Ten Thousand Years, Ten Thousand Stars (Maintenance)

[Roania]

Author's Note:
This thread is intended to log various events and happenings inside the Radiant Empire. These can be random trivia, important events to major characters, or just plain silly nonsense. Or anything else I might want to post really. It should also be noted that posts will occasionally include more mature content.
What happens in this thread is to be considered as having happened; if you have any questions, find me on IRC or send me a telegram.

It can be very dangerous, AiQien thought, to break the status quo. The young empress considered her night ahead very carefully. She could hear the soft sound of her husband getting into bed, no doubt dressed very conventionally. Conventional. That was Damalin all over.

For that matter, it’s me. And yet… and yet… and yet… tonight she wasn’t dressed conventionally. She was dressed very carefully, very specifically. It had cost the emperor, her husband, millions of wen to get her to this point – not that he knew, of course, that he had spent that money – not that he would care, either. She studied herself in the mirror and took a deep breath. She felt no confidence, not in her actions, not in her appearance, not in her relationship with the boy. Her husband. But… well, maybe she had bought confidence.

Damalin had eased himself tiredly into the bed. It had been a busy day. There had been memoranda to read and blueprints to study and a cabinet to appoint and new guns to test and officers to promote and nobility to… ennoble? Was that the right word? And then there were all the foreign ambassadors he had decreed he would meet, and a letter to write to Mballa, and notes for his parents, and something for his brother, and he probably should send a note to his ‘sister’. And then there was… and that, and then there were always… and it never stopped, did it? No wonder his mother had been worn out, had given up, when on top of everything else her family had collapsed around her ears.

Enough! There was a time and a place for such thoughts, and this was not it. Slowly, he calmed himself, his breath growing even. Perhaps… perhaps he and AiQien would play a game this evening. She was learning Interstellar Galactic Fighter 55 quite quickly – not that he would ever admit it to her.

Pity the poor Emperor, then, for planning. For no plan survives contact with a half-naked young wife. When the bathroom door opened, he looked towards it with a friendly smile, expecting to see AiQien, perhaps in that beautiful nightgown they had purchased in the markets on their tour of the empire two weeks ago. “Good evening, AiQ…” his voice wavered as he stared at her.

Good, she had his attention. The soft… she didn’t think this fabric was silk, spider or otherwise. The salesman had been cagey about it, but security… well, that didn’t matter. It was go time. “Damalin…” She slowly stepped forward, one leg in front of the other, arms held out slightly to allow him to take as good a look as he wanted. And he was looking. Her breath shivered and she closed her eyes momentarily, but she could feel his eyes wandering from her short teddy down to the panties just barely peeking out from beneath it. And then beyond. She knew he was going down her completely bare legs, and with a seductive grin she turned in a circle for him. She heard the soft sound of his breath begin to speed up, and smiled. “Like what you see, Damalin?”

“Yes, AiQIen…” His voice cracked, as it often did in stressful situations. For a moment it was higher than hers, and she covered her mouth to hide a giggle, before slowly resuming her walk to their bed. Her advisers had said this was the crucial test. Don’t laugh at him, don’t tease him too much. And…

The young empress stopped right in front of the bed her husband sat on. His eyes were as wide as dinner plates. “Damalin… my husband.” She whispered as she reached up behind herself, beginning the slow process of removing her top. “Our first night together… our only night together… was the night of our wedding. For seven months, you have been respectful, you have been understanding… when I have refused you, you have not acted as would be your right. You have not sent me away, you have not forced yourself upon me.” She undid the last string and let her top fall to the ground. “And… and I… I understand you now, in a way I did not when we wed. I understand my husband better.” She trembled and took another step. One more, and she would be on the bed. “..Let us forget our wedding night, husband. Let us make tonight the beginnings of our life together.”

Damalin’s eyes had gone as wide as saucer plates as he took her in. “Do… do I please you, husband?” AiQien murmured. He didn’t trust himself to speak, obviously. He only nodded. Slowly, she climbed onto the bed, and into Damalin’s lap. Then she kissed him, smiling into the kiss as she felt his body react to hers, his hands reaching up to touch a soft, tight breast, the other brushing back her hair.

“Are… are you sure?” Damalin whispered, his breath heavy.

“I am positive, my husband.” And her hand slowly found what it was looking for, and suddenly Damalin could no longer question his wife.

They made love three times that night, each time better than the last as they grew more practiced and more controlled. Shortly after midnight, as they lay on the rumpled sheets of the bed, Damalin kissed her deeply. “I…” He began.

She shook her head quickly. “Not yet. Please. I know. It… it is easier for me to come to grips with my wifely responsibilities, my imperial responsibilities…. Then my personal ones.” She saw his eyebrow raise up, and touched his nose very gently. “Shhh. I did this because I wanted it. Because I wanted you. Because I want to be your wife, more than just your friend. My body wanted to be given to you, to be reunited with my spirit.” The young empress took a deep breath. “I know how you feel. And
sometimes, I believe it. I… I just cannot respond in the way those words deserve.”

Damalin’s thoghts were slowly drifting to sleep, but he managed to stay alert for a moment or two as he looked at her. “But you are more than my wife, and you are more than my friend. For the first time since this whole mess started, you... you make me feel like myself.”

AiQien smiled. “And you are more than my husband, and you are more than my friend. You are the greatest boy I have met.” She brushed her fingers across his falling brows and smiled. “But… I cannot say the words yet, my husband. ”

Damalin closed his eyes. Faintly, at the edge of hearing, “an emperor may do as he wills… provided he harm none who do not deserve it. And… it would harm me more to keep this within me than to let it out. AiQien, I love you. From the moment you stood up to that Grand Secretary, the moment you offered yourself to me…all for your people… I knew you were a woman I could love.” And then, without much more to say, he fell asleep.

His wife, however, slipped from the bed and walked to their great window, from which she could see the bright lights of the Imperial City. She touched her hand to her soft breast, and reached up with the other to rest on the glass. It was cool out. Much cooler than her homeworld. And yet, this was where she lived now. As Empress. Sole empress. Her father had a dozen wives, beauties from across his realm. Damalin had sworn that she was to be his only lover.
AiQien took a shallow breath and ran her fingers along the edge of her bosom, where her husband had been paying homage so recently; down her waist to the curves of her hips… and then along them, to the soft spot where her womb waited. Someday, she would bear his children, she knew. Someday, those children would nurse from her breasts. And someday, one of their children would rule this empire.

And yet… and yet it was not enough. Was it? What had she ever wanted out of life, to say that this was not enough? Her sisters had shown their jealousy, the women she knew here envied her. She possessed wealth and power enough for a dozen, no, a hundred wives… and she possessed the love of a boy who could alter the course of the stars if she asked – if he spoke the truth about his feelings. No, best not to go down that rabbithole. He was not a complicated boy. And they were both young. His feelings were no doubt his feelings at the moment; before she judged them true or false she should give him time.

No, she had risen as far, or farther, than any princess of the Tonhi ever had. Not for her, the life of the harem amongst that small land’s nobility. And yet… and yet, she wanted more. She would never have dreamed of it a few years ago, but to be a wife, a consort, and someday a mother was not enough. Not in a galaxy where ordinary women, barbarian women were traveling the galaxy, living, loving, leading lives of their own, talking to emperors and kings and princes as equals…why should an Empress not be more than just a wife?

Quietly, she walked back to her side of the bed, her eyes on the sleeping boy she shared it with. He was… handsome, she knew. And she was glad to be with him. Did she love him? No. Not yet. Was there much worth loving in him? Light, yes. But she wasn’t there yet. The bed depressed under her weight as she sat. Pitching her voice low so as not to wake Damalin up, she spoke the activation phrase, and then, “Computer, please get me a list of the distance courses the Imperial University offers.” A soft chime let her know that her instructions had been recorded, and she slowly lay down, one hand draping over Damalin’s chest. “I will be your empress, husband.” She murmured. “But I will also be a woman. My own woman.” And if he loved her, for truth, he would accept that.

[Roania]

Nearly two centuries ago, as the Roanians reckoned time, the Empire had suffered a massive defeat in the battle of the Coreward Drift, where most of their Starfleet had been utterly destroyed. In the chaos of the recovery, foreign vessels of equal technology had first approached Rudan Prime itself, demanding recognition as equals and limited trade contacts. And those ‘barbarians’ had continued to improve their technology and expand their reach while the Empire, the center of civilization, had been forced into the unenviable position of catch-up.

What had changed? What had gone so wrong in the Light’s carefully ordered cosmos, so quickly? Academicians devoted their lives to answering that question, for if what went wrong was discovered, perhaps it could be fixed. All other questions had fallen by the wayside for the Imperial Intelligentsia, as vast resources were poured into increasingly recondite questions of philosophy and cosmology. Answers were sought amongst the records of all nations and races. Few amongst the civilized peoples of the galaxy had as good a grasp of the theoretical questions behind existence as the Academicians in these fields, and yet they were no closer to finding the answers then when they had started. Those more widely read than others spoke of the Break posited by Akapendran theorists, who alone among the barbarians had come close to grasping the truth, as they saw it. But knowing the truth was not enough… to ask questions, to be able to ask questions… there must be answers.

It was not enough that what and when be established. Why must be determined. How must be pieced together. And where, oh where, could we go to fix things?

[Roania]

There was really no such thing as a ‘frontier’ in the Roanian conception of their empire. There was territory they directly administered and territory they did not. To join the Empire was to join the heights of civilization. To be conquered was to be granted the benefits of civilization; law, order, peace, safety. Freedom from starvation, freedom from fear, freedom from want and freedom from need. That there were, lamentably, barbarians who at the present possessed both the power, the strength and the will to retain their lamentable independence meant only that it was more important to gather in those who could be gathered, so as to strengthen the hand of justice when the time came.

For the most part, an Imperial ‘invasion’ was a largely peaceful matter. Years of study would be devoted to examining the local culture, recognizing the most useful and civilized factions, and studying those beliefs that could be harnessed for the glory of Empire. Then came a sudden strike against those that were determined to be useless, a planetary reorganization under local puppets, and the slow absorption of the locals into the Empire on a broader scale, a process that could take decades provided taxes were paid and internal peace was maintained.

In general, races that more closely resembled the Roanian ideal were more quickly broken up and absorbed. Not that there would, in general, be anything along the lines of deliberate repression. But the elites of the newly conquered people would find their lives easier and easier the more they became Roanian, speaking the imperial language, worshipping the imperial religion, dressing to imperial fashion. Cultures very rarely went extinct in the Empire, but they often changed to better serve their new masters.

Those races that were alien were less, or more, fortunate, depending on your feeling. The Xong-Lin of Rk lived much as they had for millions of years, eating each other and xenologists in their swamps like the Roanians had never come to their world. But the price for that was general neglect. The Nmmr of Nmmr were utterly absorbed into the Empire now, serving its functions as much, if not more, than the Roanians themselves. But the price for that had been an almost total abandonment of what had made them their own people, a total devotion to their masters that bordered on the pathological. All across the empire, people made their own peace or lack-thereof with the status quo.

Of course, if the Imperial Government recognized you as a person, and you were not physically similar to them, you were already ahead of the pack. Often utterly alien intelligences were exterminated matter-of-factly as wild animals or dangerous plants or, in one particularly memorable example, as unusually pretty gemstones that would make excellent jewelry. Or they would be left to their own devices, shunted into the lands beyond their settlements to eke out a living, with none of the safety of imperial law. Or they and their biosphere would be utterly wiped out to obtain resources that the Roanians desired for some goal of their own. No one knew how often this had happened. The empire didn’t care, because why would they keep records of native animals or their removal? Some foreign xenologists had attempted to make an estimation, but later given up the effort as ‘too depressing’.

[Roania]

"Next!" On an ordinary day, life in the Empire is one of endless reams of paperwork. At least, that is the perception from outside. Like all stereotypes, it is partially true, and partially false. You can, of course, live a reasonable life within the Emperor's demesne without ever needing more than four documents: your birth certificate, your wedding certificate, your levee id, and your death certificate. Almost uncountable numbers of souls do. From cradle to grave, their lives contained within the patterns their ancestors lived by, the changing of the seasons, to never travel farther than the nearest prefecture capital, and that only rarely. "Thank you. Next!"

However, if you want more, if you want to go somewhere, if you want to be someone... well, then. "All persons seeking a cross-prefectural travel permit, go to lines 1-9! All men seeking permission to find employment in the Banners or the Armada, lines 10-25! All families seeking a cross-prefectural residence permit, go upstairs and to the left, to the brass doors! All single persons of either sex seeking a cross-prefectural residence permit, proceed to either end of this hall and form an orderly line underneath the Blue banners! All persons who have received permission to apply for travel to the Imperial City, please go upstairs and to the right, where you will be given further instructions! All persons making appeals on administrative or tax decisions, please go to lines 26-28, where you will be seen in the order received."

Sometimes, what you need is simple. "I will need to see your levee id and a document showing you already have, or will be actively seeking, employment and residence upon your arrival, as detailed in the pamphlet you would have received upon notifying this office of your intentions. Thank you. Yes, this seems to be quite in order. I will also need you to sign here. Yes, if you prefer, you may press your thumb and place your print there, instead. Have you heard of our recent Literacy Initiative? Would you be interested in seeing you if you would qualify for assistance? Very well. After you place your seal here... that's right... then please step to the right and through the green-bordered door. You will need this sheet. Show it to... ah, I see. No, no, I quite understand. We all have fathers. Of course filial piety comes first. We will instead be in touch. Thank you. Your permit will be delivered to that window when this symbol flashes and your name is called. Thank you. Next!"

Sometimes it is not. "I quite understand, Lady Alin. I mean, of course, Mister Soon. And I appreciate the difficulty you are facing in finding employment or seeking a wife as a result of this unfortunate mishap. But the fact remains that as your residence has been categorized as a... let's see...Class 3 Estate, with the water feature... yes, I quite understand, ma'am. I mean sir. That is quite obviously a hut, and a stream, and a waterwheel, and yes, you are self-evidently, as it says on your levee card, Soon Elan. No, sir, I do not know how this mistake was made. I promise that during the next audit, we will get to the bottom of this. For the moment? We do have a pamphlet on your possible options. Here. Yes, the correction would of course be handled automatically. You may also wish to call this number. What? Of course, ma'am. That would be your entitlement as a peeress of the third rank. Have a good day, Lady Alin. NEXT!"

But either way, work begins early in the morning, and continues until late at night. The Secretariat expects much of its servants. And because productivity in the bureaucracy is almost impossible to measure objectively, it is measured by time spent at the office. "Where did you put my pot of #9 Black Ink? What? No, we can't be out. Regulations specifically state that we cannot approve requests with #3 Red Ink. When will we... Tomorrow? It's First Watch. Do we just send everyone... what? No, of course I wasn't serious. Obviously. If what they want is really important they'll just try again tomorrow. Yes. Alright."

There are rewards and punishments, of course. "Attention, staff. Mister Chen will be transferring at the end of this week to the Imperial City Central Filing Facility. We would also like to congratulate Mrs. So for her promotion to the second rank and immediate transfer to the facility on Pearl Island, where she will be working as a Supervisor."

But the important thing is to remember that they are all doing their job, working for the Lord of Ten Thousand Years. "Remind me. What's the regnal year again? One? One of who? Really? I guess I got so caught up in my paperwork... anything change? No? Great. Someone make a note to change the picture above the door, though. What? No, it's probably not urgent."

This isn't to say they don't have fun, of course. "The Supervisor would like to remind all personnel that it is forbidden by Directive G-28a to throw paperwork into the waste paper baskets in a crumpled state. Please use the recycled paper provided."

But through it all, they respect each other. "The Supervisor apologizes for the letter that went out an hour ago to all staff. The Order of Dismissal applied only to the employees whose names were listed on the bottom of page three. We understand if in the confusion and chaos of the last fifty-nine minutes people did not read this far, so we would like to reiterate. Only those people named on page three were found to have substandard performance by the Auditors."

And of course they respect their fellow subjects. "Got here another request from some elder up in the mountains. Says he needs the paths salted again. Well, it's not winter anymore down here, is it? I don't think this is the type of thing we need to worry about.”

The Secretariat: Working for The Dragon Throne, and Working for You.

[Roania]

"Husband?" It had been a quiet, peaceful day, and they had decided to spend it together. And it had been... pleasant. Yes. That, AiQien decided, was the right word. They had not spoken much. He had not seemed to long for conversation, and she did not felt comfortable pressing it on him. But... she was his wife, was she not? Yes. And she aspired to be his friend. And so, as they sat together on a bench, watching the ducks in the lake, she decided to ask him a question. One that had been weighing on her since, well, their wedding.

Damalin looked up, and to her, his deep blue eyes slowly blinking once or twice as he came to attention. She smiled to see the love and joy in them as he looked at her, and leaned forward to kiss him gently, thrilling as his arm went around her and held her close. He didn't say anything, but he didn't have to. "Why was your sister, your older sister, I mean," The news of Ise's birth had been a surprise, not at our wedding? I did not even know you had a sister, and you haven't spoken about her, but I heard your mother and father mention it that day, and I was exploring the palace yesterday and I heard the servants talking..." She was babbling now, continuing to make noise to prevent him from speaking, as she had felt his entire body begin to tense.

"I have no older sister." Damalin's index finger was on her lip now, and his other hand was gently resting on her shoulder where he had left it, and his grip was tightening as he looked at her through red eyes and she suddenly felt very small and very, very unsafe in his arms. "I have never had an older sister. If you ever mention this again, Li AiQien, you will not be given a chance to regret it. You are given one now because I believe in permitting people to learn from their mistakes." And he pushed her back from him and rose to his feet, his robe falling back to the ground. "I will see you tonight." When she opened her mouth, he rounded on her and held up his hand, two fingers raised, and she went absolutely still and quiet. "Good." And he left.

[Roania]

If a foreigner somehow found himself in a small prefectural city or village, he would have many questions. Many of these questions (such as 'where am I', 'why am I here', and 'how do I get home') would, of course, be patently unhelpful, and may be disregarded. Once those are dealt with, the more important questions, such as food and shelter, would arise. Accommodation on Rudan Prime will generally be dealt with in the chapter on each prefecture, many of which have their own tradition. But obtaining food, or indeed almost any good or service, has often been found to be a challenge within the Radiant Empire as a whole. The following guide has been compiled for those of you with little experience in haggling or bargaining.


1. Ignore the Sticker Price, if there is one

In many markets, especially those surrounding the old Foreign Quarter and in the major approaches to the Closed City in the Imperial Capital, local merchants have begun listing prices for their goods, hoping to snare unsuspecting foreigners and relieve them of their newly exchanged currency (for more on this, see the previous chapter, section 4). As a rule of thumb, the sticker price is almost always at least three times the price the locals themselves expect to start from in bargaining. But the merchant will take your money, regardless.

In more traditional markets, or beyond the major cities, the traditional question is Anqi hun?, or, 'How much is this?', by picking up the item you wish to buy or pointing at it. The merchant will give you a reasonably, but not insultingly,y high price. Should his request seem out of keeping with his store, he is either unable to sell the item or he refuses to sell to you. Either way, do not press the point (see Chapter 3, 'Face').

Either way, now that you have your opening position, you are off.

2. Start low, and accept that you will probably fail to make much dent in their profit. But don't feel too bad about it.

You can start as low as you wish, but in general the salesman will settle for receiving no less than 50% profit, and ideally much higher. In larger stores, this will be because he works on a commission that comes out of said profit, in smaller stores and stalls it will affect his very livelihood.

However, it can be hard to do the numbers in your head, and your initial offer may still be very high for the item. If, instead of offering a different price, he immediately accepts, you'll have learned a valuable lesson. At that point, you would be expected to pay the price offered, though a very forgiving merchant may listen if you plead ignorance or necessity. A good round number to keep in mind for small goods is 30w, as all bargaining will move up from there. Be aware, however, that trying this same strategy when shopping for something truly valuable would be less than helpful, and may lead to you being refused service. As everywhere, follow the cues.

3.Price Shopping

Before you buy, of course, it is generally wise to go from stall to stall selling similar goods and asking at each. They will all have different suppliers, different opening prices and different quality of items for sale. This is not considered rude, and is in fact expected at most markets. While all of these opening pitches would be high, they would help you determine an item's actual worth.

4. Walk away.

If bargaining is getting you nowhere, just walk away. He will either let you go, or he will call you back and move closer to your previous offer. This becomes harder in more high-end stores or when you are obtaining services, but threatening to take your business elsewhere is a valid option at all times, regardless of tea or cookies you have been offered.

5. Try saying no to samples and gifts

Leading from the following, it's always best to politely refuse a gift or sample offered during the bargaining process, whether that gift be a cup of tea or a smaller portion of the goods for sale for 'testing'. As in many cultures, this would establish a mild expectation of reciprocity. The appropriate time for a gift is upon greeting, while you should ask for a sample before the process has begun.



For food, especially raw food, it is appropriate to ask what the local price would be; Basic products are generally sold by weight and already divided into portions, making it simple to purchase the desired quantity at a moment's notice. Cooked food is not subject to bargaining.

[Roania]

It was time for the weekly debriefing, where the regular reports of colonization and conquest from the ever-expanding borders of the Empire were brought in and acted upon. The Imperial Assimilation Corps were, of course, nominally a civilian agency under the purview of the Department for the Management of Barbarians Both Within and Beyond the Realm, but had over the decades grown both increasingly independent of its parent, while also becoming intrinsically entangled in the politics of many of the other departments. This had given its Secretary a strange place within the Secretariat; above many of his peers, yet also reporting to many of his superiors at once. Still, the proper functioning of the IAC was essential to the function of Empire.

"The Secretary has arrived."

"Thank you. You may all be seated. What do we have on the agenda for today?"

"Two worlds have been marked for your attention, while approval is desired for action on three more, Honored Secretary."

"Show me. Ah, interesting."

"Yes, Honored Secretary. We are calling this world Kento IV at the moment. Two large continents roughly parallel to one another, with an island lying roughly equidistant between them. The areas we believe to be ideally habitable for our settlers are marked here and here, and interesting mineral deposits are marked as so... yes, thank you, Inspector. There is little notable in the local flora or fauna, and subsurface scans show no evidence of a large-scale tunnel network. At any point on the planet, before you ask, Honored Secretary."

"Excellent. We do not want a repeat of the Nelesar III debacle, do we? Good, glad we are in agreement on that. Now, why have we not moved forward with colonization?"

"We don't trust it, Honored Secretary. Kento IV is in an ideal location for life of all sorts. The atmosphere tests have revealed it to be adequate both for such native fauna as there is, and for our colonization team, but... well, we ran a biological scan on the sea, and it's nearly as empty as the land."

"So you believe it to be... a trap?"

"If it is a trap, Honored Secretary, it's a very strange one. The continental form is unusual but not unheard of. We are concerned that some as yet unknown property of the Star may cause it to behave... unusually. Other running theories would need soil and water samples which we can obtain with drones, but to truly understand we would need to deploy teams across all three large landmasses in order to truly determine if the world or its spirits are hostile to life."

"Keep the ship on site for the time being. If they're bored, they can run tests on the star, soil and water, but no one lands on that world without my explicit permission. Someone take a memo and send it to the ArchChancellor. Tell him to get in touch with me before 4th watch if he can."

"Moving on, Honored Secretary, this is Selban III. Another pleasant world, just entering its third stage of development. No native life has appeared which may be the precursors of intelligence. Zones marked as desirable are here, here and here. Rare mineral resources here. Local life will likely prove tractable enough during our interaction with it. Initial data has proven very promising, and the captain was preparing to land initial surface teams. But, then, Honored Secretary, there is this."

"What am I looking at, Mister So?"

"We don't know. We've run it through the databanks and only come up with partials. The first guess was someone had crashed their ship and somehow survived, then left...that when it died. But repeated scans of the terrain around and under the site have shown no sign of anything we would recognize as a craft. Second was that it was some sort of... grave marker, or totem or suchlike. But a concentrated scan of the area provides nothing to indicate this was a problem. We have considered and dismissed all other possible theories, from the spirits intervening to it being left by a pack of tourists, and dismissed them all on one ground or another. The report is on your desk if..."

"I'll take a look later. For the moment, take that picture away. Thank you. Pull back on the settlement plans. There's no urgent rush for new land anyway, and we've not had anywhere near as many volunteers as we would like. I have a meeting with the Great Secretary for Internal Harmony on that... but that's not relevant right now. Where on the planet was this found? Get all you have to the academy and the military. Let this be their problem for the time being."

"Yes, Honored Secretary!"

"Now, Mister So, you said my approval was needed for some worlds? May I see... hm... standard, very good... educational team? For whom? Ah. Yes, I see. Very well, we'll have the whole kit and team sent out once I get approval from the Cabinet. New orders: Begin the fifth phase. These projections seem overly optimistic and textbook. Ship-Master Ten has just joined us from the Academy? Excellent. Well, we learn by doing. Send an Inspector along with the package once it's assembled. Unless things are going very, very wrong, their orders are simply to observe and report."

Now, this... ah yes, I'd heard about this. Is it the opinion of this council that the situation on this world is truly that dire?"

"I am afraid so, Honored Secretary. Tsen Keiri is one of our best, and she has experience in this... matter. She says total failure is likely within at most three orbits of Cho III around its star, though she believes that with sufficient aid order may be restored and the system rescued. I told her that we were not in the habit of engaging the banners and armada on behalf of people who may very well all die anyway."

"Very good, Mister So. My order. Save what and who we can. She has my authority to act towards those goals as she sees fit; she knows her job, however sentimental she may get. Priority is on cultural artefacts; at the very least, someone will know their name before they go into the light. Survivors... priority is children below, or on the cusp of, maturation. Authorization is given to use all resources. I will have a mass transport arrive as soon as possible. You. Get to the duty officer on watch at Command with this letter...there, and tell them that I will have a full report for them within the day. You. Stop by Welfare and inform them that we have an XF scenario on our hands. Mister So, remind Ship-Master Keiri that once the Armada arrives, it is no longer our jurisdiction. I'm afraid we'll have to write this one off."

"That just leaves this, Honored Secretary. At least this one just requires your seal..."

"So it does. Very well, gentlemen. A new day dawns. Another world kneels to the Dragon Throne."

[Roania]

Explorer Ten Seniser checked his watch. His watch. It took him a few moments to remember how to read the primitive face. And he scowled. "Kon Sere, will this be taking much longer? We have been waiting for ten minutes." It was not, ordinarily, in his habit to be so anxious. Or so involved. Until a week ago and the arrival by of his new orders and his requested reinforcements, he had not in fact interfered at all with his subordinates in their task of transforming this planet into an Imperial World. Now, all was anxiety and fear. "You said..."

Sere looked up at Seniser with quiet eyes for just a moment, then turned her attention back to her task. "It will be done when it is done, Explorer." She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, reaching once more into the great blue crystal's slumbering spirit. This was proving to be an unusually stubborn one, she would concede. Large and multifaceted, like all its kind, it had regretfully suffered an unfortunately traumatic placing that had caused her to summon tools from the crystal yard to repair one of its points. Everything, though, seemed right. "Permit me to focus my attention." Calm yourself. Find your center. Guide the spirit to its land...The Explorer was still talking. She shut him out. She almost had... "O-oh!" It was her first awakening; in the simulations she had not been told how... intense the feeling of making contact with the spirit would be. "Ah!" Sere shivered and closed her eyes, casting it down. It wanted to cause her to, well, emit life energy for it to feed on... her life energy and the life energy of her children yet to be born. But that wouldn't be enough for it, not by a long shot; it needed more power than one woman could provide... but it was so demanding! She needed to quickly lead it down into the soil, below the surface, to the pulsing heat of the planet's core... use her body and soul to guide it... "Mmm..."

"Is it working?" Seniser shouted, watching as the pretty young woman shook in mingled pain and pleasure, her body pressing tight to the crystal's nearest surface. He reached into his his vest and drew out his own little crystal, feeling it pulse in his hands. He needn't have asked. The crystal unfolded, showing its shimmering blue core, and the young woman took several steps back, breathing hard and fast, her hand resting on her stomach. Before she could speak, a vibrant blue light shot into the sky and beyond, out to the worlds of the Empire. "Yes!" Seniser could almost have danced. He settled for clapping his hands. "Computer! Give me contact with my ship!" And he saw the running data feed his ship had been transmitting since this morning, since this process had begun. "Computer! Activate the planetary network!" And around the world, on a thousand agents currently working in the blind, without contact with him, or the ship, or any support, their own crystals pulsed. It was a stopgap, of course. After this world had been properly absorbed, more infrastructure would be needed. Relays, transmitters... systems besides the crystal network, in fact. But now? "Command Signal One. Total Notice: All linked personnel. This world is ours. For Ten Thousand Years!"

And then came a voice he had been dreading. "Are you not forgetting something, Explorer?" Boh Aldanidree. Inspector for the Imperial Assimilation Corps, here apparently to observe and report on the submission of this world to the Empire. She would be pretty, perhaps, if not for her hard face and persistent refusal to smile. And she was rapidly becoming his bete noire. With a sigh he turned towards her, then followed her finger to the softly slumbering girl.

"Ah... ah.. of course not! Guards! Marines! Miss Kon shall need to be taken to her quarters on board ship to recover!" He received word that guards were on the way, and quickly hurried down the steep path to the solid door. As it opened, he turned to Aldanidree. "Inspector, I am pleased to inform you that we expect this world to be absorbed within, or before, the original estimate. And with nothing more than the forces I had requested." She raised an eyebrow. "Of course, it is my duty, as it is all of our duties, to serve the Dragon Throne. And... and of course the Secretary knows better than I what would serve the Lord of Ten Thousand Years and how best to perform my own service. And you would know..."

"Cease your groveling. Walk with me." Aldanidree started through the door, walking at a slow, unhurried pace that barely caused the lines of her black robe to move, stepping aside only to let the guards coming to retrieve the young woman past. He ran to keep up, not trusting himself to speak until they were in the temporary center of imperial governance for this world. They had chosen a high, commanding plateau, allowing for a good view of the fertile lands below that had been marked out for a future capital, as well as for checkpoints that could be held by three men against whatever local resistance arose until support arrived.

Around them, a shuttleport had been marked out, while against the cliffside several traditional computers, as well as a number of now active crystalline devices, were filing reports and receiving newly logged reports from agents in the field. Ten allowed himself some small pride once more. Regardless of the faith, or lack thereof, of his superiors in him, he had established a permanent hold of the Empire upon this world. And she turned and looked at him, as if reading his thoughts. "You have done nothing save your duty. Be satisfied, not proud. Come." Suitably chastened, he followed the inspector until they were looking at a massive map of the planet, their location marked with a yellow dot. "Report on planetary polity types and your proposed method of subduing them. Start with those marked as Class 2 Urban. Here.”

"Well. Um. Here, along the coast, the locals have established several competing tradeports. Our agents, local and Imperial, report they are often at war with one another, as well as the occasional inland power that arises... here. These towns and their dependent lands are always falling to each other and then reasserting their independence. None of them have the strength to permanently end this cycle, but they are all used to bending the knee to the strongest power. Our agents will move in, remove the local leadership in the towns and villages and promote new leadership aligned to our interests, then use that pressure to force the tradeports to bend the knee. My analysts expect no more than occasional revolts, and as the new civil government establishes its strength, as well as the benefits of yielding and the consequences of resistance..."

"Estimated length until submission for this region, then?"

"No more than ten, twenty years!" Seniser slipped back into the schoolboy mode with alacrity. “We have discovered that harsh consequences, coupled with rewards, work wonders in many instances, and the conquest of…”

“I know the theory, Explorer.” The Inspector tapped her fingers on the map’s jade projector, then rearranged the terrain. “I was not checking to see if you did, either.” Before moving on, she made a brief note on her datapad. “Here.”

“Oh, um…these locals are currently classified as Class-3 Decayed.” Seniser tried to see what she was writing, but she kept her body in the way. Eventually, he turned back towards the indicated area. “Residual autocratic-state systems, ruled with personal power and prestige through nominally subservient nobles, who themselves rule through lower nobles. Complex spiritual system. Agriculture is primary activity and trade, but is very limited in its production and efficiency. Um. We have a report on local grains and animal, if you want to…” She obviously did not. “Providing food and support would remove a lot of the support from the current state system in these territories. Or we could march in and remove them by force, I mean. That’d be good too?”

Another raised eyebrow and some more jotting of notes. He regretted his attempt at levity. She pointed to another spot, on a different continent. He swallowed. “Our early investigations showed that the local’s belief and culture systems were Anathema. There is a Class 3 along the coast, breaking into Class 2 as we travel inland, and a separate Class 3 along this mountain chain. As you explore towards the south, more Class 2 states, until you reach the jungle, where it appears to be Class 1 throughout. As I said, all of these states, realms and tribes appear to practice Anathema. As we have seen in similar cases, these beliefs are deeply inculcated, and there is genuine fear at the idea of breaking from the paths set by their ancestors.”

“How charming. Filial piety in Anathema.” Another quick scribble. “What are your orders going to be, then?”

“Um. Well, now that we have the Network up and running, I was going to call in a Code 303 on them, get confirmation, and if I do, send in the marines.” Seniser paused. Aldanidree was once more writing in her little black datapad. “Is… is that right?”

She didn’t answer. Her hand moved to the final section. “Here. And, for that matter, the other areas your observers marked as Class 1.”

“That region is Class 1 Nomadic, and we are considering it our test case for uplift protocol for this world. Our agents have established contact with the local leaders, and are providing food and water to their tribes in exchange for general acknowledgement of the Sovereign’s authority. With the Network in place, we will now land the educational team. Developments are promising, but with Class 1 we never know which way it will go, I’m told. The other regions have proven more difficult to slip our agents into. They are either Class 1 Insular who see no reason to interact with us at present, Class 1 Isolate which are not aware of the existence even of their neighbors and Class 1 Semi-Settled, who know their neighbors well enough it is difficult for our agents to pretend. With the first region semi-pacified, we can begin our focus on uplift in the other areas, but standard procedure for Class 1 Isolate is…”

“I know standard procedure, Explorer.” Aldanidree snapped, harshly. And her voice softened once more. “We have the basic biological data for the locals. Compatibility?”

“80% from standard tests; one of our sleepers in this region got himself involved with a local lady and he believes she is showing signs of pregnancy. As of yet, no female agents have notified us of any encounters, forced or otherwise… though if there have been, we’ll find out as we receive status updates.”

“Very thorough, Explorer.” And she returned her slate to her purse, then walked away, indicating he should follow as she walked towards the plateau wall. “I have spoken to Colonel Harvin of your marine detail. And…”

“With respect, Inspector. Harvin Serril has no idea what work we do and no understanding of the risks involved, and I must say I am displeased with his performance, as well as his attitude.”

Aldanidree raised her hand. “Colonel Harvin has served the Dragon Throne for longer than you or I have been alive, Explorer. Yes, this is his first time on assignment to one of our ships. But you will show him the respect he is due, both to his face and to your superiors. There will be no second warning. Am I understood?”

“Crystal, Inspector.” Seniser swallowed.

“For what it’s worth, I agree with you on the topic you discussed with him. This world is neither advanced enough nor populated densely enough for his plan to be more than marginally effective, and I explained this to him. As you should have. But you chose to ignore that he is only your attache, not your inferior, and he is entitled to being privy to your plans as regard his men. He is not to be treated like a small child you must control. And if you cannot grasp the simple management of your associates, Explorer, why should the Lord of Ten Thousand Years reward you with one of his worlds some day?

Seniser slowly sank to his knees and put his hands together, then bent forward slightly. “It is as you say, Inspector.” The Explorer said, woodenly.

“Good.” Aldanidree stared out over the plains. “Your work here has been… satisfactory. It has not been brilliant. We did not expect brilliance on your first project. But it has not been poor, either. So far, you have served the Commission, and the Lord of Ten Thousand Years, well. And my report will show that, Explorer. Continue to do as you have, and you will rise to great heights in that service.”

He stumbled to his feet, uncertain if he felt relief or shock, but managed to put his right fist in his left palm and bow forward. “For Ten Thousand Years, Inspector.”

She returned the gesture, bowing slightly deeper than she had upon their first introduction. “For Ten Thousand Years, Explorer.” And within five minutes, she was gone. Five more minutes, and her transport had jumped onto the new route between JaeRi and Home.

Once more master of all he surveyed, Seniser took a deep breath, and looked around at his team. “What are you all standing around here for?! We have a world to rule!”

[Roania]

Interstellar Publishing is pleased and honored to announce the release of a new, updated edition of Life and How to Win It, Duke Ramiel's perennial bestseller. In addition to new additions and replacements in his previous work, Duke Ramiel has contributed a new afterword, titled Life After You've Won; Or, Can You Really Ever Know? (Yes). Available wherever and whenever books are sold, in whatever formats are available in your prefecture! Whether you're reading it for the first time, or the ninth, you'll find something to inform you and entertain you. Read the book that has inspired three musical productions and an amazing five broadcast shows! Learn from the man himself 'how to be your best you'.

Duke Ramiel has much to teach everyone.


On being perfect:

'Odds are, none of you are omnipotent. (Note:If you are, turn to page 378). But leaving aside possessing the ultimate power to create and destroy at will, can you be something close to objective absolute ideal perfection? Of course not! There's only one me! But you can become a better you. However you choose to measure that.'

On letting our pasts go:

'My early life, I'm afraid, was not particularly promising. I admit I was at times something of a rebel! But when the opportunity came to build myself up I jumped on it, and I've never looked back. I've made it a rule that others shouldn't look back either! You can learn fromthis. We are bound by our pasts to the extent that we permit ourselves to be.'

On service:

'Service has always been my watchword. It is impossible to truly serve yourself unless you also serve others, for it is in the cutivation of your talents that you will find your true value. Of course, this service can have its benefits, and one should always be aware of the possibilities!'

On Name Dropping:

'Over the course of my service to the Dragon Throne (MISTF) I had the delight of meeting countless leaders from across the galaxy, and from all kinds of nations. I have particular fondness for the lovely Imperatrice Nathicana and her equally charming daughter Imperatrice Naiya, as well as the illustrious Erika Silaco of the Republic of Sunset. But it wasn't all lovely women, of course. I have met strongmen and monarchs, elected officials and self-proclaimed deities.

Having read that, do you respect me more? Of course not. How could you possibly respect me more than you already do, having read this far? But you shouldn't have anyway, because none of their glory adds true luster to my name! A man is ultimately what he is known for, not whom he knows. The former makes you famous. The latter merely makes you a headline.

On constant striving:

'There comes a time in every man's life when he takes stock of his achievements. Will more truly make his life better? When you have the mansion, do you really need another one? When you can travel anywhere you want in almost perfect comfort, do you really need your own ship? And the answer is yes. Of course you do. If there remains anything that you want that you have not yet attained, then you are not the best you. But if these aren't things you want, don't tell yourself they are, and don't let anyone tell you that, either. You know what your ideal is.'

And on knowing when to stop:

'There will also come a time, perhaps in your autumn years, when you once more take stock of your achievements, and realize that at this point you're just going through the motions. At a certain point, acquisition stopped being about pleasure and improvement, and became more about itself. A constant cycle where every purchase goes on a pile, every paycheck goes towards more purchases, and you are only pretending this is about you, or your family, or your legacy, and it's all about habit. And when you've come to that realization? Then stop. No, it's not going to be easy. Those things worth doing are never easy, sadly. But your life should be about you, and what is important to you. Not about things.'


Truly, a man for all seasons. Read the book the critics are raving about!

Xo Haiso of the Five Sisters Gazette said: 'Book of the Year for All Years!'

(Full disclosure. Five Sisters Gazette is part owned by Duke Ramiel)

The Imperial City Morning Review of Books called it: 'A frank and often compelling vision of one man's vision for himself, and his work in attaining it'

(Full Disclosure: Imperial City Morning Press and its associated publications are part owned by Duke Ramiel)

[Roania]

It could be cold at times. Even at the height of summer, the season when in the southern lands men and women alike began to forsake their outer layers, the temperature in the the port (and administrative capital, such as it was) of Xeansi diid not rise enough to permit the wearing of short sleeves by any but the most fearless or acclimated. And when you traveled west, into the mountains? Or north, into the lands of the long night? Then there came true cold, the cold that could kill, day or night. And yet, people lived in these lands. Some of them were the fishermen of the great northern bay, or the priests of the many small monasteries and shrines dedicated to various tutelary spirits or to discovery by self-denial, an ancient (if never particularly popular) trend in the Temple. In the mountains, too, were mineral riches and stranger things, and so hopeful subjects of the Dragon Throne would come to try to strike their fortunes. Perhaps with the intention of returning to more temperate lands upon doing so, but enough had fallen in love with the land, with the work, that villages dotted the lush valleys and foothills, wherever a trail could be blazed, a path laid, a road carved from the wilderness.

People chose to live here. And so, the Secretariat must administer to them. Every spring, then, officials and scholars arrived in Xeansi, replacing their predecessors, and the census rolls were sent out, and the omnipresent tax collectors swarmed over the countryside, determining who had what, who owned what, and most importantly, who owed what. And various other agencies would follow, bringing staple foods and medical supplies, replacing what was needed to be replaced, repairing what needed to be repaired, reminding all and sundry that the Lord of Ten Thousand Years ruled all, loved all and helped all. The distant as well as the near, the poor as well as the rich, the weak as well as the strong.

And with them would come traders and merchants great and small, bringing news, luxuries, manufactured goods, entertainment products... all those little things that made civilization, civilization.

But in winter? The great Northern Mountains, that marched ever towards the great pole, were not merciful. Nor were they kind. And with the best will in the world, many of those who dwelt in these lands would find themselves cut off soon after the first snowfall, not able to send or receive help even from the nearest village. In some villages, even the great planetary network could fail, would fail. Less arcane systems were not immune. And yet, simply because they could not be reached easily, did that make these people any less subjects of the Lord? Faithful followers of the Temple? No.

And so, every Autumn, Trailblazers visit each and every village and carve or recarve, paint or repaint, build or rebuild, great markers into the living stone. Ideally, such that even the heaviest snowfall would not obscure them, that an avalanche would not render them totally hidden. And every Autumn, the Rangers would go from village to village and monastery to monastery, checking and explaining the use of the emergency signal transmitter, as well as its dead hand feature.

And so, when winter came and the days grew dark, the Rangers would be able to find the village and perform their duties. To find lost children or help end fires, to bring emergency medicine or evacuate an endangered village. And everyone would get through the winter, to the coming of the spring and the return of the sun.

And so the cycle would continue.

[Roania]

"Thank you, Great Secretary Lorelle, for your fascinating insights into future development of the resources on Xongshi III." Siela nodded down the table to the other woman, who simply closed her report slip and resumed her usual frowning stare. "We will, it seems, have to obtain more information from both you and Great Secretary Ailar before we consider the introduction of any further non-native plantlife there, and I will see to it that the Planetary Governor is reminded that all such requests should be directed through your departments." Lorelle delivered a curt nod. Siela turned to Ailar, who shrugged his shoulders impassively. "If there is no other business within the realm at large, I propose we turn to galactic affairs. Great Secretary Aleis?"

The Ailesri woman was sound asleep, her head resting on the padded pauldrons of the Grand Marshal. Jok Mianyu, second-in-command of the armed forces of the empire, shrugged somewhat helplessly. He was not a young, or unmarried, man, and as pleasant as the situation may have theoretically been, he was unable either to enjoy it or to remove it, because in typical fashion Aleis had worn only the smallest and tightest of robes, and there weren't that many places he could poke her that would not leave him open to unfortunate remarks from his wife when she found out. The pretty young lady gave a contented sigh and muttered something.

"...did she... is she sleeping?" Siela looked around the table, meeting only with blank stares and more helpless shrugs. The Grand Secretary sighed. "Great Secretary Nmmr, would you mind jabbing your claw into her... yes, there's fine. Thank you."

"Winged Space Hussars! The Zorkons have taken Dormolin!" Aleis sat bolt upright, her eyes wild, looking from side to side. "Oh. Um." No one laughed at her, thankfully. Or not so thankfully. Lorelle, who considered Aleis the closest thing she had to a friend, did put her head in her hand and sigh. But other than that, everyone just stared quietly. "Um. Yes! I agree completely with... the last thing that was said?"

Siela could hear her teeth grinding, even without doing so. "I was hoping to ask you how you resolved our Maldorian Ambassador situation. Then, maybe move on to a broader overview of the galaxy at large?"

"Oh. The Maldorian Ambassador... Maldorian..." The young woman flipped through her notes, found what she was looking for and turned her beaming countenance back to the Grand Secretary. "I sent a Shoch! I dropped him off over the weekend. I think he'll do nicely!"

"Oh, very good then. Now, to other matters." Siela flipped through her notes. "I understand that we've recently begun... wait. What's a Shoch?"

"Oh. I'm sorry, Grand Secretary. It's what they call themselves. Um. I was told on the way to On-Kata that they're also popularly known as Life-Enders." Aleis leaned back in her chair and drifted off into the haze of academic recollection. "The story is that when the IAC first landed on the world fifty years ago..."

"Great Secretary Aleis, while I'm sure we'd all be fascinated to hear this story, I'd like to see a visual of our new ambassador to the Planet Maldor." Siela tapped her fingers on the desk. "Do we have one? Computer?" There was a gentle chiming noise. "Great. Project onto the center of the table, please." The Great Secretary ordered.

Oninu Kamu, in all his horned, 700 lb, man-eating glory, appeared on the desk in three-dimensional representation. Everyone in the room but Aleis and Jok Mianyu jumped back. Lorelle turned to Aleis and gaped. "You sent an Ogre? It's... it's..."

"Magnificent." The Grand Marshal breathed, staring. "What we could do with a regiment of those..."

"They are not ogres! They simply resemble ogres, speak all known languages with some degree of fluency despite having no known ftl capacity on their own, eat people..."

"They eat people?!" Siela snapped, eyes going even wider.

"Um. Yes. Generally. Like, if there's intelligent life available and they have no compelling reason not to eat them, they'll pick them in preference to other available meat." Aleis checked her notes. "An interesting question about their regular diet, as observers have noted no cannibalism..."

"Aleis. Focus. This is your employer speaking. Why did you send a monster?"

"Excuse me, Grand Secretary. But I don't believe any of the Sovereign's subjects are monsters. They are all equal before the LIght, and part of my job as I understand it is to defend those creatures blessed to join us from the charge that they are nothing but dangerous animals." Aleis placed her hand on the table. "In a time when we discuss the rights of foreigners and discourage the use of slurs against them..."

"...Aleis. The ogre. Why is it our ambassador to Maldor?"

"A-ah. Yes, well. I did as you requested and interviewed all currently qualified candidates who didn't have a posting. And they all refused to serve. Um. As you know, all Reixanxi candidates refused on the grounds of it being too cold, and all Nmmr candidates refused on the grounds that they'd be, uh..." Aleis flipped through her notes, "um. On the grounds that they'd be made into hats by the locals. And, um, I did what you suggested and tried to appeal to their patriotism, but that didn't really... I mean, we'd need an entire service establishment and we just weren't getting any volunteers. So, um, my predecessor tended to send Xong-In when qualified candidates were hard to find... but all the Septlords laughed when I gave them the information."

"The ogre, Aleis. Why the ogre?"

"Oh-oh. Well, someone suggested it, because they don't notice the cold and would be able to serve equally well anywhere on the planet, and we could pay him in meat, or pay the Maldorians to give him meat, and he'd be his own security staff!"

(to be continued?)

[Roania]

While many of his colleagues dreaded their trips out to the districts in their jurisdiction, Judge Zhan Renqi had always enjoyed them. It was nice sometimes to get out of the prefectural capital, with its stifling and heavy-handed Secretariat Presence, and do some real work. In some prefectures, he knew, small towns often had their own supervising judges. He wasn't sure he approved. Live in a small town and you might decide you were one of them, and that could affect both your objectivity and your performance. Besides, the assigned Watch Procurator should be able to work without the threat of judicial wrath raining down upon him. Speaking of 'him', "What do you have for me to look at today, Procurator Wen?" He asked himself while watching the woman move her crop of accused into the chamber. "You may announce me." He instructed his page, who hurried to the door.

Wen ran her fingers through her hair as she looked at the crowded courtroom. Ordinarily she would have handed out fines and beatings on her own authbority in many of these cases, but with a Judge on his way it seemed silly not to let him have a full docket. Just a few more years out here, though, and she'll be eligible for transfer. Always room for procurators. Not that it had ever been her intended field, but her instructors at the academy had been fairly insistent.

The page arrived at the door and struck the gong. She got to her feet. As she stood up, everyone else in the court did as well. Judge Zhan swept from his chambers to the great table and stood before his chair. "I proclaim this court to be in session. Let all know that the Law is to be obeyed, and that there are consequences for breaking the Law. I answer to none but the La w, and the Law answers to none but the Sovereign upon the Dragon Throne, may he reign for Ten Thousand Years." Everyone responded appropriately. Good. It was always bad luck for a simple court session to turn into one devoted to Offenses against the Throne.

The Judge sat on his chair and pulled it forward, then raised his hands. "All may be seated." Once the audience and the accused had sat down, Zhan leaned forward. "If the Procurator would approach the bench?" Wen came forward, and the Judge nodded to the accused in the docks. "You may present your cases."

"Officers, please bring forward Can Caselar, age 15, and Mian Seilis, age 15." The two named were pulled forward by their bindings, hurrying to keep up with the watchmen so they wouldn't have to be dragged in. When they arrived at the traditional spots, they were forced to their knees. Both quickly realized what was required of them and went to a full bow, their heads touching the ground. "Young Miss Mian here leveled an accusation of sexual misconduct against Young Master Can to her father, who promptly contacted the Watch and pressed charges."

"As is right and proper." Zhan said, doodling with his pen as he listened. "And yet I see you have them both in custody."

"Yes, Honorable Judge. While officers were in the process of arresting Young Master Can, Young Miss Mian came running up to retract her initial story. When she was told it was out of her hands, she..." A turn of the page, a few seconds reading, "became obstructive and threatening to the responsible officers, who decided to take her into custody as well."

"Obstructive and threatening, Procurator Wen?" Zhan looked over his bench at the trembling girl.

"Apparently she attempted to strike one constable, and threatened to, and I quote from the report, 'Have my big brother beat you up!' Naturally, they decided to take her into custody as well."

"How peculiar. This doesn't sound like a girl who was assaulted to me, Procurator. I'd rather like to hear from Can Caselar. Stand and address me." After a few moments, Caselar slowly got to his feet. He was shaking like a leaf. "There you are, young man. Let's hear your side of the story first."

"I didn't... I mean, we were at a birthday celebration, and... maybe we... I... I mean, we both left, and... like, we had been having fun at the party and now that we were alone, I thought maybe I could try something...a-and she said no, but... I mean, I didn't think she meant it, and after a little bit I tried again and she went along with it."

"It? Speak clearly, young man. 'It' can mean all sorts of things, many of them both illegal and dangerous at your age."

"I...I..." He blushed and stammered and kicked his feet.

"Hm. Would a caning loosen your tongue, Young Master Can?"

"No!" Seilis leaped to her feet before the attending guards could stop her. "He just touched my chest! That's all! And I let him that time! Because I wanted him to! Not because he pressured me or anything!" The watch constable responsible reached a hand up to soundly return her to her knees.

"That will not be necessary, Constable. Her outburst was the desired effect." The judge placed his fingers together and observed both the fiery Seilis, and her bright red partner in crime. "No reason to be embarrassed, Young Master Can. It sounds as though you've done nothing every boy in the empire hasn't thought about doing. And the Secretariat is not in the habit of judging people for... natural desires, provided no one is harmed."

"I didn't even tell my father! I was talking to a girlfriend on the personal comm, and he overheard!"

"Mm. Witnesses to the earlier event, Procurator Wen? Do we know it to be what it's been claimed to be?"

"None per se, Honorable Judge. The party story checks out, and other guests did recall seeing the accused engaged in sitting together and kissing on a chair, then leaving. They also all found it necessary to declaim any inappropriate behavior for themselves. Watch work found traces of both Alcohol and Leaf, but no evidence of actionable behavior, and by the time we had these two in custody it was rather late to perform a substance test. You'll see we haven't placed any under-age substance abuse charges on the sheet."

"I do. Thank you, Procurator. Did you perform the sexual battery test?"

"She refused."

"The young lady in question is under-age. Did her father or mother agree on her behalf?"

"There doesn't seem to be a mother involved. Her father agreed, but by that point the technicians said it wouldn't be more than 60% valid. It came back negative, though."

"Hm..." Zhan started to stand up, then stopped when he realized everyone else in the room was standing. Instead, he stroked his fine, thin mustache while studying the trembling teenagers. "These laws, Young Miss, are in place for your protection. And your father was acting as his duty demands, it sounds. Did you consider what these activities may have led to?" When she opened her mouth to frame a protest, Zhan shook his head. "That they did not lead further is immaterial to the law, save only that it keeps this illicit activity from becoming a serious crime. Young Master Can, I sentence you to one stroke of the cane, to be carried out as soon as possible."

Caselar almost sagged in relief. Then his eyes widened. "But what about Seilis?"

"Well. Young Miss Mian, you are accused of disrespect for the law. As well as attacking a watch officer in the commission of his duties. And we may throw in a sexual misconduct charge as well. Your age mitigates only the last. Were either of you any younger... well, that doesn't matter. What does matter is that you have committed two serious felonies, for which I could justifiably have you beaten severely. Or sent to a distant colony." She moaned and swayed, while Caselar tried to get out of his bindings. "Instead, I sentence you to one stroke of the cane. Both of you must also undergo community service. For both of you. No permanent notation on your records. You will work for the Watch in an unarmed capacity from now until you've both had your coming of age. I also order you both to undergo a thorough education in the laws regarding underage behavior, and why they're in place. Procurator Wen, take these two from my court room."

The two teenagers were escorted from the courtroom, followed by angry men who must have been their fathers. "Next case?"

"Tsen Seio, Honored Judge. Charges of public intoxication, public urination, and defacement of Throne Property. By urinating on it. The details are... here, Honored Judge." The accused was brought forward and made to kneel, though he seemed to have little sense of where he was or what was happening. He was an older man, and unusually for men of this era he had a long, thick beard that trailed to his waist. His clothes were more disheveled than was usual, too. "Mister Tsen has, sadly, been a regular inhabitant of our detention cell. No one in the district seemed clear on where he lives, though our independent investigators have found an old hut in the green park."

"So, he is not a vagrant, Procurator Wen?" Zhan placed the briefing to the side."

"It would seem not. We have, however, proven unable to track down any family in the district. Connection to Mercantile House Tsen is possible, though we must admit the current Factor has proven uncooperative. Still, a descendant of Honored Merchant Tsen would be very unlikely in this prefecture, based on the activities of his known descendants." The Procurator flipped through some papers of her own.

"So no one to take responsibiity for this poor fellow?"

"This appears to be how he likes it. We can confirm a daughter, currently serving in the IAC, but she seemed surprised to know that her father is still alive and is about to go on mission, though the Ship-Master has said he will postpone her assignment if..."

"That will not be necessary, Procurator. The Empire moves on, and we must try to keep pace." Zhan stroked his mustache again.

"As you say, Honored Judge."

"Mister Tsen, can you hear me?" Zhan leaned over his bench and spoke down at the kneeling man. "If you can hear me and understand me, please stand up!" Tsen Seio slowly rose to his feet and blinked blearily at the judge. "Thank you, Mister Tsen! You seem to be giving the Imperial Watch a hard time in this district!" The accused hazarded a nod. "The Watch does not like having a hard time, Mister Tsen!" This got a shake of the head. "And I'm sure the Present Sovereign doesn't approve of the use to which you've put his property!"

"'m sorry." The fellow managed to get his palms mostly together and assay a swaying bow.

"I'm afraid this is beyond the point a simple apology will do. I remand you into the custody of the Prefecture. You will be sent to a rehabilitation center at your cost or that of your daughter, and your record is henceforth marked that you are prohibited from drinking. In addition, your property as discovered shall be held in possession. Take him away." Zhan waved his hand, and the staggering drunk was walked out of the room. "Next, Procurator Wen?"

"These two men are Xo Wan and Mapaun." As she spoke, the men were led in one by one to kneel before the bench. "They have been engaged in a contractual dispute which my colleague Procurator Sutenje found in favor of Mister Mapaun. Mister Xo has chosen to appeal."

"Has he, now. Mister Mapaun, you may stand. Mister Xo, I remind you you are in formal court, and if you interrupt Mister Mapaun, you will be held in contempt." After Mapaun had stood up, Zhan nodded. "Mister Mapaun, your side of the story, if you please."

"Honored Judge, all that I ask for is my rights. I come here from the Isles with my crew to help Mister Xo put up a garden like he sees when he goes on vacation. And we do a good job. It is a garden that looks like it belongs to the Governor. See? I have the pictures. And he says we do a bad job! That we do a bad job, and he will not pay us what he says he will."

"The pictures, please, Procurator." Wen passed the sheet of pictures up, and the Judge hummed. "I must say, Mister Xo, these do resemble the gardens I saw last time I was in the Isles. Why do you feel he did a bad job? You may stand, Mister Xo. Mister Mapaun, please keep silent while Mister Xo is speaking, or you will be held in contempt."

"He went over budget!" Xo snapped, producing his own papers. "By one hundred ces! I live a comfortable life, but not so comfortable that I can pay three hundred ces for materials, and then pay a hundred ces for labor! See, here! I have it all documented."

"Mister Mapaun?"

"I tell him when he make the order, that he is not giving enough money to do what he ask. He say I must. He is trying to cheat me and my crew from our salary, I say. But I do not let him. It cost what it cost, and that's Ai's own truth!"

"Weighty accusations, Mister Mapaun." Zhan studied the paperwork in front of him. "I am afraid that you both shall have to come with me to the Prefectural capital. This contract shall have to be examined, and a full court will need to be assembled. Both of you finish your tasks locally, and be ready to depart by the seventh hour tomorrow." This got a chorus of protests from both men that ended when Zhan held up his hand. "Or, if you prefer, I may have you both put to the question to determine who is cheating whom." The two feuding men went quiet. "Splendid. See you both tomorrow. Dismissed." The Watch hurried the disputants beyond the courtroom. "Next, Procurator Wen?"

And so, the day continued. This man had stolen that man's ces-purse (30 strokes with the lash, formal injunction to go forth and steal no more). This woman had spoken slander against her neighbors, leading to an investigation (10 strokes of the cane, five ces fine). They had conspired to break into houses (50 strokes with the lash and twenty strokes with the cane for each, plus the Fifth Deprivation for the ringleader). He had thrown a bottle of rice wine at the public cenotaph, while shouting abuse at the spirits (The First, Second and Fourth Deprivations, a fine of whatever the Temple deemed appropriate, a ban on further alcohol consumption, and 10 lashes with the cane). She had pretended to be a employee of the Secretariat for the purpose of gaining access to Throne Property (The Ninth Deprivation. Appealed to higher court, of course; they never learned). And on they came, every major crime performed in the district since his last visit.

Finally, the first watch was called. Upon learning that the caseload was finished, Zhan rose to his feet and lifted his hands. "Justice has been done, and Justice has been seen to be done. All in the Sovereign's name, for Ten Thousand Years."

"For Ten Thousand Years!"

[Roania]

In the air above them hung the galaxy. Not the whole galaxy -- that would have been useless. Just this little section of it, a sphere maybe a few hundred light years in diameter. In it, several points of light shone silver, a few shone gold, and two or three shone red or blue. The map and colors changed, becoming many points of blue connected by a web of silver lines. The lines grew increasingly thin the farther out they got. Then a smaller section was zoomed in. Here, the line was very thin as it branched out from one blue dot to two more.

"You see our problem, Commander." Grand Marshal Jok Mianyu lifted his cane up and pointed to the central blue dot. "Transit times are off by nearly a week when reaching our observation post on Jenri IV and the new settlement on Guan III. We'd almost be better off scuttling. This is below what I, and the Cabinet, view as acceptable within the boundaries of the realm."

Commander Shun ran his fingers from his top-knot down to his ear, giving it careful consideration. "These systems... Computer, highlight where I touch. Thank you." The commander brushed his finger over four dots alongside the three original blue lines, and leading back towards the main web. They turned red. "These systems contain no worlds acceptable for either settlement or annexation. This one has a living planet, after a fashion, but not one we could breathe on without environmental suits. Alteration would take time, and all three of the worldshapers are at work elsewhere, as you know, Grand Marshal." Shun shrugged his shoulders in that imperial shrug. "We could land and plant a crystal, but to activate it properly..."

"Yes, yes, I know. And we can't have a Crystal Maiden dying on us." Jok contemplated his options. "The IAF continue scouting these systems, do they not? Inform them that at this point we cannot guarantee the safety of any settlement beyond this point. We'll need to close this gap somehow..." Jok tapped a selection of minor stars with his cane. "A crystal in this cluster would link this sector to... here, I think. Get the IAF on it, but we all know how civilians are. Send some scouts, too." Shun bowed and went to fulfill his orders. Jok waved his hand, and the first map reappeared. "Commander Kor. How would you rate our current preparations?"

"Sir." Kor considered his words carefully. "Our primary advantage is, and always has been, on the defensive. Within the central realm, our fleets are able to move almost instantaneously. We're not sure if the enemy knows our capabilities in this regard; they do know we are not oriented for offensive fleet warfare." This Commander shrugged as well. "I am afraid we do not know what we do not know."

Jok let out a long, slow sigh. "Anything useful and positive to report?"

"To my knowledge, the abilities and capabilities of our ships are guesswork for them. We have, however, assembled a fairly comprehensive understanding of many of their previous generations, owing to poor operational security on their part. I... must admit I'm not sure how useful this information is, though, as even some of their allegedly public documentation had obvious gaps. And, of course, by and large these are decommissioned vessels."

"Of course." Jok stroked his beard slowly. "How goes the New Fleet Development?"

"Slowly. We have rebuilt the first and second fleet, and are roughly halfway through the third. We have, as per your orders, Grand Marshal, begun refitting the decommissioned vessels to serve as a second wave, but recruitment..." Kor shrugged again. "I don't know how some of these petty states do it. Their people obviously have nothing better to do. Recruitment proceeds apace. We are above replacement rate for the Fleets. But men take time to train, take time to equip..."

"The enemy uses abominations, by and large. Pearl Island is working on a solution." Both men shuddered. "In the meantime, all we can do is prepare."

[Roania]

"Husband? I was speaking to Miss Ma..."

'Uh oh.' Damalin knew that tone. It was never a good tone. AiQien didn't use it when she wanted him for anything nice. And the mention of that awful barbarian woman... 'Maybe if I ignore her, she'll go away? This has to work eventually.' So he curled tighter up on the end of the couch, focusing very intently on his book.

Of course, for that to work, she would have to be elsewhere than right next to him. "Husband, I just wish to speak with you." A hint of sadness now entered her voice.

That was an even worse tone! Abort, abort! "Of course, wife. I am always happy to talk." He marked his place and put the book gently on the table, then turned to look at his wife, smiling gently as he did. He even reached across and took her hands. Then leaned in and kissed her, for good measure, putting as much effort and love into it as he could. Maybe she could be distracted? "Especially when you're as beautiful as you are this afternoon. Of course, we could talk after..."

"Asen Damalin." AiQien drew away from his advances. Right away, in fact. He would have to get up and move to touch her now, and he knew better than to pursue. Especially when it was 'full name basis'. He hated full name basis. "I love you very much. And I know you love me. But sometimes I wonder if you take me seriously. And like you only respect me when I am willing to go to bed with you. I mean... I know you are very busy and I am sure you..."

Oh no. No no no no no. No, this was not a conversation he was having. He was the Sovereign of however many worlds he ruled at this moment in time. More than twenty-five, he was pretty sure. Heir to a lineage dating back thousands of years. At least one thousand years. That sounded right. He held the power of life and death over countless billions of men and women and things. At least twenty billion. He was pretty sure of that, too. He was not going to be spoken to like this in his own capital, in his own palace, in his own private chambers, by his own wife. He was to be treated with absolute respect, and he will tell her so. "Of course I take you seriously, wife. And I love you very, very much. Always. At all times. And if you wish to bring something to my attention, I am always willing to listen, because you have my unconditional and absolute respect." Because being a semi-divine and absolute ruler is nice, but so's sleeping in your own bed.

She smiled and moved back towards him, putting her small dark hand on top of his arm. "I am thinking I would like to redecorate our chambers. We have a lot of space we are not using, and many of these items are old fashioned. May I spend the money to have this done?"

Damalin sat there, open-mouthed. All of this for that? "Of...of course. Spend what you want, when you want, where you want. This is your home too, wife. You don't need my permission for something like this!"

AiQien beamed and slid easily into his lap, where she belonged, dotting his face with little kisses. "Great! So I was thinking..."

[Roania]

"It has been announced today, the 17th Day of the 9th Month of the 1st Year of the ShenQin Era, that foreigners will no longer be granted access to the Dragon Throne or to the Closed City on their own request. This Edict was announced by the Herald, signed with the Imperial Seal, and will remain in force until countermanded. There is an exemption in place solely for people who hold a position of royal or national power in their state, upon appeal to the Grand Secretary herself. A further exemption has been made for persons who have already been presented to the Dragon Throne, as it is made clear in the Edict that the Imperial Countenance continues to look upon them with favor." ~ official announcement across all forms of mass media in the Empire, sent to every post in the Foreign Quarter, and to every Imperial embassy overseas.

[Roania]

Siela sighed and walked to her office window, looking out across the stone roofs of the Secretariat District and to the wooden houses beyond. "And we don't have one?" She placed her hands on the windowsill and leaned out, filling her lungs with the clean air of late Harvest. Rest would be on its way soon, and then Plant and the new year. And then, Grow and her ultimate fate. 'I always thought I'd make it at least to thirty years. Who knew I'd only see twenty-eight?'

"Nope!" Her guest said, quite cheerfully. Not that this meant much. Aleis was almost always cheerful. The pretty younger woman was, at the moment, wearing a new addition to her ensemble of clothes she could barely fit into; this one a muted orange traditional garment that actually managed to completely conceal all skin and everything that needed to be concealed, while at the same time showing off every curve of her body. Siela didn't even know you could get a robe that tight. Or that someone could somehow pull it off. "So, like, once I got out of the shower I called QingLin to find out, and he looked in the archives and, like, he said no, and that his Department had just been sort of, uh, 'doing what seemed right at the time'. So, like, I called around and asked a few other people, and it looks like no one ever really expected foreigners to stay inside the country for very long. And, like, well, that's caused all sorts of problems! Like, you can't go running something as important as embassies and stuff without the proper legal framework! And QingLin said that he'd call you, but I said I'd just walk over here! So here I am."

Siela groaned and returned to her cushion, leaning forward onto her low desk. "I see." What to do, what to do. She scribbled a few ideas onto the paper in front of her, then leaned back, looking at them. After a few minutes, the gem of an idea occurred to her. "Computer." The soft chime came from the air and acknowledged her. "Get me Gon Yu. Chapel-344." There was a Aft interlude, and then a second chime.

Apologies, Honored Grand Secretary. Imperial Chaplain Gon Yu is not available right now. He is in conference.

"In conference? With who? No, wait, I don't..."

Apologies, Honored Grand Secretary. This information is available only to the Sovereign and the Celestial Master.

"I know. Thank you. Communication finished." Siela rubbed her jaw. Gon Yu was seeing someone for counseling. She could only hope it was someone in the Imperial Family, otherwise this could be very bad. No. Positive outlook. "Aleis, I don't suppose you're qualified to make a call on the Rites?" It was probably too much to hope for. She could, she knew, send someone downstairs and into any temple and shrine in the city and get an answer, but that seemed like a bad idea. Besides, there were forms she had to follow when it came to getting ritual advice, same as legal.

"Oh, spirits! I have to carry pocket precepts in my purse! I can't make a decision like that."

Well, that was that. Or could be. Siela had tried. Try again tomorrow? Or next week, or... no, better just get it over with. "Computer." There was a chime. "Imperial Urgency 9-9-9." She spoke her authorization, and there was a deeper, more complex chime as more of the network turned its attention to her. "Contact Celestial Master Ta Min. Altar-9143, personal extension." There was a final chime, and the network turned to fulfiling her command.

"Grand Secretary! It's third watch there, and the Celestial Master doesn't have an embed and won't for at least another four months!" Aleis covered her mouth in shock. "She'll have to get up and grab the communicator! She's going to be furious."

"She serves the Throne, same as the rest of us. She'll deal. Computer, what's taking so long? I sincerely doubt that she's 'busy'."

The Celestial Master will be on the line shortly. Please hold.

A tired, girlish voice came on the line. "Do you know what time it is here?" Ta Min was handling an early awakening with the usual quiet dignity associated with fifteen year old girls the galaxy over. Wait, no. Not quiet dignity. Seething fury. That was it. Low Roanian was an excellent language to be furious in, too.

"At least three hours before first hour, I would assume. And I'm sorry to wake you, Celestial Master. But we need ritual advice, and we need it now, and Gon Yu is in conference." And the more Siela considered it, the more Siela thought this would be the best option. If Ta Min went along with it, then the Sovereign would probably listen to reason.

"Wait, is this Miss Ma? And you're asking me for help? Why, in the name of Ai, the Spirits and the Ancestors, should I help you?" Ta Min yawned into the communicator, her accent strong as she managed to find her High Roanian. "Especially after you woke me up? It's..."

"Enough, Ta Min." Siela went with a voice like iron, and Aleis' jaw dropped open. "You will help me, young miss, because it is the right thing to do. Because it will ultimately help your Empire. And because, whatever else, it is your role to be available when you called upon, as it is mine. The Empire never sleeps."

"You... you..." Ta Min muttered a quiet word that Siela was sure she hadn't heard properly, and went silent for a minute. "Fine, but you have not heard the end of this." The Grand Secretary didn't doubt it. "Honored Grand Secretary, what do you need from me?"

"Any objection on the part of the Temple to the treatment of foreign visitors as guests of the Sovereign? Which would extend guest rights and the shield of imperial law to all permitted persons, as well as establish a framework in which we can deal with their trespasses?"

"What? No, why would... that doesn't... wait, don't we already..."

"Apparently not, Celestial Master. Once I'm off the line with you, I intend to resolve this strange oversight."

Ta Min yawned again and went quiet. When her voice came again, it was in that unnatural, slightly echoed tone she used from time to time. A cheap trick, Siela thought, but it seemed to worry and frighten the other locals, so why spoil a girl's fun? "A visitor to a home is the guest of its owner. This is called hospitality. Precept of Honored Master Ta Liu, in the fifth year of the reign of the Neslin Emperor. To which I, Ta Min, add in the first year of the reign of the Shenqin Emperor: A visitor to a realm is a guest of its sovereign. This is to be called extending the welcome." On the other side of the communicator, there was a strange sound like a bell ringing. Siela guessed that the Empire's collected storehouse of Wisdom had been added to.

"I do like that phraeology. May I borrow it to suggest to the Lord?"

"Huh?" Ta Min's normal voice came back, and she sounded even more tired than before. "Oh, I see no problem. Now, if you don't mind, I'd like to get a little more sleep before the welcome of the sun." And with a final chime, the Celestial Master had ended communications.

"You can't speak to the Celestial Master like that! She'll be furious when she wakes up!" Aleis backed away from Siela, as if worried that there was going to be a sudden avenging bolt from the blue.

"She's already fairly constantly furious with me, Aleis. If she gets any angrier, she'll start getting wrinkles, and we both know she doesn't want that." Siela tapped her fingers on the low desk for a few moments. "Does the new precept meet with your approval, Great Secretary?"

"Oh, yes, of course. But it's not a law. I mean, it will give my people and the Watch and so on some cover, but..."

"Yes, yes. You need a law." Siela rubbed her chin and took a deep breath, then dove right in. "Computer. Imperial Urgency 9-9-9. Direct contact. The Present Sovereign Upon the Dragon Throne."

Apologies, Honored Grand Secretary. The Sovereign is not accepting any calls at this moment. No reason has been given. No message has been left.

"Of course. End communication." Siela sighed and closed her eyes, leaning her head into her hand. "Aleis, I want your opinion. Which would anger our beloved Lord more. Getting around his refusal to communicate and in touch with him anyway, or forging his seal?"

"U-uh, I... I'm, like, pretty sure he'd be really, really mad if we forged his seal. Like, really mad. He might banish us! Or chop our heads off! Or banish us and chop our heads off in the place we got banished to!" "Ex

"I'm glad we agree. Computer? Personal call, please." That chime again. "Imperial Consort Li AiQien." There was a second chime. Unless they're both 'busy', which didn't seem particularly likely at this hour.

"Hylee?" AiQien's soft voice answered. "Miss Ma?"

"Good afternoon, Lady AiQien. Did I interrupt anything?"

"Ah, no, I was just reading, We did not return to the palace until late last night and tonight we are moving to the hunting lodge so that the workers may bring in my new furniture!" Siela nodded. Last night, the Imperial Couple had gone to some sort of concert. All very tame by Nimatojin standards, but they seemed to like it. Even if 'late' probably meant before midnight.

"Radiant! Aleis is with me." Siela waved the other woman to the desk. The Foreign Secretary took a seat on the cushion. "Did you both enjoy your concert?"

"Hylee, Aleis! It was so great! We jumped up and down and sang along and people clapped when they announced us! And Husband didn't seem to mind when I made him come to say hello to the music people afterwards!" Siela had heard about that from disgruntled members of the Imperial Guard, who tended to base their plans on their wards staying very, very still.

"Hylee, Lady AiQien! I'm so jealous! My guy couldn't get me tickets!"Aleis had, of course, dumped him on the spot according to an amused Lorelle at their morning meeting. Siela had to give the Foreign Secretary that. She didn't ask for anything beyond what she was worth (and most men generally agreed it seemed), and she had made that clear at the start. But if you couldn't give it to her when she wanted it? No, thank you, please take your coat and hat when you leave.

"Speaking of your husband, Lady AiQien. Do you happen to know what our Sovereign is doing at the moment?"

"I heard him say he was going to catch up on some reports in the study before he had to give it up for three days. I told him he was being silly, and he went off in a... a..." Aleis clicked through a few words in Tonhi, "a not happy mood. I was just going to tell him to come have lunch."

"If it's possible, would you please add him to this call?" Siela smiled sweetly at Aleis, who began to go all sorts of strange colors. "It's very important, and we tried to reach him."

"I will see! Husband? Husband!" There was the sound of a door being opened. ""Husband, Miss Ma and Aleis need to speak to you. They said it is very important."

"I'm busy." Was the curt answer.

"You are not! You are napping. And they would not have called me if it was not urgent, so I have come to you."

"A thousand apologies for taking your time, mighty Sovereign. We simply need an edict from you." Siela glared at Aleis, who was about to break into a fit of nervous giggles. "You know we would only call if we had no other choice."

"You want an edict? Yes, I'll write one and seal it for you right now... I don't think." The Emperor had snapped to something resembling attention, and Siela could hear the anger in his voice. "Tell me, Grand Secretary. Why should I change or add to the laws of my ancestors?"

"Because it turns out none of my predecessors thought to ask for this one, so none of your ancestors made this one. Really, Aleis, do see someone about that cough." Aleis managed a glare with more venom than Siela thought her capable of. "We need an edict stating that the law protects foreign visitors as it does your subjects. If you'd like, the Celestial Master just wrot.e out a precept you could probably use."

"...wait, we don't... we must...surely there's already...?" After a moment's quiet thought, he finished with, "No, I doubt you'd have bothered me if we did. But... What have we been doing so far?"

"From the sounds of it, whatever the local Watch have deemed prudent." Siela heard a muffled series of curses and a quiet, shocked protest from AiQien. "I agree. We have been fortunate more than we have been wise. The possibilities..."

"Do not speak to me of possibilities and hypotheticals, Grand Secretary." You could probably have used Damalin's voice right then to cut lumber. "I can see them just as well as you. What is your suggested wording? Wife, love, please pass me the ink..."

"A Visitor to the Realm is a Guest of the Sovereign." Siela repeated Ta Min's words from earlier.

"Guest... sovereign... And now I seal..." There was a popping sound. "And this will be announced before first watch. Is there anything else you need, Grand Secretary?"

"No, thank you, Honored Sovereign. I am your humble servant. I will see you on the third day for our regular meeting. Good afternoon." And Damalin shut off the call without even a reply. SIela smiled across her desk. "And that, Aleis, is how we get things done."

"He's... he's going to have our heads chopped off! I'm too pretty to be banished and have my head chopped off! I like my head! It's... uh... the fifth best part of me!"

"He's not going to chop our heads off. He promised me a year, remember? And one look at you and he'll forget why he was angry in the first place." Siela smiled and put her hands together on her desk. "Besides, Great Secretary of Foreign Affairs Aleis, we are merely doing our jobs. Which is what he wants of us. Surely."

[Roania]

The Radiant Empire is at its core an Empire of farmers, and its faith, a farmer's faith. Winter, to give it its English name, is no friend of farmers.

Even in those places where Donxi (Hr. 'Resting Season') barely exists, as along the northern shores of the southern continents, there is a distinct antipathy towards the chillier days and the longer nights. In more temperate areas, people huddle close to their home and hearth when the bells of first watch chime, and the Officers of the Watch tend to take their patrols both more seriously, and less often. All villages shut their palisades and the towns will ceremonially shut at least one of their ancient gates. Because when the friendly spirits of farm, field and forest take their rest, less kind spirits come to the front. Not that they, properly respected, are any harm. But there are, as every Reixan child and Nmmr kit can tell you, things abroad in the dark hours, and when those dark hours are longer and the benevolent spirits sleep...

They have no name, for to name something is to give it more power, more strength. They only have descriptions, titles. 'Taker'. 'Eater'. 'Burden'. 'Black Wings'. They were, perhaps, related to the Dead Gods, also known now only by their titles. Or perhaps not. The belief, the fear, is more primal then the Gods ever inspired. And they are not alone in winter.

It would be bad enough if they were alone, but as the spirits have their shadows that appear in the winter, so to do the honored ancestors. And these cannot be propitiated. Winter nights are when the Hungry Ghosts roam, seeking what they have been denied, whether by chance or law or crime. Those dead who have no one to light incense for them, whose names are not known, whose lines are lost, whose crimes were so notorious they were blotted out. For them, on the first day of winter, are laid out the great fires, the great burning of incense and food and representatives of goods. But no one believes that to satisfy them, merely to satisfy them enough that they do not invade the settled, orderly world.

If you walk out into the wilds when they are out and about? Then you have taken your chance. For they do not mean merely to frighten, merely to hurt or kill. They mean to tear your soul from you, to eat your life and heart and make you as one of them. But not as one of them, for though you'd be dead, your heart will have been eaten. You will not walk the night. But the incense of your family's rites will not reach you, either.

And yet, there are at least mortal agents of the Light and the Law abroad. The Rangers patrol the wilds as the Watchers patrol the cities, and neither myth nor lore nor truth dissuades those brave enough, strong enough to venture into the darkness of the wilds during the long nights. In their customary two-ranger teams, the men and women of the Imperial Wilderness Service have no such lofty goal as to 'take back the night'. Beyond the walls and pickets, the night never truly belonged to the living to begin with. But the roads must be kept open, lost travelers must be found, all-too-mortal dangers must be warded against. As to less mortal dangers? They laugh, if they are asked. They have a job, and the job must be done, and the Law must be both upheld and seen to be upheld. In the wilderness as well as in the city. For this is their duty. And no wild animal or man, and no monster or hungry ghost will stop them. And these are modern times, besides, and you should be less worried about legends from the ancient past.

But sometimes, when they believe no one else is listening, they talk amongst themselves. Of the things they've seen, and the things they've not seen. Of what they've heard, and what they've not heard. And they shudder, and they whisper a prayer, and then they move on.

[Roania]

By and large, Imperial Subjects are not encouraged to ask 'why'. Things happen, often for seemingly arbitrary reasons, and all of life, all of existence, is merely about your reaction to ripples in life's river. 'Why' does not help. 'Why' is unhelpful. You may flow with the river. You may plumb the depths of the river. You may work to guide the river to new directions. You may even look backwards to see where we have come from, to better judge the nature of the river. But 'why is this river flowing?' 'Why has this happened to me?' The Empire and its Temple disapprove of such questions on principle.

It is especially disapproved of when the question is from a mere Bannerman to his Captain. So Captain Jun Kaichu would have been in his rights to have ordered Bannerman (2nd. Class) Sai Faran taken and beaten a few times to restore discipline. Indeed, fifty, sixty years ago, the luckless Bannerman could have been shot for even daring to address the Captain directly. But Captain Jun, like many of his counterparts in this 19th century, preferred to save such punishments for more important things. And it was, in this case, a chance to provide an object lesson for his listeners. He walked to the window that looked out over the fort, and into the forests beyond. "We are here, ultimately, because the Present Sovereign Upon the Throne, May He Reign for Ten Thousand Years..."

"Ten Thousand Years!" Every other man in the room said in chorus.

"Has so charged his Marshals with the stability and security of the empire, that they may command their Generals to arrange for the safety of a world's civilian populace, the encouragement of loyalist sentiment, and the reminder to rebels of the certainty of our retribution. These Generals, so commanded, may then order the Majors in their force to secure a prefecture or several prefectures. Or, in the case of a world such as this, a province or several provinces. And these Majors may find it necessary to command that a fort be constructed at various points within their jurisdiction. And a Captain, such as myself, would then be appointed to command such a fort. Where the Lieutenants under that Captain's command will be stationed, along with various special services we need not be concerned with. And, of course, each Lieutenant comes with his assorted Corporals. And who is it that sits at the very, very bottom of this chain of command, beneath those Corporals, Bannerman?"

Sai Faran, still genuflecting before his captain, began to shake. Captain Jun gave himself a minute to enjoy this terror in a subordinate, then answered his own question. "It is, of course, you. You, and millions like you. You are here, ultimately, because the Dragon Throne, May it Stand Forever, has ordered through its servants that you be here." Captain Jun placed his fingers together in front of him. "It should be sufficient for you, Bannerman, that you have been so ordered. That it is not is... an unfortunate reflection on you. And shall be noted." If he bothered. The Bannerman was obviously regretting even thinking of opening his mouth. "But that you came directly to me suggests that there is some confusion as to the mission of this garrison amongst the men entrusted to me by the Lord of Ten Thousand Years. You may stand and tell me if this is the case."

The Bannerman moved slowly, carefully to his feet, then clasped his right hand over his heart, bowed, then kept his head facing downwards in a perfect regulation salute. "T-thank you, Honorable Captain. It is indeed the case, sir."

"We are here because many of our fellow Subjects around here have not yet learned the Law in their hearts. They have not learned that they may not kill their neighbors. They have not realized that to steal from a fellow Subject who happens to live a few miles away is now just as much a crime as stealing from one who lives next door." Captain Jun shook his head slightly, still baffled by his own briefing. "Nor, sadly, do they trust in the Law of our magistrates when it comes to such offenses, preferring to retaliate rather than see a Court. And apparently, such petty retributions and thefts may have continued on for years, and have proven rather difficult to brush away. This fort, then, is here for two reasons. First, this is the major transit route between several such combatants. To pass through in any force, they would have had to come through here. By sealing it, we permit our scouts to keep an eye on the paths they may use instead. The second, of course, is very simple. Should any such force appear, our orders are very simple. Do you recall them?"

"Y-yes, Honorable Captain!"

"Excellent, Bannerman. But as a reminder for all of us, I will repeat them. Any armed detachment of locals heading through this pass is to be given one warning, and then fired upon. All wounded are to be killed, saving for one to bring word back. For, as I have said, our fellows in the IAC have not been able to brush away these barbaric customs. It is, as we have been told, permissible to use the chisel." And then, and only then did the Captain deign to notice his prisoners, whose presence was ultimately the reason for this entire performance. "I am sure, of course, that we will have no problems with your people, whose sins are all in the past. As I said, we are all Subjects of the Dragon Throne, entitled to the same legal rights... and responsibilities."

The local delegates kept quiet. Very, very quiet. There were three of them now. There had been a fourth. None of them cared to think about that one. He had also been an object lesson. One they had taken the desired education from. Instead, they all leaned back, with their five hands touching above them to form a strange pyramid shape. Beneath those arms was the, for lack of a better word, 'face', now looking behind them. Captain Jun approved. His briefing had told him that this was the local demonstration of 'yielding to an argument won by a superior presentation of force' -- a rather telling need for their civilization. Well, they will be taught a new way to kneel soon enough, if they could be kept from killing each other. Or if the Banners weren't forced to slaughter them.

Maybe someday they'd be transferred to a colony world or a world where the local Subjects were bio-compatible. With luck, someday he may set foot on a Home World. But for the next six Imperial Months, Dasdan was where they'd been posted. And regardless of what happened elsewhere on the world, Captain Jun would see to it that his duties were performed satisfactorily.

[Roania]

"A very long time ago, children..."

there was a town. Not a big city, like Tzunxi. And not a village, like Ikuan. But a pleasant town, much like our own Soon. It was a very prosperous town, for the land was fertile and the river flowed nearby. And the name of this town was 'Little Town', and everyone in the prefecture said it was a most wonderful place.

And in Little Town there lived a family named Chang. And they had lived there forever. No better than their neighbors, but certainly no worse. They were, as we all should be, 'polite and respectful, from the meanest to the greatest, for before the Light we are all as one'. Now, it came to pass, that the family's Patrician, Old Master Chang, had found a buried treasure in his farmland, which had in the days of the Accursed been the site of a fort. And after the Assessor had come and gone, Old Master Chang learned that he had nearly five hundred ces left. Back then, that was even more money than it was now!"

And Old Master Chang thought on it, and thought on it, and thought on it. And some money he gave to the Temple, and some money he gave to the needy, and some money he gave to the Town Council, who built a beautiful road with it from Little Town to the prefecture capital, 'Big City'. And he still had two hundred ces left. And he thought, and he thought.

Old Master Chang, you see, was a generous and good man. He believed that he had all a man needed. He had a lovely house. He had a lovely farm. He already had the privileges he had wanted, for many of them he had earned meritoriously and the others he had purchased with his income over the years. And he was too old for the ones he could not. His wife was content, and of his children... well, there was what he could do. He could send his son off to Big City with the money to buy a commission into whatever he desired. And to ensure that his son, whose name was 'Big Chang', did so correctly, he sent off his old steward with the man. And off they went.

The old steward returned a month later, tired but pleased, and said that Big Chang had purchased entry into the Banners as a Lieutenant, as was the custom at the time. And the old steward, whose name was Wen, gave to his master a hundred ces, of which Old Master Chang kept twenty-five, and the rest he returned to his steward as thanks for his meritorious service. For Old Master Chang was a generous and good man, who believed that he needed neither money nor more property, and so he kept the remainder aside for an emergency in either his family or his town.

And that was the last anyone thought of those twenty-five ces, for the town was prosperous, and the people were prosperous, and in due course Old Master Chang was chosen to lead the Little Town Council, as befit a man who had so benefited his home. And so it went, until fifteen years passed, and Old Master Chang went to his ancestors, covered in honors, having lived his whole life loved by his servants and his neighbors.

And Little Town's elders thought on it, and thought on it, and decided they could think of no one better to serve as their new Mayor than Big Chang, who was now Master Chang by rights. And so they sent a letter, to him and to the Banners, asking if he would and could come back. And they received an assent from both, and new Master Chang came home, all tanned and strong from his service, and with a pretty wife from Big City and several children. And Master Chang was acclaimed as Mayor that very day.

"Now, Little Town, as I said, was a pleasant town. And its people were prosperous. But they were not prosperous enough nor pleasant enough for Master Chang and Mistress Chang. Nor were the townspeople respectful enough for their Mayor and his Mayoress!"

One day, Master Chang let it be put about that he had risen to the rank of Marquis, and he purchased a seal from his contacts in Big City and began to formalize all papers with that. And nothing would do for him but that he be called Honored Marquis Chang, and his wife the Honored Marquise Chang, and his children the Honored Children of the Chang Clan. And his neighbors thought that this made sense, for they had heard that it was indeed possible to rise into the nobility in the army's service, and so they congratulated themselves in the bargain they had made, for in obtaining a new Mayor they had obtained a man whose voice would surely hold weight in the Empire.

I can hear some of you asking why they didn't ask someone. Well, children, in those days it wasn't as easy for them to contact the Secretariat as it is for us. And when merchants and assessors came through, Master Chang always paid his taxes as befit his rank, and purchased goods that suited him and his family as though he was the Marquis he claimed. And how do we know he wasn't telling the truth about that? Many of us know nobles whose families earned that title through service.

To them, it all seemed plausible. And when he began to levy additional funds for the construction of new roads, and the renovation of the local Temple, and the reconstruction of many buildings, well, who there was qualified to say that he was levying too much? The roads were built, and the Temple was renovated, and the buildings all looked as though they were new. And when he rebuilt his clan's home, larger and better equipped, well. He said he was using his money, which everyone knew he had in great quantities, to spare the city and its people any expense for his personal benefit, which he could of course have exacted as was his right as Mayor. And indeed no debit appeared on Little Town's sheet, and the townspeople congratulated themselves again on the benevolence and generosity of the most excellent Mayor they had chosen.

And so Little Town continued. More prosperous, it seemed, than before. And people who came through the town on business would stop and marvel at the house of the Chang clan, and when they asked who owned it, they were told Marquis Chang, the illustrious mayor. And so, these people would tell others, who would tell others. And soon officials and sages came to the town, and they would report to their friends and colleagues of the most Benevolent and Gracious Marquis Chang, and the Governor of the Prefecture sent him fine silk robes, and the Marquis Chang was everywhere spoken of as a true and loyal servant of the Realm.

And some years passed, as the years do. And news came from far away that the old Sovereign had passed, and a new Prince occupied the Dragon Throne as Emperor. And somehow, word got about that while Marquis Chang had been only Big Chang, while he had served in the army, he had served alongside this prince. And at first all the members of the Chang clan disavowed it, refusing to speak of it. But one day, Marquis Chang was deep in his cups, an unusual occurrence, and he spoke all about his excellent friend, 'Little Dragon', who was now, of course, 'Big Dragon'. How close they had been, how they had gone hunting together... how he had been asked to return with 'Little Dragon' to the Capital, but filial piety and the pleas of his hometown had forbidden him.

And when he became sober, he forbade anyone to speak of his story, for it was improper for a subject, no matter how exalted or friendly, to speak so of his sovereign. And so, of course, everyone did as soon as they returned home, and it was the new topic of conversation when people spoke of Little Town and its mayor. Excellent Honorable Marquis Chang! Imperial Friend and Servant!

And so the relations between the Chang clan and their town changed. The Mayor began to exact heavier levies of men and money, claiming that it was necessary for him to keep himself in the state they needed him to be kept, so that he would be taken seriously by all those who had expectations of him. And the Marquise began to give herself even more airs, and she demanded young children, maybe younger even than all of you, take time from school to carry the train of her new dresses, for long, flowing dresses were all the style in the Capital, and though she could not be there in person, she must be there in spirit. So as to set an example to their people.

And the honorable children? Well, they had grown up knowing and feeling the power their father held on their home, and now they too began to use that power as suited them. The young men became haughty and demanding of their male peers, most of whom already recognized them as their natural leaders. The young women grew cruel and strict with their fellow maidens, many of whom already envied and feared them.

"How did the sons treat the girls, and the daughters the sons? I'd imagine they weren't very nice to one another, and you all know it's important for all of you to always be polite and respectful to each other."

For the townspeople, this had been slow enough that none of them realized it. And almost all of them had grown up in a world where the name 'Chang' had meaning and power and worth. Those older or more detached from their surroundings had little knowledge or influence of what was happening to Little Town. The pressure was so great that when a Chang walked by and everyone genuflected, those who did not know why still genuflected themselves, so as not to be caught out.

And so it continued, and may have continued to this day. But one day a young woman whose family name was Wen (I hope you remember where you've heard that name before, children!) came to the town of her paternal ancestors to pray at the temple her grandfather had been commemorated in. She was young and she was pretty.

"No, not like any of you. All of the girls in this class are pretty. But she was a bit more grown-up. May I continue?"

Pretty Flower, for that was her name, was indeed very pretty, and her arrival had been noted by the young men in town. Chief of these men was Marquis Chang's heir, Large-and-Strong Chang, who warned off his brothers and rivals and went into the temple to talk to Pretty Flower. As soon as her veneration had ceased, he approached her and asked her to spend some time with him, as was his fashion. Now, Pretty Flower gently refused, as she had business elsewhere now that her veneration had been completed, and could not tarry in Little Town, pleasant though it was and as grateful as she was for his interest.

Large-and-Strong did not care for that at all, for he had become accustomed to everyone merely giving him everything. And he was very rude to her, and only the intervention of the Temple's priest prevented him from being ruder still. And Pretty Flower went immediately to the Town's court, thinking to register a complaint and see the Law at least set in motion, as there was no Watch in those days for her to call. But alas, Large-and-Strong was there first, complaining that she had assaulted him, and his brothers and sisters backed his word up, and his father did not let the Magistrate call the priest to verify her claim, because the priest would be far too busy with his duties.

And Pretty Flower called upon her grandfather's guidance of him, when he had been merely Big Chang, and begged for justice at least for his sake. But the Marquis did not recall those days anymore, and he bade Large-And-Strong bring her beyond the town walls and set her free, as that was all he would do for her for justice's sake. And his deputy bade her repent in how she spoke to her superiors, for she had insulted the Honorable and Excellent Mayor of Little Town, Marquis Chang, who was a close friend of the Sovereign. "And had she known all that," he admonished her, "she would have known better than to attack his son and heir." And Marquis Chang silenced him, and bade his son to carry her off.

And the whole way there, Large-And-Strong was rude, and persisted in his rudeness, and it was with difficulty that she made it from his grasp and made her way to a village not much more than bruised. And does anyone know what Pretty Flower did?

"That's right, she sent a memorandum to the throne. And can anyone say why? That's [i]right. Excellent work. Because as we are all Subjects of the Sovereign, we are all entitled to call upon him in our distress. Can you write him about anything? I see no reason why not. After I finish this story, we'll write the Lord of Ten Thousand Years a letter together."
[/i]
But for a long time, no one in Little Town knew of this. Life there continued as it had been, and the Chang sons remained rude to the girls, and the Chang daughters cruel to the boys, and all of them were horrible to their own kind, and the Marquise Chang was frightening and the Marquis was demanding. Always more, and more, and more. And the people, who had welcomed and abetted this in their first place, had by now become used to it. Until one day word came from the prefecture capital that a Very Important Visitor was on his way. But not who it was, which seemed strange to everyone. Marquise Chang put it about that it was probably someone coming to promote her husband again, and the people were satisfied, for their Mayor was a Most Excellent and Honorable Mayor and an Imperial Friend.

And oh, how proud the people of Little Town were when they saw the assembled ranks in yellow on the horizon, walking on their town's most excellent road. And they grew prouder still as they saw that amongst the yellow travelers there was a great silver and gold coach. It was carried by men larger than any they had ever seen, who seemed not even to notice the weight on their shoulders.

The people of Little Town all cried that it must be the Sovereign Himself, traveling to visit His friend, and the Marquis Chang and his family smiled, and said they wished they had known earlier, so they could have prepared. But when they looked to the other gates, they found that other men in yellow had arrived and were waiting by them, and so the Marquis put on his very best silk robes, and his wife and children did likewise, and they went to Little Town's great plaza.

And the Guards arrived, and a detachment escorted the palanquin into the plaza, and the mighty bearers placed it upon the ground. And a yellow carpet was rolled out, and all the townspeople genuflected and tapped their heads nine times. And a voice called out, "Who is the Mayor here?" And the Herald stepped forward from his place among the guards. "Stand and speak." And though he wished someone else would, he had no choice, and so the Marquis Chang stood, his hands flat at his sides. "I am Big Chang, and I am mayor here."

And the great palanquin's door slid open, and out came the Sovereign. And everyone knelt, even the guards. Everyone except the Marquis, who was commanded with a gesture to rise. And the Sovereign stepped aside, and out came two younger people, dressed in beautiful silken robes, holding hands. One was the Prince. And the other was...

"That's right, children!"

Pretty Flower, granddaughter of old Steward Wen and now a Princess! And Marquis Chang recalled his treatment of her, many mongths ago, and he was very, very frightened. But he tried not to show it. And the Sovereign held up His hand. "It is with great pleasure that I find myself once more alongside my old friend, Big Chang. Would you not agree, friend?" And Big Chang could only squeak out a tiny affirmation. "I have heard much about what you have been doing . And how your family has been doing. And how your town has been doing. And how your finances are doing. And I am glad to see it all appears to be true. A more prosperous town I have never seen. One thing does trouble me, though.I was not aware that service as a mayor was so... rewarding. I have been to many towns in my realm, and rarely do I see a family grow so fat while the people remain thin. A full audit will have to be performed of your system here, as it is obviously an inspiration to my realm. As the alternative is that you have been stealing from your people and from your masters."

And Big Chang trembled, and his family trembled. But the Sovereign was not, of course, finished. "Another thing that puzzles me. I am told you are a Marquis by most everyone I have met in this Prefecture. So it must be so. And yet, when I go through my father's papers, I see no mention of the ennoblement of one Big Chang. Which is strange indeed, for a man who reached the exalted rank of... what was it, Herald?" The summoned man rose and went to his master's ear, then whispered softly, "Ah yes. Captain... one step up from Lieutenant, yes? Yes. For a man who who reached the rank of Captain to be ennobled would have been noteworthy indeed. A thorough search has been ordered to determine how this occurred, because otherwise you would only be claiming a noble title you had no right to."

And then the Sovereign paused, and placed his hand on his chin, staring at the melting Big Chang, listening to the whispers around them as the townspeople tried to process this. And then he spoke a third time. "And, of course, old friend... I simply do not recall you from my service. Obviously the stories were exaggerated when they reached me, so I debit barely half of them from your account." Which was, Big Chang had a moment to reflect, apparently vastly overdrawn. "But your service records indicate you served in the Twelfth Army of the Third Banner, while I served my time in the Fifth Army of the Second Banner, as my son does, and as my father did before me, and his father, and...well, so on. Very odd. My memory is obviously playing with me. The alternative would be that you were presuming on my sacred name and title a friendship you did not have, and using it t justify all sorts of crimes! And that would be..." And now the Sovereign smiled. "Unfortunate. For you and for your family." And then he waved his hand. "Kill them."

And so the guards raised their bows. But Pretty Flower spoke up. "Honored Lord of Ten Thousand Years, may I speak on their behalf?" The Sovereign indicated he was willing to listen. "Thank You, Sovereign. I owe their family much. For his father's kind gift permitted my grandfather to send my father to study in the Honored Predecessor's service, which permitted him to meet my mother. And my father and mother sent me on to train as I did, which led to my meeting the Great Prince, my Honorable Husband. And my father always said that from the kind acts of the Old Master Chang, so much good has been done. I beg you, do not sever the line of my grandfather's friend, who so benefited my family and this town."

And the Prince spoke, too. "Honorable Wife is right, Great Sovereign and Father. I do not believe anyone has been killed. Their crimes, while weighty, do not render their family worthy of extirpation."

And the Sovereign stroked his beard and nodded. And commanded that the Chang clan be exiled to a distant prefecture to labor as peasants until they had recompensed the Throne, and all their property confiscated and given to the Princess to be dispersed as she pleased. All but the 25 ces that Old Master Chang had kept in case of emergencies. And the people learned a valuable lesson, and they all lived a happy life.

"Now, does anyone know what lesson the people learned, and what other lesson we should learn from this story? Yes. You should always speak to someone when you feel something is wrong. Had the people of Little Town complained when things started, they would not have gotten that bad. And we have it much easier than the people of Little Town did, because we have so many more people to speak to! Your teacher, your parents, your priest, your village elder, the watch, the mayor and council, the secretariat... you will all be going home today with a list of people whom you can reach out to if someone hurts you, or you see someone doing something bad to someone else, along with a list of ways to contact them. This is your list. If your parents will not let you see it, you should tell me tomorrow. That is very, very important. Now, does anyone know the other lesson?"

"Very good, children! Yes, you must always be respectful to everyone. When the Sovereign in the story met with the Big Chang, was he rude? Of course he wasn't. And throughout her troubles, Pretty Flower was polite. But Big Chang and his family only realized how they had been treating people at the very end. You must never be impolite, you must always try to be the best you can possibly be. Now, we're going to try our hands at a test of our politeness. Why don't you all help me write a letter we can send to the Lord of Ten Thousand Years?"

[Roania]

The Rights of an Imperial Subject

Every child in the Empire can name the Four Freedoms (Freedom from Hunger, Freedom from Sickness, Freedom from Need and Freedom from Fear). These are often characterized, especially in the west, as ‘rights’. They are not. They are a responsibility of the government that it is bound by law, rite and custom to do the utmost to fulfill. In practice, they mean that:

If you are hungry, they will see to it that you and yours have food and water sufficient to maintain life. Generally, but not exclusively, through the Temple’s Famine Relief Fund. To ‘maintain life’ has been worked out as ‘1800 calories a day, and all basic nutrient needs met.’ You may get no more, but you will certainly get no less.

If you are ill and cannot afford a doctor, they will see to it you are treated and pay the doctor or hospital. Then they will consider your terms of repayment, which are rarely onerous, and arrange for you or your descendants to gradually repay them, unto the third generation.

If you are homeless, jobless and listless, the government will find you a place; if you are very fortunate, that place may be on a planet you started on. Probably not, though.

If you are scared of anyone or anything, threatened by anyone or anything, or intimidated by anyone or anything, you may call upon the servants of your Sovereign to protect you. Which, if the situation requires, they will do. Sometimes quite harshly. Hundreds of monsters walk the night in the Imperial Mind. Only one walks the day, too, and it is the greatest among them: Law.

But, of course, these Four Freedoms are, as said, responsibilities of the government. The contractual obligations it has to you, the subject, from your coming of age and swearing of oaths. Commit a crime, and you will find yourself on the opposite side of them.

What are the inalienable rights that all subjects have? Are there any? The answer is yes. There are a number of them, actually, and only the Emperor can interfere with them, by virtue of being the Emperor. And even then, he would only dare to revoke a few, and only under direst need. These violations by Emperors (who were not overthrown by the army and temple) are noted below.

They are taken largely from the Basic Law, the collection of the sealed and announced Edicts of the Emperor and his predecessors.

Man’s thoughts are his own. Leave them to him.

These words of the First Emperor, spoken upon the crucifixion of a Hierophant who had dared to offer his services, have come down the ages with the tone of semi-divine writ. In the 4th Dynasty rearrangement of the Law Codes, it was listed as Law #1.

You may argue. You may cajole. You may threaten and bribe and intimidate and shout and torture. You may force a man to do what you want, but you cannot make him agree with you.

You may see the shape of a man or woman’s thoughts, but you may not directly go into his mind and begin changing those thoughts. And whatever he may be thinking? He’s allowed to think it. And there is nothing you, or anyone else, may do about it until and unless he acts on it. Opinion is divided on entrapment, but the Magistrate have generally been harsh on it.

This right has never been revoked by any Emperor, from anyone, for any reason. The Empire has the technology to take a mind and read it like an open book, quite apart from natural gifts. And they could theoretically use it to force people to think in a way they want. But the people, armies and Temple wouldn’t stand for it, and neither (when push came to shove) would even the most depraved Third Dynasty Emperor. The punishment for breaking this law, or trying to break this law, or even planning to break this law? It’s not fun. Don’t do it.

Note: Many of these rights were originally written to apply only to Reixanxi. Law #77 extends all rights to all Imperial Subjects. Law #93 makes it clear that regardless of wording, females had all rights too. Which had been initially thought obvious, but… well, cases came up.

Note2: Despite occasional attempts by various officials and public organizations, the use of alcohol or other narcotics to ply someone into agreeing with you has not been deemed by the Department of Internal Harmony to violate this Law, provided that every party involved knew alcohol and narcotics would be used and agreed to the drink or drug of their own free will. Spiking a girl’s drink with something to make her suggestible was very briefly a fad seventy years ago. The Empire calls what happened to the criminals a learning experience, and it has become an important part of the curriculum in some prefectures

In his own home, or in the public square, a man may speak as he pleases. Save in praise or defense of the Gods or in favor of abomination.

This edict of the Sixth Emperor bought an end to a period of intense strife, secular and religious. The Fourth Emperor had established the Faith of the Light as the Empire’s official religion. The Fifth Emperor had closed the Fanes and scattered the Priests and Hierophants throughout the three kingdoms.

The Sixth Emperor made the rites of the Gods a capital offense, destroyed the closed Fanes and other ritual sites with cleansing fire, purged Lorodecrast, killed every Divine he could get his hands on (oftentimes with his own hands), and began the three hundred year process of obliterating the Gods and their worshippers. A task he and his successors performed so fervently and successfully that in the present year (1811 TE) very few people have anything but hazy knowledge of the rites of the Gods, and no one, not even the small pockets of Divine Worshippers (who live in perpetual fear of discovery and are subject to the harshest punishments the responsible authorities can devise) recalls their names.

And this law was a part of that. The Second Emperor, in a bid to outdo the First Emperor, had proclaimed absolute freedom of speech and disputation within his realm. The Third Emperor had tried to restore the Divines to favor and ended up almost losing the Empire. And the Fourth and Fifth Emperors had decided to just rule through force, and the threat of force. The Sixth Emperor promised a return to civilian government, and rules to match. While the Secretariat was still a thousand years in the future, his administrative-council was the beginning of the system. So, “you can do anything you want, except this. We’ll kill you if you do that.” It got the job done.
This law, then, provides the modern Imperial Subject, who neither knows nor cares about the Gods and their rites, the right to speak freely in fairly broad terms. He may offend, he may insult. He can call for the government to be overthrown. If he’d care to, he can sing about all the things he’d like to do to the Empress. Absolute freedom of speech!

On his property, or in a public square, or, if the owner him, in someone else’s property.

This freedom exists only in the aforementioned areas. Not on the list: Imperial Property. The Square Mile around the Imperial Palace. The Administrative area in a city. A military base or ship. Inside a Temple. On Shrineland. On the imperial highways. And a property owner can ask you to leave or have you removed if he’s done with you.
So, on your property, a good friend’s property, a market square, a free park and a settlement’s own roads, you can say (almost) whatever you want about (almost) whatever you want. Pretty good, right?

Sure, if you understand the local meaning of the word ‘speech’. It only applies to the words that leave your vocal apparatus and, tacitly, written works. Not protected:

‘Expressive conduct’. Don’t burn a flag. The Secretariat and the Temple have a vague list of guidelines for acceptable television, radio and network content. But by and large the companies involved practice strict self-censorship, because it’s bad business to offend customers, worse business to offend the Secretariat, dangerous business to offend the Temple, and deadly business to offend the Emperor.

Also: Freedom of speech does not mean freedom from consequences. Run around insulting people, and someone may give you a solid blow. And the Magistrates will give him a slap on the wrist and fine you for incitement. Remember, too the moment someone gets a badge, they gain the supernatural ability to bring you in even if there isn’t a crime they’re sure of. Watch officers are no different to cops galaxywide in that regard.

Note: The same general common-sense restrictions to freedom of speech that are in place in most countries are in place here. Plotting a crime is different to merely talking about a crime, and a legitimate threat is never permitted. Incitement is not free speech.

Note2: Lese-majeste is different in the Empire. It is [i]always illegal to photograph, film, paint or sculpt the reigning Emperor, his spouse, his children, his siblings, and any surviving parents for public consumption. These persons may also not be drawn, lampooned, played by an actor or puppet or artificial representation.

This means that the current Lord of Ten Thousand Years can be artistically depicted after not only his passing, but also after the passing of his heir. The Imperial Family may keep records and pictures of their own that could be released at a later day, but they would be the only visual records of his reign. Oh, and no one may use his personal name, ever. That’s not a law, it’s a custom, but it’d be a very strange thing to do of anyone you’ve not been introduced to, Emperor or not. He is, when referenced directly, either the Lord of Ten Thousand Years, the Present Sovereign upon the Dragon Throne, or the Shenqin Emperor.

But in terms of prohibited actions, that’s the limit to public behavior by and large. The Dragon Throne, and thus its current occupant, is often the topic of popular songs. You can, in the aforementioned places for free speech, curse him or mock him and his laws, and you’d probably get away with it, maybe. Depends on the Emperor. Some Emperors are very touchy, some are not. By and large, the current Sovereign is considered ‘very touchy’.[/i]

For all crimes, there is a court.

The AiArlyu Emperor, in the Third Dynasty, decided he wished to be immortalized. But without any of that pesky ‘work’. So, he had his servants bring him some customs that had grown up around the Empire, took a look, and turned them all into laws. Of these fifty laws, all but three were then revoked years later by The LisHyl Emperor, founder of the Fourth Dynasty. This was one of the ones that made the cut, suitably edited.

What’s it mean? Well, say you commit a crime, then got caught. The Watch will then evaluate their proof of your guilt. Material evidence, DNA evidence, Live Witnesses, Video and Audio Testimony… then three things can happen. The Procurator can have you dragged in front of her, told what you did and how they know it was you, and then have you fined or beaten, and you accept this, and go forth to crime no more.

Or you can reject it, and appeal. Or your crime was too serious for her to handle anyway. So then you’ll be dragged in front of the Magistrate whenever he has the time and chance to see you. Until then, hope you like windowless cells. And the Watch will build up their case with more evidence if needed, then the Procurator will present both you and their evidence in what is called a Full Court session. Three things again. The Magistrate will decide the Procurator’s not proven her case, and you’ll be set free. Or, the Magistrate will affirm the initial judgment, and add a punishment for wasting his time with the appeal. Or he’ll affirm, and you’ll appeal again.

Up the ladder it can go. Magistrate to Magisterial Council to Judge to Judicial Circuit, then to the High Court for your Prefecture/Province and its neighbors, and then to the Supreme Court in the Imperial City. And there it generally stops. Because you can appeal higher, but you probably shouldn’t. The Grand Secretary of Internal Harmony, like the Justiciar before him, has never, not once, not since the creation of the title, overturned a Supreme Court decision. And from there, where do you go? The Dragon Throne? If the Emperor was willing to intervene, he’d probably have done so before now. Being thrown in front of the Imperial Dais in chains has been proven ineffective 90% of the time for overturning preceding court battles. 10% still good enough odds? Well, it’s not 10%. Because 5% of the time, the Emperor at the time decided to use the alleged criminal as an object lesson for just how much pain his power lets him inflict. So, good luck.

I am the Lord of the Three Kingdoms. Let none stand between me and the pleas of my people

This is another big one. Attributed to the Third Emperor, the last monarch to maintain the old ‘Three Kingdoms’ as part of his titulature. If true, it would be the only words of the Apostate from his reign to have come down to the modern Empire.

During the remainder of the First Dynasty and through most of the Second, the tradition had been of the Emperor’s court spending much of the year traveling, at least on Tira and occasionally Akati, so that all may bring their problems before their master and hear his judgment. As the Empire expanded, first to the northern continent and then to other worlds, the Second Dynasty Emperors continued their old circuits.

The Third Dynasty, as the Eskoa Empress they replaced, remained sedate in their pleasure gardens, and the tradition of hearing the people was forgotten for many years. When the Fourth Dynasty reunited the Empire, it was revived, but with a difference. The Sovereigns would remain, by and large, still. For government to function, the court needed to remain stationary. But the Empire would come to him.

And so, today, any Imperial Subject, of any age, may claim the right of petition. It can be as simple as walking into the post-office and asking your friendly neighborhood MailNmmr for the yellow paper and the silver ink. In these modern times, the appropriate greetings may be preprinted on your card. You just write your letter in whatever language pleases you (and yes. You must write it, unless when you mail the letter you have proof you cannot) and return it to the post office, where it goes in a big sack.

This big sack is then, once a month, carried to the Closed City, where the Imperial Household Staff will read through it. 90% of the time, they are the ones who will answer your letter. With advice or gentle chastisement or information about the appropriate Department to call and how best to handle them. Sometimes they will turn your case over to Internal Auditing to determine what malfeasance was done and how best to handle it. The fates of lives have turned on these letters, but to interfere with someone’s Right to Petition, or the Yellow Envelope, is a crime punishable by all the Deprivations, in whatever order the Judge feels most instructive for the population at large.

For those 10% that make it to the Emperor, congratulations would be in order. The Dragon Throne’s subjects have spent centuries telling themselves not to come to the attention of authority, and that lucky 10% has managed to do just that.

[Roania]

“Chinmu! Chinmu! Chinmu!”

Daeri sighed and put down her pen, peering over her desk. “Yes, daughter?”

“Pay attention to me!” Rihyl ran around the desk and jumped up and down, trying to grab at her mother’s sleeve.

Daeri opened her mouth to give a curt reply, but stopped herself and instead lifted her child up and into her arms. “You, young lady, are starting school in three months. And do you know what chinfu and chinmu are going to do once you’re not in our house every day?”

Rihyl tilted her head on its side and gave her mother a piercing look. “You’ll look after little brother, of course!”

“Listen to the child!” Daeri said with a slight laugh, kissing Rihyl on the forehead. “Yes, I suppose when your brother sees his first year and starts walking he’ll be as bad as you were. No, we won’t have any rest there, either.” Especially not since her wonderful husband had expressed interest in starting on a third child. Of course she’d put her foot down. Quite enough for the time being.

“But I’m not in school right now, chinmu! And I’m bored! And chinfu’s not here, and little brother is asleep, so you have to play with me!”

Ah, was that why the apartment was so quiet? Her son had gone to sleep, no doubt exhausted by the shouting and screaming and general chaos that was his avocation. Daeri placed Rihyl in her lap. “Well, until I need to feed your little brother, you can help me with this work. Now, tell me, daughter. You know we must always serve the Lord of Ten Thousand Years, yes?”

Rihyl gave this some due thought, then batted her hands on the desk. “Like the song you sing to me!” And the little girl began to sing in her cheerful, singsong little voice, her hands keeping time. ”We all must serve the Dragon Throne, whatever be our race! Our words and thoughts and deeds must always know their place!”

“Exactly, daughter. But there are many who do not understand this. And part of chinmu’s job is to help them. But you know that, of course.” Daeri bounced her daughter on her knee. “Sadly, though, even within those lands currently blessed by to be directly ruled by the Lord of Ten Thousand Years, there are some who fight against the Secretariat and Banners, because they want to return their world to the chaos before our rule.”

“Are they bad people, chinmu?”

“I’m afraid so, daughter. Good people don’t break the Law and fight against the Sovereign or his servants. Remember, darling, within the realm all is stable, orderly, calm. The people are fed and have houses.”
“I know, chinmu! Chinfu always says that the… the… the… preserva… preservation…”

“The preservation of the realm is in the best interest of all the realm.” Daeri, of course, knew the rest of her husband’s quote, even if he’d not spoken it around his children yet. ‘And therefore, any act of preservation is permitted.’ Nesar can get into that with Rihyl on her coming of age. “Your chinfu is absolutely right, darling. But these bad people want to go back to a bad time, because a bad time is when bad people have more power. And what I’m doing today is trying to help a Governor of a faraway province decide what to do with these bad people.”

Rihyl contemplated this weighty charge her mother had been given, and then she began to beat her hands on the desk again. “If they’re bad people, do they want to hurt us?”

“I’m afraid so, daughter. They want to hurt us, and they want to hurt themselves, and they want to hurt their friends and their families and everyone around them. Because they’re bad people and everything they do and say is hurt by that.”

“So I think you should make it so the bad people can’t hurt anyone.” Rihyl said, with perfect logic. “If they want to hurt people, and you can stop them, don’t you have to stop them?”

“Of course we do, daughter.” Daeri reached out and grabbed a little white stamp from her desk. “And that’s exactly what I’m going to do. Then, we’ll go and wake up your brother and have a tea party, okay?” And the yellow paper was stamped with the white seal, and then rolled up and placed in a scroll container. “Now, be a good girl and take this to the mail slot by the door, okay?” And Rihyl, eager to help in something very important, and thus speed up the tea party, went running to the front door, while Daeri stood and adjusted her dress.

Yes, they’d made no mistakes in raising their daughter. She’d do very well at the academy. Nesar would be pleased when he got back from his appointment with the Lord.

[Roania]

"There must be something." Ta Min was not used to having her demands thwarted. She was the Celestial Master. That meant that she was the sole governing figure of the only legitimate organization that represented the teachings of the Way of the Light. That meant she was one of the most important people in the Realm. In fact, as far as she was concerned, it meant she was one of the most important people in the galaxy. Reality itself should bend to her will! But that was unimportant right now. A question of time and will, that's all. At the moment... "Have you not found anything?"

Her servants bobbed like anxious frogs in front of her, terrified the Young Miss would cast them away. But she rose from her throne and wordlessly dismissed them. After her and her initial audience were alone, she sat back down and mused, glaring down at the seated assembly. "Mistress Ma behaves with perfect scrupulousness. Mistress Ma is very kind to the servants. Mistress Ma is doing the best she can. Mistress Ma has the confidence of the army." Ta Min's voice was a low series of staccato bursts, her Low Roanian coming in clipped and harsh. "Have I misjudged her? Will she earn the confidence of the Lord of Ten Thousand Years?"

"The Grand Secretary is a problem, Celestial Master." This from Ta Chei, her cousin... Light and Ancestors alone knew how far removed. The Ta clan was a busy and large one. "But not one that is insurmountable. Even the trickling drop shall wear away the strongest rock, and even the mightiest warrior may fall from a blade in the right place. Mistress Ma is no mighty warrior. Her removal would be..."

Ta Min turned her head towards her cousin, and his words died in his mouth. "I will speak once, and I will speak once only. To do as you, and others, have proposed... this is anathema. If she is to join her ancestors, it shall be in a time and manner that the Light shall ordain, and I see no mortal hand at her throat." Sadly. Ta Min hated that part of her, but there was a part of her that wished she could simply order the irksome woman's death. But for the moment, the point of decision was six months away, when the Lord of Ten Thousand Years' passed his judgement. All she could do was push for that judgement to be the right one.

"If I may speak, Celestial Master?" Lorelle rose to her feet, then bowed low. "Your servants have, perhaps, failed through no fault of their own." Ta Min raised an eyebrow, and Lorelle hurried on. "And no fault of yours, either. Their vision was unduly narrow. With the help of my own agents, however, I have procured some information that I believe we may apply to find her weakness. With your permission, of course."

"And what is this information your 'agents' have discovered, Secretary?" Ta Min leaned forward, resting her hand on her palm.

"Tell me, Celestial Master... have you ever heard of 'Waterslyde'?" And Lorelle spoke. And the others listened. And Lorelle smiled, and the others smiled, and Ta Min smiled too, because it was good. With a full dossier, Lorelle could work miracles, that was obvious to the Celestial Master. And so she was given the resources and the orders to fill that dossier. Whatever it took.

[Roania]

"Husband, I am cold." It was the fifteenth time AiQien had said that that day. Damalin knew, because he had been counting. "I am cold in here. I miss our home and our bed. And when I go outside, it is even colder, and it is... it is... what is that word you used? Slippery. It is slippery, and there is this white... stuff on the ground and in the air and I don't like it here."

Damalin did deeply, deeply love his wife. He really did. When she had come in, trembling and crying (as only a tropical woman first exposed to winter could) he had taken her in his arms and helped her out of her cold clothes and into their warm bed, and gotten her blankets and a thick robe he'd purchased for this occasion, and now he was sitting next to her, one hand on her knee and the other browsing down a holographic projection to order something nice and warm from the Lodge's kitchen. "I know, wife. I, too, wish we had remained in our palace for this season. If the refurnishing of our residence had not..."

"So it's my fault we're here?"

'Here' was, of course, the Imperial Hunting Lodge. A good few hundred kilometers southwest of Imperial City, nestled in the foothills of the ElQi mountains. It was a beautiful residence, built in a more restrained fashion than the imperial palace apartments, and with far fewer staff. Not that Damalin minded. The people he needed were here, the people he didn't need couldn't reach him, and the surrounding district was as absolutely locked down as his regular home, so he was perfectly safe. If only it wasn't so cold. And as cold as it was for him, his wife was suffering a thousand times more.

So he tried to keep any negativity out of his voice. "No! Never! Nothing's your fault!" His voice cracked upwards. "All I meant was that if we had waited to get new furniture and paint and so on..."

"So we should have spent another season sleeping in a two hundred year old bed, surrounded by antiques?!" AiQien's own voice rose to match his.

"What? I didn't say that. All I said was that if we had..."

"You'd be happy if we did, I bet! I bet you want to leave it all and put all your precious antiques back! Ai! Your mother didn't live there until three years ago, and she left as soon as she could, and.."

Damalin gave a perfect imitation of an ornamental fish. He wasn't sure how this had turned around and become about his mother, or his decorating choices. "Wife," he tried to make the torrent stop.

"And I tried! I really did! I kept trying to get your... the thing where you agree to something... and you never even looked! And you're going to get back and you're going to hate it! And then you'll hate me, and you'll yell at me, and..."

"Wife..."

"And I just didn't want to live surrounded by antiques! More than antiques! Thousandyeartiques! That's what they were. I want to be here and now, with my husband and our child and..."

"C-c-child?" Damalin quickly and urgently began a series of calculations in his head. No, that... surely she'd just... they had... but... no, it wasn't... this wasn't... Well, they did... didn't they? Wasn't she? Could she be? "Wait. What did you just..."

"And I don't even know if you've considered that our anniversary is in Second Spring, and my mother and brothers are going to want to come and see me after that!"

"AiQien, I don't... wait, who's coming?" Damalin quickly assessed what he knew of the part of the Li Family he'd married into. Didn't like what he found out. "Now, hold on a moment. You can't just..."

"And I bet you didn't even remember that the blooming days are coming up! And I went to a lot of effort and and and..."

The Present Sovereign on the Dragon Throne considered his Imperial Consort for a few moments as she continued to babble, some sort of dam apparently having broken in her head. For one of those moments, he wondered if that was actually true, if he needed to call Kousenel down here to take a look at his wife. What was it called? Hysteria? Yeah. Wait, no, wasn't that not a thing? He didn't think that was a real thing. Still, the noise was getting on his nerves. Or, rather, had worn down his nerves and was working on the fabric that tied his soul to his body. And he wasn't used to being ignored. So, broken wife or not, the noise needed to stop.

And with that, he reached out and pushed her down onto the bed with one hand. Keeping her pinned there, he grabbed her flailing arms and stretched them up and over her head. "Li AiQien." He snapped, keeping his eyes on hers and putting all of his energy into telling her to be silent. And blessedly, she was, blinking up at him with a somewhat confused expression. "Thank you. Now. In order, then. I love you, and I love all of your works, and I have absolute faith in your changes to our home, and I will not yell. You have my word as your Lord, and as your husband." She nodded. Damalin's headache began to recede. Then it flared up again. "...now. What's this about a child?"

"I was thinking of.. going off of the medication..." Something was at the edge of her tongue, but he refrained from drawing it out. "I mean, we have been married almost a year and... and... maybe it is..."

Damalin slowly closed his eyes and took a breath, feeling her energy gently press up against his. "I'm not sure I'm ready, wife. I'm not sure you're ready, either. But... but in the new year, we'll talk more about it. For a moment I thought you were already..." And his eyes went wide, and locked with hers once more. "Are... are you?"

"Before I answer, Asen Damalin, answer me one question." And her voice grew even softer. "Would you change how you felt about me if I was pregnant?" Damalin recoiled. He let go of her and moved away as she sat up, and his eyes grew very, very distant as he considered. He could feel her fear and anxiety, and feel it increase the longer he took.

Finally, he moved back to the head of the bed and took her in his arms, laying down with her. He stared into her eyes, reaching up to brush his fingers through her tight bun. "You were always going to be the mother of my children, AiQien. Whether now, or a year from now, or twenty years from now. It's all a question of scheduling, wife." And he leaned in and kissed her. "A question of scheduling is a very poor reason to stop loving someone." Of course, Damalin was screaming inside, and he knew AiQien could tell. But he also meant every word, and he hoped she could tell that, too. "And I do love you. As my wife, as my consort, and as the mother of my children, now or in the future. So... so no. It... it would frighten me. I would... I would not like that I had been lied to, if I found out you had stopped taking the medication. But... but I wouldn't stop loving you."

AiQien suddenly moved against him, pressing her soft body against him. "Damalin, I..." And she rested her head against him, taking a deep breath. "I am not pregnant. I had stopped taking the medication for some time, but Ai did not see fit for us to have a child, and a friend convinced me I was foolish to play a game like that with our futures." The Empress sighed again. "And she was right. But... but I had to ask you. I had to hear you say that that is something you would want with me someday. Because... it is something I would like to have with you."

Damalin ran his hand through her soft hair, before his fingers took the needles that held her bun and pulled it loose. As her hair fell in a wave down her back he drew her up and kissed her. The kiss grew more passionate as AiQien responded, her hands running under his jacket and over his chest. Soon, he was also only in his underclothes, and she was pushed up close against him, pleased little moans leaving her as his hands made use of their long practice at bringing her joy. And then he drew back, his hand now resting by her head on the pillow. "Did you take the medication yet?"

AiQien blushed. Despite her position, despite what this had all been leading to. She sat up and placed her arms to cover herself, looking away. "I-it is only the third day. I.. I do not need to until tomorrow." And without their passion to warm her, she tugged the blanket up and over once more.

Damalin rolled away and stood up. "It is in your bag, then?"

"Yes, of course. You have seen the case I keep them in. There are three left for this year, and..."

The Emperor kicked the lever on the side of her suitcase and reached in. Like many women in his Empire, Damalin's wife carried with her a satchel of needles. AiQien had a red case for hers, which contained three remaining needles as said. He looked at them, and then at his wife. AiQien tilted her head on its side. "Did you mean what you said, wife? When you said you wished to have a child with me?"

"I do not say things I do not mean. You know that, and you know I meant it." And when their eyes met, he felt her mild confusion.

"Yes, you don't." And he refashioned the case, then walked to the window. "Really cold out there." The Emperor of the Radiant Empire, the Lord of Ten Thousand Years, the Present Sovereign Upon the Dragon Throne, ultimate arbiter and master over all he surveys... decided against opening the window, which snow was already blowing against. Instead, he threw the case against the opposite wall with all his considerable strength, smiling at the shattering sound.

"I... I do not understand." AiQien murmured, looking up at her husband.

"But do you object?"

"I... I do not object, either, I just do not understand."

Damalin walked over and sat next to her on the bed, then leaned in and kissed his wife. "The poets of old were wise. And I will yield to them. They tell us there is a time for every act, and that we will know when that time has come. I believe this is the time for this act." And he took her hand and smiled nervously. "And... and I am the Sovereign, after all. If we change our mind before you become fertile, we can have more medicine. All the medicine you could want. I mean, maybe I could have thought this through a bit more, but... but looking at you... thinking about what we've said... I do love you, wife, and I know you will have my child someday. Why... why quibble over when?"

AiQien smiled. "And you believe that after the medication leaves my system I will let you lay a hand on me one way or another?"

"I... I... I... I didn't mean to presume... you know that I... I'm sorry, did I... you said you didn't..."

AiQien leaned up and kissed him, taking his hand and bringing it to her navel. "I did not object. Nor do I believe you to be presumptive." And she pulled, gently leading him next to her once more. "I just like to see you nervous sometimes." And her nerve struck and she leaned in, whispering in his ear, "Almost as much as I like what you better start doing to me soon, Asen Damalin. It is cold, and I wish you to warm me." And that, it seemed, was enough for her to say on that subject, because her husband, regardless of his position, was always most eager to obey his wife's commands.

[Roania]

Ta Min was not a frequent visitor to the Palace, especially not when the Sovereign and his consort were absent. But here she was, sitting on the Great Encircling Wall and watching fireworks over the distant bay as the residents of Imperial City celebrated the beginning of a new season, her feet dangling over the Yah. Were she not a reixan, of course, this would be an incredibly dangerous position for her. As it was, she was perfectly safe, so Ten Xo had gone to bed and the endlessly patrolling guards left her to her own devices.

Such a foolish reason for her to come. But the Chaplain had been most insistent that she needed to personally oversee the reinstallation of the Imperial Tablets, and it was beneath her to actually officiate at the season's festival, so she had nothing better to do. Next year... well, next year, she would be a woman. 'In three months, I shall be a woman.' And the thought made her shiver, with either anticipation or fear. A woman... all the responsibilities of her position, all the power... not that she didn't have it already, but she hesitated to use it, wishing none to see in her youth a reason to disobey. Her plans, too, could begin... she would make of all the worlds a paradise! And... and she would be a woman. And what is a woman? She knew the teachings, of course. A woman is the mate of a man and a man is the mate of a woman. She could... would... begin to explore what that meant, though.

The Celestial Master placed her hands on her sides for a moment, permitting herself to notice once again the damage that marred her form. Would a man find that intolerable? She couldn't know. Wouldn't know until a man had... had her in a position... 'Ai! I blush!' Blushing was beneath Min's station! That would never do. And she shook her head and let her mind drift back to the fireworks.

Of course, Rest in Imperial City was no more real than it was in Temple City. But it struck her as unseemly, regardless, that they should celebrate a week meant to be one of solemn consideration. That they had no fear of the world's long night did not mean that their countrymen shared their freedom, or that they would be in any less danger should they venture beyond the walls. No, she shall speak to someone about this. Of course she had no authority to command; such an idea was anathema when she knew as well as they that they were not straying from the Precepts. But... but they could show more respect, and Ta Min was just the woman (well, girl) to tell them so!

She sprung to her feet at the chiming of the bells that marked the beginning of Second Watch. Rudan had sunk beneath the distant waves, and the fireworks were growing bigger and brighter as the moons showed themselves. Next year she would stay at home, even if the Lord of Ten Thousand Years Himself requested her presence. Min even allowed herself a moment of spiteful glee that He and His wife, the cause of her travels, were not here to see the fireworks. Just one moment, though. That feeling was beneath her station, and treacherous besides.

With the perfect poise drilled into her since she had turned twelve, she moved herself from her old seat to a higher one, balancing on the edge as she strove to catch the last flickers of light. "Ai, we thank you for the day that has passed and plead for your protection in the night that is to come. Spirits of the day, spirits of the night, farewell and welcome." She let herself sink to the ground for a bow, and then slowly stood up.

And turned on her heel, delivering a spinning kick to the face of the man who had thought to approach her unawares! Or such was her intention, but he reacted with sublime grace, the outreached hand swiftly moving to block and deflect. She let her foot sink. "How dare you? Do you know who you have approached? Be grateful I do not summon..."

The man was babbling at her in a language she failed to recognize, but that was unimportant. He... he had the ears of a fox! And she could see a tail around him! And when he flashed a smile, she caught the glimpse of a fang! Was... was this a spirit, showing himself to her? No, she had felt no such presence, only a mortal. But... but who... here in the Palace? She knew of no such people within the borders of the Realm! Surely... surely she... "Who are you?" And she moved slightly, prepared to launch another attack, though she knew that untrained as she was in those arts it would do no good.

He answered her in standard, though with an accent that suggested he was familiar with the (relatively) civilized tongue the Akati spoke. "Careful there. You could fall." The idea was so preposterous it took her a moment to realize what he meant, and she let herself laugh as she stepped down to the walkway. Min took the moment to realize that he was nearly a foot taller than her. That he was very handsome, especially with those spirit features. And that he did have a nice smile. "I'm Seig." And he placed one hand with the other and bowed perfectly.

This was all very confusing for her, but it wouldn't do for her to show that! "I am Ta Min." She placed her hands together and bowed to the boy... no, he wore his hair up... the man? Either way, now that she had introduced herself, he would surely be on his way.

"A pleasure to meet you, Ta Min." Was his answer, with easy insouciance. And she realized, suddenly, that he was appraising her. Considering her. What was that word? Ogling her! Well, perhaps not that, but she could read from him that he was enjoying looking at her far too much! And she opened her mouth to rebuff him for it, but he went on. "I was thinking of heading out into the city and seeing the night festival. It would be more fun with someone with me. Interested?" And she could feel his amusement, and his friendliness, and...

And now Min realized that as she had been reading him, he had been reading her. She stilled her soul and stifled the anger at his presumption, then summoned the gift of the Spirits to her bidding. "I do not think..." She began in the hollow, echoing tone, her words spoken to send a shiver down any being with a soul.

But Seig interrupted her, shaking his head and hitting her hard with his Ai-given smile. "Don't need to think, Ta Min! Come on. Do you want to go into the city or not?" And he flashed that same smile again, and she lost her train of thought, because she could feel the confidence and the power behind it, and all questions as to his origins or his presumption flew from her mind.

For the first time since she had become Celestial Master, Min fell speechless. Is that something she wanted? Did she... could she? "Well... It... if it is just to go into the city, then..."

"I knew you could speak it." He said with a laugh, and she felt the blush overpower her reserve. "Don't be embarrassed." He said with a smile. "You have lost no face in my eyes, and you should lose none in your own." And she took a breath (Noting where his eyes went when she did), nodded, and put her hand on his arm. "Coming with me, then?" She nodded, not wishing to mortify herself any further.

[Roania]

Space tore itself apart in a flurry of black and white diamonds as the lines and flames of an Imperial Cruiser reentered real space from Crystal Space. As usual, there was a brief silence before, on all frequencies (probably causing significant static down below, but that was not a concern), the voice and image of a dour Rudani man in a blue-grey robe appeared, standing, his arms behind him.

"Attention. I am Ko Harrel, Captain of the Lord of Ten Thousand Year's Ship Dauntlessness and Vigor are the Tools of the Brave. I greet you in the Shenqin Emperor's name. Ten Thousand Years!" There was the sound, off-screen, of many voices repeating the same words. "I have come at the bidding of the High Admiral of the Fifth Fleet to observe and protect a research team we will be deploying below. I am told their mission is to study the effects of Nimatojin interference with a neutral world." His eyes narrowed somewhat. "This is, after all, a neutral world, is it not?" Which was a lie, of course. It was an Imperial World that just so happened not to be within the Realm at the moment. As were all worlds. "We have no intention of interfering with your mission. Only observation. Unless you are doing something that needs to be interfered with? Of course you are not." At no point did he listen or care for any response. "We will, however, defend ourselves and the local inhabitants if need be. End communication."

The cruiser shut down its transmitter and began the lengthy process of maneuvering into orbit. Captain Ko considered himself and his men and his options and sighed. This was not what he had signed up for. "You are sure this is not a Class 7 world?"

"I am positive, honored captain." The IAC attache looked up from her book, smiled briefly, and looked back down. She would be pretty, if she wasn't a damn skulker.

"Very good. Men, begin preparing the shuttles for departure. Mission begins in three hours."