet gently from your hands, blinking as they look over the tangled knots and uneven strings. “It is not that bad,” he says diplomatically. “You have put your heart into it, and that is what matters most.” You sigh and rub your cramped fingers, watching as his sure hands begin to untangle your mistakes with practiced ease. The knots you struggled with for hours seem to give way almost instantly beneath his touch. It’s a little embarrassing, but also a relief to make some progress even if it required aid. And though you know $rname would probably treasure your attempt no matter how crooked it turned out, you can’t help but feel grateful for Siham’s help in making sure it’s a gift worthy of $rthem. <<if $blunt gt $charm>>“Honestly,” you mutter, flexing your stiff fingers, “it’s a disaster. $rname deserves better than this.” Siham smiles, shaking his head. “You are too harsh on yourself, Your Imperial Majesty. I am certain $rtitle $rname will be overjoyed.”<<else>>“Well,” you say lightly, flashing Siham a rueful smile, “at least I’ve invented a <em>new</em> style of knotwork.” Siham actually smiles. “Perhaps an unconventional style, Your Imperial Majesty, but the effort shows. I am certain $rtitle $rname will treasure it either way.”<</if>> Truthfully, you don’t think you’ll ever become adept at this kind of thing—you have no talent or interest for it. It’s far too delicate work. <em>this will be your favorite hobby</em><ul class ="a"><li>[[You do enjoy creating other things, though, like with woodcarving, pottery, gardening, and cooking.|14.2aa][$crafts to true; $preferred to 'crafts']]</li> <li>[[You have always liked more outdoor and physical activities, like hiking, foraging, hunting and fishing.|14.2aa][$outdoors to true; $preferred to 'outdoors']]</li> <li>[[You have always liked more mentally stimulating activities, like reading, writing, playing music and playing board games.|14.2aa][$mental to true; $preferred to 'mental']]</li></ul> When you offer the bracelet to show it to him, Siham carefully takes it from your hands, tilting his head as he studies the pattern. “This is good work,” he says after a moment, nodding with approval. <<if $blunt gt $charm>>“Far from perfect,” you admit, rolling your stiff shoulders, “but it’ll hold together.”<<else>>“Not flawless,” you say with a grin, “but it has character. Like its maker.”<</if>> The knots hold, the strings align well enough, and though you can see the flaws, there’s a rough charm to it. You flex your tired fingers and feel a quiet satisfaction—imperfect or not, you’ve managed to craft something real. Siham’s small smile suggests he sees it too. “It’ll mean more to $rtitle $rname that you made it yourself. I am certain $rthey will be overjoyed.” You never had the time, the space or the materials before to truly dedicate yourself to crafting things like these, but you realize your new life will give you opportunity to do so if you wanted. Perhaps you’ll spend more time developing your skill, although admittedly, it isn’t your <em>favorite</em> hobby to indulge in. <ul class ="a"> <li>[[You do enjoy creating other things, though, like with woodcarving, pottery, gardening, and cooking.|14.3][$crafts to true; $preferred to 'crafts']]</li> <li>[[You have always liked more outdoor and physical activities, like hiking, foraging, hunting and fishing.|14.3][$outdoors to true; $preferred to 'outdoors']]</li> <li>[[You have always liked more mentally stimulating activities, like reading, writing, playing music and playing board games.|14.3][$mental to true; $preferred to 'mental']]</li></ul> When you offer the bracelet to show it to him, Siham carefully takes it from your hands, tilting his head as he studies the pattern. Their eyes widen with some surprise at the steady lines and even knots. “This is impressive work, Your Imperial Majesty,” he says sincerely. “I daresay it is better than half the jewelry stalls in the city.” You stretch your sore hands, a faint pride settling in your chest as you watch him turn the piece over with obvious admiration. The glow of your magic hums softly through the threads, warm to the touch. <<if $blunt gt $charm>>“Naturally,” you reply, smiling with satisfaction. “It’d be rather pitiful if I couldn’t manage a simple bracelet after all the countless hours I’ve spent practicing.” You did it for fun, but still.<<else>>“Thank you,” you reply, smiling with satisfaction. “I’m glad all those countless hours practicing for fun had a use.”<</if>> “It’s beautiful,” Siham adds, tone softening. “$rtitle $rname will be overjoyed, I am certain.” You’re certainly glad to hear Siham thinks so: crafting delicate things like these has always been your favorite past-time. Besides that, though, there are other things you have spent your free time indulging in as well. <ul class ="a"> <li>[[You also enjoy creating other things, like with woodworking, pottery, gardening, and cooking.|14.3][$crafts to true]]</li> <li>[[You also enjoy more outdoor and physical activities, like hiking, foraging, hunting and fishing.|14.3][$outdoors to true]]</li> <li>[[You also enjoy more mentally stimulating activities, like reading, writing, playing music and playing board games.|14.3][$mental to true]]</li></ul><<if $outdoors is true and $crafts is true>>You’ve always had a knack for shaping things using the full expanse of your hands: whether it’s the smooth curve of carved wood, the steady patience of pottery, the slow tending of a garden, or the rhythms of cooking. Creation calms you, and gives form to the quiet satisfaction of making something of your own. At the same time, you thrive beneath open skies, where the scent of earth and wild herbs lingers in the air. Hiking, foraging, hunting, fishing—those pursuits ground you, reminding you that survival, like crafting, is both art and practice. In the palace, you haven’t had much freedom or opportunity yet to indulge in any of those things. You have been tempted more than once to wander to the palace kitchens or tend to the royal gardens, but it would be scandalous if any of the court officials witnessed it. At least on your pilgrimage you’ll be able to enjoy the outdoors to your heart’s content—perhaps even cook over the campfire.<</if>><<if $crafts is true and $mental is true>>You’ve always had a knack for shaping things using the full expanse of your hands: whether it’s the smooth curve of carved wood, the steady patience of pottery, the slow tending of a garden, or the rhythms of cooking. Creation calms you, gives form to the quiet satisfaction of making something of your own. And yet your mind seeks creation just as much as your hands. Books, words, music, and strategy all feed the same impulse: to build, to refine, to give order to ideas the way you give shape to clay or wood. In the palace, you haven’t had much time to indulge in any of your crafting hobbies. You have been tempted more than once to wander to the palace kitchens or tend to the royal gardens, but it would be scandalous if any of the court officials witnessed it. On the other hand, you <em>have</em> had plenty of freedom to pursue more mentally stimulating hobbies, and you don’t look forward to trading it all for a month on the road. Perhaps you can bring a tembûr to practice with when you camp during the nights.<</if>><<if $outdoors is true and $mental is true>>You feel most alive beneath open skies, where the scent of earth and wild herbs lingers in the air. Hiking, foraging, hunting, fishing—those pursuits ground you, sharpen your instincts, and remind you that survival is not just necessity, but a skill that grows with practice. But your hunger for challenge doesn’t end in the wilds. You’ve always preferred pursuits of the mind as well: losing yourself in books, coaxing melody from strings, or testing your wits across a game board. Both body and mind, you’ve learned, must be honed to endure. On your pilgrimage, you won’t have much opportunity for mental stimulation—the palace allowed you to indulge in it with abundance—but it’s more than made up for by being able to enjoy the great outdoors after a whole month of being cooped up in the palace. It is a very fair, if temporary, trade.<</if>><<if $crafts is true and ndef $outdoors and ndef $mental>>You’ve always had a knack for shaping things using the full expanse of your hands: whether it’s the smooth curve of carved wood, the steady patience of pottery, the slow tending of a garden, or the rhythms of cooking. Creation calms you, and gives form to the quiet satisfaction of making something of your own. In the palace, you haven’t had much opportunity yet to indulge in any of those things, as they tend to take up a lot of time. Still, you have been tempted more than once to wander to the palace kitchens or tend to the royal gardens, but it would be scandalous if any of the court officials witnessed it. Perhaps on your pilgrimage, you’ll be able to cook some meals above a campfire.<</if>><<if $outdoors is true and ndef $crafts and ndef $mental>>You feel most alive beneath open skies, where the scent of earth and wild herbs lingers in the air. Hiking, foraging, hunting, fishing—those pursuits ground you, sharpen your instincts, and remind you that survival is not just necessity, but a skill that grows with practice. No doubt that is also why a part of you looks forward to your pilgrimage: spending a month inside the confines of the palace have made you yearn for Arsur’s wilds, as dangerous and as beautiful as they are. You miss the exertion of a long hike, the patience required to track and catch prey—life in Marabad has been too indolent, too <em>easy</em>.<</if>><<if $mental is true and ndef $crafts and ndef $outdoors>>You’ve always preferred pursuits of the mind: losing yourself in books, putting thoughts and ideas to ink, or testing your wits across a game board. Indulging in creativity was a way to escape the hardships of life on the run, while honing your mind helped sharpen it into a weapon. The palace has been a very comfortable place for you in that sense, allowing you to pursue all of those things that used to be luxuries while you were on the run. Travel during your pilgrimage will no doubt feel tedious in comparison. You’d take some books with you, but you don’t want to risk them getting damaged. Perhaps you can bring a tembûr to practice with when you camp during the nights.<</if>> As you ponder this, <<if $fiberarts is false>>Siham helps correct your worst errors before handing it back to you,<<else>>you continue your work with Siham watching,<</if>> the bracelet finally taking shape—sturdy knots, the lavender bead glowing faintly with the ward you inscribed. The deep purple threads hum with the familiar warmth of your sun affinity, woven through with hours of patience, frustration, and quiet determination. When at last you tie off the final strand, you sit back and exhale a long breath in relief. The bracelet rests against your palm, faintly warm to the touch, humming like a heartbeat. <<if $fiberarts is false>>It’s imperfect, perhaps, but it is yours. And it carries a part of you that no purchased trinket ever could.<<else>>As far as you’re concerned, this is one of your finest creations yet—and it carries a part of you that no purchased trinket ever could.<</if>> <<if $fiberarts is false>>“Thank you, Siham,” you say sincerely, Siham inclining their head. “I would’ve been lost without your help.” “I’m certain you would have figured it out,” he replies diplomatically, far too kind for how terrible your knotwork was. “Were it me, I would be more than glad to receive such a gift, Your Imperial Majesty.” It all went much more smoothly after his help, but you did still do the great majority of the work, and you feel a warm sense of accomplishment fill you with it completed.<<else>>“Final verdict?” you ask, and Siham smiles, inclining their head. <<if $fiberarts is 'medium'>>“If I received such a gift, I would truly be thrilled, Your Imperial Majesty,” he declares. “I am certain $rtitle $rname will be, as well.”<<else>>“It is a true work of art,” he declares. “Perhaps, if you weren’t chosen as the Crown, you could have been a jewelry-maker instead.”<</if>> The praise fills you with the warm glow of pride and accomplishment, bolstering your confidence as you consider presenting the gift to $rname now that it’s completed.<</if>> You rise, stretching the stiffness from your hands as you slip the bracelet carefully into a small pouch. Then, with the weight of both nervousness and anticipation pressing in your chest, you take your leave and make your way through the labyrinthine corridors of the palace. The halls are lively with servants carrying trays and palace guards on their rounds, but the hum of it all fades as you near the study where $rname usually spends $rtheir afternoons. A soft glow leaks beneath the doorframe—likely from candles or perhaps from the magic studies $rthey so often loses $rthemselves in. Your fingers brush the pouch at your belt as your heart kicks a little faster. It’s your first time giving anyone a gift outside of your parents. Finally, you push open the door, stepping into the warm air tinged with lavender and papyrus. There, at the far side of the room, you spot $rname. [[Continue|14.4]]<<if $rfriend is false>>You linger in the doorway longer than you mean to, caught by the way the candlelight threads through $rname’s dark hair, and the soft furrow of $rtheir brow as $rthey concentrates while writing at $rtheir desk. For a heartbeat, you nearly forget the bracelet in your hand. Steeling yourself, you step inside, your voice softer this time, carrying warmth you can’t quite disguise. <<if $res gt $flirt>>“I was hoping to find you,” you say, your hand brushing the pouch at your belt where the bracelet waits. $rname looks up, startled at first, then softens at the sight of you. The reed pen in $rtheir hand stills, resting across the papyrus. “You sound almost out of breath. Did something happen?” “Not exactly.” You hesitate. “I have something for you.” A curious look flickers across $rtheir face as you pull the bracelet out of your pouch. Candlelight plays over its threads, the bead at its center catching faint firelight, glowing with the warmth of the ward carved into it. <<if $crafts is false>>“I know it isn’t perfect,” you admit quickly, suddenly aware of every crooked knot, every place where the weave is less than elegant.<<else>>“I wish I had more time to spend on it,” you say, in retrospect thinking of all the designs you could have used to make it even more elegant.<</if>> “But I wanted to give you something of mine before the pilgrimage. Something that might help keep you warm.” $rname’s eyes widen as $rthey rises from $rtheir seat, stepping closer as $rthey stares at the bracelet in naked surprise. $crtheir fingers hover over the bead at its center without quite touching it, as though it’s something rare and fragile. “You made this?” $rthey asks softly. <<if $crafts is false>>“I did, with a little help.” A smile tugs at your mouth. “Mostly on the knotwork. But the warding magic in the bead is all mine.”<<else>>“I did.” A smile tugs at your mouth. “Honestly, the warding magic was the most difficult part.”<</if>><<else>>“I was hoping to find you,” you say as you step into the study, leaning casually against the doorframe. $rname glances up, brows arching delicately, and the reed pen in $rtheir hand stilling above the page of papyrus. “Should I be worried?” “That depends,” you answer, reaching into the pouch at your belt. “Because I brought something that may or may not be your taste.” “Oh?” A curious look flickers across $rtheir face as you pull the bracelet out of your pouch and hold it up for $rthem to see. Candlelight plays over its threads, the bead at its center catching faint firelight, glowing with the warmth of the ward carved into it. You smile playfully in an attempt to cover up your nerves as you await $rname’s reaction. “If you don’t like it, I’ll just have to keep it for myself.” $rname’s eyes widen as $rthey rises from $rtheir seat, stepping closer as $rthey stares at the bracelet in naked surprise. $crtheir fingers hover over the bead at its center without quite touching it, as though it’s something rare and fragile. “You made this for me?” <<if $crafts is false>>“I did, with a little help.” A smile tugs at your mouth. “Mostly on the knotwork. But the warding magic in the bead is all mine.”<<else>>“I did.” A smile tugs at your mouth. “Honestly, the warding magic was the most difficult part.”<</if>><</if>> Slowly, $rname accepts the bracelet from you, cradling it in both hands as though it were a priceless treasure. Color darkens $rtheir cheeks, and when $rthey finally meets your gaze again, there’s a brightness in $rtheir eyes you can feel as much as see. “I remembered you saying purple was your favorite color, so…” You find yourself babbling, thrown off-balance by the earnest warmth in $rname’s face. “It <em>is</em> your favorite color, right? I’m going to feel very stupid if it isn’t.” “It is,” $rthey says, a tender smile gracing $rtheir lips as $rthey holds the bracelet cradled carefully in $rtheir palm. “It’s beautiful, $name. And your magic, it feels so warm… I don’t know what to say.” “You don’t have to say anything.” You smile as you watch $rthem, relief flooding your chest. “Take it as a belated birthday gift. It’s the least I could do after missing it.” That earns you a quiet laugh, but $rtheir fingers brush the bracelet, lingering over the bead. “You’ve given me more than I deserve.” “That’s impossible,” you say without missing a beat. “You deserve far more than I can give.” $rname narrows $rtheir eyes playfully at you. “I <em>will</em> turn it into an argument.” <<if $pass gt $ass>>“By all means—” $crthey extends $rtheir hand to you, interjecting to distract you. “Will you help me put it on?” Your eyes fall on $rtheir slender wrist, the soft skin along its inner side where $rname’s pulse would be, and admittedly, $rname’s distraction works like a charm. Taking the bracelet, you delicately wrap it around $rtheir wrist, tying the loose ropes together at the end. You hear $rname’s breath catch ever so slightly when your fingertips graze against $rthem, your own heart pounding against your ribs. The bracelet slides snugly into place, humming faintly with your magic.<<else>>“Oh, will you?” you challenge, and before $rthey can retort, you take $rtheir hand, exposing the skin along $rtheir slender wrist and the place where $rtheir pulse beats beneath. It works like a charm to quiet all of $rname’s protests, leaving $rthem speechless as you slip the bracelet around $rtheir wrist. You hear $rtheir breath catch ever so slightly when your fingertips graze against $rthem, your own heart pounding against your ribs. The bracelet slides snugly into place, humming faintly with your magic.<</if>> $rname looks down at it, and for a long moment, silence weighs between you. Then $rthey glances back up, gaze tender with $rtheir affection. “Thank you,” $rthey murmurs, and leans in, giving you only a moment’s realization before $rtheir soft lips brush ever so gently against yours. You return the kiss reflexively, your hand seeking out $rname’s braceleted wrist and your fingers curling around it. The bead hums beneath your touch, its ward heating as your magic reacts—how could it not, when you feel $rname’s breath against your mouth? $rname pulls away far too soon. $crtheir smile is warm and pleased, and while you cannot help but want more, you are satisfied with even this brief affection in what you know will be a busy day for both of you.<<else>>You pause for a moment, watching $rname seated at $rtheir desk, quill scratching steadily across parchment as strands of hair fall down $rtheir shoulders and frame $rtheir face like silk curtains, the ends draping over the surface of wood. Focused, as always. You clear your throat and step forward. “Hard at work again, I see,” you call lightly, your voice carrying across the study. <<if $rfriendship lt 2>>$rname glances up from $rtheir desk, the faintest crease between $rtheir brows. “Oh, $rnickname. Did you need something?” Your throat tightens, but you press forward, holding out the bracelet. “I made this for you. It’s nothing grand, but I thought it might help on the pilgrimage.” $rname sets aside $rtheir quill, gaze falling on the bracelet with genuine surprise. $crtheir fingers brush over the threads, pausing on the lavender bead glowing faintly with your magic. “You made this?” $rthey asks, surprise only seeming to grow further, as if $rthey had not expected you would show $rthem such effort or consideration. <<if $crafts is false>>“I did, with a little help.” A smile tugs at your mouth. “Mostly on the knotwork. But the warding magic in the bead is all mine.”<<else>>“I did.” A smile tugs at your mouth. “Honestly, the warding magic was the most difficult part.”<</if>> For a long moment, $rname simply studies it, eyes seeming to take account of every detail with meticulous attention. You start growing a little nervous at $rtheir silence, until $rthey finally looks up at you, a warm smile brightening $rtheir expression. “Thank you,” $rthey says at last, cradling the bracelet gently in $rtheir hands. “This is a lovely gift, $name. I’ll wear it gladly.” You and $rname have not been particularly close, but seeing $rtheir reaction at your gift, you hope that will change in the future.<<else>>$rname looks up from $rtheir work. $crtheir eyes brighten at the sight of you, and the tension in $rtheir shoulders eases. “I was just thinking it had been too quiet without you,” $rthey says. “Well,” you reply, pulling the bracelet from your pouch, “then I’ve brought something to make the silence worthwhile.” $rname rises quickly, curiosity plain as $rthey steps closer. When you open your hand, $rtheir eyes widen slightly with surprise. The bracelet gleams faintly in the candlelight, the bead warm with your sun affinity. “You made this?” $rthey asks, wonder threading through $rtheir voice. You nod, handing it over to $rthem. “Not perfect, but it carries a ward against the cold. I thought it might help. Besides, I owe you a birthday gift.” That earns a smile, warm and genuine. “And you took the time to make it yourself?” <<if $crafts is false>>“I did, with a little help.” An answering smile tugs at your own mouth. “The warding magic in the bead is all mine. I know you could make a much better ward, but hopefully it will still be of some use.”<<else>>“I did.” An answering smile tugs at your own mouth. “Honestly, the warding magic was the most difficult part. I know you could make a much better ward, but hopefully it will still be of some use.”<</if>> For a moment, $rthey can’t seem to find words. Instead, $rthey slips the bracelet onto $rtheir wrist, $rtheir fingers brushing it with quiet admiration. When $rtheir gaze meets yours again, $rtheir expression is gentle enough to banish any doubts. “I’ll treasure it,” $rthey says simply. “Not because of the ward, but because it’s from you, my friend.” The radiant glow of accomplishment and a gift well-chosen settles in your chest, proving all your effort worthwhile.<</if>><</if>> [[Continue|14.5]]<<if $rfriend is true>>The bracelet gleams faintly on $rname’s wrist, catching the light as $rthey turns it over once more. For a moment, there’s only silence between you, filled with the soft hum of your own pulse. Then $rname clears $rtheir throat, a note of hesitation in $rtheir voice. “It’s fortunate, actually, that you came here. I needed to see you regardless.” Your brows rise, curiosity pricking at the edge of your chest. “Oh? What for?” $rname sets $rtheir hands carefully atop the desk, as though bracing $rthemselves. “My uncle and cousins are coming to the palace today.” “Your family?” you ask, tilting your head. You know that $rname regularly visits them in the city, but this is the first time you’ve heard of them wanting to visit the palace. “Did you invite them?” “They weren’t expected,” $rthey admits, lips pressing together for a heartbeat before continuing. “But they’ve come to spend some time with me, considering the expedition—and, truthfully, because they wished to meet you.” That surprises you enough to still your breath for a moment. “Me?” “Yes.” $rname’s gaze flickers to yours, unreadable, then back down. “They’ve heard the stories. They want to see the Crown whom I’ve pledged myself to.” There is no pressuring in $rtheir tone, only simple truth. Yet the weight of those words presses against you with expectation. Before you can speak, $rname lifts a hand quickly. “You don’t have to meet them if you’d prefer not to. They’ll understand. I told them you’ve had little time to rest as of late.” You consider this, heart shifting uneasily. The idea of strangers—family of someone you trust—studying you, judging you for what you are or are not, feels like another trial. And yet, there’s something in the way $rname says it: quiet, almost apologetic. As though they doesn’t wish to impose. For a moment you weigh the choice. <ul class="a"> <li>[[You agree to meet them.|14.6fra][$rfriendship += 2]]</li> <li>[[You politely decline.|14.6frb]]</li></ul><<else>>The bracelet gleams faintly on $rname’s wrist as $rthey studies it, a small smile softening their face. Then $rthey lift their gaze to yours, as though weighing something carefully. “It’s fortunate you came, actually,” $rthey says at last. “I needed to see you regardless.” Curiosity stirs in your chest. “Oh? For what?” $rname hesitates only a moment before continuing. “My uncle and cousins are visiting the palace today. They arrived unexpectedly this morning. They wish to spend some time with me—and,” $rtheir mouth curves with a wry twist, “they’ve asked to meet you as well.” “Me?” you echo. “Surely this is not a surprise?” $crtheir eyes linger on yours, searching. Then, $rtheir gaze lowers to $rtheir bracelet, fiddling with it as $rtheir voice softens. “They wish to see the Crown whom I hold so dear to my heart.” Your pulse stutters at the declaration, <<if $res gt $flirt>>your lips parting and then closing soundlessly again as the notion that $rname has spoken to $rtheir family about you—and what $rthey might have said—leaves your composure in tatters. You clear your throat, face flushed even as you carefully reach out to take $rtheir hand. Only the tips of your fingers hook around $rname’s, but the gesture makes $rname smile shyly all the same.<<else>>your lips curving into a pleased smile at the notion that $rname has spoken to $rtheir family about you—and what $rthey might have said. Flattering things, by the sounds of it. With your fondness for $rthem warming you, you reach out to take $rtheir hand. Only the tips of your fingers hook around $rname’s, but the gesture makes $rname smile shyly all the same.<</if>> “I see.” You take a breath to calm yourself. “I hope I won’t disappoint.” “You could never,” $rname replies immediately, glancing up at you, fingers squeezing around yours. “You don’t have to meet them if you’d rather not, I told them you’ve had little time for yourself. You’re not obligated to.” You fall quiet, the words pulling something deep within you. It isn’t the first time you’ve glimpsed $rname’s family—memories of them surfaced when you fought to pull $rthem back from the brink of the coma. Those moments weren’t yours, but they live in you all the same. Part of you feels as if you know them already. You draw a slow breath and meet $rname’s gaze. “I’d be happy to meet them in person. Truly. But…” You rub the back of your neck, heat creeping into your face. “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little nervous.” At that, $rname’s expression softens into something tender. A warm smile spreads across $rtheir lips as $rthey steps closer, $rtheir presence easing the tightness in your chest. “They will adore you,” $rthey promises. “I already know it.” Before you can reply, $rname leans in and presses a light kiss against your cheek. The touch lingers pleasantly, and when $rthey draws back, $rtheir eyes shine with quiet amusement. “There’s no need to fret. You’ll have me at your side.” And somehow, that reassurance is enough to steady you. [[Continue|14.6ro]]<</if>>“I’d be happy to,” you finally say. It’s not as if you have anything to fear: compared to facing the Imperial Court every day, a meeting with $rname’s family should be child’s play. The moment you agree, $rname’s shoulders ease with visible relief. “Thank you,” $rthey says softly, sincerity clear in $rtheir tone. “I wasn’t sure you’d want to, but it means a great deal. Come, let’s head to the gardens to receive them. They should be here any moment now.” You answer with a small smile, and together you leave the study. The halls of the palace bustle as servants move swiftly about, but you and $rname walk in companionable silence until you reach the royal gardens. The air outside is crisp, touched with the perfume of enchanted blooms. Rows of flowering shrubs shimmer faintly, their petals glowing in hues of pinks and violets. Birds dart between the branches of the trees lined along the path, their feathers catching traces of idle magic that makes their wings shimmer, while soft wind chimes tinkle from the edges of the gazebos. $rname guides you to one such gazebo, one with a table at its center, and you both sit side by side on one side of it. The two of you chat about the day, gossip about the nobles at court, and fill the time with pleasant conversation. Here, away from the bustle, the gardens feel timeless, a pocket of peace held together by the quiet hum of magic. Not long passes before a servant appears, ushering three figures into the garden, approaching you. First is someone you recognize as $rname’s uncle based on his age, Faraj. He walks with a slightly hunched back, silvered hair drawn back from a face lined with deep wrinkles. Despite the years carved into his skin, his eyes gleam kindly beneath heavy lids. Beside him walks a lanky man with long limbs and loose black curls that fall almost into his eyes. Based on $rname’s descriptions of $rtheir family $rthey has told you before, you recognize him as Tariq—his gaze holds quiet composure, his posture at ease. At his side, shorter by a head, is who must be Farida, adorned with a pretty yellow dress with neatly braided brown tresses. She carries herself with restless energy, glancing between you and $rname with quick, assessing looks. The three bow together when they reach the gazebo, fluid and respectful. [[Continue|14.7fra]] You exhale slowly, fingers curling against the edge of the desk. “I think it’s best if I don’t.” The words feel heavier once spoken, settling uneasily into the quiet between you. You catch the flicker in $rname’s eyes—surprise, perhaps, or the brief sting of disappointment before $rthey masks it with composure. “I understand,” $rthey says softly, though $rtheir voice carries the faintest tremor. “They can be a little much. Besides, they arrived entirely unannounced.” It sounds more like $rthey is trying to convince $rthemselves of that than agreeing with you. You try for a faint smile, though it feels thin on your face. “Then I’ll spare you the trouble of having to translate my awkward silences.” That earns you a breath of laughter, brief and careful. It fades almost immediately, leaving the room once again in that still, sun-streaked quiet. “They’re good people,” $rname says at last, fingers brushing the bracelet absently, as though its weight steadies $rthem. “My uncle has always looked after me. He means well, but he does tend to fuss. He simply… worries.” “About you,” you remark, inviting $rname to tell you more. A small nod. “And about the world I live in now. He’s never been comfortable with it.” $rname’s mouth quirks in a rueful line. “He thinks everything within the palace walls is smoke and mirrors. That those who hold power for too long forget what life is like without the luxury of wealth.” You lean back slightly, considering that. “He might not be wrong.” $rname gives a fuller smile at that, but $rthey doesn’t look up. You can tell, in the delicate bend of $rtheir shoulders, that there’s something like relief in your refusal—a shield against the collision of two lives $rthey’d rather keep apart. “I didn’t wish to put you in an uncomfortable position,” $rthey says, and this time it’s honest. “I only thought… perhaps it would ease their worries, if they could see the person I serve.” You shake your head gently. “They don’t need to see me to know you’re safe, $rname. They just need to see you happy.” That draws $rtheir gaze, startled, as though you’ve touched something private without meaning to. A moment later, $rname averts $rtheir eyes once more. Whatever glimpse you caught of $rtheir true feelings proves fleeting, swiftly veiled behind $rtheir mask of composure. “I’ll tell them you were occupied with court matters,” $rthey decides. “It won’t be far from the truth.” “Thank you.” “You don’t need to thank me,” $rthey replies, shaking $rtheir head. “You have enough to manage without hosting my relatives.” You frown slightly at the remark, something in the way $rthey says it sounding unfair to $rthemselves. As if such a simple request were an intolerable burden, and $rthey was selfish for even proposing it. Uncertain of whether to address it, you stay silent instead, watching as $rname gathers a few scattered rolls of papyrus from the desk, movements precise but faintly distracted. When you move to leave, $rthey looks up at last. “If it helps,” $rthey says quietly, “I think they would have liked you.” You pause in the doorway, uncertain whether to smile or apologize. In the end, you only incline your head. $rname looks back to $rtheir desk, and you step out into the corridor, the sound of the door closing behind you like a sigh—gentle, but final. [[Continue|14.7frb]] Faraj inclines his head the deepest. “Your Imperial Majesty. It honors us to be received by you.” <<if $charm gt $blunt>>You rise, smiling warmly. “Any family of $rname’s is welcome in these halls. Please, sit. Let’s enjoy the gardens together.” Your easy manner coaxes answering smiles, the tension dissipating as they settle across from you.<<else>>You incline your head. “The honor is mine. Sit, and we’ll speak plainly.” The words are spare, but firm: the cousins exchange quick looks, while Faraj answers your bluntness with a graceful smile and gestures for his children to sit.<</if>> The three settle across from you, the gazebo filling with the scent of flowers and the soft hum of magic in the wards. Faraj leans slightly forward, folding his hands atop the table. “We are grateful you’ve welcomed us, Your Imperial Majesty. It is no small thing, to offer your time.” His eyes, deep with age, study you carefully. “I wished to see for myself the strength in the one chosen by the Spirits.” Farida grins faintly, less formal. “And I wanted to see if the stories were true. Your eyes are brighter than I expected. Can you see in the dark with those?” $rname snorts behind $rtheir hand, while Faraj simply keeps smiling, a hint of amusement in his face. Tariq, on the other hand, elbows his little sister gently. “Don’t be rude.” Then he turns to you with an apologetic look. “It’s an honor, Your Imperial Majesty. My sister speaks without thinking, but she speaks out of admiration.” You incline your head, meeting their words with steady composure, determined to make a good impression. <<if $blunt gt $charm>>“I’m still learning what it means to carry this burden, so I hope you will be patient with me.” $rname’s uncle regards you with a thoughtful look, then nods. “Modesty is an admirable trait, most of all in one so revered. It gives me hope for the Empire.”<<else>>“Well, I can tell her with certainty that my eyes <em>do</em> help me see better in the dark, though I have been told it looks a little eerie to others.” Kaja has quipped about it on more than one occasion. $rname’s uncle regards you with a thoughtful look, then smiles. “It is good to see our Crown has a sense of humor. Too many people take themselves far too seriously nowadays.”<</if>> You feel a small measure of relief at Faraj’s approval. It would have been rather embarrassing if you’d not been able to get along with $rname’s relatives. Farida leans in with curiosity, seeming bolstered at a lack of offense on your part. “Can I ask another question? What was it like? The coronation, I mean.” You consider it, uncertain how to summarize the enormity of the experience in a way that anyone else could understand. “Strange. Heavy. But also… grounding. Until the coronation, I spared little thought to what it would mean to be the Crown. After, it felt like my mind was clearer, and I had found a purpose of sorts.” “It sounds like the spirits guided you well,” Tariq muses. “I am glad to hear they have not abandoned us yet. Over these past years, it felt like Arsur was left to fend for itself.” It is a sentiment you had not considered until now, as you yourself noticed little of the decade passing without a Crown. Your occasional visits to cities and towns only offered temporary glimpses of unrest. Some places became lawless, the sense of community unraveling with a lack of authority, while other places filled the vacuum with different authority figures: stewards, the armies, the Mîrs. Now, it is your duty to retake control. [[Continue|14.fr8]] The warmth of $rname’s kiss still lingers on your lips as you follow $rthem through the winding palace halls. The weight of your nerves feels lighter beside $rthem: every so often, your hands brush as you walk, and though neither of you speaks of it, the small touch is enough to keep your steps steady. The gardens are alive with quiet magic. Flowerbeds glow softly in the daylight, their petals opening wider as though they, too, sense important company is about to arrive. Sunlight shimmers across vines that twine up carved stone pillars, throwing motes of gold across the walkways. The air is fragrant with lavender and spice, carrying warmth even into the cooler hours of the day. $rname guides you to one of the gazebos, one with a table at its center, and you both sit side by side on one side of it. $rname's eyes never wander far from you, as though gauging your comfort. “Don’t worry,” $rthey says, $rtheir voice low and intimate even though you are alone in the gazebo--the invisible guards surrounding it notwithstanding. “Compared to facing the Imperial Court day after day, this will be child's play for you.” The teasing curve of $rtheir smile makes it clear $rthey means to lighten your nerves, though you're not certain you agree with $rtheir assessment. “I don't care what the court thinks of me,” you reply. “But your family? I have to make a good impression.” For whatever past dalliances and lovers you might have had, you have never met one's family before. <<if $charm gt $blunt>>“And you will,” $rname says without a speck of doubt in $rtheir expression. “You could charm a statue into smiling, $name.” You arch your brows with amusement. “Is your aim to reassure me or to inflate my ego?” “I only state the truth as I see it.” $rname looks away for a moment, clearing $rtheir throat before murmuring, “You certainly charmed me.” <<if $flirt gt $res>>You laugh, teasingly brushing $rname's hair aside to get a better look at $rtheir face, despite $rtheir attempts to hide it from you. “Now you're stealing my lines! I was going to say that.” $rname playfully swats your hand away with a chuckle, and just like that your prior anxiety lessens to a distant concern.<<else>>Usually such an admission would have you flustering, but something about how $rname admits it is so endearing that you can't help but laugh, drawing a look from $rname. “I'm sorry,” you say, trying to hide your grin behind your hand. “The way you said it was too adorable.” $rname tries to frown at you, but the gesture is marred by the amused smile making $rtheir mouth twist. And just like that, your prior anxiety lessens to a distant concern.<</if>><<else>>“And you will,” $rname says without a speck of doubt in $rtheir expression. “You are the most honest person I know, $name.” You arch your brows with amusement. “Usually people tend to call me <em>too</em> honest.” “A little blunt, perhaps, but never maliciously. It's part of your charm.” $rname looks away for a moment, clearing $rtheir throat before murmuring, “It certainly charmed me.” <<if $flirt gt $res>>You laugh, teasingly brushing $rname's hair aside to get a better look at $rtheir face, despite $rtheir attempts to hide it from you. “Now you're stealing my lines! I was going to say that.” $rname playfully swats your hand away with a chuckle, and just like that your prior anxiety lessens to a distant concern.<<else>>Usually such an admission would have you flustering, but something about how $rname admits it is so endearing that you can't help but laugh, drawing a look from $rname. “I'm sorry,” you say, trying to hide your grin behind your hand. “The way you said it was too adorable.” $rname tries to frown at you, but the gesture is marred by the amused smile making $rtheir mouth twist. And just like that, your prior anxiety lessens to a distant concern.<</if>><</if>> The two of you continue to chat as the conversation shifts to other topics: about the day's events, gossip about the nobles at court, and other such light-hearted diversions. Here, away from the bustle, the gardens feel timeless, a pocket of peace held together by the quiet hum of magic. Not long passes before a servant appears, ushering three figures into the garden, approaching you. Your nerves return, but you keep a handle on them as you watch your guests near. From the memories you witnessed in $rname's mind, it is a simple task to match each person to the younger version of them you remember seeing. First is Uncle Faraj. He walks with a slightly hunched back, silvered hair drawn back from a face lined with deep wrinkles. Despite the years carved into his skin, his eyes gleam kindly beneath heavy lids. Beside him walks a lanky man with long limbs and loose black curls that fall almost into his eyes. You recognize him as Tariq—his gaze holds quiet composure, his posture at ease. At his side, shorter by a head, is Farida, wearing a pretty yellow dress with neatly braided dark tresses. She carries herself with restless energy, glancing between you and $rname with quick, assessing looks. The three bow together when they reach the gazebo, fluid and respectful. [[Continue|14.7ro]] The conversation drifts naturally as you inquire after each of $rname’s relatives in turn—you recall seeing the poverty in which $rname’s family once lived, the heavy labor that $rtheir uncle was forced to do which took a toll on him. From the sounds of it, they are in a much better position now. Faraj is retired, while Tariq runs a bookstore and Farida studies to one day become a civil servant. “I have heard those officials who work in the various offices of the court have to pass an exam before they can be employed,” you say, having only secondhand knowledge of the fact. A basic test of competency, is how $rname has described it to you before—the Office of Personnel is in charge of designing this exam and testing applicants for it every year. “The imperial exam, yes,” Farida says. “But I want to work for the city of Marabad. No offense, Your Imperial Majesty.” “None taken.” You consider this curiously. “You want to become steward?” “Not necessarily.” Farida frowns deeply. “A steward doesn’t even need to pass the exam, anyway. Neither does a Mîr.” It’s clear she holds little love for Steward Welat or Mîr Behram, though the remark makes you pause. “And neither does a Crown,” you point out, and Farida startles, turning a shade paler. “She didn’t mean any insult,” Tariq quickly intervenes, glancing between you. “The Crown is chosen by the Spirits—” “No, she has a point.” You cross your arms, leaning back into the couch, brows furrowing as you ponder the idea. “Even if I was chosen, that does not prove my competence. Passing such an exam, however, would. Perhaps I should make it mandatory for stewards and Mîrs as well? <<if $publicfavored gt $elitefavored>>It might help restore people’s trust in their leaders<<else>>It might help reestablish some authority<</if>>.” Farida and Tariq glance at each other with bemused looks, as if you had said something absurd, while Faraj appears intrigued more than anything. “I would certainly love to see you make such a decree,” $rname says with a grin. “No doubt it would give at least two Mîrs a conniption. Though in the case of smaller villages and towns, it may be unfair.” “You’re right, the most rural areas would not have many who enjoyed the luxury of education.” You hum, your gaze drifting off towards the gardens while you weigh what requirements you would have to impose—perhaps limiting it to stewards in towns of a certain size, places large enough to require competent administration and leadership. You would have to adjust the exams themselves for each province, perhaps even for each region as well… “I suspect,” Faraj says, drawing your attention back to him, “that our Crown may be even bolder than Ferzan the Bold himself.” You smile wryly. “Do you mean to warn me not to get assassinated? Don’t worry, I aim to surpass Crown Keybanû’s record.” You certainly have a good head-start on it. Farida snorts out a loud laugh, trying to hold it back behind her hands, and Tariq sits stiffly beside her, slightly wide-eyed, as if he cannot decide whether he is meant to laugh at the jest or not. Faraj, however, seems delighted. “$name the Ever-lasting, perhaps?” $rname teases. You shake your head. “Too similar to her. Maybe something like, $name the Indestructible?” “That makes you sound like a ship.” When you laugh, this time $rname’s relatives join in, even Tariq easing enough to let out a chuckle. They seem to be warming to you, which is a relief—even more than a month into your reign, you still do not enjoy the exaggerated deference people tend to show you. Falling into an easy, natural chatter with $rname’s relatives could almost let you pretend you are an ordinary person, meeting $their friend’s family on a regular afternoon. [[Continue|14.fr9]] Faraj inclines his head the deepest. “Your Imperial Majesty. It honors us to be received by you.” <<if $charm gt $blunt>>You rise, smiling warmly. “Any family of $rname’s is welcome in these halls. Please, sit. Let’s enjoy the gardens together.” Your easy manner coaxes answering smiles, the tension dissipating as they settle across from you.<<else>>You incline your head. “The honor is mine. Sit, and we’ll speak plainly.” The words are spare, but firm: the cousins exchange quick looks, while Faraj answers your bluntness with a graceful smile and gestures for his children to sit.<</if>> The three settle across from you, the gazebo filling with the scent of flowers and the soft hum of magic in the wards. Faraj leans slightly forward, folding his hands atop the table. “We are grateful you’ve welcomed us, Your Imperial Majesty. It is no small thing, to offer your time.” He smiles then, his eyes bright. “I wished to see for myself the one who has won my <<if $rgender is 'male'>>nephew<<else>>niece<</if>>'s affections as well as $rtheir loyalty.” You notice $rname’s gaze flick to yours, cheeks faintly colored, though $rthey doesn’t contradict him. In a way, you're grateful to have the opportunity to meet $rname's family now, with the excuse of $rname being your Sorcerer, as opposed to much later on. Usually, most people do not meet each other's relatives until a courtship is made official, at which points regular visits and many gifts are exchanged over a period of time--the entire ordeal would have been much more formal, and even more nerve-wracking. Being able to get to know them now will take the edge off of such social rituals later, if--when--you and $rname decide to enter into a courtship. It is something you have not even discussed yet, what with everything going on. Perhaps there will be time for it during your journey to the mountains. Farida grins, less inhibited than her father. “And I wanted to see if the stories were true. Your eyes are brighter than I expected. Can you see in the dark with those?” $rname snorts behind $rtheir hand, while Faraj simply keeps smiling, a hint of amusement in his face. Tariq, on the other hand, elbows his little sister gently. “Don’t be rude.” Then he turns to you with an apologetic look. “It’s an honor, Your Imperial Majesty. My sister speaks without thinking, but she speaks out of admiration.” You incline your head, meeting their words with steady composure, determined to make a good impression. <<if $blunt gt $charm>>“I’m still learning what it means to carry this burden, so I hope you will be patient with me.” $rname’s uncle regards you with a thoughtful look, then nods. “Modesty is an admirable trait, most of all in one so revered. It gives me hope for the Empire.”<<else>>“Well, I can tell her with certainty that my eyes <em>do</em> help me see better in the dark, though I have been told it looks a little eerie to others.” Kaja has quipped about it on more than one occasion. $rname’s uncle regards you with a thoughtful look, then smiles. “It is good to see our Crown has a sense of humor. Too many people take themselves far too seriously nowadays.”<</if>> You feel a small measure of relief at Faraj’s approval. It would have been rather embarrassing if you’d not been able to get along with $rname’s relatives. Farida leans in with curiosity, seeming bolstered at a lack of offense on your part. “Can I ask another question? What was it like? The coronation, I mean.” You consider it, uncertain how to summarize the enormity of the experience in a way that anyone else could understand. “Strange. Heavy. But also… grounding. Until the coronation, I spared little thought to what it would mean to be the Crown. After, it felt like my mind was clearer, and I had found a purpose of sorts.” “It sounds like the spirits guided you well,” Tariq muses. “I am glad to hear they have not abandoned us yet. Over these past years, it felt like Arsur was left to fend for itself.” It is a sentiment you had not considered until now, as you yourself noticed little of the decade passing without a Crown. Your occasional visits to cities and towns only offered temporary glimpses of unrest. Some places became lawless, the sense of community unraveling with a lack of authority, while other places filled the vacuum with different authority figures: stewards, the armies, the Mîrs. Now, it is your duty to retake control. [[Continue|14.ro8]] The conversation drifts naturally as you inquire after each of $rname’s relatives in turn—you recall seeing the poverty in which $rname’s family once lived, the heavy labor that $rtheir uncle was forced to do which took a toll on him. From the sounds of it, they are in a much better position now. Faraj is retired, while Tariq runs a bookstore and Farida studies to one day become a civil servant. “I have heard those officials who work in the various offices of the court have to pass an exam before they can be employed,” you say, having only secondhand knowledge of the fact. A basic test of competency, is how $rname has described it to you before—the Office of Personnel is in charge of designing this exam and testing applicants for it every year. “The imperial exam, yes,” Farida says. “But I want to work for the city of Marabad. No offense, Your Imperial Majesty.” “None taken.” You consider this curiously. “You want to become steward?” “Not necessarily.” Farida frowns deeply. “A steward doesn’t even need to pass the exam, anyway. Neither does a Mîr.” It’s clear she holds little love for Steward Welat or Mîr Behram, though the remark makes you pause. “And neither does a Crown,” you point out, and Farida startles, turning a shade paler. “She didn’t mean any insult,” Tariq quickly intervenes, glancing between you. “The Crown is chosen by the Spirits—” “No, she has a point.” You cross your arms, leaning back into the couch, brows furrowing as you ponder the idea. “Even if I was chosen, that does not prove my competence. Passing such an exam, however, would. Perhaps I should make it mandatory for stewards and Mîrs as well? <<if $publicfavored gt $elitefavored>>It might help restore people’s trust in their leaders<<else>>It might help reestablish some authority<</if>>.” Farida and Tariq glance at each other with bemused looks, as if you had said something absurd, while Faraj appears intrigued more than anything. “I would certainly love to see you make such a decree,” $rname says with a grin. “No doubt it would give at least two Mîrs a conniption. Though in the case of smaller villages and towns, it may be unfair.” “You’re right, the most rural areas would not have many who enjoyed the luxury of education.” You hum, your gaze drifting off towards the gardens while you weigh what requirements you would have to impose—perhaps limiting it to stewards in towns of a certain size, places large enough to require competent administration and leadership. You would have to adjust the exams themselves for each province, perhaps even for each region as well… “I suspect,” Faraj says, drawing your attention back to him, “that our Crown may be even bolder than Ferzan the Bold himself.” You smile wryly. “Do you mean to warn me not to get assassinated? Don’t worry, I aim to surpass Crown Keybanû’s record.” You certainly have a good head-start on it. Farida snorts out a loud laugh, trying to hold it back behind her hands, and Tariq sits stiffly beside her, slightly wide-eyed, as if he cannot decide whether he is meant to laugh at the jest or not. Faraj, however, seems delighted. “$name the Ever-lasting, perhaps?” $rname teases. You shake your head. “Too similar to her. Maybe something like, $name the Indestructible?” “That makes you sound like a ship.” When you laugh, this time $rname’s relatives join in, even Tariq easing enough to let out a chuckle. They seem to be warming to you, which is a relief—even more than a month into your reign, you still do not enjoy the exaggerated deference people tend to show you. Falling into an easy, natural chatter with $rname’s relatives could almost let you pretend you are an ordinary person, meeting $their friend’s family on a regular afternoon. [[Continue|14.ro9]] Once the conversation reaches another lull, you lean forward, a spark of mischief creeping into your tone. “Tell me,” you say, glancing at Faraj, Tariq, and Farida in turn, “what was $rname like as a child? Surely you have a story or two to share.” $rname stiffens instantly beside you. “That’s unnecessary—” Farida’s grin is quick and merciless. “Unnecessary? No, it’s essential. Did you know $rname once declared $rthey was going to court a spirit? Had a whole ritual of promise planned out for it.” “Farida!” $rname protests, color rushing to $rtheir cheeks. Tariq joins in, smiling slyly. “Or the time $rthey got stuck on the roof of our house because $rthey tried to enchant a ladder that promptly collapsed. Uncle had to fetch $rthem down himself.” “Those were isolated incidents,” $rname mutters. “And entirely exaggerated.” Faraj chuckles fondly, shaking his head. “$rname was brilliant even then, but perhaps a touch… distracted. Always chasing ideas faster than $rtheir feet could carry $rthem.” You smile, amused to imagine $rname who you now know as someone serious and elegant once having been a little troublemaker. “Sounds like a very curious child.” $rname shoots you a look that promises quiet revenge later, but the twinkle in $rtheir eyes betrays amusement beneath the embarrassment. After a while longer of spending time with $rname's family, eventually, Faraj rises, leaning on his cane. “I think we’ve kept you long enough, Your Imperial Majesty.” “By all means, feel free to visit again,” you say. "I enjoyed getting to know you all.” The three of them bow to you, smiling warmly and perhaps even with a little relief. It occurs to you that they might have been far more nervous for this meeting than you were. Faraj ushers the others along. “Come, children. Let us walk the gardens a while before supper.” Farida and Tariq move to join him, and $rname mouths a quiet <em>thank you</em> to you before $rthey follows after them. You watch them all go, your own smile turning a touch somber the longer you watch $rname converse happily with $rtheir family, until it finally slips from your face entirely. You sit in the shadows of the gazebo, quiet and alone. [[Continue|14.fr10]] Once the conversation reaches another lull, you lean forward, a spark of mischief creeping into your tone. “Tell me,” you say, glancing at Faraj, Tariq, and Farida in turn, “what was $rname like as a child? Surely you have a story or two to share.” $rname stiffens instantly beside you. “That’s unnecessary—” Farida’s grin is quick and merciless. “Unnecessary? No, it’s essential. Did you know $rname once declared $rthey was going to court a spirit? Had a whole ritual of promise planned out for it.” “Farida!” $rname protests, color rushing to $rtheir cheeks. Tariq joins in, smiling slyly. “Or the time $rthey got stuck on the roof of our house because $rthey tried to enchant a ladder that promptly collapsed. Uncle had to fetch $rthem down himself.” “Those were isolated incidents,” $rname mutters. “And entirely exaggerated.” Faraj chuckles fondly, shaking his head. “$rname was brilliant even then, but perhaps a touch… distracted. Always chasing ideas faster than $rtheir feet could carry $rthem.” You smile, delighted at the sight of $rname flustered for such innocent reasons. “Sounds like a very curious child.” $rname shoots you a look that promises quiet revenge later, but the twinkle in $rtheir eyes betrays amusement beneath the embarrassment. After a bit longer of spending time with $rname's family, eventually, Faraj rises, leaning on his cane. “I think we’ve kept you long enough, Your Imperial Majesty.” “By all means, feel free to visit again,” you say. "I enjoyed getting to know you all.” The three of them bow to you, smiling warmly and perhaps even with a little relief. It occurs to you that they might have been far more nervous for this meeting than you were. Faraj ushers the others along. “Come, children. Let us walk the gardens a while before supper.” Farida and Tariq move to join him, but $rname stays behind, clearing $rtheir throat. “Go ahead, I’ll follow shortly.” The three bow respectfully, then leave the gazebo behind, taking one of the paths that stretch out along the pools where lilies drift in the water. Beside you, $rname’s cheeks are still flushed. [[Continue|14.ro10]] Someone clears their throat on your left, and you look over to see Ezo becoming visible, standing beside the table. “Ezo,” you say, smoothing your expression into something more neutral. “Is something the matter?” “No,” she says, but doesn’t elaborate. Her gaze flits towards $rname and $rtheir relatives, then back to you, shifting uneasily on her feet. “Would you like refreshments?” You arch your brows, then look over at the table of snacks and drinks spread out before you. Ezo blinks. “Right. Well.” She folds her hands behind her back. “Would you enjoy something that isn’t on the table?” “No, thank you,” you reply, tilting your head slightly as you peer back at her with mild confusion at her odd behavior. “Ah.” She continues to stand there, eyes drifting over the gardens as if searching for something. Finally, she asks in a stilted tone, “Fine weather today, isn’t it?” You hear another whisper from one of your guards standing outside the gazebo, muttering, <em>she is stunningly bad at this</em>. Someone else snickers, and you’re almost certain it’s Kaja. Glancing back at $rname and $rtheir family, you finally realize what it is she’s trying to do, albeit without any kind of tact or grace. <<if $spirits is 'somber' or $spirits is 'sympathetic'>>Part of you recoils, your fingers grasping tightly onto the fabric of your $clothing where your hands rest on your lap. You don’t want to be reminded of it, you don’t want to address it, and you absolutely do not want others to see the reflection of it in you and pity you for it. Ezo and your guards are well-intentioned, that much you can see, but it exposes you in a way that is difficult to bear.<<else>>A faint warmth stirs in your chest at her awkward attempt, gentling the edges of the ache rather than deepening it. You know what she’s doing, what she’s trying to spare you from, and instead of bristling you find yourself quietly grateful. The sight of $rname laughing among familiar faces still tugs at something tender inside you, but it no longer hurts as much. You can look at it now without turning away, letting the ache breathe alongside the memory, neither denying it nor letting it consume you. Still, the matter of Ezo offering her company is another thing entirely.<</if>> <ul class="a"> <li>[[“I appreciate what you’re trying to do, Ezo, but I’d rather be alone right now.”|14.fr11a][$kajaezo += 2]]</li> <li>[[“If there’s nothing that requires my attention, return to your duties.”|14.fr11b][$kajaezo -= 2]]</li> <li>[[Accept her company.|14.fr11c][$kajaezo += 2]]</li></ul> The corridors of the palace are quiet this time of day, the air heavy with the faint scent of wax and papyrus. Light pours through the tall windows, soft and gold, highlighting the red and yellow tiled patterns along the stone floors. You walk slowly, letting the silence settle. The decision to stay behind still echoes in your chest—small, almost invisible, yet sharp as a thorn. $rname will be with $rtheir family by now, somewhere in the gardens. You tell yourself it’s for the best. It’s easier to believe when you’re alone. The sound of footsteps ahead draws your attention. Two palace guards who stand watch in the corridor shift subtly, giving further space to the figure approaching from the opposite direction—a man in a familiar plain robe, his pace deliberate and unhurried. Welat. Even before he speaks, the air seems to tighten around him. “My liege,” he greets you with a bow of impeccable precision, just deep enough to satisfy decorum and just shallow enough to remind you it’s only formality. His voice is low, even, without warmth. “A rare sight, to find Your Imperial Majesty without one of your companions.” You stop several paces from him, folding your hands behind your back, your voice cold. “Steward Welat. I am never unaccompanied, as you well know.” He straightens, offering a faint, unreadable smile. “Indeed.” He seems to think nothing of your barely-veiled threat. “I thought to walk the grounds before returning to the city. A luxury, perhaps, but one should not waste the quiet hours.” You study him for a beat. Welat looks as though he has never wasted a moment in his life. His face is carved in calm stone, dark eyes framed by lines that do not come from laughter. “Have you found them quiet?” you ask. He inclines his head slightly. “For now. Though I imagine the day will grow livelier, what with the arrival of $rtitle $rname’s kin. A touching reunion, by all accounts.” Your pulse stutters. “You seem well-informed.” Welat’s expression doesn’t change. “The comings and goings of guests are hardly secrets in the Royal Palace, Your Imperial Majesty. And the gates, as you know, remain under the city’s jurisdiction.” You meet his gaze, level and calm, but feel the faint stir of unease beneath your ribs. Why mention that? “I was not aware you took such interest in my court’s visitors,” you reply. “Interest?” His brow lifts fractionally. “Only a sense of duty. When the family of the Crown’s closest advisor arrives unannounced, it would be remiss not to ensure their safety. The city’s safety, too.” It sounds innocuous, like a statement of protocol. Yet there’s something in the way he says it that tenses your spine, as though he’s measuring how far his words can reach. For what purpose? To coax a reaction out of you? [[Continue|14.8frb]] Ezo’s tension eases and she nods. “As you wish, Your Imperial Majesty. The guards and I will take some distance.” “Thank you.” She hesitates, looking as if she wants to say something more, but then changes her mind and disappears again as her body fades from sight to blend into the environment. You didn’t need her to explain herself to you regardless. She was trying to offer you a diversion from your own mind, which was kind of her, even if she was rather terrible at it. Idle chatter might fill your head long enough for you to ignore what lurks in the darkest parts of your mind, but it is only ever temporary. To know that you have other people looking out for you is enough. You stay in the gazebo for a while longer, $rname and $rtheir family out of sight by now, and you don’t think of anything in particular. You simply sit with the weight in your chest, clinging to you—or perhaps you carry it willingly. As more time passes, you’re not sure that the distinction matters anymore. Is it your grief that haunts you, or is it you who refuses to let it go? After a while, a servant approaches from the palace, reminding you of your scheduled tutoring in Arsurian history. You exhale a slow, heavy sigh as if to push yourself out and make space for the Crown who is called upon, your expression arranging itself into a mask that is becoming more familiar by the day. Rising to your feet, you leave the gazebo’s shade behind. <<if $ishrah is 'absent'>>[[Continue|14.ish]]<<else>>[[Continue|14.kek]]<</if>><<if $spirits is 'admiring'>>Ezo blinks once, then bows her head. “Of course, Your Imperial Majesty.” The murmurs of the other guards go quiet, and Ezo’s form disappears from sight as she fades back into the environment again, returning a semblance of privacy. You watch her go, not out of irritation, but out of an unspoken need to reclaim a little space. There are times when solitude feels less like loneliness and more like discipline, a way to steady your heartbeat before it begins to race. The gardens are peaceful in their distance, $rname’s laughter threading faintly through the breeze. It catches at you, but not sharply. You let it come and go like a sigh, allowing the ache pass through rather than burying it. This is what strength must look like, you tell yourself. And yet, when you glance toward where Ezo once stood, there’s a flicker of something: an awareness of the distance you’ve just enforced. You meant to show composure, not coldness, but in the silence that follows, the two feel indistinguishable. You exhale softly and rest your palms on your knees, feeling the weight of your responsibility that has been a constant ever since your coronation. The others will understand, you tell yourself. This is what the Crown must be. You cannot show any weakness. By the time a servant arrives to remind you of your tutoring in Arsurian history, your thoughts have already folded themselves neatly behind your expression. The moment lingers only as a faint chill in the air where warmth had briefly tried to reach you.<<else>>Your words come out sharper than intended, and Ezo startles slightly, then straightens, hands clasping behind her back in formal composure. “As you command, Your Imperial Majesty.” She fades back into invisibility, the shimmer of her outline dissolving into the air. The guards follow her lead, their soft murmurs replaced by the muted hum of the gardens, until you are given a semblance of privacy again. Relief comes first: cool, clean, and hollow. The silence feels safer than their well-meant eyes, safer than the gentle pity you can sense even when unspoken. But after the quiet settles, it curdles into something else. You stare at the hedges further down the gardens where $rname’s laughter echoes faintly, and your chest tightens, the sound threading into places you’d rather not reach. You tell yourself it’s better this way, that the distance keeps you from unraveling. The words repeat until they lose meaning, an incantation without conviction. By the time a servant arrives to fetch you for your tutoring in Arsurian history, you rise at once, grateful for the interruption. Routine is easier than wondering how many more small kindnesses you’ll drive away before the Crown becomes all that’s left of you.<</if>> <<if $ishrah is 'absent'>>[[Continue|14.ish]]<<else>>[[Continue|14.kek]]<</if>> You glance at Ezo, still standing awkwardly at the edge of the gazebo as if torn between staying and fleeing. Her expression is so stiff with uncertainty that it nearly draws a laugh from you. Instead, you offer the faintest smile. “You may stay, if you’d like.” Her brows jump, the faintest flicker of surprise crossing her features before she schools it into a dutiful nod. “Of course, Your Imperial Majesty.” There’s an audible shift from the guards outside—someone mutters <em>Spirits help her,</em> followed by another’s snort—but Ezo pretends not to hear. She steps closer, lingering at a respectful distance, the afternoon light slipping like molten gold across the scales of her chest-plate. For a time, neither of you speak. You rest your hands on your knees, gaze wandering back toward where $rname and $rtheir family hs now disappeared from sight. Their laughter still drifts faintly across the breeze. It is soft and unguarded, carrying the weightless ease that family brings, and it stirs something quiet in your chest, aching gently. Ezo follows your gaze. “They seem kind,” she says after a while, voice low as though afraid to break the spell. “They are,” you murmur. She hums in agreement, then adds, “$rtitle $rname looks… different with them. Lighter.” You can hear the curiosity there, the unspoken question about whether you envy that. You don’t answer. Instead, you tilt your head back, eyes tracing the pattern of sunlight filtering through the carved lattice of the gazebo. “Do you have family, Ezo?” Her eyes widen a little at being addressed so directly. “I- ah, yes. My mother and two brothers in Arzo. I send coin when I can.” She hesitates. “They think I’m guarding merchants, not royalty. It’s easier that way.” You glance at her sidelong. “Easier for them?” Her mouth curves, wry and slightly sad. “For all of us, I think.” The quiet settles again, but it’s softer now. The ache in your chest remains, but it shifts shape: no longer sharp grief, but something more reflective. You speak the thought before it can wither. “I used to think I would forget them if I stopped grieving.” Ezo looks at you. “And now?” You consider the question, fingers brushing the arm of the chair as if tracing ghosts. “Now I think remembering them kindly is harder work.” “Because you resent them?” You don’t answer. It’s not so simple as resentment: resenting them is easy. For keeping secrets, for coddling you, even for dying. If that was all you felt, you wouldn’t still be tormented by the thought that the only reason they were killed was because you were chosen for the throne. “You should tell your family,” you say to Ezo instead. “About who you’re really serving.” She exhales quietly. “You make it sound easy.” You huff a small laugh, the sound rough around the edges. “Not at all. They’ll be upset with you for lying to them, and they’ll worry for you, but that is what they are meant to do. They’re your family. Trust them and rely on them.” Ezo looks at you in silence for a long moment, a thoughtfulness in her eyes. “I’ll consider it,” she says, but she’s smiling now, and for a fleeting moment, it feels less like she’s your guard and more like simply another soul keeping you company beneath the weight of the day. The two of you lapse into an easy quiet. A breeze stirs the edges of the tablecloth, a bird calls somewhere beyond the gardens, and the moment holds without demanding anything from you. No performance, no posture of strength. Just stillness, and the faint comfort of knowing you’re not entirely alone in it. When a servant finally appears to remind you of your tutoring lesson in Arsurian history, you rise reluctantly. Ezo straightens too, ready to follow, and as you glance at her, you find yourself quietly grateful that she’d been terrible enough at pretending not to worry. “Come,” you say, voice softer now. “Let’s not keep the tutors waiting.” She nods, a faint glint of amusement in her eyes. “Yes, Your Imperial Majesty.” And as you walk back toward the palace together, the ache remains—but lighter, more bearable, like something you can carry rather than something that carries you. <<if $ishrah is 'absent'>>[[Continue|14.ish]]<<else>>[[Continue|14.kek]]<</if>> The gazebo feels quieter now that $rtheir relatives have gone gone, their chatter and laughter fading into the distance as they wander deeper into the radiant gardens. You remain seated with $rname, the two of you watching their retreating figures in companionable silence. For a moment, you almost wish the quiet would last, that you could sit here forever with the scents of enchanted blossoms in the air and $rname at your side. But curiosity presses at you, and the words slip out before you can stop them. “Your family seems kind,” you say softly. “They care for you deeply.” $rname’s lips curve faintly, though $rtheir eyes stay on the flowerbeds. “They always have. Even when I made things difficult.” There’s a rueful tilt to $rtheir voice, as though $rthey’s half-amused, half-haunted by old memories. You tilt your head. “Why haven’t they visited before? You’ve never spoken of them being at the palace.” At that, $rname finally turns to look at you, and $rtheir smile falters just enough to make you notice. “I don’t want them anywhere near the Imperial Court.” $crthey glances at $rtheir uncle and cousins, who are marveling at the flowerbeds with glittering petals as one of your servants leads them towards one of the lakes. “But they insisted on it today, considering our departure soon.” A suspicion alights in your mind as you watch $rname closely. “Do they know about how you fell into a coma?” $rname avoids your eyes, and you frown. “$rname—” “They don’t need to know,” $rthey says hurriedly, looking down at $rtheir hand and fiddling with the bracelet you gifted $rthem. “It would only upset them.” Something about those words strikes a chord, your shoulders tensing and an ugly feeling twisting in your gut. “So you’re going to keep them in the dark?” Discomfort grows across $rname’s posture like vines, tightening around $rtheir shoulders. “I take it you disapprove.” Your mouth opens and closes as you try to think of a response. Maybe your own past is coloring how you see this, and it would be better not to have $rname’s family worry about something that has already been resolved. On the other hand, if $rname tried to hide something like that from you, you would be far from happy. You’d be hurt. “I’ll keep it a secret if that’s what you want,” you finally say, not wanting to dictate how $rname should act even if you are ill at ease with the notion. $rname takes a breath, as if bracing $rthemselves, and then says, “Tell me honestly, $name. I want to hear what you really think.” <ul class="a"> <li>[[“I understand your concern. Maybe it’s better this way.”|14.ro11a][$rpoints -= 4]]</li> <li>[[“You’re lying to them.”|14.ro11b]]</li> <li>[[“This won’t protect them, this will only hurt them.”|14.ro11c][$rpoints += 4]]</li></ul><<if visited("14.ro11a") is 1>><<if $rpoints gte 20>><<set $rrelationship to 'high'>><<set $rhighcount += 1>><<else>><<set $rrelationship to 'low'>><<set $rlowcount += 1>><</if>><</if>>You meet $rname’s eyes as you reply, and though something uneasy coils in your chest, you swallow it down. Relief softens $rname’s posture, the tension in $rtheir shoulders loosening as $rthey exhales. “I hoped you would see it as I do.” $crtheir hand drifts to the bracelet you made, thumb stroking across the bead as if for reassurance. “They’ve endured enough already. Why should I make them carry more?” You nod slowly, though inside your thoughts churn. The unease gnaws at you, reminding you of nights long ago when you traveled beside your parents who exchanged silent looks, and you sensed the weight of things they never told you. Secrets cloaked in smiles, reassurances that “everything is fine,” even as danger closed in around your family. You had raged against that secrecy, once. When they were gone, and the truth came tumbling out too late, you had sworn never to do the same. Yet now… Perhaps they were right. Perhaps it was better, kinder even, to carry the burden alone, to let others remain untouched. What you never knew couldn’t wound you. What was hidden couldn’t poison you. The thought tastes bitter, but you cling to it all the same, because it makes $rname’s decision easier to accept. “You’re right,” you say again, more firmly now, as though repeating the words will make them truer. “Why should they bear it when it’s already passed? Let them keep their peace.” $rname’s eyes soften, and when $rthey smiles at you, it’s with gratitude that cuts deeper than you expect. $crthey leans closer across your seats, brushing a soft kiss to the corner of your mouth. “Thank you,” $rthey whispers. “You always understand me.” The warmth of $rtheir closeness should soothe you, but it doesn’t. Instead, a faint chill lingers beneath your ribs, coiled tight with the memory of your parents’ smiles. You tell yourself you’re doing better this time, and that this isn’t weakness, but wisdom. That encouraging $rname in $rtheir choice is a kindness. But a small, stubborn part of you knows it isn’t true. That same part whispers: <em>What would you have wanted, if your parents had trusted you with the truth? Would you not have wanted the chance to carry it with them?</em> You push the thought aside, burying it where it can’t touch the moment. $rname doesn’t need to see your doubts. $crthey sighs softly, content, $rtheir fingers still brushing the bracelet. “It’s good to know you’re by my side, $name.” You force a smile, letting $rthem see only the steadiness $rthey craves. “Always.” $rname beams, and for now, that seems enough. Yet in the quiet recesses of your mind, doubt crawls through its shadows, unspoken and unresolved. After a few moments longer of sitting with you, $rname rises from $rtheir chair to follow after $rtheir relatives. You see $rthem off as $rthey joins $rtheir uncle and cousins by one of the lakes, your smile turning a touch somber as you watch $rname converse happily with $rtheir family, until the light of your gaze dims entirely. $rname's company diverted you from thinking about it, at least for a while, but in $rtheir absence there is nothing to keep that gaping maw inside of you at bay. Now, it waits for you with its hungering jaws spread wide. You sit in the shadows of the gazebo, quiet and alone. The solitude does not last long, but then, you are never entirely by yourself to begin with. Soon enough a servant appears to remind you of your upcoming tutoring class in Arsurian history. Rising to your feet, you leave the gazebo’s shade behind, facing the daylight once more. <<if $ishrah is 'absent'>>[[Continue|14.ish]]<<else>>[[Continue|14.kek]]<</if>><<if visited("14.ro11b") is 1>><<if $rpoints gte 20>><<set $rrelationship to 'high'>><<set $rhighcount += 1>><<else>><<set $rrelationship to 'low'>><<set $rlowcount += 1>><</if>><</if>>The words leave your mouth sharper than you intend, pointed as a blade. You see the way $rname flinches, as though struck. Not outwardly, not with anger, but inwardly, as if the air itself has turned heavy around $rthem. $crtheir hand stills against the bracelet you gave $rthem, fingers tightening over the lavender bead. For a heartbeat, $rthey doesn’t answer. You press on, unable to stop yourself, heat rising in your chest. “I know you’re trying to protect them, but hiding the truth is still lying. You don’t see what that does to people. I do. I’ve lived it.” Memories coil sharp in your mind: your parents’ reassurances, their silences, the secrets they carried until it was too late. That bitter weight bleeds into your voice: “When you keep them in the dark, you take away their choice. You pretend they’re fragile, when maybe they deserve the truth more than anyone.” $rname’s gaze flickers up to you, pained, before sliding down again. $crthey doesn’t argue. $crthey doesn’t bristle. $crthey simply draws in on $rthemselves, shoulders curling ever so slightly, posture shrinking as if to make $rthemselves smaller in your presence. The sight makes your throat tighten, but the words are already out, raw and irreversible. “I…” $rname swallows hard, staring at the table. $crtheir voice is quiet, subdued. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I’m just a liar.” The way $rthey says it makes your heart twist. You hadn’t meant it that way, not entirely. You wanted $rthem to see, to understand that secrets have a cost, and that silence can wound as deeply as any blade. But your delivery was blunt, merciless, and you can see how the accusation digs into the fragile places $rname already carries within $rthem. $crthey rubs at the bracelet again, as though it might anchor $rthem, but $rtheir hand trembles faintly. “I only thought… I wanted to spare them. If that makes me deceitful, then I suppose I’ll have to bear it.” The words gut you in a different way, guilt threading through your agitation. You meant to guide $rthem, not cut $rthem down. You let out a slow breath, softening your tone. “$rname, I didn’t mean—” $rname shakes $rtheir head, still avoiding your gaze. “It’s alright. You’ve said what you think. I asked for honesty, after all.” The quiet that follows is heavy, filled with the perfume of flowers and the distant murmur of $rtheir family’s laughter. $rname doesn’t look up, and though $rthey doesn’t push you away, $rtheir silence says enough. You sit with it, frustration and regret both knotting inside you, knowing you struck too hard, too quickly. Yet even so, a small, stubborn part of you clings to the belief that you weren’t wrong, only that you failed to say it gently enough. After a few moments longer of sitting with you, $rname quietly rises from $rtheir chair to follow after $rtheir relatives. You see $rthem off as $rthey joins $rtheir uncle and cousins by one of the lakes, your expression turning a touch somber as you watch $rname converse happily with $rtheir family, until the light of your gaze dims entirely. You remain in the shadows of the gazebo, quiet and alone. The solitude does not last long, but then, you are never entirely by yourself to begin with. Soon enough a servant appears to remind you of your upcoming tutoring class in Arsurian history. Rising to your feet, you leave the gazebo’s shade behind, facing the daylight once more. <<if $ishrah is 'absent'>>[[Continue|14.ish]]<<else>>[[Continue|14.kek]]<</if>><<if visited("14.ro11c") is 1>><<if $rpoints gte 20>><<set $rrelationship to 'high'>><<set $rhighcount += 1>><<else>><<set $rrelationship to 'low'>><<set $rlowcount += 1>><</if>><</if>>$rname’s fingers pause on the bracelet, the lavender bead glinting faintly. $crthey frowns, lips parting as if to argue, but no words come. You lean forward, keeping your voice steady. “I know you want to shield them, and I get that, but hiding the truth does nothing but leave them blind.” A bitter heat swells in your chest as old memories stir: your parents’ reassuring smiles, their evasions, their half-truths. You remember the hollow ache of realizing too late what they had kept from you, the way their silence had felt like betrayal. You swallow hard, then press on, your voice lowering as you open yourself up and bare your own vulnerability in the hopes that $rthey will understand. “I would have given anything to carry those burdens with my parents instead of being left in the dark. Anything.” $rname looks up at you then, startled by the rawness in your voice. You soften, gentling the edge of your tone. “Do you really think your family wouldn’t want the same? To share your pain, to shoulder it with you? Don’t you think it would wound them more to learn, someday, that you chose to bear it all alone?” $rname’s breath catches. $crtheir shoulders tighten, then release in a slow, weary exhale. “I… I only want to keep them from worrying,” $rthey says, voice thin, fraying at the edges. “But you’re saying I’m only building walls between us.” You nod, gaze steady on $rtheirs. “Walls crumble, $rname. Sooner or later, the truth breaks through. And when it does, it’s crueler than if you had spoken it from the start.” For a long, quiet moment, $rname studies you, the tension in $rtheir hands and shoulders betraying the storm of emotions twisting inside $rthem. Finally, $rthey releases the bracelet and takes your hand instead, $rtheir grip warm and tight. Almost desperate. “You’re right,” $rthey decides, the words quiet but resolute, something of shame flickering in $rtheir eyes. “I thought keeping it from them would be for the best, but selfishly, maybe I was only trying to make it easier for myself.” You squeeze their hand, shaking your head. “You wanted to spare them. That doesn’t make you selfish, or a bad person. A little overprotective, maybe.” While you phrase it that way, you suspect it is much deeper than that: you saw it within $rtheir very own mind, how desperate $rthey was to provide for $rtheir family. To prove they hadn’t made a mistake when they took $rthem in, just as how $rthey spent years trying to prove Lady Zerya hadn’t made a mistake when she chose $rname as a successor. It’s not really $rname being overprotective. It’s a lifelong conviction ingrained into $rtheir very sense of self that $rthey isn’t worth it: not worth being cared for, not worth being chosen, and not worth being worried over. That $rtheir only value is in what $rthey can do for others. You want more than anything to make $rthem see that $rthey <em>is</em> worth it, but you know changing $rname’s perspective of $rthemselves is not something you can enforce in a single conversation by simply saying it. All you can do is be there for $rthem, and prove as many times as it takes that you cherish $rthem not because of what $rthey can do for you, but because of who $rthey is. Maybe, eventually, it will help $rthem see $rthemselves through your eyes. As for $rname, something in the words you say to $rthem seems to get through. The guardedness in $rtheir posture eases, and $rtheir expression, though shadowed with guilt, glows faintly with relief. $crthey leans in then, $rtheir forehead pressing lightly to yours as you meet $rthem halfway, $rtheir breath warm against your lips. “Thank you,” $rthey murmurs. “For saying what I needed to hear, even if I didn’t want to hear it.” You close your eyes briefly, letting the closeness wash through you. The hurt, the doubt, and the guilt all linger, but so does the connection. Stronger now, steadier. In this moment, $rname trusts you more than ever. $crthey sits with you a while longer, almost seeming reluctant to leave, but eventually rises from $rtheir chair to follow after $rtheir relatives. You see $rthem off as $rthey joins $rtheir uncle and cousins by one of the lakes, your smile turning a touch somber as you watch $rthem converse happily with $rtheir family, until the light of your gaze dims entirely. $rname's company diverted you from thinking about it, at least for a while, but in $rtheir absence there is nothing to keep that gaping maw inside of you at bay. Now, it waits for you with its hungering jaws spread wide. You sit in the shadows of the gazebo, quiet and alone. The solitude does not last long, but then, you are never entirely by yourself to begin with. Soon enough a servant appears to remind you of your upcoming tutoring class in Arsurian history. Rising to your feet, you leave the gazebo’s shade behind, facing the daylight once more. <<if $ishrah is 'absent'>>[[Continue|14.ish]]<<else>>[[Continue|14.kek]]<</if>> You keep your tone mild. “Your concern is noted, steward. Though I assure you, there’s no danger in a family visit.” Welat’s gaze flickers, almost a blink. “One can never be too certain, my liege. Strangers bring stories. Stories bring ears. And Marabad, as we both know, has always been receptive to whispers.” You let out a slow breath, careful not to betray the spiking of irritation rising under your skin. “If there are whispers worth hearing, you may speak them plainly.” He smiles again, slight and polite. “Plain speech has its time and place. But some truths fare better unspoken, lest they draw attention they do not deserve.” The corridor seems longer suddenly, the air strained. You think of the prisoners in Marabad’s cells, and of what Welat might have been involved in. Your heart lurches as you wonder, briefly, if he knows that you know. “I appreciate your vigilance,” you say at last, keeping your expression and your voice steady, your gaze piercing a golden glow reflected in the dark of Welat’s eyes. “But you needn’t concern yourself with my court’s personal affairs. The safety of my people is my most important duty, and should they come to harm, I would rest at nothing to seek justice on their behalf.” <em>You will pay</em>. “Of course.” His tone is agreeable, but his eyes become eerily still as he stares back at you. “Forgive my overstep. One only wishes to see stability preserved. The people of Marabad and of Arsur place much faith in you, Your Imperial Majesty. I would hate for that faith to waver, should complications arise.” The tip of a dagger gleams in the shadows, aimed at your throat. You hold his gaze until the silence breaks under its own weight. “I’ll remember that.” He inclines his head again, courteous as ever. “As will I.” For a heartbeat, neither of you move. Then Welat steps aside, gesturing with a subtle tilt of his head. “Please, go on. I would not delay you.” You pass him slowly, each step measured, your senses tuned to every faint sound—the rustle of his coat, the click of his shoes on the marble floor. He does not turn to watch you go, but somehow you feel the weight of his awareness lingering, a shadow following at your back long after you’ve turned the corner. Only when he’s gone from sight do you let the tension drain from your posture with a heavy exhale. [[Continue|14.9frb]] You continue down the hall, but the stillness no longer feels like a peaceful one. Without noticing half the turns you take, you make it back to your chambers. The corridors are empty now: the palace feels hollow, its silence thick enough to swallow footsteps. When you turn to close your doors behind you, the sound is far too loud. You stand there for a moment, palms braced against the carved surface, letting the quiet breathe around you. Welat’s voice still coils in your head with a warning wrapped in courtesy, the kind that draws blood. Slowly crossing the room, you walk past the windows where the afternoon sun looms oppressive. Beside them is your desk, covered in letters, reports, half-written decrees. You sink into the chair, staring at the ink-stained pen waiting beside the open inkwell. The faint reflection in its surface catches your eyes—unearthly, too bright for the dim room. You rub a hand over your face, trying to chase away the ache behind your eyes. You can still hear $rname’s voice from earlier, soft and uncertain: <em>You don’t have to meet them if you’d prefer not to</em>. $crthey had given you an easy out, and you’d taken it. Too easily, maybe. Now, you picture $rthem with $rtheir family: smiling politely as $rthey explains your absence, perhaps, while $rtheir uncle measures every glance and word. You wonder what they’ll say about you. Your fingers drum restlessly against the desk. Welat’s veiled warnings settle deeper, sinking like silt into the water of your thoughts. If he knows of $rname’s family visit, what else does he know? How long before those “stories” turn to leverage? How long before someone decides that to hurt you, they must first reach the ones who matter to you? You think of your parents, and of how quickly affection became a weapon in your enemies’ hands. Of the assassination that tore through your life like a jagged blade, and how easily it all unraveled because someone knew where to strike. The lesson has always been there. You simply forgot it for a while. <<if $ishrah is 'absent'>>[[Continue|14.ish]]<<else>>[[Continue|14.kek]]<</if>><<if visited("14.9frb") gte 1>>Not long after your encounter with Welat a servant visits your chambers to alert you to your upcoming tutoring lessons in Arsurian history. You are thankful for the distraction for once: if you're too busy thinking about the reigns of past Crowns, that's less time you can spend stewing in your own thoughts. <</if>>The afternoon has settled deeper by the time you return to your chambers after your classes, and you take another walk through the gardens to clear your head from all the knowledge you have stuffed it with over the past two hours. The air carries the warmed-over scent of earth and sweet floral notes, tinged with magic, and it clings to your <<if $clothing is 'dress' or $clothing is 'robes'>>$clothing<<else>>tunic and $clothing<</if>> as you enter a side entrance and continue to your quarters. Your overfilled mind is soothed by the sound of birdsong as you sit on the chair at your desk, their harmonies especially loud at the twilight hour. You are halfway through unlacing your sandals when a knock sounds against the door. “Ishrah?” you call, recognizing the quick, light rhythm. The door opens only partway, and Ishrah slips inside with a smile, bowing deeply before closing it behind her. Her small frame seems almost swallowed by the lamplight of your chambers, but her eyes gleam with purpose. “Have you been well, Crown $name?” she asks, and you gesture for her to come closer. “Siham took great care of me, don’t worry.” You watch as she smooths out a wrinkle in the skirt of her white dress. “I’m more interested in hearing what you’ve been up to.” “You asked that I keep watch on Keeper Bazo, and I did,” she says. Her usual bubbly demeanor is more subdued than usual. “He has taken his leave.” You nod for her to continue, and she produces a small folded sheet of papyrus from her sleeve. “He stayed the full three days, but there was something odd. During his visit, he had a guest. Lord Samal?” Your brow furrows. “Mîr Behram’s representative?” “Yes.” Ishrah sounds certain, fidgeting slightly as she shifts around a bit on her feet, restless. “They met twice. The first time in the guest wing, the second in Keeper Bazo’s quarters.” You shift in your chair to turn to her more fully, folding your arms in thought. “Strange. What business could the Mîr of Rojan possibly have with a diplomat from Şevan?” Ishrah hesitates, then shakes her head. “Keeper Bazo dismissed me both times when Lord Samal arrived. When I returned later, I noticed they put up silencing wards in the room, so I couldn’t overhear anything.” You exhale slowly, fingers drumming against the table. “Convenient.” The map of the Empire flickers across your mind’s eye. Şevan, far to the south, torn apart by civil war; Rojan here in the north, relatively stable but restless; and the central province of Zerat, where Mîr Mêrxas has already begun to whisper and maneuver. Hiring mercenaries, is what $xname told you. One province in flames, another peering across the borders like a vulture, and now this—northern hands reaching southward. It doesn’t add up. Or perhaps it adds up all too well. You rise, pacing slowly toward the tall window overlooking the palace gardens. “If Lord Samal is meeting with Şevan’s envoy, it’s not diplomacy. It’s division.” Ishrah tilts her head, not understanding. “You think they’re up to something?” “Maybe.” You pause, staring out at the lamp of a patrolling palace guard who walks down the garden lanes. “But if Rojan and Zerat both have eyes on Şevan, then it’s for a reason. I don’t believe for one second Mîr Behram or Mîr Mêrxas would be offering aid out of the goodness of their hearts. They want something out of this, something to benefit them.” Şevan is the most important province for trade with Qathesh and beyond, after all: it is a direct line to the rest of the continent. Anyone who controls Şevan controls a substantial part of the resources that enter and leave the Arsurian Empire. Whether Mîr Mêrxas and Mîr Behram are colluding on this seems unlikely, however. Mîr Mêrxas seemed antagonistic toward Keeper Bazo when Bazo failed to appear at your coronation, while Behram defended Bazo. Even if they both have an interest in Şevan, they are approaching the situation from different angles. You look back up at Ishrah. “Well done, Ishrah. This was valuable information.” Ishrah smiles, a pleased blush of pink dusting her cheeks. “I’m glad to be of use.” She clears her throat, slipping back into the role of a servant rather than a spy. “Would you like to invite anyone to your quarters for supper?” While it has become a habit to share meals with your friends and companions, tonight, you can’t seem to muster the energy to entertain any more social interaction. “That’s alright,” you reply. “I’d rather have some time by myself.” She inclines her head in understanding, and quietly leaves your chambers again. <<if $afriend is true and $xfriend is true>>[[Continue|14.12]]<<else>><<if $afriend is false>>[[Continue|14.a1]]<<else>>[[Continue|14.x1]]<</if>><</if>><<if visited("14.9frb") gte 1>>Not long after your encounter with Welat a servant visits your chambers to alert you to your upcoming tutoring lessons in Arsurian history. You are thankful for the distraction for once: if you're too busy thinking about the reigns of past Crowns, that's less time you can spend stewing in your own thoughts. <</if>>The afternoon has settled deeper by the time you return to your chambers after your classes, and you take another walk through the gardens to clear your head from all the knowledge you have stuffed it with over the past two hours. The air carries the warmed-over scent of earth and sweet floral notes, tinged with magic, and it clings to your <<if $clothing is 'dress' or $clothing is 'robes'>>$clothing<<else>>tunic and $clothing<</if>> as you enter a side entrance and continue to your quarters. Your overfilled mind is soothed by the sound of birdsong as you sit on the chair at your desk, their harmonies especially loud at the twilight hour. You are halfway through unlacing your sandals when a knock sounds against the door. “Keko?” you call, recognizing the steady, unhurried rhythm. The door opens without hesitation. The old servant bows his head with the ease of long habit, his silver-streaked hair gathered neatly at the nape. The lines on his face are carved deep by years of discretion, yet his eyes are as sharp as a hawk’s. He closes the door behind him, stepping inside, and you wait for him to speak. <<if visited("13.8.lol") gte 1>>“Keeper Bazo remains confined, Your Imperial Majesty,” Keko says after a beat. “The guards report he has spoken little.” You lean back in your chair. “He will stay there until dawn, after which he will be free to return to Şevan.” Keko nods, the motion slow. “As you command.” His eyes flick briefly toward the sight of the gardens through the windows before settling back on you. “The Imperial Court speaks in hushed whispers. They recall you had once forgiven Keeper Bazo, and now they find themselves uncertain which voice of yours they ought to believe.” The words are deliberate and mild, yet they land heavily. Your friends had told you the decision would not reflect well on you, but you chose not to listen to their advice, but it’s too late to turn back now. You draw a measured breath. “They forget that forgiveness must be earned. His absence at my coronation was an insult, and I realized the consequences of letting him off easy.” “I do not think they forget,” Keko replies, his tone still courteous. “I think they measure, Your Imperial Majesty. The heart of a ruler is a compass to those beneath it. When it shifts, they wonder where north has gone.” You rise, pacing toward the tall window. The gardens now lie in shadow after the sun’s setting, only the glint of torchlight moving between the hedges. “North remains where it always was,” you state, crossing your arms. “Let them wonder.” A faint breath escapes Keko, half a sigh, half something like amusement. You glance over your shoulder at the sound. “You think this makes me weak?” “I think it will raise questions,” Keko answers. “But perhaps that is your design. Sometimes the display of contradiction unsettles more effectively than any decree. There may be benefits to being seen as unpredictable.” You turn fully, studying him. “You speak as though you’ve known Crowns to use such strategies.” “Both intentionally and not,” he says, meeting your gaze without faltering. “Few with grace enough to survive the consequences.” You wonder if he speaks of Ferzan. The thought is disquieting, and you cross the room and pour a measure of water into a cup, just to have something to do with your hands. Your feet keep pacing, whereas Keko hasn’t moved from his spot since he entered the room. “Bazo will remain where he is,” you say finally. “If I free him now, they’ll see indecision. If I keep him, they’ll see resolve.” “Or stubbornness,” Keko comments, without edge. You lift the cup without any intention of drinking it, holding it in front of you like some kind of shield to the anxiety that begins to press in on you. Your reply is an attempt to press it down, little more than a facade: “He came to test me, so let him sit with the answer.” Keko inclines his head slightly, the faintest gleam of acknowledgment in his eyes—not of your logic, but of the tension in your shoulders. “He will have time to ponder it, certainly. Whether that is a good thing…” He trails off, and then bows precise and unhurried, as though closing a conversation that has stretched across years. “Would you like to invite anyone to your quarters for supper?” While it has become a habit to share meals with your friends and companions, tonight, you can’t seem to muster the energy to entertain any more social interaction. “That’s alright,” you reply. “I’d rather have some time by myself.” He inclines his head in understanding, and quietly leaves your chambers again.<</if>><<if visited("13.8.rip") gte 1>>“You’ve been informed already, I assume,” Keko says. You lean back in your chair. “About Keeper Bazo?” Keko inclines his head. “He has departed Marabad after his brief imprisonment.” There’s no reproach in his tone, though the faintest thread of curiosity laces his words—you did change your mind on keeping Bazo imprisoned at the urging of your companions, after all. You clasp your hands atop your lap, searching for composure that still feels foreign after the decision. “It was necessary.” “So it was.” Keko approaches, the soft brush of his steps barely disturbing the hush of the room. “The dungeons are quieter for it, yet the halls are louder.” You glance up sharply. “Louder?” Keko’s expression remains mild. “People speak, Your Imperial Majesty. They marvel at the mercy you’ve shown, after having declared otherwise. The second time you have changed your mind.” You exhale through your nose, watching the play of lamplight across the marble. “You think I look indecisive.” “I think,” Keko replies gently, “that you have chosen to correct an error publicly made, after listening to the wisdom of your confidantes. That takes a kind of courage, even if it appears uncertain to those who cannot see the reason beneath it.” The words carry the weight of measured counsel, no more or less than intended. You rise, crossing toward the window that overlooks the gardens. Night has begun to bloom there, the scent of jasmine drifting in with the cool air. “Did Bazo say anything upon leaving?” you ask. “He bowed,” Keko says. “A deep one. Though whether in respect or calculation, I cannot say. He did not protest, nor did he thank you.” You watch the faint shimmer of torchlight along the garden paths, the guards tracing their nightly routes. “And what do you make of him?” Keko hesitates, as if weighing every word. “He is a man who learns from examples. You have given him two: punishment and pardon. He will decide which serves him best.” A tightness coils beneath your ribs. You recall Bazo’s careful smile during your first meeting, his cautious diplomacy, the subtle way he tested your boundaries. You wonder now if releasing him has undone what authority you meant to assert—or if mercy will prove the sharper blade in the long run. Keko bows again. “If I may offer a thought, Your Imperial Majesty.” You nod. “I have found those like Keeper Bazo reveal themselves quickest when they think they are free.” You regard him sidelong. For all his deference, there’s something in his tone, a quiet knowing that suggests his service has carried him through matters deeper than folded linens and dinner schedules. “Thank you, Keko,” you say softly. His lips press into a faint smile. “Would you like to invite anyone to your quarters for supper?” While it has become a habit to share meals with your friends and companions, tonight, you can’t seem to muster the energy to entertain any more social interaction. “That’s alright,” you reply. “I’d rather have some time by myself.” He inclines his head in understanding, and quietly leaves your chambers again.<</if>><<if visited("13.4cnotforgiven") gte 1>>“Your Imperial Majesty,” he greets, voice low. “Keeper Bazo remains confined, as ordered. He will be released come dawn.” You nod, leaning back against your chair. “And?” “He is quiet,” Keko replies. “Too quiet. I have spoken with the guards—he asks for no comforts, no messages, only water and a place to pray.” You tilt your head, considering. “A devout man, then.” “Perhaps. Or one who wishes to appear so.” Keko steps forward, his hands clasped neatly behind his back. “He knows eyes are upon him, and silence can be as deliberate as speech.” The lamplight sharpens the lines of his face, turning them almost severe. You study him for a moment before asking, “Do you disagree with my decision?” “I do not presume to disagree,” Keko says, but there’s something measured beneath it. “I only wonder what lesson you wish him to learn.” You rise, pacing toward the tall window. Beyond it, the gardens are a wash of shadow, the lamps along the path flickering gold. “That disrespect will not be tolerated,” you say. “Then the lesson is clear.” There is no judgment in Keko’s voice. “Whether he learns it, however, is another matter.” You turn back, studying the old servant. He stands utterly composed, neither deferential nor defiant. His presence carries the gravity of someone who has seen rulers rise and fall. “He’ll understand authority,” you say. “That is, if he wishes to avoid punishment.” “Undoubtedly,” Keko replies. “Though authority without trust is a brittle thing. Too much pressure, and it shatters.” He lets the thought hang between you. “A sovereign’s strength is measured as much by restraint as resolve.” You cross your arms. “You think I’ve gone too far?” “I think,” he says evenly, “that you have reminded both the keeper and your court of your power. Now that they know you are not afraid to wield it, they will watch what you do with it. That may make you a Crown to be respected, or a threat to be feared.” The words strike a chord. You know what the whispers must be: too harsh, too proud, too eager to make a statement. Yet beneath those murmurs, another note hums: fear, respect, awareness. The Empire is watching, and for now, it knows who commands it. “Would you like to invite anyone to your quarters for supper?” Keko says when you remain silent. While it has become a habit to share meals with your friends and companions, tonight, you can’t seem to muster the energy to entertain any more social interaction. “That’s alright,” you reply. “I’d rather have some time by myself.” He inclines his head in understanding, and quietly leaves your chambers again.<</if>><<if visited("13.4bforgiven") gte 1 or visited("13.4bnotforgiven") gte 1>>“You’ve been informed already, I assume,” Keko says. You lean back in your chair. “About Keeper Bazo?” Keko inclines his head. “He has departed Marabad.” You lean back into your chair. “Without issue, I take it?” Keko inclines his head. “He left quietly earlier this morning. His attendants packed the last of his belongings before sunrise. There was no disturbance.” “Good,” you say, though the word lands halfheartedly. You’d chosen leniency three days ago, and it still sits in your chest like something both merciful and naive. Keko takes a few steps closer, his eyes briefly drifting towards the view of the gardens with contemplation, before it returns to you. “You did what many would call generous. Some in the Imperial Court were surprised.” “Surprised?” You arch your brows, uncertain how to interpret that. “Do they think generosity unbecoming of a ruler?” He allows himself a faint, knowing smile. “They think generosity invites testing. Still, Keeper Bazo will remember that you chose mercifully.” You study him in the faint illumination of your chambers. The old servant’s face gives little away, but the pause in his breath carries something unspoken. “You think I should have done otherwise.” “I think,” Keko replies, eyes on the lamplight trembling across the floor, “that if Keeper Bazo left the city without incident, it means he still fears what might follow if he missteps again. You achieved what punishment would have done, without dirtying your hands.” You let out a heavy breath through your nose. “I hope you’re right.” The chamber grows quieter. You listen to the night birds beyond the window, and to the shuffle of Keko’s robe as he adjusts his sleeves—it isn’t a fidgeting gesture, but calm and measuring. When he speaks again, his tone softens, the steel beneath it almost hidden. “The keeper’s public declaration of an apology will cause some talk,” he says. “Still, if you wish to hold the provinces steady, sometimes letting a small slight pass teaches restraint better than chains.” You meet his gaze, a new thought dawning on you. “You’ve advised Crowns before, haven’t you?” He only smiles, hands clasping behind his back. “I’ve poured tea for them, Your Imperial Majesty. That is close enough.” You can’t tell whether he’s deflecting or confessing. He bows again and retreats toward the door. Right before opening it, he pauses, turning back to you and asking, “Would you like to invite anyone to your quarters for supper?” While it has become a habit to share meals with your friends and companions, tonight, you can’t seem to muster the energy to entertain any more social interaction. “That’s alright,” you reply. “I’d rather have some time by myself.” He inclines his head in understanding, and quietly leaves your chambers again.<</if>><<if visited("13.4aforgiven") gte 1 or visited("13.4anotforgiven") gte 1>>“Keeper Bazo departed the city in the morning, Your Imperial Majesty,” Keko says. “His retinue joined him on the southern road an hour past.” You lean back into your chair. “No incidents, I assume?” “None.” He moves with habitual precision, adjusting a lamp’s flame with a flicker of magic from his palm until its light steadies. “He gave his farewells at the outer gate and thanked the palace guard for their courtesy.” You nod, your thoughts already drifting to what whispers may be roaming in court because of your leniency. “I wonder whether forgiveness will be taken for softness.” Keko’s brow lifts. “Perhaps. Or perhaps for confidence. The ones most certain of their power can afford to forgive.” His words carry an edge of observation rather than flattery. You appreciate that about him: his candor never feels insolent, only deliberate. “Confidence,” you repeat, giving a wry smile. “That may be too generous a word for it.” He steps closer, folding his hands behind him. “The keeper’s absence at your coronation wounded pride, not law. Letting him walk away spared the court a spectacle, and reminded him he serves a Crown capable of grace—he and his people, I am certain, will remember that.” Keko speaks of the loyalists in Şevan. You glance at him, searching his face. There’s something in the set of his shoulders, the tempered certainty of someone who has weighed such choices before. “You speak as though you’ve made such decisions yourself.” “I have served long enough to see the costs,” Keko answers. He glances toward the window, where the sky deepens to amber. “Those who rule through fear must stay awake to guard it. Those who rule through loyalty sleep more soundly.” You huff a quiet breath, halfway between amusement and resignation. “You make it sound simple.” He gives a faint smile. “Age simplifies everything, Your Imperial Majesty. Eventually.” The lamplight plays across the lines of his face as he bows once more. “Would you like to invite anyone to your quarters for supper?” While it has become a habit to share meals with your friends and companions, tonight, you can’t seem to muster the energy to entertain any more social interaction. “That’s alright,” you reply. “I’d rather have some time by myself.” He inclines his head in understanding, and quietly leaves your chambers again.<</if>> <<if $afriend is true and $xfriend is true>>[[Continue|14.12]]<<else>><<if $afriend is false>>[[Continue|14.a1]]<<else>>[[Continue|14.x1]]<</if>><</if>><<if $ishrah is 'absent'>>Morning light spills through the tall arched windows of your quartersl, glinting off silverware and the polished rims of teacups. The scent of cardamom and bread drifts through the air, mingling with the rich aroma of tea. You sit at the long table with your companions, as has become a bit of a habit. The morning carries a quiet sense of expectation, as though everyone feels the same restless hum beneath the surface. <<if $xfriend is false>>You try not to make eye-contact with $xname, who sits at the table with a far too pleased look on $xtheir face: $xthey greatly enjoyed the raised brows of your friends when they found you both in your chambers, dressed in your nightrobes. At least they were all gracious enough not to remark on it.<</if>><<if $dfriend is false>>You try to keep from staring at $dname whenever you feel your eyes drift over, but you can't help it. The preparations for the expedition have taken up so much time, you've hardly spoken to $dthem again after the last time in the courtyard. The conversation has been haunting you, turning over in your mind countless times times like flipping a coin over and over, as if it would give you the desired result.<</if>><<if $afriend is false>>You try not to stare too obviously at $aname, especially considering last night. $cathey is acting the same as $athey always does, however, and you envy $atheir composure<<if visited("14.a4bb")>>, though you don't know whether to take that as a good sign or not<</if>>.<</if>> $rname pours your tea before seating $rthemselves while the others chatter around you. You murmur a quiet word of thanks, then lift your cup to your lips, <<if $magicpref is 'inner'>>coating your mouth and throat with your magic to protect against the heat of the tea<<else>>blowing on the tea with a hint of magic to cool it faster<</if>> before taking a sip. “You’re unusually quiet this morning,” $rthey notes, eyes flicking toward you. <<if visited("14.ro11b") gte 1>>You feel relief when you realize $rthey's not holding your disagreement yesterday against you.<</if>> You set your cup down with a soft clink. “I had a visit from Ishrah last night,” you say. “She brought news about Keeper Bazo.” The conversation stills. Even $xname, halfway through a bite of bread, pauses mid-chew. You nod to Ishrah, who straightens in her seat beside Siham. “During the keeper’s three-day stay,” you explain, “he was visited by Lord Samal. Twice.” $dname’s brow creases. “Mîr Behram’s representative? That’s highly irregular. The two provinces have little business between them.” “None that we know of,” you agree. “Ishrah wasn’t able to overhear what they discussed. The ambassador dismissed her before Samal’s arrival, and silencing wards were cast on the room.” $dname exhales sharply through $dtheir nose. “That alone is suspect. Wards mean they wanted secrecy, and secrecy means stakes.” $xname leans forward in $xtheir seat on the pillow, arms crossed loosely over $xtheir chest. “Maybe Behram is backing one of the factions fighting down in Şevan. Coin, trade, influence: that kind of thing always finds its way to whoever promises the better return.” $aname frowns. “And which faction would that be? The loyalists or the rebels?” $xname shrugs. “That’s the problem. I can’t see him siding with the loyalists. Helping them win only makes the Crown stronger, and that’s the last thing Behram would want.” $cxthey lifts a hand to $xtheir chin, thoughtful. “But helping the rebels makes even less sense. If Şevan breaks free, the other provinces might get ideas.” You stir your tea quietly. “So whatever Mîr Behram wants, it isn’t stability.” “Or loyalty,” $dname adds. “Which is even more concerning.” $rname has been silent until now, fingertips resting lightly on the rim of $rtheir cup. $crtheir gaze drifts toward you before $rthey finally speaks. “Then perhaps we can’t yet see the shape of it,” $rthey says, voice calm but thoughtful. “If we start guessing too early, we’ll only see what we expect to see.” You incline your head, conceding the point. “So what do you suggest?” “For now?” $rname looks around the table. “We keep it in the back of our minds. When we visit Şevan we’ll have a clearer picture, and the chance to follow up in person.” $dname nods. “Agreed. No sense chasing shadows before dawn.” You sip your tea again, letting the flavors settle on your tongue, but your thoughts remain elsewhere—on Şevan’s burning lands, on the whispering Mîrs, and on the ever-tightening circle of ambitions closing in on the Empire. The morning feels bright, but the day ahead is already weighted with tension.<<else>>Morning sunlight filters through tall windows, catching on crystal pitchers of juice and plates of fruit and warm bread. You and your companions are gathered at the long breakfast table, laughter and chatter weaving easily between spoon clinks and the soft murmur of servants. <<if visited("14.ro11b") gte 1>>$rname in particular is back to treating you affectionately again, and you feel relief when you realize $rthey's not holding your disagreement yesterday against you.<</if>> <<if $xfriend is false>>You try not to make eye-contact with $xname, who sits at the table with a far too pleased look on $xtheir face: $xthey greatly enjoyed the raised brows of your friends when they found you both in your chambers, dressed in your nightrobes. At least they were all gracious enough not to remark on it.<</if>><<if $dfriend is false>>You try to keep from staring at $dname whenever you feel your eyes drift over, but you can't help it. The preparations for the expedition have taken up so much time, you've hardly spoken to $dthem again after the last time in the courtyard. The conversation has been haunting you, turning over in your mind countless times times like flipping a coin over and over, as if it would give you the desired result.<</if>><<if $afriend is false>>You try not to stare too obviously at $aname, especially considering last night. $cathey is acting the same as $athey always does, however, and you envy $atheir composure<<if visited("14.a4bb")>>, though you don't know whether to take that as a good sign or not<</if>>.<</if>> For once, the air feels unburdened by politics. The talk drifts from the weather to travel plans, to who snores loudest on the road—$xname insists it’s $dname, who flatly denies it. You’re halfway through your tea when a glimmer of lavender catches the corner of your eye. $rname lifts their cup, and the light plays off the bracelet at $rtheir wrist, the one you made. The faint shimmer of your magic pulses softly along the threads, and the sight warms something in your chest. “Is that new?” Siham asks, leaning forward curiously. $rname blinks, then smiles, <<if $rfriend is false>> the smallest hint of color rising to $rtheir cheeks. “Ah, yes. It was a gift from $ctheir Imperial Majesty, $they worked hard on it.” At that, all eyes turn to you. $xname grins like a cat who’s spotted something fun. “A gift, hm? I didn’t know we were exchanging tokens of affection before the pilgrimage.”<<else>>showing it off by extending $rtheir wrist for everyone else to see, almost seeming a little smug about it. “Yes. A very thoughtful gift from $ctheir Imperial Majesty, $they worked hard on it.”<</if>> $dname raises $dtheir brows with surprise. “You made that yourself?” You nod, <<if $crafts is false>>a touch sheepishly. “Tried to, at least. <<else>>taking pride in the admiring looks from your companions as they look at the bracelet. “<</if>>It’s warded for warmth—I figured it might be useful in the mountains.” $aname leans closer, studying the bracelet more closely. “It’s finely done. The magic’s balanced, not overbearing. Most first-time wards burn unevenly, but yours hums steady.” You smile a little, pleasantly surprised. “Thank you. That’s high praise.” <<if $rfriend is false>>$rname’s eyes warm with fondness. “It’s more than I could have asked for. You’ve outdone yourself.” $rtheir tone is affectionate enough to make $xname whistle. “Careful, $rname, that sounds dangerously close to swooning.” $rname shoots $xname a look that could fell a lesser person, but the rest of the table breaks into good-natured chuckles, and even $dname hides a faint smile behind $dtheir teacup.<</if>><<if $dfriend is false>>$dname’s gaze lingers on you, thoughtful and just a touch proud. “You have a steady hand for something so intricate and delicate.” You <<if $flirt gt $res>>grin<<else>>peer back at $dthem with a meaningful look<</if>>. “I can be patient when it matters.” You know $dthey catches the true meaning of your words by how the dark in $dtheir eyes intensifies. $cdthey stares at you a moment longer until $aname clears $atheir throat, pulling you both out of your private moment.<</if>><<if $afriend is false>>$aname lifts $atheir gaze from the bracelet to look at you, and watches you for a few moments longer. “It suits you, doing something with care,” $athey says quietly. “Not everyone spares the time or makes the effort for such things.” “You make it sound unusual.” “It is.” A genuine smile dimples $atheir cheeks, warming your chest. “Which is why it’s admirable.”<</if>><<if $xfriend is false>>$xname leans an elbow on the table, grinning wide. “A handmade gift, hm? I’ll have to raise my expectations for when my birthday comes around.” You roll your eyes, playing along. “You’re assuming I’ll survive the expedition to give you one.” $cxthey laughs, flashing teeth. “Oh, I’ll make sure you do! I’m not missing out on a royal present.” $cxtheir expression turns more serious with consideration a moment later. “Though your birthday is coming up much sooner than mine. I’ll have to give you something truly special.”<</if>> The easy mirth lingers, bright and comforting. For a rare moment, you allow yourself to breathe without thinking of threats or alliances, surrounded by the simple peace of friends, food, and sunlight.<</if>> [[Continue|14.13]] Eating alone does little to quiet the churning of your mind, but at least it allows you to order your concerns rather than let them get tossed to and fro in the maelstrom of your anxiety. Most of the castle sleeps now, the murmurs of servants long faded into stillness. The solitude presses close around you, not unwelcome, but heavy. You sit at the edge of the bed, dressed in your nightrobe and your thoughts chasing themselves in slow, pointless circles. The day’s duties blur together until they dissolve into that familiar, restless ache in your chest. You’d expected peace after retiring to your chambers. Instead, you find yourself listening to the wind outside the narrow window, half-hoping for a knock that never comes. And then it does. “Enter,” you call. The door slowly slides open, and then $aname steps inside, $atheir silhouette framed by the hallway’s dying light. $cathey has shed most of $atheir armor, though $atheir leathers and the pauldrons remain: the silver trim catches against a candle’s glow. “Majesty,” $athey says, bowing $atheir head, and you understand that $athey speaks as your Royal Protector now, and not as $aname. $catheir voice is low and even, but there’s fatigue there too, threading through the discipline. “I wished to make my report before the night’s end.” You nod, motioning $athem closer. “Go on.” $aname hesitates a moment, then crosses the room. $catheir steps are soft despite the armor, measured as always. “The guards have completed their drills for the day. Equipment has been inspected twice over, and the bulk of the supplies have been loaded. By morning, we’ll be ready to depart on your command.” You let $athem speak, content to listen to the calm, unhurried rhythm of $atheir voice more than the words themselves. When $athey pauses, you incline your head. “You’ve been working yourself past reason, $aname.” That earns you a soft curve at the corner of $atheir mouth. “Better me than the recruits. They’ll need to be sharp when we reach the foothills.” “Still,” you say, “I would prefer my bodyguard not collapse before the journey begins.” $aname gaze flickers to you, unreadable in the candlelight. “I could say the same. You’ve scarcely rested in days.” There’s an unspoken familiarity there now, the kind that didn’t exist in the early days, when every exchange was edged with a tension you didn’t fully understand back then. You wonder when it shifted, when the air between you began to feel less like duty and more like something that feels natural and comfortable. You watch $aname glance toward the chair near the windows, then to the bed, and finally decide. $cathey crosses the room to settle down beside you, $atheir leathers creaking softly. The bed dips beneath $atheir weight, and for a moment neither of you speaks. The candle on your nightstand burns steadily beside you, its light catching the the hint of one of $atheir dimples. “It’s been a long week,” you say. $aname hums in quiet agreement, content simply to sit beside you. “It has.” [[Continue|14.a2]] Eating alone does little to quiet the churning of your mind, but at least it allows you to order your concerns rather than let them get tossed to and fro in the maelstrom of your anxiety. Most of the castle sleeps now, the murmurs of servants long faded into stillness. The solitude presses close around you, not unwelcome, but heavy. You lay back against the pillows on your bed, dressed in your nightrobe and a map of Rojan in your hand with your expedition’s planned route outlined on it. The day’s duties blur together until they dissolve into that familiar, restless ache in your chest. You’d expected peace after retiring to your chambers. Instead, you find your thoughts going round and round in circles, your eyes staring at the map for so long that they start to grow weary of retracing the same lines over and over. Then, a knock on your door interrupts your monotony. “Enter,” you call, eyes still on the map. You don’t have to look to know it’s $xname who opens the door. $cxthey has been staying in one of the guest rooms at the palace on your insistence, and $xtheir nightly visits to your chambers before you both go to sleep have become somewhat of a routine. “Do I really have to knock first?” $xname says, voice lazy with amusement. “It seems so unnecessary at this point.” You finally lift your gaze, map sagging slightly in your hands as you look over its edge to $xthem. $xname stands in the doorway<<if $xgender is 'female'>> with her hair down<</if>>, wearing slippers and a plain set of beige tunic and pants, seeming dressed for comfort. There’s something disarming about seeing $xthem this way. Not the Pale Sword, not the charismatic leader, not the imposing mercenary—just $xname. You raise your brows with amusement at $xtheir remark. “I’d rather not have you walk in while I’m in the middle of changing.” “Oh, so you <em>don’t</em> want me to see you naked?” $xname cocks $xtheir head with a smirk as $xthey closes the door behind $xthem. “Sorry, I thought that was the whole point of all this—” <<if $res gt $flirt>>Your cheeks redden with a flush of heat.<<else>>You play along, pretending to be exasperated.<</if>> “You’re so unbearable sometimes.” $xname crosses the room in easy strides, feet sliding out of $xtheir slippers before $xthey climbs onto the bed and makes $xthemselves comfortable, pressing against your side. $cxtheir head settles on your shoulder as if by habit, and $xtheir warmth seeps into you instantly, displacing the chill of too many anxious thoughts. You shift just enough to accommodate $xthem, one arm naturally finding its place around $xtheir back. For a time, you both stay silent, the only sound the slow, even rhythm of shared breathing as your eyes continue to trace the map. $xname’s nightrobes smell like perfume, rich with a breezy spice without being overbearing. You wonder if $xthey put some on solely for $xtheir visit. Eventually, the comfortable quiet is broken when $xname murmurs, “You keep tracing the same route.” You sigh, letting your head rest lightly against the headboard. “Just thinking.” “Dangerous pastime.” “A necessary one,” you counter. “In a few more days we’ll ride north, but despite all our preparations the mountains are unpredictable. I keep thinking about all the ways this could go wrong. If it does, the responsibility is mine.” $xname hums, a small sound of sympathy that you feel vibrate through your chest. “It’s natural to worry. That’s what makes you good at this.” “Sometimes I think it just makes me afraid.” $cxthey tilts $xtheir head to look at you. The candlelight catches in $xtheir eyes, the gleam of green softened by affection. “Fear isn’t weakness, $name, it’s awareness. Just don’t let it control you.” You exhale slowly. “You always know what to say.” “That’s because I’m a good listener.” You give a soft snort of disbelief, which earns you a playful nudge to the ribs. Then $xthey adjusts $xtheir position, curling closer on the bed until $xtheir legs tangle with yours. [[Continue|14.x2]] You turn slightly, enough to study $atheir profile—the soft curve of $atheir nose down to the plump lines of $atheir lips, the deliberate stillness of $atheir hands resting on $atheir knees. You remember the last time you’d been this close: the touch of $atheir mouth against your knuckles, a phantom of warmth and tenderness on your skin. “Did you see $rname’s relatives before they left?” you ask, voice subdued. $aname shakes their head, still staring out ahead of $athem. “No. I was in the yard with the troops.” A pause, a teasing glance in your direction. “But word travels. I heard our Crown was in fine form.” You huff out something between a laugh and a sigh. “I’m not sure that’s true.” “They were charmed, from what $rname told me.” “$rname flatters me.” Your expression loses its humor. “I hope their visit, or my reception of them, doesn’t end up making them into a target.” $aname’s eyes soften at that—barely, but enough that you see it. “You carry too much on your shoulders, Majesty.” “I thought that was your job,” you reply playfully. “Only when I can reach you.” The wistfulness in the words slip out of $athem before $athey can stop $athemselves. You see it, the smallest break in composure, quickly masked. Still, it sits there between you, warm in its longing. You reach out, and after a moment, $aname meets your hand halfway. The contact is tentative, then firm, almost familiar. $catheir palm is calloused and warm despite the chill of the room, fingers wrapping comfortably around your own. You sit like that for a time, neither moving nor speaking, simply enjoying each other’s presence. “I wish we had more time together,” you admit quietly. $aname exhales through $atheir nose. “So do I.” You study $athem, the way $atheir thumb brushes absently along the back of your hand, and the way $atheir shoulders seem to ease by slivers. The distance between you has never felt smaller. And yet, perhaps because of that, you feel the question rise in your throat before you can stop it. “$aname,” you say softly. “What are we doing?” $catheir gaze meets yours at once. “What do you mean?” “You know what I mean.” You hold $atheir hand tighter, your heartbeat so loud against your ribs compared to the quiet in the room. “I need to know what this is, between us. Where it’s going.” There is a long silence, $aname’s eyes lingering on your clasped hands. The candle by your bedside wavers. Perhaps you shouldn’t have asked, but you need to know where you stand before you embark on your pilgrimage, or else the thought will plague you relentlessly. When $aname finally speaks, $atheir voice is quieter than you’ve ever heard it. “I don’t know if I can give you an answer yet.” It’s not the response you hoped to hear. Even so, you wait patiently, and $aname goes on. “What I feel for you—” $athey pauses, as though the words themselves are treacherous. “It’s stronger than I expected it to be. But a courtship? There’s too much on both of our plates to take something like that on right now.” Your brows furrow uncertainly. “Because of the expedition?” “More than that.” $aname sighs deeply. “It would be a commitment with certain expectations, for both of us. You’d have to meet my grandparents, make a formal declaration, possibly get harangued by the court over it—” You place your other hand around $aname’s, pulling $athem out of $atheir pragmatic considerations: $athey’s taken the question much further than you intended. $cathey stops talking, looking at you attentively, and you say, “I’m sorry, $aname, maybe I shouldn’t have phrased it so vaguely. What I really mean to ask is…” <ul class="a"> <li>[[“Would you ever consider committing to me, or is this just for fun?”|14.a3a][$apoints += 4]]</li> <li>[[“Can we just enjoy each other’s company for now, and worry about everything else later?”|14.a3b][$apoints -= 4]]</li></ul><<if visited("14.a3a") is 1>><<if $apoints gte 20>><<set $arelationship to 'high'>><<set $ahighcount += 1>><<else>><<set $arelationship to 'low'>><<set $alowcount += 1>><</if>><</if>>The question hangs in the air between you, fragile and sharp. You watch the candlelight flicker in $aname’s eyes, and for a terrifying second, you think you’ve broken something. The warmth from $atheir hand, which had felt like a steady anchor just moments before, now seems to radiate a sudden, tense heat. $aname doesn’t pull away. Instead, $athey goes very still, $atheir gaze dropping from yours to your joined hands. $catheir thumb, which had been brushing a soothing rhythm against your skin, stills. The silence stretches, thick and heavy, broken only by the distant sigh of the wind against the stone walls. You can hear your own heartbeat pulse a frantic, panicked drum against your ribs. “Fun?” $athey finally repeats, $atheir voice so low it’s almost a whisper. $cathey looks up at you then, and $atheir gaze is so unguarded that it steals the breath from your lungs. “Nothing about this is fun. Not in the way you mean.” Your stomach sinks, a cold dread seeping in, and you brace yourself for the rejection. But $athey surprises you. $cathey shifts on the bed, turning $atheir body more fully toward you. Your knees knock together lightly, and then stay pressed there. $aname doesn’t pull away, and neither do you. “Worrying about you every time you step onto a training field?” $athey starts, $atheir voice steadying as $athey goes. “That’s not fun. Lying awake at night, going over patrol routes in my head, wondering if I’ve missed a threat? Not fun. Wanting to be near you so much it feels like a physical ache?” $atheir thumb strokes over your knuckles, a slow, deliberate movement. “That is the opposite of fun. It’s terrifying.” Your breath catches. You had no idea about any of this, about how much $aname was keeping hidden from your eyes while wrestling with it in private. You’d known about $atheir conflicted feelings due to $atheir father, but you hadn’t realized how deep it went. “So, to answer your question,” $athey continues, $atheir eyes locked on yours, unwavering. $catheir magic hums through $atheir hand against yours, a river surging with force against your skin, ready to pull you under. “No. This isn’t just for fun. It hasn’t been for a long time.” The relief that washes over you is so potent it makes you dizzy. You lean closer, the sides of your thighs pressing together, and even the slight amount of space left between your sides still feels too wide. “What about the other part?” you ask softly. “Commitment.” $aname’s thumb stills against your knuckles. The conflict returns to $atheir face, the war between what $athey wants and what $athey believes is possible. “It’s not a simple question for me,” $athey admits. “You are the Crown, and my life is sworn to protect yours. A commitment… it creates vulnerabilities, for both of us.” “You never intended on being my guard in the first place,” you point out. “It was only a way for you to find your sister, wasn’t it?” “Things have changed.” $catheir eyes do not hide from you again, though you feel the effort it takes. “I still want to find her, but I also want to keep you safe. Not the Crown—<em>you</em>, $name.” The confession is more than you could have hoped for, especially from $aname. You know how cautious $athey has been, and you have watched and waited and told yourself to stay patient as $athey has carefully drawn closer and closer over these past weeks. To hear this from $athem now is a far better reward than you imagined. “I feel the same about you,” you reply, your own earnestness expressing itself more easily now that you know where $aname stands. “I want to keep you safe, and I would still feel the same if we stayed friends instead. The vulnerabilities are already there, $aname.” $aname’s brows furrow in thought as your words sink, and you give $athem a moment to ponder it before you add, “I’m not asking you to jump into a courtship with me tomorrow. All I really wanted to know is that this, <em>us</em>- that it means something to you, and that you might consider it turning into something more, in the future.” For a moment, $aname studies your face, eyes trailing over your expression and your features with thought. You’re so caught up in watching $atheir watch you that you don’t realize how much closer $athey’s leaning until you feel the brush of $atheir warm breath against your lips. “Then my answer is yes,” $athey finally speaks, the words a soft rush of air, a surrender. “Yes, I would consider it. I am considering it. I think about little else.” Your pulse pounds louder than you’ve ever heard it, and as you lean ever so slightly closer, your breath catches as you realize $aname isn’t pulling away. $cathey stays right there, eyes warm and brown in the candlelight, lips a whisper away from yours. <ul class="a"> <<if $agender is 'male'>><li>[[Kiss him.|14.a4a]]</li> <li>[[He kisses you.|14.a4b]]</li><<else>><li>[[Kiss her.|14.a4a]]</li> <li>[[She kisses you.|14.a4b]]</li><</if>></ul><<if visited("14.a3a") is 1>><<if $apoints gte 20>><<set $arelationship to 'high'>><<set $ahighcount += 1>><<else>><<set $arelationship to 'low'>><<set $alowcount += 1>><</if>><</if>>The words escape your tongue before you can second-guess them, a desperate attempt to hold onto the fragile moment. Their effects are immediate, though subtle. The warmth that had been blooming in $aname’s eyes seems to retract, the light in them dimming as if a cloud has passed over the moon. The soft curve of $atheir mouth flattens into a neutral line. $cathey doesn’t pull $atheir hand away, but the calloused fingers around yours go slack, the connection suddenly feeling less like an anchor and more like a formality. A beat of silence passes, thick and uncomfortable. The only sound is the faint crackle of the candle wick. “Of course, Majesty,” $athey says. The title lands like a stone between you, a sudden, formal barrier that wasn’t there a moment ago. $catheir voice is stripped of its earlier warmth, now even and measured. “If that is what you want.” It is what you wanted, you tell yourself. To push aside the heavy questions, to simply <em>be</em>. But as you look at $aname’s carefully composed expression, a knot of unease tightens in your gut. You see the flicker of something in $atheir eyes—disappointment, maybe, or a deeper, more weary resignation. You’ve misstepped. You don’t know how, but you can feel it. The air, which moments ago felt charged with possibility, now feels thin and cold. Before you can try to fix it, to take the words back, $aname moves. $cathey leans in, closing the distance between you with a deliberation that feels more like a decision than an impulse. “Then let’s enjoy ourselves,” $athey says, and closes the distance. There’s no gentle hesitation, no careful testing of the waters. And you, despite yourself, lean in. [[Continue|14.a4bb]]<<if $res gt $flirt>><<if $pass gt $ass>>You move before you can second-guess the impulse, a slow, hesitant lean that feels like it takes an eternity. It’s a clumsy, graceless motion, born more of desperation than finesse, and you close your eyes just before your lips meet $aname’s, a shield against the intensity of $atheir gaze. The first touch is a whisper-soft collision, a gentle press of your mouth against $atheirs. $aname’s lips are softer and warmer than you imagined, and they part slightly in response. The faint, rough texture of $atheir chapped lower lip brushes yours, and a shiver traces a path down your spine. You don’t deepen the kiss, don’t dare. You simply hold the connection, a silent, trembling question. You feel the stutter in $atheir breath in response, the way $atheir entire body holds its tension before it slowly ebbs out of $athem. Emboldened, you tilt your head, your lips moving against $atheirs with a little more pressure in a slow, careful exploration. $aname’s hand lifts to rest on your arm, a warm, grounding weight. The kiss deepens naturally, your mouths parting, a shy, tentative meeting of tongues that sends a jolt of pure heat through you. It’s not a kiss of frantic passion, but of quiet, profound discovery. You are giving $athem everything—your vulnerability, your hope, your fear—and $athey is meeting you with a tenderness that feels like a promise. The two of you end up pressed close together from shoulder to knee, your hands finally untangling to rest on $atheir thigh, your head tilted to deepen the slow, searching kiss.<<else>>Your decision solidifies into a single, clear point of focus. You are not a person who hesitates, not when it matters. Reaching up, your hands frame $aname’s face with a certainty that surprises even you. Your thumbs gently caress $atheir cheeks, feeling <<if $agender is 'male'>>the prickle of his beard, <</if>>the warmth of $atheir skin. $aname’s eyes widen slightly, $atheir breath catching as you lean in, closing the distance you no longer wish to bear. Your mouth finds $atheirs with a deliberate, firm press—it’s not a bruising kiss, but it is sure and steady, coaxing $aname into the rhythm of it, to stop thinking so much and lose $athemselves to it. You feel the give of $atheir lips a shared breath later, $atheir mouth parting instinctively under yours. A low, pleasured sound hums in $atheir chest, a vibration you feel through your palms, shuddering through the rest of you. Already craving more, you tilt your head and deepen the kiss, your tongue tracing the seam of $atheir mouth, a silent request for entry that $athey grants without hesitation. Your movements are controlled in a slow, thorough exploration that has $aname leaning into you, $atheir hands coming up to cover yours where they cup $atheir face. It comes so naturally that it doesn’t truly feel like a first kiss between you: as if you’d known the taste of $athem all along and are simply coming home. You remain seated, but your bodies are now flush, pressed together as you lose yourselves in the deep, steady rhythm of the kiss.<</if>><<else>><<if $pass gt $ass>>A slow smile unfurls on your face. You see the way $aname watches your mouth, $atheir gaze dark with a desire you’re only too happy to satiate. You lean in but you stop just shy of touching, a deliberate tease as you let your breath ghost over $atheir lips, a warm promise in the cool air of the chamber. You watch $atheir pupils dilate, see the flicker of raw need in $atheir eyes. Only then do you close the final distance. The kiss is a light, playful brush at first, a tantalizing slide of your lips against $atheirs. It’s a flirtation, an invitation. You taste the corner of $atheir mouth, then retreat slightly, nipping gently at $atheir full lower lip. You are offering $athem the lead, a silent challenge to see if $athey will take it. $aname takes the bait, $atheir hand sliding around your waist to pull you closer as $athey deepens the kiss, turning your playful offering into something more. You respond in kind, your mouth opening under $atheirs, your tongues meeting in a slow, sensual caress, the initial playfulness melting into a shared, burning heat. You end up angled toward each other, your bodies pressed tightly together, one of your hands sliding up into the soft hair at the nape of $aname’s neck as you kiss in the flickering candlelight.<<else>>It’s all the permission you need. You move with a fluid, easy confidence, one hand cupping the back of $aname’s neck, your fingers curling warmly around $atheir nape, and you smile when you feel the shiver that runs down $atheir spine. You close the distance while gently guiding $aname closer with a pull, your mouth finding $atheirs in a tender brush of lips that is both a question and an answer. There’s nothing hesitant about it: this is a kiss of intention, of taking what you have wanted for weeks. $aname’s inhales sharply against your mouth, and you feel a thrill at the way $atheir body yields to yours, leaning into you instead of away. Your tongue sweeps into $atheir mouth, not to conquer, but to enjoy the taste of $athem with a slow, deliberate thoroughness. $cathey opens up to you beautifully, following your lead with an eagerness that has you groaning into the kiss, the sound low and appreciative. It’s a deep, messy, perfect exploration, a raw expression of desire that $aname meets with equal fervor. You can feel the hum in $atheir chest as $athey responds in kind, $atheir hands gripping your waist to urge you impossibly closer. The world dissolves into the heat of $atheir mouth, the needful grip of $atheir hands on you, the undeniable proof that this is anything but just for fun. You remain seated, your bodies fused together as you kiss with a deep, unhurried passion.<</if>><</if>> It’s an intimacy you have long forgotten. You learn the shape of $atheir lips, the way $athey angles $atheir head to deepen the kiss, the low sounds $athey makes when you trace the line of $atheir jaw with your thumb. The taste of $athem is a revelation—clean, with an underlying coolness that reminds you of deep, shaded water. As the kiss stretches on, a subtle change begins in the air. The warmth from your own body seems to intensify, glowing outwards until the very atmosphere in the room feels charged, thick with a gentle, pervasive heat. The candle flame on the nightstand flares, its light turning a richer, more golden hue, casting long, dancing shadows that seem to breathe in time with the pounding of your heart. Your magic, usually a tool to be wielded, now bleeds from you unconsciously, a physical manifestation of the desire thrumming through your veins. And then, you feel $aname’s response. [[Continue|14.a5]] It’s not the swift, decisive motion you’re used to seeing from $aname on the training grounds. This is slow and deliberate, almost reverent. $cathey leans in, the worn leather of $atheir tunic creaking softly with the shift. $catheir eyes are dark and intense in the candlelight, and in them you see a question, a plea, and a terrifying, exhilarating vulnerability. The space between you shrinks, little by little, until you can feel the warmth of $atheir breath against your lips. <<if $res gt $flirt>><<if $pass gt $ass>>Your body freezes, a deer caught in the hunter’s gaze. Every instinct screams to do something, to lean in, but you are paralyzed by the sheer weight of the moment. You simply watch, your eyes wide, as $aname’s face fills your vision. You are a statue, waiting for the chisel to fall. When $atheir lips finally meet yours, it’s a feather-light touch, impossibly gentle. A soft gasp escapes you, the only sound you’re capable of making. $aname’s lips are chapped, a little rough, but warmer than you ever could have imagined. There is a slight tremor in $atheir hand as it comes to rest on your knee, a silent anchor. You close your eyes, surrendering completely to the sensation. You let $athem lead, let $athem set the pace. The kiss is soft, exploratory, a gentle mapping of your mouth. It’s an act of profound tenderness that makes your chest ache with an emotion you can’t name, to be known so intimately. Your free hand, which had been clenched in your lap, slowly uncurls, and you find yourself leaning into $aname, a subtle shift that speaks of acceptance and a deep, yearning need for more.<<else>>Your surprise is a sharp, fleeting thing, quickly replaced by a surge of quiet resolve. You see the hesitation in $aname’s eyes, the last vestiges of $atheir caution warring with $atheir heart—you don’t want $athem to succumb to $atheir fears again. As $athey leans in, you meet $athem halfway, a small but decisive movement that closes the final gap. The kiss is not a collision, but a meeting. Your lips are firm against $atheirs, a clear and unwavering signal. $aname inhales a soft but sharp breath, $atheir body then easing against yours as if a great weight has been lifted. Your hands come up to rest on $atheir shoulders, your grip steady and sure. You are not taking control, but you are an equal partner in this, grounding $athem, letting $athem know that you are here, you are certain, and you want this just as much as $athey does. The kiss deepens slowly, a gentle and shared exploration. You feel the texture of $atheir lips, the tentative slide of $atheir tongue against yours, and you answer in kind, a deliberate dance that has heat radiating through every part of you, a craving for more coiling in your gut.<</if>><<else>><<if $pass gt $ass>>As $aname leans in, you tilt your head slightly, an instinctive, inviting gesture. Your eyes flutter closed a moment before $atheir lips touch yours, savoring the anticipation. The kiss is exactly what you hoped for—soft at first, then with a hint of the desire you’ve been sensing from $athem for weeks. You let out a soft, pleased hum into $atheir mouth, your hands coming up to rest lightly around $atheir waist, feeling how $atheir spine briefly tenses before easing again in your hold. You are pliant, receptive, enjoying the feeling of being pursued, of finally being caught. You let $aname lead, content to follow wherever $athey takes this as your mouth opens under $atheirs, savoring the slow, sensual exploration. $aname’s hand lifts to cup the nape of your neck, an approving sigh brushing against your mouth in between your kisses, and you lean in closer, pressing your body against $atheirs from shoulder to thigh, a silent encouragement for $athem to take more, to give more.<<else>>You sense $atheir attention before $athey even moves, a spark lighting withing you—you can’t stay still and wait. As $athey leans in, you surge forward to meet $athem, your movements fluid and confident. Your hands move swiftly: one slides up to cup the back of $aname’s neck, while the other curls around $aname’s waist, pulling $athem flush against you. $aname hums as $athey melts into it, $atheir initial assertiveness easing into letting you take control as your lips brush against $atheirs. Your mouth is demanding, your tongue sweeping out to meet $atheirs with a bold, exploratory stroke. You feel $aname’s hum turn into groan as it vibrate through your own chest, a sound of pure, unadulterated need that spurs you on. You pour it all into the kiss, telling $athem without words that you are not some fragile thing to be handled with care, not merely a charge $athey needs to protect. $aname seems to enjoy it, $atheir hands tightening on your nape as you press together, a heated tangle of limbs and longing.<</if>><</if>> It’s an intimacy you have long forgotten. You learn the shape of $atheir lips, the way $athey angles $atheir head to deepen the kiss, the low sounds $athey makes when you trace the line of $atheir jaw with your thumb. The taste of $athem is a revelation—clean, with an underlying coolness that reminds you of deep, shaded water. As the kiss stretches on, a subtle change begins in the air. The warmth from your own body seems to intensify, glowing outwards until the very atmosphere in the room feels charged, thick with a gentle, pervasive heat. The candle flame on the nightstand flares, its light turning a richer, more golden hue, casting long, dancing shadows that seem to breathe in time with the pounding of your heart. Your magic, usually a tool to be wielded, now bleeds from you unconsciously, a physical manifestation of the desire thrumming through your veins. And then, you feel $aname’s response. [[Continue|14.a5]] It comes from beneath your palms, a cool, steady thrum against $atheir skin that sinks into you. It feels like a deep, slow-moving river, a quiet, powerful current flowing just under the surface. It’s $aname’s magic, an internal wellspring of serenity that rises to meet your heat. The coolness doesn’t extinguish your magic: it absorbs it, tempers it, creating a perfect, intoxicating balance. A soft groan escapes you, the sound swallowed by $atheir mouth as you press closer, craving more of that exquisite contradiction. The heat of your magic and the calm of $atheirs intertwine, a feedback loop of sensation that makes the kiss feel infinite, like you’re tasting the very essence of $atheir soul. You are lost in it, in the slide of $atheir tongue against yours, in the feeling of $atheir fingers tightening on your body, in the magical current that flows between you, binding you closer than any embrace. Every nerve ending is alight, singing with a pleasure so profound it borders on pain. You want to crawl inside $atheir skin, to drown in $atheir cool depths while your own heat burns around you both. But then, with a slowness that feels like it costs $athem dearly, $aname begins to pull away. The separation is a physical ache. The cool thrum of $atheir magic recedes from your touch, and the charged, heated air of the room suddenly feels suffocating and overbearing, yearning for its counterpart. Your eyes flutter open. $aname’s face is close, $atheir lips swollen and wet, $atheir eyes an intense reflection of your own longing. But beneath the desire, you see something else—a flicker of caution. $aname takes a slow, shaky breath, $atheir hands loosening their grip on you, though $athey doesn’t let go entirely. “It’s late,” $athey murmurs, $atheir voice rough. The words are simple, but you hear everything $athey isn’t saying. A sharp pang of disappointment cuts through you, a desperate craving for more, for everything, but it’s quickly smothered by a wave of understanding. This is $aname. Steady, cautious, loyal $aname, who guards $atheir heart as fiercely as $athey guards you. To push now would be to undo everything, to break the fragile trust you’ve just built. You nod, your own breathing ragged. You lift a hand to gently cup $atheir cheek, your thumb stroking over the sharp line of $atheir cheekbone. “Sleep well, $aname.” The relief in $atheir eyes is immediate and palpable. The tension drains from $atheir shoulders, and a small smile graces $atheir lips as $athey presses one last, tender kiss to your mouth in quiet gratitude. “Sleep well.” You take what you can get, relishing the soft peck and the even softer words. Then $aname pulls away and stands, $atheir absence immediately felt as your own magic dries like a drought on your skin, crying out for $athem. $aname gives you one last, long look, $atheir expression soft and unreadable in the dying light, before turning and slipping out of the room as quietly as $athey entered. You are left alone on the edge of the bed, the air still shimmering with the remnants of your combined magic. Your lips tingle, the ghost of $atheir coolness a stark contrast to the lingering warmth that torments your body. The craving for more is still there, but it’s joined by something else—a quiet, steady certainty and a thrum of delight. This was real, and it will happen again. [[Continue|14.12]]$catheir mouth finds yours with a precision that is both thrilling and unsettling. The kiss is not the tender, discovering thing you had imagined. It is needful, almost punishing in its intensity as your lips press together hard, your hand squeezing around $aname’s both in surprise and in an inexplicable desperation. It’s a kiss that seeks to prove something, to claim something before it can be taken away—this is the closest you’ve ever been to $athem, and yet $athey somehow feels further away from you than before. $catheir lips are firm against yours, $atheir hand coming up to cup the back of your neck with a grip that clings, as if to say, <em>if this is all you’ll give me, then I will take it.</em> You respond, your body reacting to the sheer force of $atheir need. Your hands slide to $atheir waist, pulling $athem closer, and a spark of heat ignites in your belly when $aname’s tongue slides past your lips, urging you for more. You can taste the faint, clean flavor of $athem, but beneath it is something else, something sharp and sad that makes your heart ache. This isn’t enjoyment. It’s a desperate grasping, a frantic attempt to feel something real in a moment that has just been rendered transactional. $aname’s other hand finds your waist in turn, fingers squeezing. The bed creaks softly under your combined weight, the sound loud in the quiet room. The kiss deepens, becoming a tangle of breath and need, a silent argument you don’t know how to win—your body’s arousal and desire for $athem is an afterthought compared to the maelstrom $aname has brought about inside your mind. You pour your own regret and confusion into the kiss, trying to communicate what your words failed to. You want $athem to know this isn’t what you meant, that you didn’t mean to diminish whatever this is between you. But when you finally break apart, gasping for air, the look on $aname’s face tells you that the message wasn’t received. $catheir chest rises and falls rapidly, but $atheir eyes are clear, the fire from the kiss banked, leaving behind the cool embers of professionalism. $cathey releases you, $atheir hands falling away as if $atheir skin has suddenly become too hot to the touch. $cathey shifts back, putting a careful gap between your bodies, and the loss of $athem is immediate and unbearable. “I should go,” $athey says, $atheir voice utterly steady. “You need your rest before we depart.” The words are a dismissal: $athey is already retreating, not just physically, but emotionally. The walls are back up, higher and thicker than before. You see it in the set of $atheir jaw, in the way $atheir gaze is fixed on a point just over your shoulder. The intimacy of the past few moments has been erased, replaced by rigid formality. “$aname,” you start, but you don’t know what to say. $cathey rises from the bed in one smooth motion, the movement economical and precise. $cathey adjusts the fit of $atheir pauldron, a small, habitual gesture that suddenly feels like $athey is putting on armor against you. “Majesty,” $athey corrects you gently, and the word is a final, quiet blow. “Sleep well.” Without waiting for a reply, $athey turns and walks to the door. $cathey doesn’t look back. The door slides open, then shut, the soft click of the latch echoing in the sudden, profound silence of the chamber. You are left alone on the edge of the bed, the ghost of $aname’s kiss still burning on your lips. You touch your mouth with your fingers, but all you can feel is the cold imprint of $atheir departure. You got your wish, you are enjoying each other’s company. And you have never felt more alone. [[Continue|14.12]]<<if visited("13.x4c") gte 1>>It’s only when the tension in your chest finally loosens that you realize something: $xname hasn’t spoken a single word to you about $xtheir own worries this past week. Not about the journey, not about the dangers ahead, not even about leaving the comfort of the palace behind. You shift slightly, studying $xtheir face. “You’ve been doing all the comforting lately.” $cxthey blink, as if startled by the observation. “Someone has to keep you from overthinking yourself into exhaustion.” “That’s not what I meant.” A pause. $xname’s expression falters ever so slightly. You see it then: the faint shadow beneath $xtheir ease, dragging at $xtheir every movement. Your arm tightens slightly around $xtheir waist. “You haven’t said how you feel about any of this.” $xname’s smile returns, smaller now. “Should I?” The fact that $xthey would even think to reply that alarms you. “Of course you should. I want to know if you’re alright…” You trail off as $xthey looks away, gaze settling on the map that now lays forgotten across your lap. “You’re already carrying enough on your shoulders without having to worry about me too. I’m fine, $name.” Something in you aches at that. You remember a conversation with Heval after you first enlisted the Crescent Blades for help a month before. It feels like a lifetime ago now, but the words lingered. Enough for them to rise to the surface now. <em>“$cxthey never shows $xtheir fear, not out in the open. Do you know what would happen if $xthey did?”</em> This is $xtheir way of trying to keep you steady. <ul class="a"> <li>[[“You don’t have to protect me from your burdens.”|14.x2aa]]</li> <li>[[“Then let’s both put our worries aside and just enjoy each other tonight.”|14.x2ab]]</li></ul><<else>>It’s only when the tension in your chest finally loosens, the knot of anxiety unraveling thread by thread, that you realize how much you needed this, needed <em>$xthem</em>. The weight of the map feels insignificant compared to the solid, grounding weight of $xname pressed against your side. You take a moment to simply breathe in the scent of $xthem, the clean spice of $xthem perfume and the warm, living scent of his skin. “You’re good at this,” you murmur, your voice thick with a relief so profound it almost feels like vulnerability. “The comforting.” $xname chuckles, a low, rumbling sound that vibrates through your chest. “Someone has to keep you from overthinking yourself into exhaustion.” “I’m serious,” you insist, opening your eyes to look at $xthem. The candlelight softens the angles of $xthem face, making $xthem look younger, almost gentle. “I feel like I can actually breathe when you’re here.” $cxtheir smirk softens into something more genuine, a rare, unguarded smile that makes your heart stutter. “That’s the idea.” You shift, letting the map slide forgotten from your lap onto the floor. Your arm tightens around $xtheir waist, pulling $xthem impossibly closer until there’s no space left between you. The fabric of $xtheir night tunic is soft against your robes, and you can feel the steady, reassuring beat of $xtheir heart through your chest. “Stay,” you say, the word a quiet request, not a command. “Just for a little while longer.” $xname doesn’t answer with words. Instead, $xthey shifts again, maneuvering with an easy grace until $xthey’s lying more fully on top of you, $xtheir body blanketing yours. It’s not a weight, but a shelter. $cxthey props $xthemselves up on $xtheir elbows, caging you in, locks of $xtheir hair falling forward to brush against your forehead. With a swift, careless movement, $xthey yanks the map off your lap and tosses it aside onto the floor. The green of $xtheir eyes is dark in the dim light, intense and focused entirely on you. “Planning on keeping me all to yourself?” $xthey teases, but $xtheir voice is low, a breathy whisper that sends a shiver down your spine. “Maybe I am,” you reply, your hands coming up to rest on $xtheir back, feeling the lean muscle beneath the thin cotton. $cxthey lowers $xtheir head slowly, giving you time to close the distance yourself. <<if $ass gt $pass>>You don’t hesitate, lifting your chin and meet $xthem halfway.<<else>>You stay in place, awaiting and eager, until finally $xtheir lips finds yours.<</if>> The kiss is soft at first, a gentle press of lips that quickly deepens into something more searching, more needy. You pour all your unspoken fears and anxieties into it, and let $xthem soothe them with the slow, deliberate movement of $xtheir mouth against yours. $cxthey tastes of comfort, of safety, of a promise that you don’t have to face the coming challenges alone. <em>these options do not affect the romance, choose whichever you prefer</em><ul class="a"><li>[[Take it further.|14.xxx]]</li> <li>[[Go to sleep in each other’s arms.|14.cuddle]]</li></ul><</if>> The words hang in the air, stark and gentle. You feel the subtle shift in $xtheir body against yours, the way $xthey tenses, a coiled spring of instinctive denial. $cxtheir gaze, which had drifted to the map, snaps back to yours. For a fleeting moment you see a hint of panic in its depths, the terror of being seen. “I’m not,” $xthey says, but the defense is too quick, too thin. It’s a reflex, the armor slamming into place. “I’m just being pragmatic. Worrying is your job. My job is to swing the sword.” You shake your head slowly, your arm tightening around $xtheir waist, a silent, steady pressure that refuses to let $xthem retreat. “That’s not all your job is. Not with me.” Your voice is soft, but it carries the weight of affection. “Let me worry about you, not out of obligation, but because I care for you.” $xname stares at you, $xtheir customary smirk long gone, replaced by a raw, unguarded conflict. $cxthey opens $xtheir mouth, then closes it, a warrior disarmed. The candlelight dances with shadows across $xtheir face, making $xthem look younger, more exposed than you’ve ever seen. You watch $xtheir throat work as $xthey swallows, the motion slow and difficult. Finally, $xthey looks away, $xtheir gaze fixing on a point just over your shoulder. “I pledged the Blades to you,” $xthey says, $xtheir voice low, rough with an emotion $xthey clearly isn’t comfortable voicing. “They trust me to lead them into battles that are worth the risk.” “Your battles always are,” you say quietly. “Are they?” The question is sharp, bitter. $cxthey finally looks back at you, and the vulnerability in $xtheir eyes is a physical blow. “Or was I just leading them into <em>my</em> battle? The one where I get to keep you safe?” The confession hangs between you, fragile and terrible. You understand then: this isn’t fear of the mountains, but a far more personal, insidious one. The fear that $xthey’s failed $xtheir people, that $xthey has let $xtheir own heart compromise $xtheir honor and $xtheir obligation to the ones who follow $xthem. “You think it selfish?” you ask, your voice barely a whisper. $xname gives a short, harsh laugh. “Isn’t it? To risk the lives of my people for… for this?” $cxthey gestures vaguely between you, a motion that encompasses everything, as complicated and tangled as it has been. “No,” you say, and your tone leaves no room for argument. You shift, turning more fully to face $xthem, the map crinkling forgotten on your lap. You reach up with your free hand, your fingers gently tracing the line of $xtheir jaw, feeling the slight tremor there. “It’s not selfish, $xname. It’s human.” You lean in, your forehead resting against $xtheirs. “You think I want a mercenary who fights for me because of a contract? I don’t. I want <em>you</em>. I want the person who teases me when I’m taking myself too seriously, the person who looked past my eyes to see who I was underneath, the person who…” You take a breath. “Who cares enough to be scared of losing me. That’s not a liability. It’s the whole reason I trust you with my life.” $xname is silent for a long time, but the tension is slowly draining from $xtheir body, replaced by a weary, profound relief. $cxtheir eyes flutter closed, and $xthey lets out a long, shuddering breath. When $xthey open them again, the panic has been replaced by a deep, swimming affection. “And, not for nothing,” you continue, thumb stroking $xtheir cheek, “but the Blades are being paid handsomely for aiding their Crown in safeguarding Arsur, their home. Is that not a worthy cause to pledge them to?” $cxthey huffs a laugh, fond and impressed. “Has anyone ever told you that you have a way with words?” $xthey breathes out, but there’s no bite to it, only a breathless sort of admiration. And then $xthey leans in. It’s not a kiss of passion, but of desperate, aching gratitude. $cxtheir mouth is soft and urgent against yours, a silent thank you for every word you just spoke. It’s a release for all the pressure $xthey has been carrying alone. <<if $res gt $flirt>>Your first instinct is to freeze, overwhelmed by the sudden intensity, but the heat of $xtheir mouth is too potent to resist. You close your eyes and let yourself fall into it, your hands coming up to rest gently on $xtheir shoulders, and $xthey rewards you with an encouraging hum and the caress of $xtheir tongue along your lower lip. You are receptive, pliant, letting $xthem pour all $xtheir unspoken relief into the kiss. It’s slow and deep, a thorough exploration that feels more like an exchange than a conquest. You feel the texture of $xtheir mouth, the way $xthey angles $xtheir head to deepen the connection, and you answer with a soft sigh, your body melting against $xtheirs. This is a quiet, profound intimacy, and you lose yourself in the sensation of simply being with $xthem, of sharing this moment of peace and tenderness.<<else>>You meet $xtheir kiss with a surety that delights $xname. Your arms wrap around $xtheir back, pulling $xthem closer as you open your mouth under $xtheirs, a clear and eager invitation as you match $xtheir urgency with your own. The kiss quickly deepens, turning from gratitude to a simmering, undeniable desire. You tease $xtheir lower lip with your teeth, drawing a low moan from $xtheir chest, a sound that vibrates through you and sends a jolt of heat straight to your gut. This is a flirtation made real, a playful dance that speaks of a promise for more. You pour all your desire into the kiss, showing $xthem with your body what you just told $xthem with your words: that you are here, you are certain, and you want every part of $xthem, burdens and all.<</if>> <em>these options do not affect the romance, choose whichever you prefer</em><ul class="a"><li>[[Take it further.|14.xxx]]</li> <li>[[Go to sleep in each other’s arms.|14.cuddle]]</li></ul> You watch the shadow in $xname’s eyes vanish the moment you speak the words, replaced by a deeply felt relief. It’s so swift it’s dizzying. The vulnerability that had clung to $xthem like a shroud is gone, shed in an instant, and in its place is the familiar, dazzling smirk of the Pale Sword. “Well,” $xthey purrs, $xtheir voice dropping to a low, intimate register that sends a shiver down your spine. “When you put it like that…” $xname shifts, $xtheir body moving with a predatory grace that is both thrilling and slightly unnerving as $xthey settles on top of you, your hands reflexively lifting to $xtheir waist. $cxthey leans in with a smirk, $xtheir mouth hovering just above yours, $xtheir breath as heated as the fire that travels through $xtheir veins. “I would hate to ruin our night together by speaking too much. Fortunately for you, my mouth has plenty of other uses.” And then $xthey kisses you. It’s not one of shared relief or quiet confession. This is a performance, a masterclass in distraction: skilled and confident and shamelessly lustful. $cxtheir mouth claims yours with a practiced ease, a greedy swirl of tongue and ravenous edge of teeth that is designed to obliterate thought. Your body lights up with an immediate, answering fire as $xtheir hands roam your body, intimately exploring its contours through your nightrobe. While you groan against $xtheir mouth, $xname shifts closer against you, the tantalizing press of $xtheir hips leaving no room for doubt about $xtheir intentions. This is an escape with $xname is coaxing you along, and Spirits help you, it feels incredible. <<if $res gt $flirt>>For a moment, you are completely overwhelmed, swept away by the sheer force of $xtheir desire for you. Pliant in $xtheir arms, you can do little else but let $xthem lead, sucking in sharp breaths whenever $xthey allows you to. The line of $xtheir body presses more firmly yours, the insistent pressure of $xtheir mouth insatiable, and you melt into it, a soft hum escaping you. But as the kiss deepens, a strange disconnect begins to bloom in the back of your mind. It feels… perfect. Too perfect. Every movement is precise, every touch calculated—you catch a glimpse of $xname’s eyes, studying your reactions to $xthem as if to gauge your pleasure. You’re being seduced, and expertly so, but you don’t feel like you’re kissing $xname. You feel like you’re kissing a performance, a piece of art being crafted and tailored to your exact preferences. A flicker of disappointment cuts through the haze of arousal, so sharp and unexpected it makes you stiffen. You push the thought away, blaming it on your own overthinking and scolding yourself for it. Hands tangling in $xname’s hair, you try to lose yourself again in the intoxicating rhythm of $xtheir mouth.<<else>>You meet $xtheir kiss with a matching fire, a smirk of your own forming against $xtheir lips. This is a game you know how to play. Your arms wrap around $xtheir neck, your fingers tangling in $xtheir hair with equal, unrestrained passion. $cxthey hums encouragingly when your fingers grasp hold of $xtheir tresses, yet bites at your lower lip as if to return your challenge, stoking the embers inside of you into a blaze. You nip gently at $xtheir tongue to draw a low, breathy groan from $xtheir chest, a sound of unadulterated lust that sends a jolt of satisfaction through you. This is what you wanted, what you asked for: a night without worries, and of pure, physical enjoyment. Yet even as you lose yourself in the slick, hot slide of $xtheir tongue against yours, a small, insidious thought worms its way into your mind. $cxthey’s not just kissing you, $xthey’s hiding. You can feel it in the desperate edge to $xtheir movements, in the way $xthey pours every ounce of $xtheir formidable energy into the physical, as if afraid to stop for even a second and let something else show through. You’re a distraction, a way to keep the darkness at bay. The thought should probably bother you, but the pleasure is too potent, the moment too intoxicating, and you push it aside, telling yourself you’re overthinking it. Instead, you try to lose yourself again in the intoxicating rhythm of $xtheir mouth.<</if>> The forgotten map crinkles between you, and $xname only parts from your lips long enough to yank it out and toss it to the floor beside your bed. The candlelight flutters, and for a moment, you could swear you see that flicker of something else in $xtheir eyes, before it’s extinguished by another searing kiss. <em>these options do not affect the romance, choose whichever you prefer</em><ul class="a"><li>[[Take it further.|14.xxx]]</li> <li>[[Go to sleep in each other’s arms.|14.cuddle]]</li></ul> The two of you melt into a slow, languid rhythm, the world narrowing to the feel of $xtheir body pressed against yours, the taste of $xtheir burning mouth, and the steady, reassuring beat of $xtheir heart against your chest. You taste the embers of $xtheir magic off $xtheir lips, and it only leaves you wanting more, until you both erupt and burn out. The map is a forgotten lump on the ground beside the bed, the worries about the expedition a distant echo. As the air around you heats with the weight of your combined magic flaring to life, a new kind of current starts to flow between you: one of pure, unadulterated intent. $xname breaks the kiss and pulls back just enough to look at you, $xtheir eyes burning with an intensity that is both worshipful and avaricious. $cxtheir hand slides down your stomach, making your abdomen flex and your breath catch: arousal tightens your gut with anticipation even before $xtheir fingers make it to your lower belly. “Can I taste you?” $xthey asks shamelessly, the question breathed out against your lips with undisguised hunger. Your heart pounds against your chest, the sun’s heat surging through you so intensely that you almost worry the sheets beneath you might catch on fire. <<if $flirt gt $pass>>“Yes,” you answer without hesitation, craving $xthem with just as much ravenous need.<<else>>You can only nod, bereft of your words but craving $xthem all the same.<</if>> $xname smiles, sharp and pleased, $xtheir gaze making your stomach flip. Then, with a slow, deliberate grace, $xthey begins to shift, $xtheir movements a fluid descent that bypasses thought and goes straight to what $xthey wants. $cxtheir hands trail a path of warmth down your sides, $xtheir mouth following in a slow, reverent line against the fabric of your nightrobe. You feel the press of $xtheir lips through the thin material, a series of soft, deliberate kisses that trace the center of your chest, your stomach. Even through your clothes, $xtheir mouth is so hot it radiates through your body, and your fingers find $xtheir hair, gripping $xtheir tresses in a silent plea for more. $xname responds with a low, encouraging hum at the touch, the sound a vibration that sinks into your bones. $cxtheir hands find your thighs, $xtheir grip firm and sure, a grounding force that holds you steady as $xthey settles between your legs and you watch $xthem, utterly entranced. When $xthey starts pushing the soft fabric of your garments aside, baring you to the warm, flickering light of the room, you tense only for a moment. What coolness is left in the air quickly evaporates under the intensity of $xname’s gaze on you, the heat of $xtheir <em>breath</em> on you, caressing you so softly yet so intimately that your toes are already curling on the bedsheets before $xthey’s even touched you. “Are you going to make me beg?” you manage to speak, and $xname smirks up at you, hands shifting up from your thighs to grip your hips, squeezing tight to hold you still. “I wouldn’t dare,” $xthey says, and then $xtheir mouth descends on you. A soft gasp tears from your throat—it’s not a point of contact, but a point of surrender. The world, the palace, the entire Empire dissolves at the edges of your vision. There is only the weight of $xtheir devotion, a quiet, overwhelming presence that erases every line of worry that tried to etch itself into your mind. The heat of $xtheir mouth, $xtheir lips and tongue all pleasure you so sinfully that you reach back to grasp onto the headboard more than once, your voice twisting into sounds and noises you didn’t know you were capable of making. Whenever it gets too much, you tug onto $xtheir hair, and a thrill goes down your spine when $xthey tells you to pull harder, wanting everything that you’re willing to give $xthem whether it be punishing or tender. The last vestiges of your tension unravel, not with a snap, but with a long, slow, inexorable sigh of release. You are no longer the Crown. You are simply a body being held, a spirit being seen, a heart being soothed by an act of overwhelming intimacy that steals the very air from your lungs. You close your eyes and let go, allowing the current of $xtheir affection to wash you clean, leaving you breathless and boneless in its wake as you sink into the night's embrace. [[Continue|14.12]] The two of you melt into a slow, languid rhythm, the world narrowing to the feel of $xtheir body pressed against yours, the taste of $xtheir burning mouth, and the steady, reassuring beat of $xtheir heart against your chest. The map is a forgotten lump on the ground beside the bed, the worries about the expedition a distant echo. The initial urgency, the desperate gratitude, softens into something deeper, more profound. It’s no longer about seeking release, but about finding refuge. $xname seems to feel it too. The kiss eases, becoming a series of soft, lingering presses, a gentle affirmation. $cxtheir hand, which had been gripping your waist, moves to cup the back of your head, $xtheir fingers stroking in a soothing, repetitive motion. You sigh into $xtheir mouth, a sound of pure, unadulterated contentment. When you finally part, it’s not with a gasp, but with a quiet, shared exhale. $xname’s forehead rests against yours, and you keep your eyes closed, simply breathing the same air. The scent of $xtheir perfume, spice and breeze, fills your senses, grounding you in the moment. “Stay,” you whisper, the word barely audible. It’s not a command, but a plea. $xname’s response is a soft hum of agreement. $cxthey shifts, maneuvering you both with an easy strength until you’re lying down properly, $xtheir body a solid, warm presence beside yours. $cxthey reaches down the bed to pull the topmost blanket over your tangled forms, and the outside world ceases to exist. You curl into $xthem, your head finding its home in the crook of $xtheir shoulder. Your arm drapes across $xtheir waist, and $xtheir arm wraps around you in turn, holding you close. For a long time, you just lie there. The only sounds are the crackle of the dwindling candle flame and the slow, even rhythm of your breathing, gradually turning into one. You can feel the steady, solid thrum of $xtheir heartbeat against your cheek, a reassuring sound that chases away the last ghosts of your anxiety. Your hand, resting on $xname’s waist, begins to move of its own accord. Your fingers shift up to $xtheir chest, to trace idle patterns over the soft fabric of $xtheir tunic, following the lines of $xtheir collarbone. It’s a mindless, intimate exploration, a way of memorizing the shape of $xthem without words. In response, $xtheir hand begins to move in slow, sweeping circles on your back, a touch that is both comforting and possessive. This, you realize, is the real intimacy. Not the passionate clashes or the desperate confessions, but this. The quiet aftermath. The simple, profound act of holding and being held. It’s a silent promise that you don’t have to face the coming challenges alone, and that for tonight, at least, you can just be. There is no Crown, no mercenary, no burdens to carry. There is only you, and $xname, and the safe, warm space you’ve created between you. You feel a wave of exhaustion wash over you, but it’s a pleasant, heavy weariness, the kind that comes from a soul finally at peace. The worries about the mountains, about the rebels, about the fate of the Empire are still there, waiting for the morning. But for now, they are distant, muted by the simple, overwhelming comfort of the person in your arms. $xname presses a soft, lingering kiss to the crown of your head. “Sleep, $name,” $xthey murmurs, $xtheir voice a low hum beneath your ear. You don’t need to be told twice. With a final, contented sigh, you let your eyes drift closed, surrendering to the quiet certainty of the affectionate arms that hold you. [[Continue|14.12]]<<if $yekbun is 'dead'>>The meal eventually winds down, replaced by the soft clatter of dishes and murmured conversation. One by one, your companions begin to rise from the table: $dname excusing $dthemselves to oversee the packing of weapons and rations, $aname heading to the training yard to inspect the guard rotations, $xname mentioning something about testing the horses’ temperaments “just in case they bite royalty.” Siham remains a little longer, handing you a roll of papyrus before he goes. “The latest inventory,” they explain. “Everything we need for the pilgrimage: rations, tents, reagents. I’d appreciate your final approval before we depart.” You nod, offering a faint smile. “I’ll look it over shortly.” Soon, your chamber empties. $rname lingers near the door for a moment, catching your gaze. “You should rest your mind a little before the road,” $rthey says gently. “Today will be full enough without exhaustion.” You promise to try, though you both know it’s a lie. Once they’re gone, silence settles—not heavy, but hollow. You make your way to your desk, the roll of papyrus still in hand. Daylight spills over its wooden surface, illuminating the neat stacks of scrolls, ink bottles, and one out-of-place object: a worn leather notebook. Your steps slow. It was left there the night of your coronation. The night Scholar Yekbûn died. You set down Siham’s inventory list without looking at it and reach instead for the notebook. The leather cover is softened with age, its corners frayed from years of use. You take a breath, and then open it carefully. The first pages are neat, full of her precise script: observations of terrain, notes on ancient wards, diagrams of ritual circles your parents had been studying before their deaths. You’ve read it before, but still you turn the pages slowly, as though you might find something new if you just look long enough. Halfway through, the notes begin to change. The tidy handwriting grows uneven, the lines crowded. You know what comes next, but it still hits like a arrow when you reach it. <em>Day thirty-two. No word yet. The expedition was only meant to last two weeks. I cannot help but fear the worst. Spirits forgive me, I should have gone with them.</em> Your throat tightens as you read on, her words growing more frantic, her ink smudged by what might have been water, or tears. <em>If they do not return soon, I will leave to find them myself. They would have done the same for me. I can’t bear this waiting. It feels like a punishment.</em> You close the notebook gently, fingers resting on the worn leather. The memory of her last night flashes behind your eyes: the echo of her voice claiming to know your parents, the desperation in her eyes, the weariness and exhaustion in her face. You barely knew her and cannot mourn who she was, but she died because of you. Just as how your parents did. Her blood is on your hands, and she may only be the first of many should you make more missteps. You swallow hard, setting the notebook back down, yet the weight of it remains a phantom against your palms and fingers. Siham’s inventory still waits beside it, patient and practical. You draw it closer, scanning the supplies list without really seeing it. While you stare at the lines of ink you press a hand atop Yekbûn’s notebook, only for a heartbeat. Then you exhale, and turn back to your duties. The pilgrimage awaits, and the mountains are calling.<<else>>The meal eventually winds down, replaced by the soft clatter of dishes and murmured conversation. One by one, your companions begin to rise from the table: $dname excusing $dthemselves to oversee the packing of weapons and rations, $aname heading to the training yard to inspect the guard rotations, $xname mentioning something about testing the horses’ temperaments “just in case they bite royalty.” Siham leaves you with another supply list to review, promising to oversee the enchantments on the tents. Before long, your chambers fall quiet again, sunlight slanting across the table where scrolls and ledgers await your attention. You mean to start reading them, but your eyes drift instead to the view of the gardens outside your window. If her punctuality holds, Scholar Yekbûn will arrive any moment now. You are proven right by a soft knock on the side door only a short while later. “Enter,” you call. The door opens, and Yekbûn steps in, her familiar petite frame and sharp eyes bringing an unexpected wave of comfort. Ink stains are smudged faintly along the edges of her sleeves. “Your Imperial Majesty,” she greets, though the wry smile that follows softens the formality. “You look exhausted. Have you been sleeping at all?” “On occasion,” you reply, returning her smile. “I’d ask you the same, but I already know the answer.” She laughs quietly, setting down the satchel slung over her shoulder. “That is fair.” You motion for her to sit at the low table, and for a time, the two of you talk: of the preparations, the routes, the storms predicted along the mountains’ edge. The conversation turns easily toward the past, as it often does when she visits. Eventually, you venture, “I suppose you will not be joining us on this expedition?” “I feel as if I owe it to your parents to try,” she admits, averting her gaze, “yet I was hardly spry two decades ago, and my health has not improved with age. I fear I would not be able to make it up the mountains.” “I understand.” It might be better this way: Yekbun’s absence would surely be noticed. Whenever she visits the palace to see you, she does so in secret, smuggled through the tunnels by your personal guards. Usually, Perjin accompanies her, having taken a liking to her company. Sometimes, like now, Yekbûn visits you by herself, and you spend time speaking of your parents, or asking her what she thinks they might have thought of the decisions you’ve made. Today is one such occasion, as you venture, “What do you think my mother and father would have thought of me following in their footsteps?” Yekbûn’s gaze turns distant as she peers out the window, seeming lost in thought for several moments. “I can only guess, but I’m certain a part of them would be horrified. Fearful of what might befall you, and wracked with remorse that this burden came to rest upon your shoulders.” You suspect that she’s right. They went out of their way to shield you from danger, selfish in their desire to keep you safe and thereby robbing you of the chance to flourish on your own. You struggle to hate them for it, even as bitter as you are—you resent them for their secrets, but how could you resent them for loving you as deeply as they did? “But I am also certain,” Yekbûn adds, pulling you from your thoughts, “that they would be so very proud of you.” You swallow thickly, the motion half-aborted with the lump in your throat, turning your eyes toward the window. “I hope so,” you speak softly, wishing as you have done many times before that you could ask them yourself. That they could give you advice, guide you, like they always used to. But now you only have yourself and your own judgment to rely on, with the weight of an empire bearing down onto the scales. “You have your father’s wit and your mother’s strength,” Yekbûn says, placing a hand upon your shoulder. “You have survived challenges that would have had those of lesser will giving out at the knees, and you have grown so remarkably in a single month’s time. The Empire could not have asked for a more resilient Crown.” You cover her hand with yours for a brief moment, the contact grounding you. “You always know what to say.” “That’s what happens when you’ve lived long enough to see every mistake twice over,” she replies, smiling faintly. “Now, if you mean to keep that throne, you’d best learn to rest when you can. Even rulers are useless when they collapse from exhaustion.” You laugh quietly, promising to rest, though you both know you won’t. When she departs again, you linger by the window, watching sunlight creep over the mountains in the distance. Soon, you’ll follow that path yourself. And whatever waits there—ghosts, secrets, or truths long buried—you’ll face it as they once did.<</if>> [[Continue|14.14]]<<if $peritrader is true>>The last of the morning’s reports lies signed and sealed when a soft knock sounds against your chamber door. You barely look up from your desk, already preparing for whatever obligation or crisis the day might throw your way next. “Enter.” The door swings open, and Princess Kham’s towering peri form steps through. Her visit was unplanned, though not unexpected: you figured she would wish to speak to you before you left Marabad. “Crown,” she greets with a graceful inclination of her head, even despite the creak of wood. “I hope I am not intruding.” “Kham.” You rise from your chair, returning the gesture with restrained warmth. You wonder at her motive for visiting your chambers now when she was content to keep to throne rooms and sitting rooms—to challenge you in your most intimate territory, perhaps? Or create an artificial sense of closeness? You cannot guess. “You’re always welcome, though your visits are rarely without purpose.” She laughs softly, moving further into the room, dwarfing most of your furniture in size. “You wound me. Must there be some hidden design behind my company?” “From you?” You arch a brow. “Always.” She presses a hand to her chest, feigning affront, though the smile never fades. “And here I thought our alliance had earned me a measure of trust.” You motion toward the sitting area. “Trust,” you say mildly, “is a rare and precious thing. I prefer not to spend it lightly.” Kham hums, eyes glowing bright with amusement as she takes a seat. “Still, you’ve spent a portion of it on me already, what with agreeing to hand over that wretched trader. My mother will judge him soon, I’m told. The forest of Anshan does not forget its debts, and you have earned its favor.” You lower yourself into the opposite chair. “Good. That was the intent. I’ve no interest in standing between the peris and your justice.” “Justice,” she repeats, tasting the word like wine. “Humans speak of it so often, yet it means something different to each of you. Still, your gesture was a wise one.” Her gaze sharpens, feline and knowing. “We remember those who honor their word.” “And I assume those who break it.” Her smile deepens, the edge of a blade hidden beneath silk. “Indeed.” [[Continue|14.15khamfriend]]<<else>>The last of the morning’s reports lies signed and sealed when a soft knock sounds against your chamber door. You barely look up from your desk, already preparing for whatever obligation or crisis the day might throw your way next. “Enter.” The door swings open, and Princess Kham’s towering peri form steps through. Her visit was unplanned, though not unexpected: you figured she would wish to speak to you before you left Marabad. “Crown,” she greets with a graceful inclination of her head, even despite the creak of wood. “Kham,” you greet, keeping your tone even. “You’re early.” “I see that you’ve been expecting me,” she says with a lilting smile, one that never quite bends as much as it should to be genuine. “You are preparing to depart for your expedition, are you not? I thought it best to wish you well before the court swallows you again in duties.” You motion to the sitting area with the low table, abandoning your desk to join her. “A thoughtful gesture. Please, sit.” She does, settling down on her knees with a distinct creak of wood. “How fare your preparations?” “As well as one can hope.” You study her from across the table, trying to guess at her motivations for approaching you in your chambers. “You know how travel arrangements are, half-logistics and half-diplomacy.” “Ah, yes,” she murmurs. “And neither ever truly finished.” There’s a delicate pause, the kind that feels intentional, crafted. Then, lightly, almost idly, she says, “Speaking of unfinished business, one of the traders stationed here seems to have departed unexpectedly. The one who handles plants and—” A deliberate glance, “—other specialized flowers. You wouldn’t happen to have heard anything of it, would you?” Your shoulders tense ever so slightly. <<if $khamstatus is true>>You keep your expression mild, posture unshaken. The trader in question is long gone by now, hidden safely in one of $xname’s safehouses across Rojan, under oath and protection. You’ll use his testimony when the time is right. Not yet. Not until you can wield it where it will hurt the most.<<else>>You feel the weight of her question, its careful edges. The trader is far beyond her reach now, hidden in one of $xname’s safehouses, and when your expedition ends, your message to her mother will ensure Kham’s complicity comes to light. But for now, she must see nothing but calm ignorance.<</if>> You arch your brows in a show of nonchalance. “Is that odd? Traders come and go often.” “Not usually,” she admits, smile unchanging. “He was due to make a supply run eventually. Perhaps I’m simply growing too accustomed to knowing their schedules.” You lean back slightly, letting a faint note of amusement color your voice. “You’re remarkably well-informed, Your Highness, to keep track of each trader’s movements so closely. One might think you were running their operations yourself.” A tense silence follows. [[Continue|14.15khamenemy]]<</if>> For a time, the conversation drifts to gentler subjects: the conditions in the other provinces, the progress of your preparations, the state of the roads between Anshan and Marabad. Kham listens attentively, though her interest seems to lie more in the cadence of your words than their meaning. Then, with a subtle tilt of her head, she changes course. “You speak of duty and travel as though you were already halfway gone. Tell me, Crown, are you truly so eager to flee your own court?” <<if $blunt gt $charm>>You snort quietly. “It isn’t eagerness. It’s necessity. There’s work to be done in the mountains, and less nonsense to wade through than here.” Kham laughs, delighted. “Ah, the famous candor of Arsur’s new Crown. Your court must love you dearly.” “I’ve yet to hear them say so.” “Perhaps they fear you’ll answer honestly.” She leans forward slightly, eyes glinting. “You should be careful, you know. Honesty can be as dangerous a weapon as deceit.”<<else>>You smile wryly. “You make it sound like I’m running away.” “Aren’t you?” she teases. “From my own court? Hardly,” you say with a scoff. “But if I were, can you blame me? There are only so many hours of politics one can survive without fresh air.” She laughs softly, the sound almost seeming to echo against the wooden walls of her throat and mouth. “A charming answer. You always make diplomacy sound like a dance.” “Isn’t it?” you counter. “You of all people should know.” Her mouth widens knowingly, dark and hollow. “Oh, I do.”<</if>> The exchange lingers between you, poised somewhere between jest and challenge. Kham reclines slightly, studying you with open curiosity while she adjusts the wooden spines of her wings, angling them a little higher to keep them from scraping against the floor. “You’ve changed since we first met,” she muses. “You carry yourself differently now. Heavier, perhaps, but steadier too. Tell me, does rulership suit you?” You hesitate before answering. “It’s not about whether it suits me. It’s what was given to me.” Her grin eases, though her gaze never loses that faint glimmer of calculation. “Ever the dutiful one. You remind me of my older sister, though she is far less modest.” You laugh quietly. “I’ll take that as a compliment.” “You should. She is a remarkable person.” For a fleeting moment, her expression turns wistful with a rare hint of sincerity cutting through her poise. But then it’s gone, replaced by the effortless grace of a princess’ smile. “I will not keep you,” Kham says, rising from her seat. “You have an important pilgrimage ahead. But I do hope the mountains are kind to you, Crown. It would be a shame if our next meeting were delayed by tragedy.” Her tone is sweet, but the implication coiled beneath it is unmistakable. <<if $blunt gt $charm>>“I’ll do my best not to die,” you say flatly. Kham’s laughter rings bright and genuine. “See that you don’t! I’d hate to have to charm your successor all over again.”<<else>>You smile lightly. “You worry for me?” “Only insofar as your survival continues to benefit me,” she replies, tone teasing, eyes gleaming. “But perhaps also a little more than that.”<</if>> She bows with that same flawless grace before turning toward the door. The faint shimmer of her magic flickers briefly across her wings in an iridescent light, before fading as she leaves the room. When the door closes behind her, you exhale slowly, leaning back in your chair. You can’t quite decide whether you find her presence invigorating or exhausting. Only that she always leaves you questioning which of her words were truth and which were merely the illusion she wished you to believe. And yet, you find yourself smiling. Princess Kham of Anshan may be dangerous, but she is never dull. [[Continue|14.16]] Kham’s smile doesn’t fade, but something subtle shifts behind her eyes, a flicker of steel beneath glass. “Oh, hardly. I simply like to be aware of what happens within my borders, or near them. Wouldn’t you?” “I would,” you reply smoothly, “though I try to leave merchants to their trade. It’s simpler when everyone stays within their proper sphere.” Her fingers drum lightly against her knee in dull taps, the only betrayal of tension she allows. “A wise policy,” she says finally. “Though perhaps not always a practical one.” You meet her gaze evenly. “Practicality depends on how much one has to hide.” The words hang between you, sharp and sweet. For the first time, Kham looks away. Not because she’s flustered, but conceding ground in her own graceful way. Her composure never slips, it simply folds into another mask. She rises smoothly, brushing imaginary dust from her arm. “Well,” she says lightly, “I suppose that’s my cue to take my leave before I find myself accused of meddling.” “Too late for that,” you remark. Her laugh is soft, musical, and entirely insincere. “Perhaps. Still, I do have to make my rounds with the other traders before noon. Anshan demands much these days.” The princess’ tone is light, but you hear the retreat in it, the small concession. She cannot press further without risking revelation, and she knows it. At the door, she glances back over her shoulder, the faint shimmer of her glamour catching in the sunlight. “Good luck on your journey, Crown. May the mountains treat you kindly, and may your path remain… clear.” The pause before that last word isn’t accidental. <<if $blunt gt $charm>>Your gaze turns cold, your reply as measured and dangerous as fingers curling around the hilt of a sword. “I always ensure it is.” She inclines her head, smiling wide, the glimpse of her wooden mouth dark and hollow. “Then you and I are not so different, after all.”<<else>>You smile thinly. “Your concern is touching.” Kham’s answering laugh is entirely cold. “You’ll find I can be quite sincere, when it suits me.”<</if>> She departs with the same grace she entered, leaving behind the unmistakable sense that the dynamic between you has shifted significantly, though neither of you has yet attacked. This was more of a probe, a way to feel each other out. You sit back, letting the silence reclaim the room, pulse steady but cold beneath your skin, a certainty settling inside of you: Kham knows that you know, and she’ll be watching. [[Continue|14.16]] After that <<if $peritrader is false>>strangely pleasant<<else>>tense<</if>> encounter, you return to the rest of your obligations for the afternoon. Ishrah aids you in your final checks of the expedition, and you know that if there is anything else to add to your preparations, now is the final opportunity for you to do so. You are staring at the map of Arsur spread out on your desk in thought when Ishrah’s question comes, sudden and unbidden. “Where are you from, my Crown?” You part your lips reflexively to reply, but then pause when you realize you don’t know how to answer. “What do you mean?” Ishrah gives you a confused look as she fluffs up one of your pillows. She must have noticed you staring at the map and gotten curious. “I mean your hometown. Where are you from? I’m from Çenare, I don’t know if you’ve heard of it- you probably wouldn’t have, it’s quite small. It’s on the border with Zerat, south of Marabad.” You suddenly realize you don’t know its name. “Your Imperial Majesty?” Ishrah stops her work. “Are you alright?” Her words hardly get through to you as you stand there and stare off into the distance. You don’t know the name of your hometown. You don’t know the name of the place where you were born. Where your mother’s family is from, where your father’s family is from. You never learned the names. <<if $xfriend is false>>“Ishrah, do you know where the servants put the map I was looking at yesterday?” you ask, frowning as you wonder why it never occurred to you before.<<else>>“Ishrah, do we have a map of Rojan?” you ask, frowning as you wonder why it never occurred to you before. “A more detailed one.”<</if>> You suppose by the time you were old enough to ask such questions, you gradually became accustomed to being on the run. Perhaps you asked your parents once, but you do not remember if they ever answered. Everything of your memory from around the time you and your parents first left your hometown is blurry and difficult to recall. You only remember the chaos of it all, the fear in your parents’ faces… Ishrah looks at you with concern, then quickly turns to one of the many bookcases in your room. She takes a thick scroll from among a small stack sorted neatly beside some books, and moves it to your desk in front of the windows. You follow her as she spreads the scroll out across the polished wooden surface, revealing a detailed map of Rojan drawn in black ink. You start from Marabad, marked with a notable dot on the map, and retrace the steps of your journey, trying to reorient yourself. You know, vaguely, where the place of it should be. Among the hills that are situated at the base of the Armas Mountains, near the mountain pass that opens up to the Sacati Steppes in the north of Arsur. The maps your mother owned, which you used to travel, always had it marked plainly with a simple diagonal cross. It didn’t list its name, but you knew that it was your home. When you look at this map, made for a Crown, you don’t see it. “It’s not here,” you say, eyes flitting across the ink with your frown deepening. “Why isn’t it on the map?” “Most smaller villages aren’t,” Ishrah says from beside you. She points to an empty spot beneath Marabad. “See? Çenare isn’t on the map either. I think the cartographer who made this only mapped out the larger cities.” When you remain silent, eyes fixed on the map as if staring long enough would spontaneously make your village appear, Ishrah gently touches your shoulder. “Crown $name, what’s wrong?” She finally voices her puzzlement at your behavior, though it isn’t a judgmental one. “We can have someone draw a new map for you with your hometown on it if it would please you.” You exhale a long, weary sigh. “I don’t know its name.” “I’m sorry?” “I don’t know what my village is called.” You push away from the map. It shouldn’t matter, it doesn’t change anything, but how could you not know? You feel suddenly, and terribly, adrift. When you traveled by yourself before, you thought the lack of companionship was what weighed heaviest on you, but now that you’re surrounded by people, you realize that might not have been its only cause. <em>This</em>, this not knowing, is a loneliness you cannot put into words. An otherness that has severed you from something as essential as breathing: belonging. “We can ask someone,” Ishrah says, smiling at you in an effort to cheer you up as you slowly sit down on the edge of your bed. “Surely a well-traveled cartographer could tell you the name. Or we could send one to your hometown! It would only take a week to travel, and—” <em>Come home, my love.</em> Your whole body jolts with the realization, standing up so quickly you startle Ishrah. You thought the Earth had merely been tormenting you before, with the vision of your mother and your childhood home. It certainly tested <<if $rfriend is false>>$rname<</if>><<if $afriend is false>>$aname<</if>><<if $xfriend is false>>$xname<</if>><<if $dfriend is false>>$dname<</if>> when <<if $rfriend is false>>$rthey<</if>><<if $afriend is false>>$athey<</if>><<if $xfriend is false>>$xthey<</if>><<if $dfriend is false>>$dthey<</if>> intruded on your vision, so you assumed it did similarly to you—but why would it taunt the Crown like that? None of the other spirits treated you that way, and the Earth is known for its generous nature. At the time you couldn’t see it, too filled with pain to wonder about its reasons, but now you are clear-headed enough to recognize what you missed before. What if the Earth of Arsur was trying to tell you something? [[Continue|14.17]] You instruct Ishrah to go find $rname and tell $rthem to come see you as soon as $rthey has the time. Thankfully, you do not have to wait long for your Sorcerer to appear, knocking at your door a short half hour later. “Is something wrong, $name?” $rthey asks, frowning with worry. “Ishrah said it might be urgent.” “Not urgent, strictly speaking.” You point to the map on your desk, having poured over it while waiting as you tried to remember the exact location of your hometown. “It’s related to the Armas Mountains. Since we have started planning the expedition, I thought it would best for you to know quickly.” $rname moves forward to join you by your desk, casting a curious glance at the map. “Is it regarding the route?” “If possible,” you say, “I would like to visit my hometown on the way to the mountains.” While $rname looks mildly surprised by the request, $rthey doesn’t question it, simply nodding as $rthey returns to looking at the map. “Whereabouts is it?” You point to the small smattering of hills drawn beneath the eastern part of the mountain range. “Somewhere near here is my best guess.” “That’s on the other side of the mountain pass,” $rname notes, pointing out the passageway to the steppes to the north of Rojan, the territory of nomadic Saca tribes. $crthey hums in thought. “It would be quite a detour to head for the western ranges, four days at least. Your father’s goal was Peak Asha, was it not?” “It was.” The longer you are away from your throne, the greater the risk the nobility will notice something amiss. Perhaps it isn’t worth the danger, and you should plan the visit to your hometown for another time. $crthey thinks on it a moment longer, then says, “We could arrange to have shirdals delivered to us after we visit your hometown. It would cut the detour short to just a day or two.” “To carry us up to the mountains?” You can’t quite hide the wonder in your voice. Only a few times have you caught sight of shirdals being used as mounts before, carrying messengers quickly through the air. “As far as they are allowed to go by Şahmaran, in any case.” $rname taps on the edge of the map, staring at the circle drawn around Peak Asha. “Shirdals do not have as much endurance as horses, so we could not ride them from here to the mountains or to your hometown with all our supplies: they are not beasts of burden. But a trip from your hometown to the mountains would be just about doable, especially if we send some soldiers ahead of us with supplies so that we may travel light.” You know that shirdals are mainly used in emergencies since they are quite temperamental as mounts and very difficult to tame, so horses are the preferred choice. For short journeys, usually a day or two at most in short bursts, they would be sufficient, but for anything longer than that would be a challenge—not to mention that flying through the air is much more perilous for the rider. Still, the thought of being able to fly through the air on the back of one makes you almost forget about the danger. “If it’s not too much to ask,” you start, but $rname interjects with an understanding smile. “Of course.” $crthey places a hand <<if $rfriend is false>>against your cheek, and your tension evaporates as you lean into it<<else>>on your shoulder in reassurance<</if>>. “I’ll ask Keko to arrange the shirdals, and I’ll let the others know about the detour. Just leave it to me.” “Thank you, $rname.” $crthey departs at once to get it done, and you feel the burden on your shoulders easing ever so slightly. It lasts only for a few moments, until a servant arrives to remind you of your scheduled meeting with the Imperial Court. Taking a deep, slow breath, you string out as much composure as you can find, and face the last of your duties before the expedition. [[Continue|14.18]] Yet, the composure you gather proves a flimsy shield against the onslaught of the court without your companions present, each busy with preparations and having sent replacements in their stead. In the throne room, you are not a person but a prize, a symbol to be courted and manipulated. Every smile is a calculation, every word a bid for favor. You feel eyes on you like a physical weight, and the throne becomes a gilded cage, its ornate bars forged from ambition and deceit. You answer their petitions with a voice that feels disconnected from yourself, playing the part of the Crown while feeling less like yourself than ever. When it’s over, the need for something real is a desperate physical pull. You abandon the halls, your steps echoing a swift rhythm as you move into the sanctuary of your gardens. The air changes, growing heavy but refreshing with the clean scent of water and grass as you traverse the path to a familiar structure. You push open the heavy door to the water temple, and the silence washes over you, a profound relief after the court’s suffocating noise. Here, you can finally breathe again. The spirits sense your arrival. Ripples of water fan outward in the large pool within the temple, soft and luminous, forming patterns and shapes too precise to be random. A whisper of moisture brushes your cheek, cool as a blessing. “Hello again,” you murmur. “It’s been some time.” The surface brightens, answering in color instead of sound. A gentle pulse of blue radiates from the center of the pool, accompanied by a soft swell of energy that rises from the water into the air, and through you. <em>Friend.</em> The meaning comes wordless, understood rather than heard. The pulse lingers, then fades to a tranquil shimmer. You breathe out slowly. “Thank you.” For a long moment, there are only the softest sounds to break the silence: the gentle drip of condensation from the ceiling, the faint sigh of air through the open vents above. The stillness invites thought, and thought brings memories you’ve worked hard to bury. You crouch down and touch the water’s edge with your fingertips. The spirits’ light gathers faintly around the contact point, spreading outward like glowing veins of vivid blue beneath the surface. “I don’t know what to do with it,” you admit quietly, voice barely above a whisper. “This feeling. It never leaves. Even when I think I’ve moved on, it’s still there, waiting.” The water shivers in response. Not rejecting, not consoling, only listening. You close your eyes, letting the sound of your own breathing fill the space where words fail. The chill of the stone beneath your knees anchors you, holding you in the present even as grief tugs you backward. When you open your eyes again the light of the spirits lingers, patient and expectant, as though waiting for you to decide how to proceed. You don’t particularly <em>want</em> to speak of it, in fact you can think of few other things you’d like to do less. But if you are to face Şahmaran’s judgment, you cannot do so with your mind clouded and your heart in turmoil. You draw a breath. <ul class="a"> <<if $spirits is 'somber'>><li>[[Speak about your grief.|14.19speak]]</li> <li>[[Bottle it up inside.|14.19bottle]]</li> <</if>><<if $spirits is 'sympathetic'>><li>[[Speak about your grief.|14.19speak]]</li> <li>[[Continue to cling to it.|14.19cling]]</li> <</if>><<if $spirits is 'admiring'>><li>[[Speak about your grief.|14.19speak]]</li> <li>[[Convince yourself that you're alright.|14.19convince]]</li><</if>></ul>“I don’t know if I can do this,” you admit softly, your words scattering in the hollow space as your voice carries the shame of your admission. “The pilgrimage, meeting Şahmaran… the weight of it all.” The water shimmers brighter, a pulse like the slow beat of a heart. It is not an answer, but a presence. One that offers to listen. You draw a shaky breath. “I’ve been told all my life that safety meant hiding. When they killed my parents…” You stop, the words catching in your throat. “They kept me from the throne for my own good, or so they said. To keep me safe. And yet what safety was there? What did they save me from, except knowing the truth until it was too late?” It’s the first time you have admitted this aloud to anyone, and speaking it feels far more painful than thinking it, making it real. In the maze of your own thoughts it’s an easy thing to run from, but once you have said it out loud, you can’t take back the confession. It hangs in the air, weighted. The pool ripples outward, faint waves spreading until the candlelight fractures into dozens of dancing shards. A warmth settles in your chest, neither absolution nor rebuke, only acknowledgment. “I tell myself I understand,” you press on. “That they only wanted me to live, that they loved me enough to hide me from the weight of all this. But now that I stand here, I can’t help but feel…” You falter. “That I am not the one who should be here at all.” The air thickens, heavy with magic, and you feel the water spirits pressing close like gentle mist against your skin, like the brush of rain along your cheek. <em>Burden</em>, they say. Not questioning you, not trying to comfort you. Simply stating back to you what it is you feel. It makes it easier to keep going. “Yes.” You bow your head, hands braced against your knees. “I can barely breathe beneath the expectations. Every decision I make tips the scales toward ruin or salvation, and the Empire looks at me as though I am already the answer. Already the savior.” The water shivers. Light glimmers at the edges of the pool, patterns like scales flashing and fading. For an instant, you almost see a shape in the depths: a vast coil, an echo of Şahmaran waiting at the end of your pilgrimage. Your chest tightens. “What if she sees me and finds nothing? What if I’ve already lost who I was, running from death so long that there’s no savior left in me, only a frightened child who doesn’t know how to stop hiding?” The spirits respond with a soft swell of magic, filling your lungs like cool air, easing the sharp knot in your throat. You inhale sharply, and with your next breath, you whisper, “I couldn’t even save my parents. How could I save a country?” The rational part of you knows it makes no sense. It wasn’t your fault that assassins killed them, and there was nothing you could do but to flee to save yourself. Even had you been trained to wield more than a dagger, you would have been severely outnumbered, and would have certainly died together with your parents. Even so, the moment of you running out of that burning farmhouse, abandoning your mother and father—it weighs on your heart like a sin. You close your eyes, letting the silence hold you. For a moment, you imagine you can feel your parents’ hands at your shoulders, the press of every guardian who stood between you and the blades that chased you. You wonder if they, too, doubted. If they ever feared the path they carved for you. “I want to believe,” you say at last, something in your mind feeling as if it clears for the first time in months. “I want to be worthy. Not because the Spirits chose me, not because the Empire demands it, but because I have to be.” The pool shimmers, light dancing in quiet affirmation, and you sense the spirits will follow if you ask it. Their magic clings at the edges of your own, eager, patient, ready. You rise slowly, your reflection rippling with you. The weight in your chest does not vanish, but it is lighter for having been spoken. The water still gleams, the spirits waiting. Perhaps their presence on the road would steady you. Perhaps it would burden you further. Either way, the choice is yours. <ul class="a"> <li>[[Take water spirits with you on your pilgrimage.|14.20a][$spirits to 'victorious']]</li> <li>[[Leave them behind.|14.20b][$spirits to 'peaceful']]</li></ul> You draw a slow, uneven breath. The weight in your chest swells, pressing hard against your ribs in a tide you’ve held back for too long. You know that if you open your mouth now, it will all come spilling out: the words you’ve never said, the ache you’ve never let yourself fully feel. But you can’t. Your fingers curl against your knees, knuckles whitening as the urge rises and then subsides again, forced back down into the recesses of your mind. The silence inside you feels safer than what waits beneath it. The spirits shift faintly in the water, their light flickering as though in gentle question. They sense it, you think. The pain, the struggle, the exhaustion you’ve wrapped around yourself like armor. You shake your head once, sharply. “Not tonight,” you say. “Please.” The water ripples, a single pulse of blue that ebbs outward. They don’t press, nor do they insist. They’re simply there, waiting patiently. You can’t meet their light. Instead, you stare down at your reflection. It wavers, fractured by the candlelight, splitting your face into ripples of color and shadow. For a moment, it doesn’t look like you at all: only a stranger with tired eyes and a burden that seems too heavy to wear. You wonder if that’s what everyone sees now. The thought catches in your throat. You look away before it can take root. “I thought it would get easier,” you say quietly, though you’re not sure who you’re talking to. “I thought if I just kept working, if I kept moving forward, I could leave it behind.” The water gleams faintly in response. A pulse of soft light brushes across your hands, the way one might touch a wound without daring to heal it. You flinch from it anyway. “I can’t afford to feel like this,” you mutter, straightening. “Not when the Empire’s in shambles. There’s no space for grief when you’re supposed to be the one holding it all together.” Your words fall flat, swallowed by the quiet. The water stills again, the spirits sensing your retreat, and the warmth they offered fades as it is replaced by a thin coolness that seeps through the air. They are not offended. You realize, distantly, that they’re giving you space. Mercy. Your throat tightens. “Thank you,” you murmur, though you don’t know why you say it. The spirits answer with a faint shimmer, soft enough to feel like pity. You bow your head once, then turn to leave. The echo of your footsteps fills the chamber as you cross back toward the entrance. Behind you, the light in the pool dims slowly, sinking into stillness until the water lies flat and dark once more. At the threshold, something inside you stirs, a faint awareness that you’ve left something unfinished here. Something that will follow you long as you step into the mountain air. You pause, looking back once at the silent pool. They’re still watching, the water whispering faintly at the edge of hearing—a sound that feels like longing, like <em>please</em>. You close your eyes, steadying your breath. When you open them again, the choice hangs before you like the reflection of the stars: <ul class="a"> <li>[[Take water spirits with you on your pilgrimage.|14.20a][$spirits to 'repressed']]</li> <li>[[Leave them behind.|14.20b][$spirits to 'avoidedworse']]</li></ul> You remain silent for a long while, watching the faint ripples on the surface of the pool settle back into stillness. The water spirits wait patiently, as though they know that whatever you have come here to say will take time to shape itself into words. But you don’t speak, not yet. Instead, you bend down and trace a hand across the stone lip of the pool, feeling the faint hum of magic beneath your fingertips. The air smells faintly of damp lilies and candlewax, the scent of memory. You breathe it in, and you remember. Your father’s hands: warm, steady, always ink-stained. Your mother’s voice: low, calm, certain. Their laughter echoing through the house when you were still small enough to be carried on their shoulders. You remember the warmth of that world, and the way it ended. The ache that rises isn’t sharp anymore. It’s familiar. Almost comfortable, like an old scar you’ve learned to stop flinching from. You can live with it. You have been living with it. The water stirs faintly, catching the candlelight. The shimmer reflects across your face like shards of a broken mirror. “They’d tell me to let go,” you speak softly, though no one has asked the question. “To stop holding onto something that can’t be changed. But if I let it go, what’s left of them?” The spirits pulse faintly, a wave of gentle light that laps against the pool’s edge and nearly brushes against your knees. The feeling it carries isn’t scolding or soothing, but simply understanding. You exhale softly, shoulders easing despite yourself. “I don’t want to move on,” you admit. “I know everyone would say that I should, that it’s the only way to heal. But I can’t. I don’t want to forget them or the pain. It’s the only thing that reminds me of who I really am, deep down.” The water hums a low, resonant note, like the sound of wind through hollow stone. The spirits’ presence thickens around you, heavier now, dense enough to taste. They aren’t trying to take the pain away, you can feel that clearly. They’re showing you what they see: the weight you’ve wrapped around your heart like armor. And beneath it, the steady rhythm of life still beating. You swallow hard, gaze softening. “I know it’s not right,” you whisper. “I know I’m supposed to want to let it go. But if I do, who will I be then? Without it?” A faint warmth rises through the floor beneath you, wrapping around your hands where they rest on the stone. The sensation feels like sunlight through water. It’s a quiet reassurance, neither forcing nor forbidding. You bow your head once, whispering, “Thank you.” The light pulses again, softer this time, answering in the same wordless language as before. <em>Friend</em>. The chamber feels lighter now. Not empty, but hollowed, as though it’s made space for something you haven’t yet named. You rise to your feet, feeling the stiffness in your knees and the heaviness still lingering in your chest, but now that you cling to it willingly it feels easier to bear. The spirits’ light flickers, dimming in rhythm with your breath. You take one last look around the temple before stepping back toward the entrance. The quiet follows you, calm and expectant, as though the spirits are still waiting for your final choice. At the threshold, you pause, and the thought forms, clear and heavy: <ul class="a"> <li>[[Take water spirits with you on your pilgrimage.|14.20a][$spirits to 'clinging']]</li> <li>[[Leave them behind.|14.20b][$spirits to 'avoidedworse']]</li></ul> You watch the water still, the faint shimmer of the spirits pulsing beneath the surface like the slow beat of a living heart. Their light is gentle and patient, reflecting back at you, and in it you see your own face. Tired, yes, but calm. Maybe that’s enough. Maybe calm is all that’s needed now. You draw a slow, steady breath and straighten your spine. The cool air fills your lungs, grounding you. “I’m alright,” you say quietly, almost experimentally, as though testing the weight of the words. “Truly.” The water ripples once, faintly. It’s a cautious whisper of movement, questioning. You smile, the gesture too practiced to be real. “You don’t need to worry. I’m fine. I’ve come to understand that grief doesn’t vanish, it just changes form. I’ve learned to live with it.” Your voice sounds steady. Almost convincing. The spirits’ light glows a little brighter, but the pulse of their energy carries a different tone now. It’s not an affirmation, not comfort, but quiet observation. They do not believe or disbelieve you. They simply watch. You reach toward the pool, letting your fingers hover above the surface. “I can’t keep mourning forever. My parents wouldn’t want that.” You pause, swallowing down the ache that still lingers at the edges of the thought. “They’d want me to lead, to endure. So I will.” The words are easy to say, maybe too easy. You lower your hand to the water. It’s cool against your skin, the faint hum of magic rippling outward. The spirits respond in kind, light blooming from your touch, swirling in soft waves. “I used to think the grief would destroy me,” you admit softly. “But it didn’t. It shaped me. It reminded me that pain doesn’t mean weakness.” The truth of that steadies you, even as the words ring with something unspoken underneath: the part of you that still hasn’t healed, that still flinches from the memory of that night, the one you never allow yourself to think about too long. You exhale slowly, letting the feeling fade before it can take shape. “It’s strange,” you say after a moment. “I thought I’d always carry the pain like a wound, but now it feels more like a scar.” Yet when you look into the water again, the reflection that greets you seems… detached. Too composed. A face carved into serenity, untouched by the ache that lingers beneath. You frown slightly. Then, deliberately, you let your expression ease. “I’ll be fine,” you tell the reflection, and this time it almost feels true. “There’s no point in carrying ghosts. The living need me more.” The spirits stir at that with a ripple of faint disquiet, a hesitation in the magic around you, as though they wish to protest but know it is not their place. You ignore it as you stand, smoothing the fabric of your robes. The air shifts faintly with your movement, carrying the scent of candle smoke and clean water. “Thank you,” you say softly. “For listening..” The lights beneath the water flicker once, then stabilize, pulsing again with a simple word: <em>Friend</em>. You smile faintly, bowing your head in gratitude. “And thank you for not trying to fix me.” With that, you turn to leave. Behind you, the pool remains luminous, but the light is softer now. It feels like farewell, or perhaps quiet understanding. You pause at the threshold, glancing back one last time. The spirits ripple faintly, their glow echoing the steady rhythm of your breath—or maybe your heart. And then the choice comes, clear and quiet as the ripple of light across the water: <ul class="a"> <li>[[Take water spirits with you on your pilgrimage.|14.20a][$spirits to 'convincing']]</li> <li>[[Leave them behind.|14.20b][$spirits to 'avoidedworse']]</li></ul> You linger at the edge of the pool, hand hovering above the water’s surface. The air feels different now, as though the temple itself is waiting for your decision. Your reflection shimmers faintly, ringed in soft blue light. The spirits pulse once beneath the surface, their glow deepening like a held breath. You realize they know what you’re about to ask before you speak. You lower your voice, reverent. “Will you come with me?” For a heartbeat, the world holds still. Then the water begins to move, slow and circular, a ripple that spreads outward to fill the entire chamber with a gentle radiance. You reach out, and the spirits answer. <<if $spirits is 'victorious'>>The water rises to meet your fingertips, drawn upward by invisible currents. It feels warmer than you expected and impossibly soft, like breath turned to liquid. A pulse of magic travels through you, gentle and steady. The pain that once sat heavy in your chest shifts, not vanishing but finding shape, space, rhythm. The weight becomes a warmth; the ache becomes a resonance. The spirits flow through you like a current finding its natural course, effortless and quiet. Your breath trembles as light floods through your palms and into your heart, soft but certain, like a friend taking your hand. The hum in the air deepens, no longer melancholy but harmonious, each pulse carrying the wordless truth you’ve both come to understand. <em>Friend.</em> When the glow finally fades, you realize they’ve joined you — not bound, not burdening, but with you, a calm presence nestled in your magic. This is a concord, you realize. Not a transaction, but a promise. You exhale, and for the first time, it doesn’t feel like a loss. It feels like belonging.<</if>><<if $spirits is 'repressed'>>The instant your fingers brush the water, a sharp chill races up your arm. It’s not cold exactly—more like pressure, like air collapsing inward. The water spirits surge toward you, but something in their energy falters, clashes against what you’ve sealed inside yourself. The currents twist, agitated, as if meeting resistance. You grit your teeth as the sensation cuts through your chest. It’s invasive, like a storm trying to force its way through closed gates. Thir magic trembles, and for a fleeting second, you sense confusion, <em>fear</em>. They can feel your pain, the places where your emotions have been buried deep and hardened over time. Their presence presses against it, trying to reach, to heal, but they fail just like they did the first time you met. The backlash burns. The air shivers with static. You force yourself to stay still, to calm your mind and endure it, until this time the current recedes and the pain dulls to a throb beneath your skin. The spirits remain, faint and uneasy, circling your magic like uncertain fish in churning water. They have come with you, but they are unsettled, reflecting the maelstrom within. When the glow fades the water lies still again, though its surface trembles faintly, as though remembering the struggle. You wipe your hand on your sleeve and whisper, hoarse, “It’s fine. I’m fine.” The words sound hollow. The water doesn’t answer.<</if>><<if $spirits is 'clinging'>>You reach out and the water accepts you, but without warmth. The touch is cold and unsettlingly empty. At your offer, the spirits rise, but their light flickers faintly, distant. Their magic brushes against your skin without sinking in. You feel them dimly, like echoes through a wall of glass. You close your eyes, waiting for the comfort that never comes. Instead, a soft numbness spreads through you, a weight. It settles low in your chest, steady and unmoving. You realize what they’re showing you: what you carry, what you refuse to release. The grief you’ve clung to is too tightly woven now, and they cannot ease it without unraveling you. So instead, they take it as it is, a quiet cold tether binding spirit to sorrow. Gradually the glow in the chamber dims, and the air grows heavy with quiet resignation. The water spirits remain attached to you, though they bring no solace. Only companionship in the dark. And somehow, that feels fitting. You whisper, “Thank you.” The water’s light fades, still and deep.<</if>><<if $spirits is 'convincing'>>When your hand touches the surface, the water hardens in sensation. The spirits’ energy slides against yours like oil over glass, thin and brittle, trying to smooth over invisible fractures. For a moment, everything feels perfect: poised, crystalline, serene. Then you feel the cracks. Tiny fissures spreading under your skin, hairline breaks in the calm facade you’ve built. Each pulse of the spirits’ magic sends a tremor through you, and the illusion of composure strains to hold. Their light flickers in response, uncertain as it mirrors you. You hold still, afraid that any movement will break their attachment to you completely. The spirits linger, fragile, their presence delicate and distant. You sense their confusion and their hesitation as they can feel the contradiction inside you: the calm surface, the roaring tide beneath. And yet, they stay. The magic settles into you slowly, held together by sheer will. When the last ripple in the water fades, the pool’s reflection returns to stillness. You look down and see your own calm face mirrored back at you. The cracks don’t show, but you can feel them.<</if>> When you finally step away from the water, the temple is changed. The water spirits follow in your wake, their presence faint but enduring, tied to you now by the choices you’ve made and the truths you could not escape. Soon the pilgrimage begins, and the water will go with you, one way or another. [[Continue|14.21]] The candlelight dances along the surface of the water, catching on ripples that are already fading. The air is still heavy with magic as it waits for you, and you know the spirits are listening. Your voice is quiet when it comes. “No. Not this time.” The words fall like stones into the water, and the spirits react at once—not with an action, but with the lack of one. The glow beneath the surface steadies and stills, waiting for you to explain what you cannot quite put into words. You rest a hand briefly over your chest, then let it fall. “The road ahead will be dangerous. I can’t promise I’ll have the strength to protect you if things go wrong. You belong here, not following me into whatever waits in the mountains.” The water shifts faintly in a slow, questioning ripple. You feel their confusion, their willingness to follow, their trust. It makes the refusal hurt all the more. “I need to do this alone,” you insist, though you do so gently. “Please understand.” The light pulses once with acknowledgment, and then fades, turning so dim that you almost can’t see it anymore. For a moment you wonder if this was the right choice, but as you step outside into the gardens once more, you tell yourself it is better to ignore the ache rather than confront it and risk it turning into something beyond your control. Evening blooms into the air with dark petals as you make your way to your chambers, silently retreating into the shadows of the palace. [[Continue|14.21]]<<set $day to 29>>The last days of your preparations pass in a whirlwind. $rname finalizes the supply manifests with Keko’s meticulous assistance, ensuring nothing has been overlooked. $aname drills the guards until they move as a single unit, their formations sharp and disciplined. The Crescent Blades establish their camp in the forest outside the city, and $xname splits $xtheir time between coordinating with Heval. Finally, $dname is consumed with last-minute preparations for the army's departure, coordinating supply lines and troop movements<<if $dfriend is false>>, and you find yourself catching only glimpses of $dthem in passing—a brief exchange in a corridor, a shared glance across the throne room.<</if>> The palace hums with activity, servants and soldiers moving with purpose through halls that will soon fall quiet in your absence. The night before departure, sleep eludes you. <<if $xfriend is false>>You wake to find $xname's side of the bed empty, the sheets still warm. $cxthey left before sunrise to return to the main camp, murmuring something about final preparations when $xthey kissed your temple in the dark. You'll see $xthem again at the city gates.<</if>><<if $dfriend is false>>You lie awake thinking of $dname, of how little time you've had together these past days. The demands of your respective duties have kept you apart, stolen moments never enough, and the irony is not lost on you: that on this pilgrimage you will have more time with $dthem than you've had since this all began. The thought fills you with something that feels dangerously close to anticipation.<</if>><<if $afriend is false or $rfriend is false>>You rise before dawn and stand at your window, watching the first light touch the gardens below.<</if>> After you dress in your traveling attire—<<if $clothing is 'dress' or $clothing is 'robes'>>your $clothing traded in for trousers and a tunic with a coat on top, something more sensible for hours on horseback<<else>>sturdy but fine, befitting your station without the weight of full regalia<</if>>—<<if $xfriend is false>>your hand finds the dagger $xname gave you. You turn it over in your palm, feeling its familiar weight, before tucking it securely beneath your belt. The cool press of it against your side is a comfort.<<else>>you ensure your belongings are packed with care, everything you might need for the journey ahead.<</if>> The procession assembles as the sun breaks over Marabad's walls. The underground tunnels, practical for small groups, are far too narrow for an expedition of this size. Instead, you will ride through the streets themselves, a public departure that Keko advised would bolster morale. Magic barriers shimmer in blue along the route, containing the crowds that have already begun to gather despite the early hour. Your horse is a steady bay mare, well-trained and calm. You mount with practiced ease, settling into the saddle as guards form up around you in a protective formation that feels both reassuring and suffocating. $rname rides close, $rtheir presence a solid anchor. $aname takes position at your right, $atheir posture perfect, $atheir gaze studying the crowd with reflexive vigilance. $dname rides near the front of the military column, visible even from here, $dtheir armor catching the light. <<if $dfriend is false>>You wonder how well $dtheir wounds have healed, a lingering worry in the back of your mind.<</if>> The gates open, the procession moves forward, and the crowd's roar hits you like a physical force. One month. You've spent four weeks sealed within the palace walls, insulated from the reality of the city beyond. Now, faced with the sea of faces pressing against the barriers, hands reaching, voices calling your name and a title you haven’t yet earned, you feel the familiar tightness in your chest threatening to return. But you’re not the same person you were before. You sit straighter in the saddle, keeping your gaze forward, allowing yourself only brief glances at the crowd. Not the wide-eyed panic of your first arrival in Marabad, when everything felt too large, too loud, too much. You've grown since then. [[Continue|14.22]] Aside from that, your second-most favorite thing to do in your spare time is: <ul class ="a"> <<if $crafts isnot true>><li>[[You enjoy creating other things, like with woodcarving, pottery, gardening, and cooking.|14.3][$crafts to true]]</li><</if>><<if $outdoors isnot true>><li>[[You have always liked more outdoor and physical activities, like hiking, foraging, hunting and fishing.|14.3][$outdoors to true]]</li><</if>><<if $mental isnot true>><li>[[You have always liked more mentally stimulating activities, like reading, writing, playing music and playing board games.|14.3][$mental to true]]</li><</if>></ul> Your mare's hooves strike a steady rhythm against the cobblestones. The barriers hold, the guards maintain formation, and you ride through the city toward the northern gates and the mountains beyond. As the procession continues through the winding streets, the crowd's energy swells. Hands wave, voices blend into a cacophony of well-wishes and prayers. You catch fragments: blessings for your safety, promises of offerings at the temples, children hoisted onto shoulders to catch a glimpse of their Crown. <<if $innocents is 'dead'>>The weight in your chest doesn't ease. If anything, it grows heavier with each face you pass. These are the people you failed to protect. Not these specific faces, perhaps, but others like them. The guards who died in the dungeon. The citizens cut down as the assassin fled through these very streets. You remember the reports, the careful language used to soften the blow of each death, as if gentler words could make the loss any less your responsibility. They wave to you now, shouting their prayers for your safe return. You wish you could promise them the same. That you could guarantee their safety in your absence, that you could undo what's already been done. The mare's steady gait carries you forward. You keep your expression composed, your posture regal. You've learned that much, at least—how to wear the mask even when it threatens to crack.<<else>>The sight of their hopeful faces stirs something fierce in your chest, a determination that borders on desperation. You will not fail them, you <em>cannot</em>. Every decision you've made, every preparation, every sleepless night has been for this. For them. The mare's steady gait carries you forward. You keep your expression composed, offering small nods of acknowledgment when you catch someone's eye. You've learned how to do this, how to be what they need you to be.<</if>> And then, cutting through the noise like a blade through silk, a voice rings out. <<if $innocents is 'dead'>>“It's your fault!”<<else>>“You're going to fail!”<</if>> Your breath catches, your hands tighten reflexively on the reins, and the mare tosses her head in response to the sudden tension. Your eyes dart through the crowd, searching faces, searching for the source. The crowd continues its chorus of support, as if nothing happened. Your heart pounds against your ribs. You look to your guards, but none of them react. No flinches, no turned heads. You glance at $aname, whose attention remains fixed on the crowd with detachment. “$aname,” you say, keeping your voice low as the words are meant only for $atheir ears. “Did you hear that?” $catheir gaze shifts to you, brows drawing together slightly. “Hear what?” “Someone in the crowd. They—“ You stop yourself, suddenly uncertain. The look in $atheir eyes is genuinely confused, not the careful blankness of someone trying to spare your feelings. “Nothing. Never mind.” “Are you alright?” $athey asks, and there's concern there now, threading through the formality. “I'm fine,” you say, though the words taste like ash. “Just the noise.” [[Continue|14.23]] The unease doesn't leave you. It settles in your gut like a stone, cold and heavy, as the procession continues its slow march toward the northern gates. The crowd's cheers feel distant now, as if you're hearing them through water. You keep your gaze forward, grip steady on the reins. You can't shake the feeling that someone—or something—just spoke directly to you, and you alone. It sounds mad even in the privacy of your own thoughts. Maybe your lack of sleep over this past week is catching up to you, making you hear things. Eventually the northern gates rise up before you, massive and ancient, their iron reinforcements gleaming in the morning sun. Beyond them, the Crown’s Road stretches into dense forest, the canopy a sea of green that seems to swallow the horizon. The familiar sight of the Ruhuth river curls around Marabad's outer walls like protective arms, its surface catching the light in flashes of silver. And waiting at the forest's edge, the Crescent Blades. They're unmistakable even from a distance—a disciplined cluster of fighters, their dark armor practical rather than ornamental, weapons worn with the ease of long familiarity. <<if $xfriend is false>>$xname sits atop a grey horse at their head, and when $xthey catches sight of you, $xtheir expression shifts into something warm and private before settling back into the easy confidence of the Pale Sword.<<else>>$xname commands them from atop a grey horse, cutting an impressive figure that draws approving murmurs from some of your guards.<</if>> You note, with some humor, that $xtheir arms are tense as you recall $xtheir professed dislike for horses. The procession slows as the two groups merge. $xname guides $xtheir horse alongside yours with practiced ease, falling into position as naturally as if $xthey'd been riding with you all along. “Your Imperial Majesty,” $xthey greets, formal for the benefit of watching eyes, but there's a glint of amusement in $xtheir gaze. <<if $xfriend is false>>“Sleep well?” The question is innocent enough on the surface, but you catch the subtle emphasis, the memory of $xtheir early departure still fresh. You cast $xthem a warning look, hiding your smile. $xname smirks for a moment, but then clears $xtheir throat. “Ready for the adventure?”<<else>>“Ready for the adventure?”<</if>> “As ready as one can be,” you reply, settling into the rhythm of the mare's gait as the combined procession moves forward. To your pleasant surprise, Heval pulls up on their horse near you as well, greeting you with a polite nod. Their white mount is particularly massive in size, no doubt to carry their considerable weight. You glance over your shoulder to spot Tûjo and Şanazî lingering behind with the rest of the Crescent Blades, following after you. “Figured Heval would make a fitting personal guard for you,” $xname remarks, glancing at $aname. “Not that I don’t have faith in $aname. Heval is just, you know. Huge.” $aname snorts, and you smile with amusement. “I suppose I can’t argue with that.” [[Continue|14.24]] The forest looms closer and closer as the procession bridges the gap across the grassy fields surrounding the city, birdsong filtering through the morning air with the sharp trill of warblers, and the deeper calls of woodpeckers echoing through the trees. “The first stretch should be straightforward,” $rname says, drawing your attention to more practical matters. “The Crown's Road is well-maintained this close to the city. It's once we get deeper into the wilderness that we'll need to watch for trouble.” “What kind of trouble?” you ask, though you have some idea already. “Bandits, potentially, though they tend to avoid groups this size. Wild animals are more likely.” $crthey casts you a sidelong glance. “You know the region's fauna?” “Well enough,” you say. The lessons from your childhood, the knowledge your parents ensured you absorbed, rise easily to mind. “Brown bears and leopards in the higher elevations, though they shouldn't be aggressive unless provoked or protecting cubs. Wolves and lions, more dangerous in winter when prey is scarce, but they generally avoid large groups. Lynx, wild boar—the boar are more of a concern, actually. Unpredictable when startled.” $xname's brows lift, genuinely impressed. “Look at you. We shouldn't have worried.” “There are also jackals closer to the lowlands,” you continue, “and various snakes, though most aren't venomous. The hillside viper is the main exception—grey or brown, prefers rocky areas. We'll need to be careful when we start climbing.” “Noted,” $xname says, then adds with a roguish grin, “Well, at least I won't have to worry about you dying out here. Not unless you suddenly get a vision of your successor, anyway.” The comment, meant to be light, lands with an unexpected weight. <<if $rfriend is false or $afriend is false>>You sense rather than see <<if $rfriend is false>>$rname<</if>><<if $afriend is false>>$aname<</if>> stiffen in <<if $rfriend is false>>$rtheir<</if>><<if $afriend is false>>$atheir<</if>> saddle.<</if>> <<if $afriend is false>>“That's not particularly reassuring,” $aname says, $atheir voice carrying an edge. “$cthey can still be injured, which we should avoid at all costs.”<</if>><<if $rfriend is false>>“Don’t be so nonchalant about that,” $rthey reprimands, $rtheir gaze cooling with warning. “$cthey must still be kept safe from injury.”<</if>><<if $dfriend is false or $xfriend is false>>“That’s a rather careless attitude to take,” $rname comments with arched brows. “You understand $name could still be injured?”<</if>> <<if $xfriend is true>>“I wasn't suggesting otherwise,” $xname replies, unruffled. “Just pointing out that the spirits seem to have a vested interest in keeping our Crown alive.”<<else>>“If you think I’m going to let even a hair on $their body come to harm, then you don’t really know me,” $xname replies so boldly that it almost takes you aback, $xtheir tone deceptively casual compared to the sharp, almost warning look $xthey casts $rname in return. You can’t deny enjoying it, however.<</if>> “I promise not to do anything reckless,” you interject before the exchange can sharpen further. You glance between them. “I have no intention of testing the limits of divine protection.” <<if $spirits isnot 'peaceful' and $spirits isnot 'avoidedworse'>>$rname replies with approval in $rtheir voice. “The water spirits should help with that. They wouldn't have agreed to accompany you if they didn't intend to keep you safe.” You feel the subtle presence of them even now, a cool awareness at the edge of your consciousness. It's comforting, acting as a reminder that you're not entirely alone in this, even when the responsibility feels crushing.<</if>> [[Continue|14.25]] The Forest of Anshan swallows the procession gradually as you pass the edge of the meadow, the canopy filtering the sunlight into dappled patterns across the road. The Ruhuth river that flanked Marabad's walls is wider here, its water calmer and offering a backdrop of serene sound. The sound of it mingles with the birds and the rustling of leaves as a gentle breeze disturbs the treetops. You should feel exhilarated as you truly start your journey. This is what you've been preparing for, what all those sleepless nights were leading toward. Yet, as the trees close in around you and the safety of the city is left far behind you, you can't shake a strange sensation. The feeling of being watched. You glance over your shoulder once, then again. Nothing but your guards, your companions, the orderly procession stretching back toward Marabad's distant gates. The forest itself is alive with movement, branches swaying in the breeze, birds flitting between trees, the occasional rustle of small creatures in the underbrush. It's nothing. Just nerves. The excitement of finally being on the road, the weight of what lies ahead making you intensely aware of every shadow, every sound. You face forward again, telling yourself that's all it is, but the sensation doesn’t fade. It follows you like a second shadow, patient and persistent, waiting for something you can't name. Despite your unease, the forest settles into a rhythm around you in the steady clop of hooves, the creak of leather and armor, and the occasional murmured conversation drifting back through the ranks. The Crown's Road here is wide enough for the procession but hemmed in by dense growth on either side, oak and beech rising like pillars. Then, from somewhere ahead, voices rise in urgency. The procession slows, then stops entirely. You crane your neck to see past the guards in front of you, catching glimpses of movement near the head of the column. “What's happening?” you ask. Heval stands in their stirrups, peering forward. “Looks like someone's blocking the road.” A farmer, you realize as the guards shift enough for you to see. An elder with weathered hands and a patched tunic, standing beside a modest cart piled with produce. Root vegetables, from what you can make out, and bundles of herbs. A small, grey donkey stands in the traces, ears flicking with what might be nervousness. The soldiers at the front are gesturing, their voices carrying back in fragments. “—need to move aside… the Crown's procession—“ The farmer nods frantically, hurrying to comply. He tugs at the donkey's lead, trying to guide the cart toward the roadside. The animal balks, then lurches forward. The cart jolts. And then, with a crack that echoes through the forest, the wheel gives way. [[Continue|14.26]] The cart tips, spilling its contents across the road in a cascade of turnips and carrots and scattered greenery. The farmer stumbles, barely catching themselves. The donkey brays, high and distressed. The procession grinds to a complete halt. “Oh, the poor soul,” $rname murmurs from somewhere to your left, genuine sympathy in $rtheir voice. Several soldiers dismount immediately, moving to help. You watch as they approach the farmer, who's wringing their hands, their face flushed with what looks like mortification. One of the soldiers begins gathering the scattered produce. Another examines the broken wheel. Near the head of the procession and close to the accident, $dname dismounts. $cdthey moves with purpose, striding past the soldiers to the overturned cart. Without preamble, without even removing $dtheir gauntlets, $dthey bends and grips the cart's edge. The muscles in $dtheir arms flex. $cdthey lifts. The entire cart rises, steady and sure, held aloft as easily as if it weighed nothing at all. The soldiers scramble to take advantage, one dropping to examine the axle while another retrieves the wheel from where it rolled into the underbrush. “Well,” $aname says, a hint of humor in $atheir gaze. “That's one way to handle it.” <<if $afriend is false>>“Show-off,” $xname mutters, but there's fondness there, accompanied by an appreciative glance.<<else>>$rname merely raises $rtheir brows, ever so slightly. “Efficient.”<</if>><<if $dfriend is false>> You don't even bother to hide your staring, though you try not to look <em>too</em> admiring when you do it. You're probably failing at that, though, judging by the way aname glances at you.<</if>> The farmer is talking now, a rapid stream of apologies and gratitude that you can't quite make out from this distance. They keep bowing, hands still wringing, and one of the soldiers pats their shoulder in reassurance. The donkey has calmed, standing placidly now as if nothing happened. It's a small thing, an accident. The kind of minor delay that's inevitable on a journey of this scope—and yet. Something about it feels strange. Not wrong, exactly, but deliberate. The way the wheel broke at precisely that moment; the way the farmer appeared on this particular stretch of road, at this particular time; and the way the light filters through the canopy just so, illuminating the scene like a tableau arranged for viewing. You shake the thought away as a coincidence. Bad luck for the farmer, nothing more. The soldiers work quickly. The wheel is reattached, the axle checked and deemed sound. $dname lowers the cart with the same controlled strength $dthey used to lift it, and the farmer bows again, deeper this time, his gratitude effusive even if the words don't carry. The produce is gathered, loaded back into place. The donkey is coaxed forward a few steps, testing the repair. Everything holds. “Should be ready to move soon,” Heval reports, though their gaze flicks to you, waiting. You could wait. The soldiers have it well in hand, and your presence isn't needed. The procession will resume shortly, and you'll continue on as if this never happened. Or you could dismount. Approach the farmer yourself and ensure they’re alright. <ul class="a"> <li>[[Approach the farmer.|14.27a][$publicfavored += 10]]</li> <li>[[Let the soldiers take care of it.|14.27b]]</li></ul> You swing down from the saddle before you've fully decided to do it, muscle memory and instinct taking over. Your boots hit the packed earth of the road, and immediately your companions and several guards move to follow. “Stay with the horses,” you tell them. “I'll only be a moment.” <<if $kind gt $calc>>The farmer's distress is written plainly across their weathered face, and you can't simply sit by and watch. These are your people—all of them, from the highest Mîr to the lowest laborer. If you can't spare a moment for one frightened person on the roadside, what kind of ruler are you?<<else>>The opportunity presents itself clearly: your soldiers have acted with commendable efficiency and compassion, and the farmer represents exactly the kind of subject whose loyalty you need to cultivate. A small gesture here, witnessed by your guards and companions, will reinforce the kind of leadership you want to embody.<</if>> You make your way through the ranks, and the soldiers part immediately, bowing as you pass. The farmer doesn't notice at first, still gathering scattered turnips with shaking hands, muttering what sound like prayers under their breath. “Are you alright?” you say gently. The farmer startles, nearly dropping the vegetables they’re clutching. When they sees you, sees the gold in your gaze, their eyes go wide. They drop into a bow so deep and so sudden you worry they might hurt their back. “Your Imperial Majesty! Forgive me, I- I never meant to… the wheel, it just—“ “Please,” you interrupt, keeping your voice calm. “Stand up. You've done nothing wrong.” The farmer rises slowly, uncertainly, still clutching the turnips like a lifeline. Up close, you can see the deep lines around their eyes, the calluses on their palms. A person who's worked hard all their life, and is now terrified they’ve somehow offended their Crown. <<if $kind gt $calc>>“Are you hurt?” you ask, looking them over for any sign of injury. “The cart tipped quite suddenly.” “No, no, I'm-I'm fine, Your Imperial Majesty.” The farmer takes a breath to steady themselves. “Just shaken. And mortified. To delay your procession like this, I—“ “Accidents happen,” you say firmly. “What matters is that you're safe, and your cart is repaired.” You glance at the donkey, who's watching you with big brown eyes. “Your animal seems unharmed as well.” “Yes, thank the spirits, she's-she's fine.” The farmer's voice cracks slightly. “Thank you. Thank you for your kindness.” You reach out and gently take one of the turnips from their overfilled arms, examining it with deliberate care before placing it back in the cart. The gesture seems to steady them, their breathing evening out. “Where were you headed?” you ask. “To market, Your Imperial Majesty. In the next village. These are- they're not much, but they're honest work.” “Honest work is the backbone of the realm,” you tell them, and mean it. You turn to the soldiers who helped, offering them a nod of genuine appreciation. “Thank you for your assistance. All of you.”<<else>>“Are you hurt?” you ask, your tone measured and clear enough that those nearby can hear. “No, Your Imperial Majesty, I'm-I'm unharmed.” The farmer takes a breath to steady themselves. “I’m so sorry to have caused such trouble.” “You've caused no trouble,” you say, projecting your voice slightly. “Accidents are no one's fault. What matters is how we respond to them.” You turn deliberately to face the soldiers who assisted, making sure your words carry. “Your quick action and compassion reflect well on the Imperial Army This is exactly the conduct I expect: helping those in need, regardless of rank or circumstance.” The soldiers straighten with visible pride, and you catch approving glances from your companions. Good. This is the example you want set. You look back at the farmer, gentling your tone. “Your cart is repaired?” “Yes, Your Imperial Majesty. Thanks to—“ He gestures helplessly at $dname, who has remounted $dtheir horse. “I've never seen such strength.” “General Sîdar is exceptional in many ways,” you agree<<if $dfriend is false>>, casting a furtive glance in $dtheir direction. $dname pretends not to see it even as your eyes catch for an instant, quick to turn $dtheir head away. You suppress a smile, redirecting your attention to the farmer. You reach out and take one of the turnips from the farmer's overfilled arms, examining it before placing it carefully back in the cart. “Where were you taking these?”<<else>>. You reach out and take one of the turnips from the farmer's overfilled arms, examining it before placing it carefully back in the cart. “Where were you taking these?”<</if>> “To market, Your Majesty. The next village over.” “Then you should continue on your way,” you say. “And know that your hard work is valued. The realm depends on people like you.”<</if>> The farmer bows again, but this time there's less fear in it. More genuine gratitude. “May the spirits bless your journey, Your Imperial Majesty. I'll pray for your safe return.” “Thank you,” you say simply. [[Continue|14.28a]] You remain in the saddle, hands resting loosely on the reins as you observe the scene ahead. The soldiers move with practiced efficiency, gathering the scattered produce and examining the damaged wheel. $dname holds the cart aloft with unwavering strength, $dtheir expression focused but calm. Meanwhile the farmer continues their stream of apologies, but one of the soldiers pats their shoulder reassuringly, speaking words you can't quite hear but that seem to settle them somewhat. They all have it well in hand. Your presence would only complicate matters, add another layer of pressure to someone who is already flustered. Sometimes the best leadership is knowing when to step back. “Efficient work,” $rname observes quietly from beside you, watching the soldiers coordinate the repair. “They're well-trained,” $aname agrees. The wheel is reattached, tested, and deemed sound. The produce is loaded back into the cart with care and the donkey, no longer distressed, stands placidly as the farmer checks the harness one final time. $dname lowers the cart with the same controlled precision $dthey used to lift it. The farmer bows deeply to the soldiers and to $dname, their gratitude visible even from this distance. One of the soldiers says something that makes them straighten slightly, their posture easing. Within minutes, the road is clear. The farmer guides their cart to the roadside, making way for the procession to continue. The soldiers remount, falling back into formation. “Ready to move,” Heval reports. You nod, and the procession lurches forward once more. As you pass the farmer, they bow low, their hand over their heart. You incline your head in acknowledgment in a small gesture, thinking you’ll never get used to how easily people bow before you. The forest swallows you again, the incident already fading into the rhythm of travel as the cart and its owner disappear behind the curve of the road. Still, that sensation returns, stronger now and more insistent. The feeling of eyes on you, of attention focused with an intensity that has nothing to do with your guards or companions. You glance into the trees, searching for the source. Shadows shift around the light, branches sway in a breeze you can't quite feel, but there’s nothing concrete. Nothing you can point to. But the weight of scrutiny remains, patient and persistent. As if something witnessed what just happened—witnessed what you <em>didn't</em> do—and is carefully, deliberately taking note. Why did you choose not to intervene? <ul class="a"> <li>[[You didn’t want to fluster the farmer with your attention.|14.28b][$publicfavored += 10]]</li> <li>[[Your energy is better spent focusing on the pilgrimage, rather than being wasted on such trivial matters.|14.28c][$elitefavored += 10]]</li></ul> You turn back toward your horse, and as you do, that strange sensation returns, the feeling of being watched. Not by your guards or companions, but by something else, something in the forest itself, in the light and the spaces between the trees. You glance back once. The farmer is loading the last of their produce, the donkey standing patiently. Everything appears normal. Shaking your head at yourself, you remount, settling back into the saddle. The procession begins to move again, the farmer guiding their cart to the roadside to let you pass. They bow one final time as you ride by. The forest closes in once more, birdsong resuming its rhythm. Still, that sense of scrutiny doesn't fade. If anything, it intensifies, a presence just beyond the edge of perception. A little further down the road, you cannot help yourself. You glance back one last time, solely to prove to yourself that this is all in your mind. The farmer is gone. You stare, neck turning further to get a better look, then turning to look over your other shoulder. Your eyes search the entire width of the road, but you can’t find any sign of the farmer, or their cart, or their donkey. It is as if they vanished in thin air the moment your procession passed them by. “$name?” $rname asks, noticing your distraction. $crthey follows your gaze, and frowns deeply. “That’s… strange. The farmer is gone.” Your other companions take note, each glancing behind you and each finding the same thing. “Could be they took a side path,” $aname offers slowly, the rest of you exchanging looks. All of you know there were no side paths down that stretch of road, but none of you quite know what to do with that knowledge. “Let’s not overthink things,” $xname says, though you read the tension in $xtheir shoulders, $xtheir silent look at Heval who rides a little closer to you now than before. You don’t protest it: you’re rather unnerved yourself. [[Continue|14.29]] The strangeness of the encounter eventually fades as the procession settles back into its pace. You shake off the lingering discomfort, attributing it to nerves and the unfamiliarity of being on the road after so long confined to the palace. “How far until we make camp?” $rname asks from somewhere behind you, and you catch the faint note of resignation in $rtheir voice. $xname laughs, bright and unrestrained. “Missing your feather bed already, $rname?” “I'm missing walls,” $rname replies dryly. “And a proper roof. And not having to sleep on the ground like some kind of—“ “Mercenary?” $xname supplies helpfully. “I was going to say ‘vagrant’, but sure, let's go with your version.” “The tents aren't that bad,” you chime in, recalling your discussions with Siham about exactly this subject and how amazed you were at the luxury of the tents that the Royal Palace had at their disposal. “We've made sure they're comfortable. Relatively.” “Relatively comfortable,” $rname repeats, as if testing the words for hidden traps. “How reassuring.” “Think of it as character building,” $xname suggests, grinning. “Besides, there's something romantic about sleeping under the stars. The fresh air, the sounds of nature—“ “The rocks digging into your spine, the insects, the cold—“ “You're determined to find the worst in this, aren't you?” “I'm being realistic,” $rname says, but you can hear the smile creeping into $rtheir voice despite $rthemselves. <<if $dfriend is false>>The banter continues behind you, warm and familiar, but your attention has already drifted forward. Toward the front of the column, where $dname rides with $dtheir officers, $dtheir posture perfect even after hours in the saddle. You haven't had a proper conversation with $dthem in days, if you don't count hurried exchanges in corridors or brief moments stolen between meetings. The weight of preparation has kept you apart, duty demanding your attention in opposite directions. Now, you have time. Days and nights stretching ahead, no palace walls to separate you, no court obligations to pull you away. The realization settles in your chest, equal parts anticipation and something that feels dangerously close to nervousness. “I'm going to ride ahead for a moment,” you announce, not waiting for a response before urging your mare forward. <<if $res gt $flirt>>You guide your horse through the ranks with careful precision, aware of every eye that might track your movement. It feels transparent somehow, this desire to be near $dthem, as if everyone can see right through you. But you keep your expression neutral, your posture composed, as you close the distance.<<else>>You guide your horse through the ranks with easy confidence, offering nods to the soldiers you pass. Let them think what they want—you're allowed to speak with your general, after all. That it happens to be exactly where you want to be is simply convenient.<</if>> $dname notices your approach before you reach $dthem, $dtheir head turning slightly, dark eyes tracking your progress. $cdthey doesn't look surprised, exactly, but something in $dtheir expression shifts. Softens, maybe, though it's hard to tell with $dthem. “Your Imperial Majesty,” $dthey greets as you fall into step beside $dthem. Formal, but there's a warmth beneath it that wasn't there when $dthey addressed the soldiers earlier. <<if $res gt $flirt>>“General,” you reply, then hesitate, suddenly uncertain how to navigate this. You've been alone with $dthem before, shared moments of profound intimacy, but somehow this feels different. More exposed. “I thought I'd... see how things look from the front.” It's a weak excuse and you both know it. The faint quirk at the corner of $dname's mouth warring with the furrow in $dtheir brows suggests $dthey's aware of exactly why you're here. “The view is much the same as from the middle,” $dthey observes mildly. “Trees. Road. More trees.” “Ah. Well.” You clear your throat. “Still. It's good to... assess the formation. Make sure everything is proceeding smoothly.” “Very thorough of you.” The wry amusement in $dtheir tone makes heat creep up the back of your neck, but it's not unkind. If anything, there's something almost fond in it. “I've missed talking to you,” you admit quietly, the words escaping before you can second-guess them. “Properly, I mean. Not just in passing.” $dname's expression gentles further. “I've missed it too.”<<else>>“General,” you greet, letting a hint of playfulness color your tone. “I thought I'd see how the view is from the front of the procession.” “The view is much the same as from the middle,” $dthey observes mildly. “Trees. Road. More trees.” “Then I suppose I'll just have to find other reasons to be here,” you say just as lightly. $cdthey glances at you, and there's something warm in $dtheir gaze that makes your pulse quicken despite your outward composure. “I'm sure you'll manage.” “I've missed talking to you,” you say, more seriously now. “These past weeks have been... busy.” “Too busy,” $dname agrees quietly. The almost-admission encourages you, making you say more than you probably should. “I kept meaning to find time, but—“ “I know.” The words are so soft you almost miss them, your pulse sparking against your throat. “Me too.”<</if>> It is a victory like you’ve never experienced it before, intoxicating as it floods your veins and your head and your heart with a need for more. You’d almost call it pitiful: the Crown who has learned to stand tall and tower over everyone over this past month discards $their pride so easily now, choosing instead to sit at $dname’s feet like a dog hoping for even a scrap from its master. But what else can you do? The hold $dthey has on you is unbreakable. [[Continue|14.30drom]]<<else>>The banter continues, warm and familiar, as the procession winds deeper into the forest. The Crown's Road stretches ahead, the mountains growing incrementally larger with each passing hour. You settle into the rhythm of travel, letting the conversation wash over you. Whatever strangeness occurred with the farmer has passed. The journey continues. And ahead, the mountains wait. [[Continue|14.30merged]]<</if>><<if $kind gt $calc>>The farmer was already overwhelmed: you could see it in the trembling of their hands, hear it in their stammering apologies. Your presence would have only made it worse. The weight of your title, the pressure of addressing the Crown directly while mortified and shaken... no. Better to let the soldiers handle it. They showed the farmer kindness without the crushing formality your rank demands. You know what it's like to feel small in the face of power. You won't inflict that on others if you can help it.<<else>>Strategic restraint has its place. The farmer was already flustered, and adding the pressure of the Crown's direct attention would have served no purpose except to unsettle them further. Your soldiers handled the situation with competence and compassion, exactly as they should. Your intervention wasn't necessary, and unnecessary displays of authority often do more harm than good. You're learning to wield your status carefully, to understand when its weight is needed and when it's merely burdensome. This was the latter.<</if>> The procession continues its steady pace, and you settle back into the rhythm of travel. You made the right choice, you're certain of it. Yet that sensation of being watched intensifies for just a moment, a pressure against your awareness like a hand pressing gently but firmly against your chest. Not threatening. Just... present. Observing. A little further down the road, you cannot help yourself. You glance back one last time, solely to prove to yourself that this is all in your mind. The farmer is gone. You stare, neck turning further to get a better look, then turning to look over your other shoulder. Your eyes search the entire width of the road, but you can’t find any sign of the farmer, or their cart, or their donkey. It is as if they vanished in thin air the moment your procession passed them by. “$name?” $rname asks, noticing your distraction. $crthey follows your gaze, and frowns deeply. “That’s… strange. The farmer is gone.” Your other companions take note, each glancing behind you and each finding the same thing. “Could be they took a side path,” $aname offers slowly, the rest of you exchanging looks. All of you know there were no side paths down that stretch of road, but none of you quite know what to do with that knowledge. “Let’s not overthink things,” $xname says, though you read the tension in $xtheir shoulders, $xtheir silent look at Heval who rides a little closer to you now than before. You don’t protest it: you’re rather unnerved yourself. [[Continue|14.29]] The soldiers had it handled. That's what they're trained for, managing situations like this, clearing obstacles from the road, ensuring the procession continues smoothly. You saw no reason to insert yourself into something that was already being resolved with adequate efficiency. Besides, what would your presence have accomplished? The farmer was being helped. The cart was being repaired. Your involvement would have been purely symbolic, and symbols don't fix broken wheels. You have larger concerns than one man's overturned produce cart. The expedition, the pilgrimage, the fate of the realm—these are what demand your attention. You can't afford to be distracted by every minor incident along the road. The procession moves forward, leaving the farmer and their donkey behind. You don't look back. The forest continues its quiet symphony around you in birdsong, rustling leaves, the steady rhythm of hooves on packed earth. Everything as it should be. Yet that sensation of being watched doesn't ease. If anything, it sharpens and becomes almost oppressive. The air feels heavier suddenly, the shadows between the trees deeper. A chill brushes the back of your neck despite the warmth of the morning. For just a moment, the birdsong cuts off entirely. Complete, unnatural silence. And in that silence, you feel something shift. Not in the physical world, but in some other space that exists just beyond your perception. A judgment rendered. The weight of it settles over you like a shroud, cold and heavy. Then the birds resume their calls, and the moment shatters. The forest returns to normal, or what passes for it, but the chill remains, lingering at the edges of your awareness. [[Continue|14.29]] The forest stretches ahead, the Crown's Road cutting through it like a ribbon, and beside you, $dname rides steady and sure, close enough that you could reach out and touch $dtheir hand if you dared. “We have time now,” $dthey says when you stay silent, lost to your thoughts. “Days of it.” “Yes,” you agree, and something in your chest loosens at the promise of it. “We do.” The procession continues its march, carrying you both toward whatever awaits in the mountains. But for now, in this moment, you're simply glad to be here—riding beside $dthem, the space between you finally, blessedly small. <<if $res gt $flirt>>You let the silence linger for a while, comfortable in its weight, before breaking it with a seemingly idle question. “Do you think we'll have a chance to spend some time together on this journey?” For a heartbeat, nothing changes. Then $dname's jaw tightens ever so slightly, reins held just a fraction firmer in $dtheir hands. $cdthey's eyes flick to you—quick, assessing—and then away again. “That would be unwise,” $dthey says, $dtheir voice low enough that the clamor of the caravan nearly swallows it. “If anyone were to notice, tongues would wag.” You feign innocence, leaning lazily in the saddle as though you hadn't noticed the tension in $dtheir shoulders. “Notice what, exactly?” you ask, tone lilting. “I only wondered if you'd ride with me a little while and chat like friends do. Unless you had something else in mind?” The faintest flush touches $dtheir cheekbones, quickly suppressed, and $dthey gives you a sharp look. “You know very well what it is you meant,” $dthey scolds, clearly unwilling to rise to the bait. You grin, unable to help yourself. “Me? All I asked was for your company. Get your head out of the gutter, $dname.” $cdthey exhales sharply through $dtheir nose, somewhere between exasperated and amused. Yet the corners of $dtheir mouth twitch before $dthey steels $dthemselves again, riding forward as if to put the moment behind $dthem. The tension, however, lingers like heat under your skin.<<else>>You clear your throat as you break the quiet with a careful question. “It seems a long road yet. Perhaps we might find a moment to talk in private, somewhere along the way?” The request is harmless enough—at least, that is how you mean it. You truly do want to spend some time alone with $dname merely for $dtheir companionship. But $dname glances sideways, one brow lifting in a flash of something almost mischievous before $dtheir expression settles into composure again. “Talk,” $dthey repeats, $dtheir voice low, the faintest edge of emphasis curling around the word. “You realize what others might assume, should they see us slipping off together?” You blink at $dthem, surprised by the turn. “I didn't mean anything improper,” you speak in a rush, more flustered than you'd like. “Only conversation. Perhaps news from Marabad, should we receive any.” $dname's mouth quirks, betraying amusement at your defensiveness. “Of course. Forgive me, I must have let my thoughts wander.” Your pulse skips at where $dname's thoughts might have wandered to, though you keep your tone measured even while your face flushes with warmth. “Then perhaps it's you who should be more careful where your mind drifts, general. I'm not the one making implications.” $dname lets out a short, quiet laugh, quickly smothered, but then $dthey steels $dthemselves again, riding forward as if to put the moment behind $dthem. The tension, however, lingers like heat under your skin.<</if>> The procession continues its march, carrying you both toward whatever awaits in the mountains. But for now, in this moment, you're simply glad to be here—riding beside $dthem, the space between you finally, blessedly small. [[Continue|14.30merged]] The day stretches long, the sun tracking its slow arc across the sky as the procession winds deeper into the wilderness. The Crown's Road now starts to narrows in places, forcing the column to thin, then widens again where much older hands cleared space for travelers long before your time. The forest changes as you travel, becoming wilder, more vibrant with each passing hour. The branches of oak trees remain heavy with late summer growth, though there are already signs of their acorns starting to fall as the season draws towards its end. Flowering shrubs bloom generously along the roadside, their petals ranging from a deep azure to a luminous violet, colors that seem to glow faintly in the shade. You notice another cluster of bulbous flowers near the base of a massive oak tree, their petals pulsing rhythmically as if breathing. With each exhale, they release a shimmer of pollen that hangs in the air like suspended starlight before dissipating. The sight tugs a memory loose, one of crouching beside similar blooms years ago, watching them with the same fascination while your parents kept watch nearby. This is familiar territory. Not this specific stretch of road, perhaps, but the wildness of it, the way magic and nature intertwine so thoroughly that separating them becomes impossible. You spent years moving through places like this, sleeping under these same star-touched trees, learning to read the forest's rhythms as easily as others read books. A bird startles from the underbrush as the horses pass—a jay, its plumage an ordinary blue until it takes flight. It fractures, splitting into three identical copies that scatter in different directions before dissolving like morning mist. It’s a defensive trick, allowing the real bird to hide safely in the canopy. $rname notices your attention and smiles. “It still surprises me every time,” $rthey admits. “I always try to figure out which one is real.” “The one that doesn't shimmer at the edges,” you reply automatically, then catch yourself. “At least, that's what my mother taught me.” The words settle between you, gentler than you expected. $rname’s expression softens with understanding. The road climbs gradually, following the contours of the land as it rises toward the foothills. Streams cross your path with increasing frequency, their waters clear and cold, fed by snowmelt from the distant peaks. Willows drape over the banks, their leaves shot through with veins of silver that catch the light like threads of metal woven into living tissue. By the time the sun begins its descent, painting the sky in shades of amber and rose, $dname calls for the procession to halt. The campsite reveals itself as a wide clearing where the forest opens like cupped hands, protected on three sides by dense growth but accessible from the road. A stream runs along the eastern edge, its banks gentle and welcoming. The ground is relatively level, carpeted in moss that glows a gentle green in the fading light. “This will do well,” Heval remarks, already dismounting. “Water, shelter, defensible. We'll post guards on rotation.” The procession breaks apart with practiced efficiency. Soldiers dismount, servants begin unloading supplies, and the organized chaos of making camp unfolds around you. Tents rise like mushrooms after rain, canvases stretched over wooden frames. Fires are kindled in carefully cleared spaces with sparks of magic, their smoke rising straight in the still evening air. You slide from your mare's saddle, boots sinking slightly into the soft earth. The forest surrounds you on all sides, alive with the settling sounds of dusk. Crickets beginning their evening chorus, intermingling with the distant call of an owl and the rustling of something small moving through the underbrush. Above, the first stars begin to emerge, visible through the large gap at the center of the clearing where even the longest branches don’t reach. The air smells of the nostalgic scent of growing things. For the first time in a month, you feel like you can breathe fully. You close your eyes and let yourself simply exist in it for a moment, feeling the familiar embrace of the forest settling around you like a cloak you'd forgotten you owned. [[Continue|14.31]] Camp settles around you with the comfortable rhythm of routine. Fires crackle, sending sparks drifting upward into the darkening sky. The smell of cooking food begins to permeate the clearing—simple fare, but welcome after a full day of travel. Soldiers and guards move between tents with easy familiarity, their voices a low murmur beneath the forest's evening song. <<if visited ("14.2c") gte 1 and $crafts is true or $preferred is 'crafts'>>You find a spot near one of the central fires, close enough for warmth but far enough that the smoke won't sting your eyes. From your pack, you retrieve a piece of seasoned birch you've been carrying since Marabad and your whittling knife. The wood feels good in your hands, solid and real. You turn it over, examining the grain, considering what might be hiding inside it. $rname settles beside you with a cup of something steaming, watching with open curiosity as you make the first careful cut. “What are you making?” “Not sure yet,” you admit, shaving off a thin curl of pale wood. “I'll know when I see it.” $xname drops down on your other side, stretching $xtheir legs toward the fire with a satisfied groan. “How very philosophical.” “It's true,” you say, another curl joining the first at your feet. “Sometimes you have to let the wood tell you what it wants to be.” “The wood has opinions now?” Heval asks, approaching with Tûjo in tow. They both settle into the circle, Heval checking their sword out of habit while Tûjo produces a whetstone and begins the methodical work of maintaining his own. “Everything has opinions if you listen closely enough,” you reply wryly, your focus narrowing to the rhythm of blade against wood. <<if $afriend is false>>$aname appears from the direction of the guard posts, $atheir rounds complete. $catheir eyes find you immediately, and something in $atheir expression softens when $athey sees what you're doing. “Still at it, I see,” $athey says, settling into the space beside you that somehow remained open despite the crowd. “Old habits,” you murmur, acutely aware of how close $athey is, the warmth of $atheir shoulder nearly brushing yours. “Good habits,” $athey corrects quietly, watching your hands work. “You're skilled.” The compliment sends warmth through your chest that has nothing to do with the fire. “My mother taught me. Said it was good for—“ “—clearing the mind?” $aname finishes, and when you look up in surprise, $athey offers a small smile. “You've mentioned it before. I remember.” The moment stretches, intimate despite the company, until $xname clears $xtheir throat with exaggerated obviousness. “Should we leave you two alone, or...?” “Shut up,” you and $aname say in unison, which only makes $xname's grin widen. $rname hides a smile behind $rtheir cup while Heval shakes their head with exasperation.<</if>><<if $rfriend is false>>$rname shifts closer, ostensibly to get a better view of your work, but $rtheir shoulder presses against yours in a way that feels deliberate. “You're very good at that,” $rthey observes, watching a particularly long curl spiral away from the blade. “Years of practice,” you say, very aware of the point of contact between you, the warmth seeping through layers of fabric. “I'd like to learn sometime,” $rname says softly. “If you'd be willing to teach me.” You pause mid-cut, turning to meet $rtheir eyes. They're warm in the firelight, reflecting gold and amber in the gentle silver, and suddenly it's hard to remember that you're surrounded by others. “I'd like that,” you manage. “Oh, for the love of—“ $xname throws a small twig in your general direction. “Get a room. Or a tent. Whatever.” $rname's cheeks flush, but $rthey doesn't pull away. If anything, $rthey leans closer. “Bitterness is unbecoming,” $rthey tells $xname primly, which earns a bark of laughter. “It’s not our fault you can’t last in a courtship.” “Is that a challenge? Because I can go seduce a soldier right now—” Tûjo sighs. “It's going to be a long expedition, isn't it?” “Very long,” Heval agrees, though you hear the amusement in their voice.<</if>><<if $xfriend is false>>$xname watches your hands move with undisguised fascination, $xtheir usual restless energy stilled for once. “What?” you ask, catching $xtheir stare. “Nothing. Just...” $cxthey reaches out, fingers ghosting over your wrist—not quite touching, but close enough to raise goosebumps. “You get this look when you're focused. It's charming.” The compliment, simple and genuine, catches you off-guard. You fumble the next cut slightly, the blade skipping. “Careful,” $xname cautions, and this time $xthey does touch, steadying your hand with $xtheir own. The contact sends heat racing up your arm. “You two realize we're all still here, right?” Heval asks dryly. $xname doesn't look away from you. “Sure.” “And you're doing this anyway?” “Yep.” Tûjo sighs. “They're cute,” $rname offers. “In an absolutely shameless sort of way.” You try to glare at them all, but it's hard to maintain when $xname is still holding your hand, thumb tracing idle patterns against your pulse point.<</if>><<if $dfriend is false>>The work is meditative, familiar. Each cut reveals more of what's hidden beneath—a bird's wing, perhaps, or the curve of a leaf. You'll know when you get there. “Peaceful,” Tûjo observes, watching you work. “I can see the appeal.” “Better than sharpening blades?” you ask. He considers this seriously. “Different purpose. But yes, sometimes.” While you whittle, across the camp you can see $dname moving among the soldiers, checking preparations, offering quiet words that make them stand straighter. $cdthey hasn't joined your circle yet, still absorbed in $dtheir duties. You find yourself watching $dthem more than you should, your hands continuing their work on muscle memory alone. Later, you think. When $dthey's finished with the rounds, when the camp has fully settled. You'll find a reason to seek $dthem out. The thought warms you more than the fire does.<</if>> The evening deepens around you, stars emerging one by one through the canopy. The wood takes shape beneath your hands, and for the first time since leaving Marabad, you feel something close to contentment.<</if>><<if visited ("14.2c") gte 1 and $outdoors is true or $preferred is 'outdoors'>>You rise from the fire almost immediately after settling, the pull of the forest too strong to resist. A month confined to the palace has left you starved for this—the chance to move among growing things. “Going somewhere?” $rname asks, looking up from where $rthey's attempting to make $rtheir bedroll look less like a nest of angry snakes. “Just going to see what's growing nearby,” you say, already moving toward the edge of camp. “Won't go far.” $xname is on $xtheir feet immediately, though $xthey acts casual about it. “I'll come with you. Someone needs to make sure you don't get eaten by a bear.” “The bears are more afraid of me than I am of them,” you point out. “That's what everyone says right before they get eaten by a bear.” Heval looks up from their position by the fire. “Stay within sight of camp. And take Tûjo.” Tûjo rises with a sigh, checking his weapons. “Why am I always the escort?” “Because you're good at it,” Heval replies without sympathy. <<if $afriend is false>>$aname appears from the direction of the supply wagons, catching the tail end of the conversation. “I'll accompany $them as well. Four sets of eyes are better than three.” The offer is practical, professional, but when $atheir gaze meets yours, there's something warmer beneath the formality. Something that makes your pulse quicken. “The more the merrier,” you say, trying to sound casual.<</if>><<if $rfriend is false>>$rname sets aside $rtheir bedroll with visible relief. “Actually, I'd like to come too. If you don't mind. I could use a walk after all that riding.” “Of course,” you say, perhaps too quickly, and $rname's smile turns knowing. $xname makes a theatrical gagging sound. “Oh, this is going to be precious.” “You're the one who insisted on coming,” $rname points out. “For safety reasons. Not to watch you two make eyes at each other over mushrooms.” “We don't—“ you start, but $rname just laughs. “Let $xthem think what $xthey wants. Come on.”<</if>><<if $xfriend is false>>$xname falls into step beside you with easy grace, close enough that $xtheir arm brushes yours as you walk. “So what exactly are we looking for?” “Anything useful. Medicinal plants, herbs for cooking, things to avoid touching.” “Romantic,” $xthey deadpans, but there's affection in it. “I thought you'd appreciate the practical applications.” “Oh, I appreciate lots of things about you,” $xthey says, low enough that only you can hear, and you nearly trip over a root. Tûjo, walking ahead, calls back without turning. “If you two are going to flirt, do it quietly. Some of us are trying to watch for actual threats.”<</if>> The forest at dusk is a different creature than during the day. Shadows pool in hollows, and the magical elements of the flora become more pronounced. You spot a cluster of moonbell flowers just beginning to open, their petals translucent and faintly luminescent. They'll be fully bloomed by midnight, emitting an array of color that will color the forest floor. “These are edible,” you say, crouching beside a patch of wild garlic, its leaves broad and pungent. “Good for cooking, and they help with—“ “Digestive issues,” Tûjo finishes. “My mother used to gather them.” You smile, carefully harvesting a few stalks. “Exactly.” Further on, you find monkshood growing in the shadow of a fallen log, its purple flowers distinctive even in the failing light. It blends in with the more innocuous pink and purple bulbs surrounding it, but you recognize its shape from among the cluster. “Don't touch that one,” you warn as $xname reaches toward the flowers. “Highly poisonous. Even skin contact can cause problems.” $xname avoids the monkshood, brushing one of the benign flowers instead. It reacts instantly, lighting up brighter with $xtheir touch. “Wasn’t going to, but thanks for the warning. Sharp eyes.” <<if $afriend is false>>$aname crouches beside you, examining the monkshood with professional interest. “Could be useful in other ways, though. Properly prepared.” “For poisons, you mean?” “For defense,” $athey corrects, but there's a grim acknowledgment in $atheir tone. $catheir hand finds yours as you both stand, the touch brief but deliberate. “You have valuable knowledge.” “So do you,” you reply quietly, very aware of how close $athey is. From behind you, $xname's voice carries clearly through the dusk. “Should Tûjo and I just... go back to camp? Give you two some privacy?” <<if $res gt $flirt>>“Yes,” $aname says without looking away from you. “No,” you say at the same time, face heating.<<else>>“Yes,” you say without looking away from $aname. “No,” $aname says at the same time, eyes averting, slightly flustered.<</if>> $xname laughs. “This expedition is going to be very entertaining.”<</if>><<if $rfriend is false>>$rname watches you work with quiet attention, and when you offer $rthem a sprig of wild thyme you've found, $rtheir fingers linger against yours as $rthey takes it. “For tea?” $rthey asks. “For whatever you'd like.” The moment stretches, soft and intimate despite your audience, until $xname deliberately steps between you. “Alright, that's enough botanical flirting for one evening. Some of us would like to get back to camp before full dark.” $rname gives $xthem a withering look. “You're the one who insisted on coming.” “A decision I'm rapidly regretting.”<</if>><<if $xfriend is false>>$cxthey stays close as you move through the underbrush and point out interesting specimens, $xtheir presence a warm constant at your side. When you find a patch of wild mint, $xthey plucks a leaf and crushes it between $xtheir fingers, inhaling deeply. “Smells like the tea from that morning in your chambers,” $xthey says, and the memory of it—of $xthem in your bed, sleep-soft and unguarded—makes your breath catch. “It might be the same variety,” you manage. $xname steps closer, offering you the crushed leaf. “Here. Tell me if it's the same.” You lean in to smell it, and find yourself close enough to feel $xtheir breath against your cheek. The mint is sharp and clean, but all you can focus on is the warmth of $xthem, the way $xtheir eyes have gone dark and intent. “Get a room,” Tûjo calls from somewhere ahead. “Or a tent. Or a large bush. Just stop doing that where I can see it.” $xname grins, unrepentant. “Doing what? We're examining plants.” “That's not what you're examining and we both know it.”<</if>> By the time you return to camp, your hands are full of useful findings—herbs for tea, garlic for cooking, a few specimens you want to dry and preserve. The forest has welcomed you back like an old friend, and you feel more settled than you have in months.<<if $dfriend is false>> Across the camp, you catch sight of $dname, still moving among the soldiers. $cdthey glances your way, and even at this distance, you feel the weight of $dtheir attention. Later, you think. When the camp is quiet and the duties are done. You'll find $dthem then. The thought warms you more than the fire does.<</if>><</if>><<if visited ("14.2c") gte 1 and $mental is true or $preferred is 'mental'>>You retrieve your tembûr from your carefully packed belongings, the instrument's familiar weight a comfort in your hands. The wood is warm from being pressed against other supplies all day, and you spend a moment checking the strings, tuning them with practiced touches until the notes ring true. The firelight catches on the instrument's polished surface as you settle into a comfortable position, the tembûr cradled against your body. Your fingers find the strings, testing, remembering. “Oh good,” $rname says, settling nearby with visible relief. “Something civilized.” $xname sprawls on the opposite side of the fire, propping $xthemselves up on one elbow. “Can you play anything fun, or is it all going to be stuffy court music?” “I know a few tavern songs,” you say mildly, beginning a simple melody to warm up your fingers. The notes spill into the evening air, clear and bright. “Now we're talking.” $xname grins. Heval and Tûjo join the circle, Heval with their usual quiet presence and Tûjo with a waterskin that he passes around. The camp settles into evening routine around you: soldiers tending to gear, servants preparing the final meal, guards taking up their posts. Your fingers move across the strings, muscle memory guiding them. It's been too long since you've had time for this, and the music feels like stretching after being cramped. <<if $afriend is false>>“You're very skilled,” $aname says, appearing from the darkness beyond the firelight. $catheir rounds must be complete. $catheir eyes track the movement of your hands with genuine appreciation. “My father taught me,” you say, transitioning into a more complex piece. “He said everyone should know at least one art form. Something to enrich one’s mind for enjoyment, without any other purpose.” “Wise advice.” $aname settles beside you, close enough that you can feel the warmth of $athem even through your layers. “Would you play something for me? Specifically for me, I mean.” The request, quiet and personal despite the audience, makes your heart skip. “What would you like to hear?” “Something that matters to you.” You consider for a moment, then begin a melody your father used to play, slow and sweet, tinged with melancholy but ultimately hopeful. $aname watches your hands, then your face, $atheir expression soft in the firelight. “Beautiful,” $athey murmurs when you finish. “The song or the player?” $xname asks innocently. “Both,” $aname says without hesitation, and you nearly fumble the transition into the next piece. $rname laughs. “Well, at least $athey's honest about it.” <<if $res gt $flirt>>“Painfully so,” you mutter, face warm, but you can't quite suppress your smile.<<else>>“Pleasantly so,” you say, smiling fondly.<</if>><</if>><<if $rfriend is false>>$rname shifts closer as you play, drawn by the music like a moth to flame. $crthey settles beside you, close enough that you catch the scent of $rtheir perfume beneath the smoke, floral and sweet. “I didn't know you played,” $rthey says softly, watching your fingers dance across the strings. “There's a lot you don't know about me yet,” you reply, <<if $res gt $flirt>>then immediately want to take it back when you hear how it sounds—like a promise, like an invitation<<else>>intending it exactly as it sounds: like a promise, an invitation<</if>>. $rname's smile turns warm. “Then I look forward to learning.” The moment stretches between you, intimate despite the company, until $xname throws a small twig in your general direction. “Are you two going to make eyes at each other all evening, or is someone actually going to play something exciting?” “Bitterness is unbecoming,” $rname says primly, not looking away from you. “I'm not bitter, I'm bored. There's a difference.” “Play something lively,” Tûjo suggests, taking pity on $xname. You transition into a faster melody, something with a driving rhythm that makes $xname sit up with interest. Even then you’re still acutely aware of $rname beside you, of the way $rthey sways slightly to the music, of how $rtheir hand rests near yours on the ground. Not touching, but close enough that you could bridge the gap with the slightest movement. Heval notices, because of course they do. “If you two want privacy—“ “We're fine right here,” $rname says, and $rtheir hand settles atop your thigh, hidden from view by the angle of the tembûr. Your playing doesn't falter, but it's a near thing.<</if>><<if $xfriend is false>>$xname watches you play with undisguised fascination, $xtheir usual restless energy stilled for once. When you finish the warm-up piece, $xthey speaks up. “Play something passionate,” $xthey requests, and there's something in $xtheir tone that makes the words feel like more than a simple request. “Passionate?” you repeat, meeting $xtheir gaze across the fire. “Something with feeling.” $cxtheir smile turns teasing. “Unless you're not capable of that?” The challenge is clear, and you rise to it. Your fingers find a melody that's all heat and longing, the kind of song that gets played in taverns late at night when the wine has flowed and inhibitions have lowered. It's technically complex, demanding, and you pour yourself into it. $xname's eyes never leave you. The firelight catches in $xtheir gaze, turning it molten, and you feel the weight of $xtheir attention like a physical touch. When you finish, there's a moment of silence. “Well,” Heval says eventually. “That was... something.” “That was incredible,” $xname corrects, voice rough. $cxthey stands and moves around the fire to sit beside you, close enough that $xtheir thigh presses against yours. “Play it again.” “Absolutely not,” Heval interjects. “Some of us would like to maintain some semblance of propriety.” “Where's the fun in that?” $xname asks, but $xtheir hand finds yours, fingers tangling together where the tembûr hides them from view. $rname sighs. “It's going to be a very long expedition.”<</if>><<if $dfriend is false>>You play through several pieces, letting the music flow naturally. The others listen with varying degrees of attention—$rname with genuine appreciation, $xname with restless energy barely contained, Heval with quiet contentment, Tûjo with the occasional nod of approval. It feels good. Normal. A reminder that you're more than just the Crown, more than the weight of responsibility and expectation. Just a person, playing music by a fire, surrounded by companions who've become friends. Across the camp, you can see $dname moving among the soldiers, $dtheir rounds nearly complete. $cdthey pauses once, looking toward your fire, and even at this distance you feel the connection between you like a pulled thread. Later, you think, fingers still moving across the strings. When the camp settles and everyone’s duties are done. You'll find $dthem then, and maybe you'll have the time together that's been denied you for so long. The thought warms you more than the fire does.<</if>><</if>> [[Continue|14.32]]<<if $dfriend is true or $dfriend is false and visited("14.33b") gte 1>><<if $dfriend is true>>The evening wears on, the fire burning lower as one by one your companions retire to their tents. $rname goes first, stifling a yawn and muttering something about insects before disappearing into the canvas shelter. $xname lingers longer, sprawled by the fire with characteristic lack of concern for comfort, but eventually even $xthey stretches and rises. “Don't stay up too late,” $xthey says, pausing to squeeze your shoulder. “Long day tomorrow.” “I won't,” you promise, though you make no move to follow. Heval is next, and then Tûjo, until finally you're by yourself by the dying fire, though not entirely alone. <<else>>You let your gaze drift. <</if>>You can see guards at the edges of camp—Ezo, Kaja and Ziryan among them—their silhouettes moving in steady patterns as they make their rounds. There is no need to guard you invisibly right now. Soldiers also sit in small clusters near other fires, their voices a low murmur that doesn't quite reach you. But here, in this circle of firelight, you're solitary. You should sleep, you know, but something keeps you rooted here, a restlessness you can't quite name. Footsteps approach from behind you, measured and purposeful. You turn, expecting one of the guards coming to check on you, or perhaps Heval returned to insist you get some rest. Instead, it's a guard you don't recognize. They wear the standard uniform of the Imperial Guard, armor well-maintained but showing signs of use. Their face is... ordinary. Unremarkable in a way that makes it hard to focus on, features that seem to shift slightly in the firelight. Not young, not old. Not particularly tall or short. They stop a respectful distance away and incline their head. “Your Imperial Majesty. Forgive the intrusion.” You blink, surprised. Most guards would never approach you like this. The deference, the careful distance they maintain, makes informal conversation nearly impossible. And yet this one stands here, calm and patient, waiting. “It's no intrusion,” you say, curiosity overriding caution. “Did you need something?” “May I sit with you?” they ask. The request is so unexpected, so at odds with every interaction you've had with the Imperial Guard, that you hesitate. You glance around the camp, suddenly aware of how quiet it's become. The other fires seem distant now, their light dimmed. The voices you heard moments ago have faded to nothing. Even the guards at the perimeter feel impossibly far away. The quality of the air has changed. Thicker somehow, dreamlike, as if you've slipped sideways into some other version of the camp that exists parallel to the real one. You look back at the guard, really look at them, trying to pin down their features. Despite your best efforts, they remain stubbornly indistinct, present but somehow not entirely there. “Yes,” you hear yourself say. “Please.” The guard settles onto the ground beside you with easy grace, close enough for conversation but maintaining a respectful distance. The fire casts strange shadows across their face, and you still can't quite make them out clearly. You expect them to speak first, to ask for a favor or to voice some concern that protocol prevented them from raising through proper channels. That's why someone would approach the Crown like this, surely. Instead, they turn to look at you, and their eyes—the only feature you can focus on clearly—are dark and fathomless. [[Continue|14.33a]]<<else>>The evening wears on, the fire burning lower as one by one your companions retire to their tents. $rname goes first, stifling a yawn and muttering something about “actual civilization“ before disappearing into the canvas shelter. $xname lingers longer, sprawled by the fire with characteristic lack of concern for comfort, but eventually even $xthey stretches and rises. “Don't stay up too late,” $xthey says, pausing to squeeze your shoulder. “Long day tomorrow.” “I won't,” you promise, though you make no move to follow. Heval is next, and then Tûjo, until finally you're by yourself by the dying fire. Not entirely alone—you can see guards at the edges of camp, their silhouettes moving in steady patterns as they make their rounds. Soldiers sit in small clusters near other fires, their voices a low murmur that doesn't quite reach you. But your attention isn't on them. Across the camp, $dname moves between the fires with purposeful grace, checking in with soldiers, offering quiet words that make them stand straighter. $cdthey's been at this for hours, ensuring everything is secure for the night, that the watch rotations are set, that every detail has been attended to. You watch $dthem, unable to help yourself. The firelight catches on $dtheir armor, turning it bronze and orange. Even from this distance, you can see the tension in $dtheir shoulders, the weight $dthey carries in every movement. $cdthey finishes speaking with a group of soldiers near the edge of camp, then pauses. For a long moment, $dthey stands perfectly still, as if considering something. Then $dtheir head turns, just slightly, and even across the distance you feel the weight of $dtheir gaze finding yours. Your breath catches. $dname holds your gaze for a heartbeat, two, then looks away. $cdthey says something to the soldiers—dismissing them, perhaps—and then begins walking. Not toward you, but toward the edge of camp where a small path leads into the forest. The kind of path scouts would use, narrow and easily overlooked. $cdthey glances back once, just once, and the look is brief but unmistakable. It’s an invitation. Your heart pounds as you rise from the fire, trying to appear casual. You stretch, as if simply restless from sitting too long, and begin walking. Not directly toward the path—that would be too obvious—but in a meandering route that happens to take you in that direction. The guards don't seem to notice. Or if they do, they're too well-trained to show it. You reach the path and slip into the shadows between the trees. The forest closes around you immediately, muffling the sounds of camp. Your eyes adjust to the dimness, and you can just make out $dname's silhouette ahead, moving deeper into the woods. You follow. [[Continue|14.33b]]<</if>>“Your Imperial Majesty,” they say quietly, “may I ask you for advice?” The request catches you off-guard, and you can't help the bemused smile that tugs at your lips. “You want my advice?” “If you're willing to give it.” There's something strange about the way they say it. It’s formal, but with an undercurrent of genuine need that makes the formality feel like a thin veneer over something deeper. You gesture for them to continue, settling more comfortably by the fire. “Go ahead.” The guard is quiet for a moment, gaze fixed on the flames. When they speak, their voice is measured, almost distant, as if recounting someone else's story. “I come from a large family,” they begin. “My mother is... overbearing. Set in her ways. She believes things should be done as they've always been done, and she expects the rest of us to fall in line. She's the foundation of everything, in her mind. The origin. Without her, none of us would exist.” You nod slowly, indicating that you’re listening. “I also have siblings,” the guard continues. “The oldest has always been favored. Gets the most attention, the most praise. They're meant to be the leader, the one who holds everything together, but lately...” The guard pauses, jaw tightening. “Lately, they seem more concerned with maintaining their position than actually leading. They make decisions that benefit themselves more than the rest of us.” The firelight shifts across the guard’s indistinct features, and you find yourself leaning forward slightly, drawn into the story despite yourself. “Then there's my youngest sibling. The poorest of us. They struggle constantly, barely scraping by while the rest of us have more than enough. They ask for help sometimes, but the others—“ The guard's voice tightens with frustration. “The others act as if their poverty is their own fault. As if they're not trying hard enough.” “That's not fair to them,” you remark sympathetically. “No. It isn't.” The guard shifts, and you catch a glimpse of something in their expression—pain, perhaps, or regret. “And then there's another sibling. An accompished merchant, the wealthiest among us. They have everything they could want, and they know it, yet they use their wealth as leverage. They help the rest of us when it suits them, but always with strings attached. Always expecting something in return.” The story feels strangely familiar, though you can't quite place why. Something about the dynamics, the relationships, tugs at your memory. “And my lover…” The guard's expression clouds. “We were close once. Very close. But they wanted independence, wanted to make their own choices without the family's interference. We fought about it. Badly. Now they're... struggling. Torn apart by people close to them who are all telling them different things, and I don't know how to help them. I don't even know if they'd accept my help if I offered it.” They turn to look at you fully, and those dark eyes pin you in place. “It feels like everything is falling apart,” they say quietly. “My family is fracturing, and I don't know what to do. My mother expects me to maintain tradition. My oldest sibling expects me to support their authority. My youngest sibling needs help I don't know how to give. My wealthiest sibling only cares about their own interests. And my lover...” Their voice cracks slightly. “My lover might be lost to me entirely.” The weight of it settles over you, heavy and familiar in a way you still can't quite name. You stare into the fire, considering. This guard has come to you, has come to the Crown for advice about family, about holding things together when everything seems determined to fly apart. The irony isn't lost on you. “What do you think you should do?” you ask carefully. “That's why I'm asking you, Your Imperial Majesty.” They lean forward slightly, intent. “You're the Crown. You're meant to lead, to make these kinds of decisions. What would you do, in my position?” The question hangs in the air between you, weighted with significance you don't fully understand. The camp remains eerily quiet, the dreamlike quality of the moment intensifying. You have the strangest sense that your answer matters more than it should, that something is listening very carefully to what you're about to say. You take a breath, considering your words. <ul class="a"> <li>[[Tell them to take control of the situation and be assertive.|14.34a.1]]</li> <li>[[Tell them to empathize with their relatives and try to understand what they need.|14.34a.2][$publicfavored += 10]]</li> <li>[[Tell them to prioritize their own well-being and let the rest of their family fend for themselves.|14.34a.3][$elitefavored += 10; $tyrant += 1]]</li></ul> The path winds through dense undergrowth, barely wide enough for one person. Branches catch at your clothes and you have to duck beneath low-hanging limbs, but you keep going, guided by the occasional glimpse of movement ahead. Finally, the path opens into a small clearing, although it’s barely large enough to be called that. Just a space where the trees have grown far enough apart to let moonlight filter through the canopy. $dname stands in the center of it, waiting. $cdthey turns as you enter, and in the pale light, you can see the conflict written across $dtheir face. The same conflict that's been there since that moment in $dtheir chambers, when you nearly kissed and the world felt like it was balanced on a knife's edge. “This is dangerous,” $dthey says quietly. Not a rebuke. Just a statement of fact. “I know,” you reply, stopping a few feet away. Close enough to see $dthem clearly, far enough to maintain the pretense of propriety. “You're the one who led me here.” “I shouldn't have.” $dname’s jaw tightens. “If anyone saw—“ “No one saw.” “You can't know that.” “Then why did you do it?” The question comes out softer than you intended, almost vulnerable. $dname is silent for a long moment, $dtheir eyes searching your face in the moonlight. When $dthey speaks, $dtheir voice is rough with something that sounds like defeat. “Because I've been trying to stay away from you all day, and I can't. Because we rode together this morning and it wasn't enough. Because—“ $cdthey cuts $dthemselves off, turning away sharply. “This is foolish. We should go back. Separately.” Yet $dthey doesn't move. Doesn't take a single step toward the path. You take a breath, then close the distance between you. Not touching, not yet, but close enough that you can feel the warmth radiating from $dtheir body. “$dname,” you say quietly. $cdthey closes $dtheir eyes, as if the sound of $dtheir name in your voice causes $dthem physical pain. “Stop.” You stop, though you don’t bother to hide the agitation you feel at this game, this endless pulling away only to draw closer only to pull away again. “I can’t even say your name now?” “Don't make this harder than it already is.” $cdthey opens $dtheir eyes and looks at you, and the naked want in $dtheir expression steals your breath. “You know the dangers.“ “I know,” you interrupt. “I know all of that, we’ve <em>talked</em> about all of that. And yet you invited me here, and I followed. Let’s not pretend either of us is above this.” $dname's hands clench at $dtheir sides, and you can see the war happening behind $dtheir eyes. Duty versus desire, responsibility versus this thing between you that neither of you seems able to resist. “We can't,” $dthey says, but it sounds like a plea rather than a refusal. “We're already here,” you point out gently. “We've already crossed half a dozen lines. What's one more?” “Everything.” $dname’s voice breaks slightly—teetering on the edge and terrified of falling. “One more is everything.” The words hang between you in the moonlit clearing, weighted with all the things you can't say, all the risks you can't afford to take. Neither of you moves to leave. [[Continue|14.34b]]<<if visited("14.34.a.1") is 1>><<if $elitefavored gt $publicfavored>><<set $elitefavored += 10>><</if>><<if $publicfavored gt $elitefavored>><<set $publicfavored += 10>><</if>><</if>>“You need to take charge,” you say firmly, meeting the guard's dark gaze. “If your family is falling apart, someone has to step up and hold it together. That someone is you.” The guard tilts their head slightly, listening with complete attention. “Your mother is set in her ways, yes, but that doesn't mean you have to simply accept it,” you start. “You can respect tradition while also recognizing when things need to change. Be firm with her. Show her that you're capable of leading, that you have the strength to make difficult decisions.” You lean forward, warming to the subject now. The fire crackles between you, casting shifting shadows. “Your oldest sibling is not leading properly,” you continue. “They're maintaining their position instead of actually doing what's needed. You need to challenge that. Not aggressively, but with confidence. Make it clear that leadership isn't about status, it's about responsibility. If they can't fulfill that responsibility, then someone else needs to.” The soldier's expression remains neutral, but you sense something shifting in them. Attention sharpening. “As for your younger sibling, the one who's struggling, help them.” You pause only for a moment, this piece of advice the easiest of all. “Don't wait for the others to agree or for your wealthiest sibling to offer assistance with strings attached. Make the decision yourself and follow through. Show them that they're not forgotten, that they matter as much as anyone else in the family.” You halt again, now having to think about the more difficult parts of the story. “And your wealthy sibling needs boundaries,” you finally decide. “They've been allowed to operate on their own terms for too long, using their resources as leverage. You need to make it clear that the family isn't a transaction, and that their wealth comes with responsibility to the others, not power over them.” The guard nods slowly, and you press on. “Your lover...” You soften your tone slightly, recognizing the pain there. “That's more complicated. They wanted independence, and you fought about it. But maybe the problem wasn't their desire for independence, maybe it was how the family responded to it. If you truly care for them, you need to show them that you can respect their wish to stand on their own two feet while still being there for them. Not controlling them, not demanding they submit to family authority, but offering genuine support.” You sit back, your words settling into the strange, heavy air between you. “The common thread in all of this is you,” you say quietly. “You're the one who sees the problems clearly. You're the one who cares enough to seek advice. That means you're the one who needs to act. Be decisive. Be strong. Don't wait for others to fix things or for circumstances to change on their own. Take control of the situation and lead your family through this.” The guard is silent for a long moment, those unnervingly dark eyes fixed on you with an intensity that makes your skin prickle. The firelight seems to dim slightly, or maybe it's just the weight of their attention making everything else fade into insignificance. “Take control,” they repeat slowly, as if tasting the words. “Be strong. Lead them.” “Yes,” you confirm, and strangely, it feels as if you are speaking to yourself in that moment. “You have the ability to do this. You just need the will to follow through.” The guard rises gradually and smoothly, their movements oddly formal. They stand looking down at you for a moment, and you still can't quite make out their features clearly—they remain frustratingly indistinct, shifting in the firelight. “Thank you, Your Imperial Majesty,” they say, and there's something in their tone you can't quite identify. Not gratitude, exactly. Something more complex. “Your counsel is noted.” They incline their head in a bow that feels weighted with significance, then turn and walk away from the fire. You watch them go, their silhouette moving steadily toward the cluster of tents where the guards are quartered. Their gait is measured, unremarkable. Normal. They pass between two tents to disappear from view, and in that instant, the world snaps back into focus. Sound rushes in like a wave breaking—the crackle of fires, the low murmur of voices from across camp, the rustle of wind through leaves, the distant call of a night bird. The oppressive quiet that had settled over everything shatters so suddenly it makes you flinch. You blink, disoriented, your heart suddenly pounding against your ribs as if you’d just woken suddenly and abruptly from a deep dream. The camp looks exactly as it should. Guards patrol the perimeter with steady purpose. Soldiers move between fires, their conversations carrying normally through the night air. Everything is as it was before the guard approached. You stare at the space between the tents where the guard disappeared, waiting for them to reemerge, to prove that this was just a normal conversation with a normal member of your guard. They don't. You sit by the dying fire for a long time after that, trying to make sense of what just happened. The conversation replays in your mind: the story about family, the request for advice, the way their features remained maddeningly unclear no matter how hard you tried to focus on them. It felt real. It was real. You're certain of that. But what was it, exactly? Eventually, the cold drives you to your tent. You lie awake for hours, staring at the canvas above you, unable to shake the feeling that you just participated in something far more significant than a simple conversation. [[Continue|14.35]]“You need to listen,” you say, your voice soft but certain. “Really listen, to all of them.” The guard tilts their head slightly, and you continue, choosing your words with care. “Your mother is overbearing, yes, but have you asked yourself why?” you start, phrasing it carefully and keeping your tone mild so that it doesn’t sound like an accusation. “People who cling to tradition that tightly are usually afraid. Afraid of losing something, of change destroying what they've built. You don't have to agree with her, but if you understand where that fear comes from, you can address it. Show her that change doesn't mean abandonment. That you can honor what she's created while still moving forward.” The fire crackles between you, and the guard remains perfectly still, listening with complete attention. “Your oldest sibling,” you continue, “the one who's supposed to lead but seems more concerned with maintaining their position—that sounds like insecurity to me. Like they're afraid of losing their place, their purpose. Maybe they need reassurance. Maybe they need to know that leadership isn't about being the strongest or the most important, but about serving others. If you approach them with understanding instead of challenge, they might actually hear you.” You lean forward slightly, warming to the subject now. “And your youngest sibling, the one who's struggling, they need material help.” This advice is the easiest and most straightforward. “But that aside, they also need to feel valued. To know that their poverty doesn't define their worth in the family's eyes. Listen to what they actually need, not what you assume they need. Sometimes the help people require isn't what we expect.” The guard's dark eyes remain fixed on you, intent. “Your wealthy sibling is using their resources as power because that's probably the only way they know how to matter,” you reason out. “Coin and trade becomes their language, their way of staying relevant. But if you can show them that their value isn't in what they can provide, that they're important for who they are rather than what they have, maybe they'll stop treating everything like a transaction.” You pause, considering the most delicate part of the story. “As for your lover...” You soften your tone, recognizing the pain there. “They wanted independence. They wanted to make their own choices, and instead of trying to understand why that mattered to them, the family fought them on it. Made it a conflict instead of a conversation.” You meet the guard's gaze directly. “If you truly care for them, you need to listen to what they actually want. Not what you want for them, not what the family wants from them, but what they need. Maybe their struggle right now isn't something you can fix. Maybe what they need is for you to respect their independence while offering support without conditions. To show them that love doesn't mean control.” You sit back, the words settling into the strange, heavy air between you. “The thing about families,” you say quietly, “is that everyone has their own needs, their own fears, their own pain. You can't force them all into harmony by being strong or making demands. But if you take the time to understand each of them, really understand them, you can find common ground. You can show them that they're all struggling with the same kinds of fear: that they don't matter, that they're not valued, that they'll be abandoned or controlled or forgotten.” The guard is silent for a long moment, those unsettling eyes fixed on you with a focus that gives you goosebumps. “Understanding,” they repeat slowly, as if testing the word. “Listen to what they need. Find common ground.” “Yes,” you confirm. “It's harder than just taking charge. It takes patience and empathy and the willingness to be wrong sometimes. But it's the only way to actually bring them together instead of just forcing them into line.” The guard rises gradually and smoothly, their movements oddly formal. They stand looking down at you for a moment, and you still can't quite make out their features clearly. It all remains frustratingly indistinct, shifting in the firelight. “Thank you, Your Imperial Majesty,” they say, and there's something in their tone you can't quite identify. Not gratitude, exactly. Something more complex. “Your counsel is noted.” They incline their head in a bow that feels weighted with significance, then turn and walk away from the fire. You watch them go, their silhouette moving steadily toward the cluster of tents where the guards are quartered. Their gait is measured, unremarkable. Normal. They pass between two tents to disappear from view, and in that instant, the world snaps back into focus. Sound rushes in like a wave breaking—the crackle of fires, the low murmur of voices from across camp, the rustle of wind through leaves, the distant call of a night bird. The oppressive quiet that had settled over everything shatters so suddenly it makes you flinch. You blink, disoriented, your heart suddenly pounding against your ribs as if you’d just woken suddenly and abruptly from a deep dream. The camp looks exactly as it should. Guards patrol the perimeter with steady purpose. Soldiers move between fires, their conversations carrying normally through the night air. Everything is as it was before the guard approached. You stare at the space between the tents where the guard disappeared, waiting for them to reemerge, to prove that this was just a normal conversation with a normal member of your guard. They don't. You sit by the dying fire for a long time after that, trying to make sense of what just happened. The conversation replays in your mind: the story about family, the request for advice, the way their features remained maddeningly unclear no matter how hard you tried to focus on them. It felt real. It was real. You're certain of that. But what was it, exactly? Eventually, the cold drives you to your tent. You lie awake for hours, staring at the canvas above you, unable to shake the feeling that you just participated in something far more significant than a simple conversation. [[Continue|14.35]]“You don't owe them anything,” you say firmly, meeting the guard's dark gaze. The guard goes very still, and you press on. “I know that sounds harsh, but think about it,” you reason. “Your mother is overbearing, and that's her choice. Your oldest sibling is focused on maintaining their position instead of actually leading, and that's their failure, not yours. Your youngest sibling is struggling, your wealthiest sibling is manipulative, and your lover chose to leave.” You shake your head. “None of that is your responsibility to fix.” The fire crackles between you, and the air seems to grow heavier somehow. “You've been carrying all of this,” you continue. “Worrying about everyone else, trying to hold it all together. But what about you? What about what you need? When do you get to stop managing everyone else's problems and focus on yourself?” The guard's expression remains neutral, but something in the quality of their attention shifts. Sharpens. “Your mother needs to accept that things change,” you say, feeling strangely involved in all of this, as if you were speaking to yourself. “Your oldest sibling needs to learn how to lead properly or step aside. Your youngest sibling needs to find their own way forward. Your wealthiest sibling needs to understand that relationships aren't transactions. And your lover...” You soften your tone slightly, but only slightly. “Your lover made their choice. They wanted independence. Let them have it. Let them deal with the consequences of that choice on their own.” You lean back, your words settling into the strange, heavy atmosphere between you. “The truth is, you can't fix other people. You can't force them to change or grow or make better decisions. All you can do is control yourself and protect your own peace, protect your boundaries. Stop letting them walk all over you.” The guard is silent for a long moment, those unnerving eyes fixed on you with an intensity that breaks your skin out into goosebumps. The firelight seems to dim slightly, or maybe it's just the weight of their attention making everything else fade into insignificance. “Focus on myself,” they repeat slowly, and there's something strange in their tone now. Something cold. “Let them figure it out on their own.” “Yes,” you confirm. “You're not responsible for holding everyone together. That's not your burden to bear.” The guard rises slowly, but their movements feel different now. Stiffer, more formal. They stand looking down at you for a moment, and you still can't quite make out their features clearly. It all remains frustratingly indistinct, shifting in the firelight. “Thank you, Your Imperial Majesty,” they say, and there's something in their tone you can't quite identify. Not gratitude, exactly. Something more complex. “Your counsel is noted.” They incline their head in a bow that feels weighted with significance, then turn and walk away from the fire. You watch them go, their silhouette moving steadily toward the cluster of tents where the guards are quartered. Their gait is measured, unremarkable. Normal. They pass between two tents to disappear from view, and in that instant, the world snaps back into focus. Sound rushes in like a wave breaking—the crackle of fires, the low murmur of voices from across camp, the rustle of wind through leaves, the distant call of a night bird. The oppressive quiet that had settled over everything shatters so suddenly it makes you flinch. You blink, disoriented, your heart suddenly pounding against your ribs as if you’d just woken suddenly and abruptly from a deep dream. The camp looks exactly as it should. Guards patrol the perimeter with steady purpose. Soldiers move between fires, their conversations carrying normally through the night air. Everything is as it was before the guard approached. You stare at the space between the tents where the guard disappeared, waiting for them to reemerge, to prove that this was just a normal conversation with a normal member of your guard. They don't. You sit by the dying fire for a long time after that, trying to make sense of what just happened. The conversation replays in your mind: the story about family, the request for advice, the way their features remained maddeningly unclear no matter how hard you tried to focus on them. It felt real. It was real. You're certain of that. But what was it, exactly? Eventually, the cold drives you to your tent. You lie awake for hours, staring at the canvas above you, unable to shake the feeling that you just participated in something far more significant than a simple conversation. [[Continue|14.35]] Morning comes grey and cool, mist clinging to the forest floor like a living thing. You emerge from your tent feeling unrested, the strange encounter still weighing on your mind. The camp is already stirring, its fires being rekindled, breakfast being prepared, soldiers beginning the process of breaking down tents and loading supplies. You move through the organized chaos with purpose, searching. You find $aname near the horse lines, checking saddles and tack with methodical precision. $catheir head turns as you approach, and something in your expression makes $atheir brows draw together with concern. “$name, is something wrong?” “I need to talk to you,” you say quietly. “About something that happened last night, after you all went to sleep.” $catheir attention sharpens immediately. “What happened?” You glance around, ensuring privacy, then lower your voice. “One of the imperial guards approached me at the fire. After everyone had gone to sleep. They asked for advice about family troubles.” $aname's frown deepens. “Which guard?” “That's the problem. I don't know.” Frustration bleeds into your tone. “I can't describe them. Every time I try to remember their face, it just... slips away. But they were there. They sat with me, we talked for several minutes, and then they walked away and everything felt different.” “Different how?” “Like I went somewhere else.” You rub a hand over the back of your neck, fully aware that what you’re saying is absurd. “Somewhere not quite real. When they disappeared between the tents, everything snapped back to how it was before. I know how it sounds, but something happened. I'm certain of it.” $aname is quiet for a moment, $atheir hazel eyes searching your face. $cathey doesn't look skeptical, exactly. More so concerned. “You said you can't remember their face?” “I can remember the conversation perfectly.” You shake your head. “What they said, what I said. But their face... it's like trying to hold water. The harder I try to focus on it, the more it slips away.” $aname’s jaw tightens. “That's not normal.” “I know.” $cathey is silent for another moment, clearly weighing options. Then $athey steps closer, voice dropping even lower. “There's a way I could see what you saw. If you'd allow it.” You blink. “Your insight?” “Yes. If you permit me, I could look at what happened last night and see this guard for myself.” $cathey hesitates. “But I understand if you'd rather not. It's painless, but... invasive all the same.” You consider this. The idea of someone else rifling through your memories should feel violating, but you trust $aname’s integrity. And more than that, you need to know what happened. “Do it,” you say. “Are you certain?” “I’m certain.” $aname nods slowly, then reaches up. $catheir hand hovers near your face for a moment, giving you one last chance to refuse, before $atheir palm presses gently against your forehead. The effect is immediate. The memory rises in your mind with crystalline clarity: the dying fire, the strange quiet settling over the camp, the approach of footsteps. You feel $aname's presence in your thoughts, a careful observer as the scene unfolds. The guard appears, then asks to sit. You grant permission. They settle beside you, and you watch the conversation play out exactly as you remember it. The story about family, the request for advice, and that strangely intense stare while you spoke. But this time, with $aname's presence in your mind, you see something you didn't notice before. Something incomprehensible. Where the guard's face should be, there is nothing. Not a blur, not indistinct features that shift in firelight. Nothing. A smooth, featureless expanse where eyes and nose and mouth should exist. And yet, in the memory, you spoke to them as if they had a face, as if they were completely ordinary. $aname's hand jerks away from your forehead as if burned. You both stare at each other, breathing hard, the morning mist swirling around you. “They had no face,” $aname says, $atheir voice rough with shock. “That's impossible,” you whisper. “I saw them. I looked right at them!” “You saw what you were meant to see,” $aname says quietly, and there's something in $atheir expression now—not just concern, but a dawning understanding that looks almost like fear. “But what was actually there...” $cathey trails off, and you both stand in silence, the implications settling over you like icy water down your back. Whatever approached you last night, it wasn’t human. [[End Chapter|Ending Screen]] <b>NOTE:</b> Remember to save on <b>this</b> screen, not the next one, or your save will not function when the next chapter is released! After a long moment, you take a careful step back, giving $dname space to breathe, and deliberately shift your tone to something lighter. “Do you enjoy this? Traveling like this, I mean.” You know when you’ve pushed enough, and you have the patience to wait for the next opportunity, the next crack in $dname’s armor: the expedition will take weeks. The change in subject is perhaps too obvious, but $dname's shoulders drop with visible relief. $cdthey exhales slowly, some of the tension bleeding out of $dtheir posture. “I'm... not certain,” $dthey admits after a moment, and begins walking. Not back toward camp, but along the edge of the clearing, following a natural path through the trees. You fall into step beside $dthem, the moonlight filtering through the canopy above, touching gently against the golden glow of your eyes. “You've done it often enough,” you remark. “Perhaps too often.” $dname's gaze tracks across the forest, habitually searching for threats even in this moment of relative peace. “I'm so accustomed to it that I don't really think about it most of the time. It's simply what I do. What I've always done.” You consider this, the words resonating in an unexpected way. “I relate to that. All those years I spent living like this, moving from place to place, never staying anywhere long enough to call it home. It warps your perspective, doesn't it? Makes it hard to imagine anything else.” “Yes,” $dname says quietly, and there's something in $dtheir tone that suggests $dthey understands exactly what you mean. “It becomes ordinary. Everything else feels strange by comparison.” You walk in comfortable silence for a few moments, the sounds of the forest surrounding you—the rustle of leaves, the distant hoot of an owl, the whisper of wind through branches. The camp feels far away now, a different world entirely. “Have you ever thought about doing something else?” you ask carefully. $dname glances at you, puzzled. “Something else?” “If circumstances were different.” You keep your voice light, curious rather than probing. “Can you see yourself ever putting down the mantle of general?” The question seems to catch $dthem off-guard. $cdthey's quiet for a long time, $dtheir footsteps steady on the forest floor as $dthey considers your question. You don't press, content to let the silence stretch. Finally, $dthey speaks. “If all my obligations disappeared tomorrow...” $cdthey pauses, as if testing the words, feeling out this impossible hypothetical. “I think I would choose to be an instructor.” You blink, surprised. “An instructor?” “Teaching soldiers, or anyone, to fight. To defend themselves and their loved ones.” There's something in $dtheir voice now, something almost wistful. “Watching the soldiers who serve under me learn and grow stronger gives me infinitely more pride than inflicting violence, even if it's for a purpose.” The admission is so unexpected that you stop walking. $dname takes a few more steps before realizing you've halted, then turns back to face you. “I didn't know you enjoyed teaching,” you say softly. $dname's expression shifts, something vulnerable flickering across $dtheir features before $dthey schools them back into composure. “There's a great deal you don't know about me yet.” The 'yet' lingers in the air between you, weighted with promise. [[Continue|14.35b]] Then $dname shakes $dtheir head, as if dispelling the thought. “But it's nothing but a fantasy. I have duties. Responsibilities. The Empire needs its general, not another instructor.” $cdthey turns the question back on you, deflecting blatantly. “What about you? What would you wish to do with your life, if you weren't the Crown?” You realize you’ve never even thought about it. Not once. “I wouldn't know where to start,” you admit, the words coming out more uncertain than you intended. “I can't even imagine a different path, a different life. It's always been this—or running from this.” $dname's expression softens with understanding. “I know that feeling.” “Do you?” “Yes.” $cdthey's quiet for a moment, then takes a small step closer. The moonlight catches in $dtheir dark brown eyes as $dthey studies your face with an intensity that makes your breath hitch. When $dthey speaks again, $dtheir voice is barely above a whisper. “If there was a way for me to take this burden from your shoulders, to allow you to live free of this cage, I would do it in a heartbeat.” The confession strikes something deep in your chest, making it hard to regain your breath. The sincerity in $dtheir voice, the naked honesty of it, undoes something in you. “I feel the same,” you whisper back. “For you. If I could give you that freedom, that choice—“ <<if $ass gt $pass>>The words trail off as you shift closer, drawn by the gravity of this moment, of $dthem. $dname watches you approach with visible tension, $dtheir breathing shallow, and you can see the longing in $dtheir eyes, raw and undeniable. But just as you draw too near, just as the space between you becomes almost nothing, $dname's hand comes up to press against your shoulder. Not forceful, but firm. A barrier. You stop immediately, though everything in you protests the distance. $dname's hand remains on your shoulder for a moment longer than necessary, $dtheir fingers trembling slightly before $dthey withdraws. “We should return to camp,” $dthey says, $dtheir voice strained. You're reluctant, every fiber of your being wanting to close that distance again, but you listen. You take a step back, giving $dthem the space $dthey's asking for. Even as disappointment settles heavy in your chest.<<else>>You wait, breath held, as $dname's gaze drops to your lips. The air between you feels charged, and you can see the war happening behind $dtheir eyes. $cdthey shifts closer, almost imperceptibly, longing written across every line of $dtheir face. Your heart pounds so hard you're certain $dthey can hear it. But then $dthey stops. Freezes mid-movement, as if suddenly remembering where you are, what this means, what's at stake. The moment hangs between you, fragile. You reach out slowly, carefully, your hand finding $dtheir arm. “$dname,” you whisper, trying to coax $dthem back, to bridge the gap $dthey's creating. $cdthey takes a breath, brows drawing together with a flicker of pain, and steps away. The loss of proximity feels like a physical ache. “We should return to camp,” $dthey says, $dtheir voice strained.<</if>> You push down your disappointment, forcing yourself to nod. You won't push $dthem on this. You know it isn't necessary. The way $dthey looked at you, the tremor in $dtheir voice, the conflict written across every feature—$dthey wants this as much as you do. Sooner or later, $dthey'll cave. $cdthey'll come to you on $dtheir own terms, when $dthey's ready. You just have to be patient. The walk back to camp is quiet, both of you maintaining a careful distance now. When you emerge from the forest path, the fires have burned lower, and most of the camp has settled into sleep. A few guards patrol the perimeter, but they don't seem to notice your return. $dname pauses near the edge of camp, turning to face you one last time. In the dim firelight, $dtheir expression is carefully neutral, the general's mask firmly back in place. “Good night, Your Imperial Majesty,” $dthey says formally, and the return to your title feels like a door closing. “Good night, $dname,” you reply softly. $cdthey holds your gaze for one more heartbeat, then turns and walks toward the officers' tents, $dtheir posture rigid with control. You watch $dthem go, then release a quiet sigh. Your emotions are too tangled to sort through right now, desire and frustration and hope all twisted together in a knot you can't untangle. You make your way to one of the dying fires and settle beside it, needing time to clear your head before attempting sleep. The embers glow softly, casting gentle warmth, and you stare into them as if they might hold answers. The forest breathes around you, alive with night sounds, and you let yourself simply exist in the quiet for a while. [[Continue|14.32]]