Raise the Eastern Palace (Semi-Open)

[Sabaristan]

Palace of the Sobornoyans
Yangikent
Sabaristan

In the cold of the early morning, the Palace of Heavenly Purity radiated warmth from its polished stone floors, such that it was even comfortable for the Khan’s ministers kneeling in ordered rows on embroidered cushions before the raised dais holding the throne and desk of the Khan. The rising heat of the underfloor heating (long since modernized into hot-water tubes from the traditional wood-fired chambers under the hall) manifested in the air, making the rows of silk banners and curtains that decorated the vast pillared hall, painted in the traditional six-color blue-white-yellow-red-green-black palette of the Sabari court.

“His Majesty’s carriage arrives!” came the shouted announcement from a eunuch attendant, and the ministers of state knelt as one in unison, intoning their greeting in the Sabari tongue: “Your humble ministers greet His Majesty!”

Tayisung Golgatai Bunyashiri Timur Khan, the Sabaristankhan, Khan of Turan-Sibir, the Sobornoyan, entered flanked with attendants carrying flags and fans of state that accompanied the formal court meetings, decked in the golden silk robes of state, and took his seat on the dais. Their heads still to the ground, he cast a brief eye over the court and waved a hand. “Rise.”

Tayisung Khan was a man of 54, but still looked to be in his thirties thanks to the influence of Urgenchi pharmaceuticals, bearing the unmistakable Borjigin features of the Urgenchi Imperial clan - rounded face, narrow lips, epicanthic folds with a slight upturn, and sparse, delicate eyebrows. Yet, his nose was narrow, betraying what some whispered was some kind of Jurchen ancestry.

The figures of court now rose, all in their differing official robes of office and holding the jade symbols of their authority. The Sabaris had over the years of course followed Urgenchi custom and their own Mongol influences, but had in 1750 adopted more of the traditions of the conquered Song court that proliferated in Urgench, with the Minister of the Right wearing ochre red silk Chinese-style robes, and the ministers of the Right in deep blue.

“First business?” The Khan asked, reviewing the documents and tablets on his desk.

Tögs-Ochiryn Namnansüren, the Chancellor and Minister of the Left, bow at the waist. “Your Majesty. The court requests an edict on the question of the succession.”

There was a silence in the court. The Khan seemed briefly to narrow his eyes. “What sort of edict?”

“An edict on the naming of a new Crown Prince to take up the position of the Eastern Palace.” the Chancellor continued. “With the deposition of the former resident of the Eastern Palace, the question of the succession is still open. Although your Majesty is still young and healthy and will rule for many years, the ancient practice of our state is to appoint a successor so that the monarch might instruct and train them to rule.” he said, using the term “Eastern Palace” to metonymically refer to the residence of the Crown Prince.

The Khan, almost absently, asked, “Why should I do it now?”

Mijiddorjiin Khanddorj, the Minister of the Right, stepped forward. “Answering your Majesty: the removal of the Eastern Palace has upturned the court and made the people uneasy. Your Majesty recalls the difficult situation fourteen years ago when the Late Honored Khan, your brother-in-law, died without heir, and the Urgenchi Quiriltai was slow in selecting Your Majesty for the throne. Your Majesty is fruitful and has many heirs thanks to the blessing of Heaven. Appointing another of your heirs Crown Prince will calm the populace and stabilize the court, demonstrating Your Majesty’s sageness and foresight.”

“And which of my sons should I appoint to the Eastern Palace?” the Khan continued, not looking at the elderly Minister, but vaguely into the air above the ministers in front of him.

There was a brief, pregnant silence. The Chancellor, eyes downturned, responded. “Your Majesty knows well the capabilities of your sons,” he said, avoiding the question.

“Hah!” the Khan exclaimed suddenly, and some of the junior ministers almost jumped. “Good evasion, Chancellor. Surely some of my ministers have ideas?”

Da Lam Tserenchimed, the Minister of the Center, stepped forward. “Your Majesty is wise, and the court dare not comment on the matters of the Inner Palace and the Harem.”

“I command you to comment on them.” the Khan said. “What does the Minister of Rites say?”

The new Minister of Rites was a man in his mid-sixties, a Sabari named Fiyanggu. Until a few weeks ago, the post had been held by a partisan of the former Crown Prince. “Majesty. The great Khans of the past, by custom and tradition, gave thought to the succession and the propagation of the Imperial Clan. Only Prince Tögöldör and Prince Šolontu have sons. According to the National Law on Succession, sons are preferred. Therefore, the choice is between Prince Tögöldör and Prince Šolontu as your eldest eligible sons with heirs.”

The Khan was quiet, regarding the new Minister. It was a careful, considered answer, and the smart one. Fiyanggu was by blood connected to both of the Princes through their maternal clans - he was of the Jušen Ginggiya Clan, and his Mongol wife was a distant cousin of the Khatun’s Khori-Tumed clan. But Fiyanggu himself was no partisan, which was why he had been selected for the position with the deposition of the Crown Prince. He was not aligned with either of the princes, and more importantly was not aligned with any of the factions behind the scenes in the Imperial Household Agency, and the Three Beys regarded him with no suspicion.

This was the problem the Khan was facing. After fourteen years on the throne, his favored servants, the Sogdian triplet eunuchs who he had brought with him from Urgench and who had in the past rendered such good service were now beginning to… what is the term? Outlive their usefulness. It had been under their influence that his son Menggutemu had been picked for the Eastern Palace over his eldest son, and for a time they had been right about him. Time and time again they counseled that he was the right figure for the job - his wife of good breeding, good and obedient, smart… with sons. But the problems had become almost impossible to ignore, from the conduct of his household to his open factionalism in the court in the last few years.

The Three Beys had counseled him in private to tolerate his son’s behavior, rectifying and instructing him, but the final straw that even they could not ignore were the spread of rumors through the court that the Crown Prince had personally insulted the Khan himself in a private feast in the Eastern Palace. Tayisung Khan had been so apoplectic with rage he almost ordered the execution of his son then and there, only the Beys convincing him not to.

The Khan cast an eye over the court, turning his head to glimpse in the corners the three eunuchs, waiting with heads bowed submissively behind the elderly, hunched figure of the court Chamberlain, Esen. He had always trusted them, not implicitly, but… they had never steered him wrong. And his suspicions had been further aroused when, in the week after the deposition and exile of his son, Vaishparkar Bey had quietly suggested that there were signs the rumors had been spread intentionally. In truth, the seeds of his distrust had been planted in the Ostmark War, when the Beys dispensed guidance on the conflict… which did not develop to the Khanate’s benefit.

He fixed his eyes on the Chancellor. “Tomorrow, We will summon the two princes to court. I desire that they should contribute to the court and assist my ministers. After this, we will discuss the position of the Eastern Palace. Will this calm the unstable waters of the court and stop the wagging tongues of the people?”

The Chancellor bowed. “Your Majesty is sage. Noble Khan, the State Diet has advised that the Princes be given the opportunities to contribute more to the court in years past, and this will surely pacify them.”

There was a cough in the side of the hall. From the corner of his eye, the Khan saw Abdab Bey move, giving a predetermined signal that he thought the Khan did not know. Interesting. The minister that spoke next would be his.

To the Khan’s surprise, it was Shurakhiin, one of the three Middle Counselors, an important veteran minister and former ambassador to the Atlantic International Organization, that came forward. “Your Majesty. There is an issue I must raise. According to the ancient custom, only a Prince of the Second Rank is entitled to attend to court matters. Your Majesty recalls that it was only last year that the Secretariat recommended Prince Šolontu be created doro-i-beile and promoted to the Third Rank. Would it not be inappropriate to permit the Prince to attend the court when he has not yet accustomed himself to the Third Rank?”

Shurakhiin was playing an interesting game, the Khan thought. He was an internationalist, one of the louder voices in court for greater engagement with the liberal democracies to the East… so what was he playing at here? By speaking against Šolontu, he was actually speaking for Tögöldör, even though his name had not appeared… unless there were still plans to bring back Menggutemu. But Shurakhiin had never been his partisan… He gripped the voluminous hem of his robe briefly.

“Decree. Prince Šolontu is honest, hardworking, filial, and pious. Create him doro–giyun wang, Prince of the Second Rank.” The Khan said simply. A soft murmur went through the court, and he thought he saw the three Beys tense in the wings. He briefly caught the eyes of the Chancellor, who pointedly looked left to the still-waiting Minister of Rites. “Minister Fiyanggū. Is there any reason why promoting the Prince should conflict with the ancestral rites and laws?”

Fiyanggu bowed. “Answering Your Majesty: the bestowing of the Eight Privileges has since the foundation of the nation been the sole domain of the Khan to administer as He sees fit. In the example of the Khan Nasu-jamyang, he raised his son from the Duke of the First Rank to hoso-i-cinwang, Prince of the First Rank, within three years, six ranks in the peerage. Your Majesty is only seeking to raise Šolontu beile one rank. There is nothing objectionable in this.”

Another, softer murmur went through the court. The Khan nodded. “Then, my sons will attend the court to debate on matters of the state and receive appointments. Chamberlain -”

The elderly Esen started forward, falling to his knees. “Yes, Majesty?”

“Prepare the decree - the Ministry of Rites is to confer with the shamans to find an auspicious day for the coronation ceremony.” he continued.

The eunuch bent. “Your slave obeys.”

“Good.” the Khan nodded, briefly glancing at the Chancellor before looking at the pages on his desk. The man briefly, just barely, bobbed his head. “Now, next business - the Ministry of Works has a report on the Borussgyan infrastructure bids?”

As the more mundane business began, he thought he saw out of the corner of his eye the three Sogdian triplets whisper something to one another before returning to their servile positions. Now, the Khan was even more convinced that there was more to the story of the Crown Prince than he had been told, and the long service they had rendered him both here and back in Urgench needed some careful review. He suddenly felt that the situation was very dangerous, remembering the sudden death of the Prince of Nakchevan and Arjish when he had displeased some powerful figures in the Imperial Household Department, or the death of Nuruumtash, his predecessor, of “illness.” Perhaps Tongdorbad Gaang, now retired, knew more than he admitted.

In any case, a dangerous dance was beginning in Sabaristan, the Khan felt, always a superstitious man, and he was uneasy. Summoning his sons to court was going to begin a great battle as they each tried to prove themselves, and exposing the fault lines in the ministries and in the great Imperial Household Agency behind the scenes, the eunuch and servants who attended the Khan and his harem in their daily lives and often held the reigns of power behind the scenes. But reigns, a Sabari knew, could control a great stallion to charge across the steppes, and they could just as easily be used to strangle a man in his sleep if he became too unruly.

As the ministers droned on, Tayisung khan resolved to keep his own hand firm on the reigns.

[Sabaristan]

It was past one in the morning, the deep dead of night, but the household complex of the residences of several high-ranking eunuchs of the Inner Palace had suddenly come to live like a hive of hornets shaken by an unsuspecting night-time enemy. Unlike in the old days in cases of fire, though, the energy was different: not anxious hurrying and shouted commands. Instead, passels of eunuch flitted between buildings, whispering, lighting lamps, and rushing from one large, sumptuous residence to two other identical residences in the same complex within the north-western part of the Imperial Palace. This was the domain of the Imperial Household Agency's eunuchs, the small army of mutilated men (all of whom had actively chosen their fate) who managed much of the internal life of the Khan's court... and, in quiet and secret ways, managed some of its politics.

Two of the groups of eunuchs were visibly alarmed and unsure of whether they should disturb the residents of the other two residences. They were not palaces per se but they were certainly palatial. Finally, one summoned up the courage to beat on the door of one and be let inside. Outside observers knew only that after a few moments, a figure in a black brocade robe embroidered with silver fish swimming about the shoulders and an iron-grey cap rushed from the central residence and pounded on the door of the other, rushing inside and repeating the affair. One man in fish-robes rushed out, and within half an hour lights were lit all over and dozens more eunuchs in the same black fish robes were swarming the first residence, each bearing a flat token at their belt and carrying a long wooden cudgel.

With robes hastily thrown over night-time undergarments, two figures emerged separately from separate buildings, meeting in the lane in front of the third. Both were identical: twins. Well, triplets. Vaishparkar and Abdab Bey, two of the Three Beys. They shared a look, saying nothing, and entered the courtyard of the third house, where their brother Zravan dwelt. The eunuchs in silver-black with cudgels had taken over quickly: the household staff of eunuchs and women were held at one end of the courtyard, away from the main hall where Zravan slept. They knelt on the ground and some keened softly. The two Beys walked slowly into their brother's residence, to find a man in fish robes, more exquisite than the others, waiting. Liangzuo Ngimi, Chief Inspector of the Tamagha Temdegün Shinjilekü Yamun, Office for the Inspection of Seals and Tokens, was waiting. The office, despite its mundane name, struck fear into the hearts of anyone who they called on, whether eunuch, bureaucrat, or noble. They were one of the private security forces of the Khan, a secret police composed of eunuchs who had his ear and could inspect and punish anyone they wanted in the service of the Khan.

Ngimi's face was unlike the Beys, but also unlike the Mongols, Jurshens, and Han at court - he was a Minyak, one of the other minorities in the Khanate. He might have been mistaken for an Apatan or a Latturian in Caldas or Knootoss. He bowed to the Beys.

"Second Master. Third Master," the eunuch Ngimi said quietly.

"Speak." Abdab said quickly, low.

"First Master is dead," Ngimi said quickly. "He overturned a water dish, which broke and alerted the servants. Not more than two hours."

"Violence? Poison?" Vaishparkar said, his voice more anxious than his brother's.

"Not violence. We do not yet know," Ngimi continued, "if poison was at work. They say he dined with you and returned, then was at his desk. He took chrysanthemum tea. Then, to bed, as normal."

"A stroke? Heart attack? Aneurysm?" Abdab asked in quick succession, less anxious than his brother but without the calm command he usually had. Ngimi shook his head.

"It is not clear. The doctors from the Office are summoned and we will check thoroughly. He seems to have struggled. But it does not look like poison."

The two brothers looked at each other. Ngimi would know what poison looked like. But there were many he didn't. Abdab stiffened after thinking for a moment, as if he was putting on a costume. He spoke and his voice seemed more suave, more sure. "Interrogate the household. Carefully. Bring sub-commanders of the Office quickly. We will investigate thoroughly. The Khan will be informed in the morning. Go."

Ngimi bowed and left to do his work.

As soon as the house was empty, the two brother went to look at their dead brother. It was like looking at themselves, but twisted in white bedclothes on the floor. He had fallen from his carved bed and knocked a fine porcelain ewer onto a silk woven carpet in intricate designs. His eyes were open and dull, and his mouth stretched into a rictus grin. Vaishparkar looked about as if he expected to see a ghost.

"A natural death?" he hissed to his brother. "The day after someone submits a memorial at court to call the deposed prince back to the capital? And the Khan says he will consider it?"

Abdab was chewing his thumb, then seemed to realize what he was doing and stopped. "Brother was hotheaded. He wanted us to strike Menggutemu before anything could happen. An accident. A rival. His health was not bad. Who could strike us here, in the heart of our power?"

Vaishparkar paced. "Could the Office have missed something? A traitor? One of the competition?"

The Tally Inspection Office was part of a balancing act in the Palace: on the one hand, the Keshiq Corps, the elite soldiers who formed the personal Mongol bodyguards of the Khan, vicious and dedicated, with vast powers of their own to inspect and punish dissent and corruption. Then, the Dotugdao Yamun, the Internal Conduct Supervision Bureau, a rival eunuch bureau whose official job was to patrol the palace and handle security, but who in practice also had broad latitude to detain and punish almost anyone. Outside the palace there was the Censorate, the bureaucracy's discipline and inspection arm. All of them had huge latitude to arrest, interrogate, detain, and even execute enemies of the state and the Khan, who had kept them balanced on a string. It was no secret that the Beys, though, had taken over the Tally Inspection Office from what it had been under Khan Nuruumtash and turned it into a well-oiled spy machine, planting agents in the Rear Palace, many of the Ministries, and almost all of the households of the important Princes.

"Can we say?" Abdab asked rhetorically. "We cannot just wait. Even if Brother died normally it will muddy the waters.We must be proactive."

"Proactive?" Vaishparkar asked, unsure.

"The first ones to raise issues will be the court and the ministers," Abdab said firmly, pacing and trying not to look at his dead brother. "The Khan will be informed in the morning. By the end of the day everyone will know Brother is dead. By tomorrow, there will be petitions in the court for our execution on any number of pretexts. And he is looking for excuses."

Vaishparkar nodded, some of his anxiety lessening. "Yes. We cannot allow this to unsteady us. They will think us off our balance. They will think that one of us dying is too great a wound for all of us together. We must be proactive. Whatever the doctors say. Yes. I know how."

There were sounds of shouts and cries in the courtyard that were suddenly silence. Moving out of the bedroom to the reception hall, they took their places on carved rosewood seats and seemed to compose themselves. Abdab called for Ngimi, who entered and bowed.

"Chief Inspector," Vaishparkar said, his voice now cool and assured. "Our brother Zravan has died by unnatural means. He was a picture of health. There are clearly traitors at court seeking to undermine our Great Khan's confidence in the Shinjilekü Yamun and to sow dissent within the court."

"You will lead the office to investigate these threats to our Great Khan's government. Begin with the members of the court who have criticized the Tally Inspection Office. And those members of the Banners who have echoed this criticism," Abdab said, finishing his sentence seamlessly.

"If you were to find evidence implicating disgraced government officials and members of the Golden Lineage, this would prove that our Khan's great judgement is correct and he has been wisely advised in the past," Vaishparkar continued. "The most recently disgraced and punished for their crimes are the obvious choices."

Ngimi understood immediately that they meant the disgraced formed Crown Prince. "Yes, Masters. Prince Nirinbai has criticized the office as well, strenuously, in open court, just this week."

A thin glance passed between the twins. "No need. Nirinbai's faction is not a concern for now. But our brothers in the Dotugadu Yamun have been... difficult lately." Abdab said coolly.

Liangzuo Ngimi bowed, dropping to one knee. "This servant obeys."

Before he turned to go, Vaishparkar cleared his throat. "One last thing. The doctors found poison. Continue to interrogate the household, see what you find. If you turn up something, good. If you don't... well, find someone who can be useful."

With another bow, their adjutant went into the courtyard, leaving the Sogdian twins to consider the nature of life, death, and the exercise of power.

[Sabaristan]

Club Crystal
Yangikent, Sabaristan

The difference between Yangikent's large central city, still filled with the Imperial Palace, large royal and aristocratic estates, walled gardens and markets and temples, and its outskirts past the Old Wall Ring Road was a study in contrast. Where Novoorqendi, that vast southern metropolis, had grown upward toward the center, development in modern Yangikent was like a doughnut: the low inner center of the old city preservered as the outskirts expanded skyward. Here, around the Third Ring Road to the northwest of the city where development began to brush up against the waters of the Khubsugul, were modern villas and compounds interspersed with glittering highrises along bustling boulevards: some of the wealthiest of the wealthy in Sabaristan lived and played in these neighborhoods, whether they had titles or lacked them. In fact, this was one of the places in modern Yangikent where the strict hierarchy of rank and peerage was quietly ignored; in rooftop nightclubs pounding with steppe-tinged house music beats, high aristocrats could be spotted nearly rubbing shoulders with the fantastically nouveau riche of the booi servant classes that had formerly served them for generations.

Club Crystal was one of these. At the top of the Crystal Corporation Tower, the lower floors housed offices and some fancy apartments and the headquarters of the Khubsugul Cyrstal Development Corporation, a public-private partnership conglomerate with a murky ownership structure. Club Crystal was four interior circular floors of smoky glass, private booths, and a massive circular dance floor that was multi-leveled, open in the center with open air up to a skylight that glittered with stars occasionally pierced by rays of strobe and laser lights. The top level was the VVIP sections: they could see everything, out to the multiple bars and into the lower-level booths, down to the cheapest tables and seats on the first level. But no one could see them: just the way it was designed.

The VVIP main booth, centrally located to see everything and only be seen by the others on the fourth floor (why else would you go to a club if not to be watched by your equals?), had an interesting crowd this evening. One youngish man, about 25, in black pants and an open-necked white shirt that showed he never missed chest day, was the center of the attention. Two other men of similar age sat on either side, a slim one in the more traditional silk robes of a Sabari aristocrat and the other wearing what passed for fusion fashion: a deconstructed Sabari tunic in blue shantung silk, pleated trousers, and polished black Chelsea boots, fashionable buzz cut. His body was not as nice as the others, but not bad. Beautiful women were on their arms pouring drinks and laughing appropriately at their conversation. As the bass pumped, two severe-looking men, both tall and in tailored crimson deel robes watched carefully. One didn’t need to look closely to see that they were eunuchs, but had the builds and facial structures of men who had chosen that life after puberty.
The middle man with the gym-fresh build and wavy black model’s hair was Shen Boyan, the son of the Han tycoon founder of Khubsugul Crysal, Shen Guangrui. Or, as he was known at court, the Marquis Shen. Boyan was proud of the fact his father hadn’t bought the title but had been given it for services to revitalizing the southern economy (essentially pouring billions of darangs into state construction projects).

“Baljin! Drink!” he said loudly at the other man in the traditional robes, who had a slight build and black hair pulled into a traditional ponytail. “These lovely ladies need someone to drink with,” he said with a wink at the pretty (and pretty indistinguishable) bar hosts.

Baljin was the Beise Baljinnyam, son of the Beile Jorightu, a relatively minor aristocrat with some modest court connections but not much in the way of real influence. He was not, as a rule, a club kid but his father had told him to “go out, make connections with the merchant class” and so here he was. He smiled and lifted his glass – whisky and green tea – and sipped it politely. The third man broke into a wide grin and did the same, only he downed the glass and then buried his nose in the cleavage of his companion, who squealed playfully in mock horror.

“That’s how it’s done, Baljin!” Boyan said with a laugh, throwing back the remains of his glass and letting it be filled. “Bat knows how to live, eh?”

Bat, the third man in the avant-garde fashion, was actually named Toghtaikuu. He was something of an enigma to the Baljin, but not to Shen Boyan. All the young Beise knew is that Bat was connected, somehow, to someone high up in some palace agency, which is why he always had some eunuch bodyguards with him when they came out to Club Crystal. He sipped his drink and tried to smile. Boyan was predictable: he’d call him out for a night on the town, and it would always be Bat or some other mysterious figure with connections who would talk business quietly for a bit, then get a bit tipsy, then ask him a few obvious probing questions about what his father had been hearing in court, then get roaring drunk and take advantage of whichever high-priced sluts Boyan had procured for the evening.

Something tonight, though, caught in Baljin’s mind. A name. Baljin scratched his earlobe.

“Bat. Your name is Toghtaikuu, right?”

Bat took a break from molesting his “date” to turn back. “Yeah, but everyone who’s anyone calls me Bat.”

“So your father is Toghtai?” Baljin asked, dropping an icecube into his drink. He didn’t see the smile on Bat’s face turn brittle.

“Why?”

“No reason. It sounded familiar. Dad was talking about some boring court shit and mentioned the name. Are you related to someone in the palace?”

Boyan leaned back, watching Bat carefully. Bat leaned forward, gazing at the aristocrat. “What if I am?”

The young noble seemed confused by the sudden intensity and it began to dawn on him where he remembered the name from. “No reason. The name was familiar. I don’t know anything about all that nonsense. There’s an Office for everything in the palace, there’s got to be a dozen people with similar names,” he said, realizing he’d made a mistake and was rambling now to get out of it. Bat smiled, not evilly but not kindly. “As a matter of fact, young master Beise, my adoptive father is in the palace.” He leaned back, spreading his arms over the seat back, and the woman nestled on cue into his chest.

“My father’s one of the Controllers of the Internal Conduct Supervision Office.” He said, puffing out his chest a little as if he was trying to rival Boyan, who chuckled and shook his head.

“Look at this fucking liar,” he said, pointing and laughing. “You’re a businessman. You run import-export bullshit from Ghant or Laneria or wherever. What, your dad’s a fucking eunuch running some office for checking the skirts of palace maids?

Baljinnyam was not laughing. He didn’t know much about the palace but the Internal Conduct Supervision Office he did know, and Boyan clearly did not. Bat was not laughing either.

“Not my dad,” he said, icily. “My adoptive father. I run businesses outside the palace, but my father is the head of an agency that reports directly to the Khan.”

The air slowly went out of the room as Boyan leaned back. Even the harlots went quiet, sensing something was wrong. “Easy, easy,” the tycoon’s son said. “I was just joking. Hey, I knew you had connections!”

He laughed, not quite convincingly, and reached over to pour a glass for Bat, who was looking half-satisfied, half deadly. Bat gestured to the bodyguards. “Those boys aren’t just anyone. Those are my father’s men. They can arrest anyone, even a high noble – “ he said, casting a glance at Baljinnyam – “if he’s offended the Khan or committed a crime. Beise,” he said, leaning forward with a mocking smile, “who is your daddy and what does he do? Is he important like Boyan’s baba the Marquis?”

Baljinnyam tried not to swallow hard and failed. “My father is a beile,” he said quietly.

“From where?” Bat asked, but before Baljin could answer there was the sounds of a crow from a distance outside and some shouts. A woman screamed. Before Boyan could say much, three club guards in black suits came flying around the corner, falling to the ground in a heap, sending the club girls into hysterics. The red-robed eunuch guards instinctively went for sidearms but before they could draw them a dozen armed men in black silk robes embroidered with silver carp swimming about their shoulders had swarmed into the VVIP booth, grabbing the bodyguards and forcing them to the ground.

Baljin kept his seat with difficulty. Shen Boyan was angry, on his feet, shouting. “What the fuck is this? Who are you and what are you doing here? Do you know who I am, who my father is?” Boyan did not notice that Toghtaikuu, who had just recently been bragging, had not moved an inch and seemed almost frozen.

Liangzuo Ngimi entered the booth, the armed eunuchs parting for him. He surveyed the frightened nightclub girls and the three men, fixing on Boyan. “I do know who your father is, Shen Boyan, son of Marquis Shen Guangrui. Do you know who I am?”

“How the fuck would I know that? You’re on private property and – “ Ngimi held up a hand, cutting him off. “How about you, do you know who I am?” he said, pointing at Baljinnyam.

“You’re the Chief Inspector of the Office for the Inspection of Seals and Tokens,” the young nobleman said quietly, his voice almost disappearing amidst the still-thumping bass of the club music. All around the VVIP floor, the other denizens of the private booths were turning to gawk at what was happening. “You work directly under the heads of the Office, the Three Beys,” he continued robotically, as if he was reciting a script.

At that point Boyan went completely silent and he sank backward. Ngimi nodded, pleased. “Very good. And who are you?”

Baljin felt sure the Chief Inspector already knew but did not let that stop him. “Beise Baljinnyam, son of the Beile Jorightu. Has my father done something wrong?” he asked, his throat suddenly bone-dry.

Ngimi put on a slight smile. “Your father serves the Nirayannoyan, isn’t that right?” Baljin nodded quietly, realizing that was not an answer to the question. He had never met Borayq, the Nirayannoyan and Hereditary Falconer of the Khan, personally. As far as he knew the “service” was pro forma, one of those ancient facts of nobility he barely understood. He did not know if his father had ever spoken to the Khan’s favored companion outside of formal court functions. Jorightu has never, ever spoken to his son about it. “Very lucky,” Ngimi said, nodding. “When you go home, you should thank your father. He will tell you why.”

Baljin swallowed hard, not trying to stop it. He realized Bat had said nothing, and was sitting, deflated, almost melting into the seat. The woman on his arm was now several feet away. His chest was rising and falling in shallow breaths. Ngimi slowly turned to him, and Bat lifted his eyes up, almost defiantly. “Third Brother,” he said quietly. Liangzuo Ngimi smiled, almost sadly. “Fourth Brother,” he said flatly in response.

Any defiance in Bat’s eyes fled. After what felt like a long moment, he said, “Well?” and broke the spell. Ngimi flicked a hand and two of the armed eunuchs surged forward, knocking bottles and glassware to the floor and grabbed him in a submission hold, snapping his arms behind his back and slapping zip ties on them. The women screamed briefly but stopped as Ngimi lifted a silver tasseled badge of office and showed it to Boyan, Baljin, and the women. “By order of His Imperial Highness the Khan, the Office for the Inspection of Seals and Tokens is arresting the booi Toghtaikuu for the crimes of lese majeste, subversion of the state, violating the sanctity of the Inner Palace, and illegally engaging in prohibited commerce. Go about your business.”

Then, without another word, Ngimi turned and strode away, the eunuchs of the Tally Office carrying the wordless Bat and his two guards, stone-faced, away into the night and leaving three buxom women in near tears to tend to the Beise Baljinnyam and Shen Boyan.

There was silence for a while as Boyan gaped and Baljinnyam forced himself to breathe regularly. After a while their gazes met.

“What the fuck?” Boyan asked, almost rhetorically. “What’s going to happen to him?”

The young noble looked at him incredulously for such a stupid question. The idiot idle rich son of the important tycoon did not know the first fucking thing about the dangers of the court. These nightclub parties where he “gathers information” and “makes connections” were playing in the fucking kiddy pool. Baljin swallowed.

“Well, if what everyone in my world learns is true, they’re going to drug him and torture him for a confession, about anything,” he said slowly. “Then they’re going to go after his father and denounce him and other members of the Inspection Office to the Khan. Then, if it goes their way, Bat and his adoptive dad are going to get their heads fucking chopped off in front of the Meridian Gate while the Khan and the court watch. Oh, if they don’t beat him to death first in front of his stepfather. If that happens, they’ll cut off his head after he’s dead.”

Boyan was quiet, staring at him with his model good-looks and his perfect chest. Baljinnyam suddenly hated his guts. “Shen Boyan, did your rich fucking dad with the paid-for title never tell you how the court really works?” he said, unable to contain his rage at the pretty-boy for nearly getting him caught up in a genuine fucking court purge. “Do you know how easy it is getting your fucking head cut off just for being the same room as someone? Even someone like me?”

The two men held eye contact for a minute, and Baljin searched the scared, confused eyes of the tycoon's son. Then, realization dawned on the Beise. "Shen Boyan. You don't know shit about me, do you? Do you know why they didn't arrest me?" The other man just gaped at him. He didn't know shit about shit. He'd had no idea his father's technical superior was a high member of the aristocracy, a Jasagh Noyan of an powerful noble house and the favorite male lover of the Khan. That his dad probably barely knew him personally didn't matter - Borayq's "people", such as they were, could not be touched by mere eunuchs.

Baljinnyam stood up slowly, smoothing his silk with what little regal dignity he could muster as the scion of an ancient noble house in a thumping nightclub “Shen Boyan. You’re a fucking idiot, and I need better fucking friends,” he said, then turned and left the playboy billionaire’s son to his high-class bar sluts and broken glassware as sick club beats pounded into the night air.