by JC Kang
Several porcelain flasks of rice wine were passed around, to be poured into small white cups. Thinking back to that humiliating brush with wine and a drunken traipse through Huajing with Avarax, Kaiya waved it off.
“Unfortunately, many of our leafy vegetables are past harvest in this cold climate,” the ambassador said. “However, we import some of our spices and seasoning and use local produce to imitate cuisine from home. It is quite delicious if not authentic. Please, try some.”
Kaiya had been clenching her jaws. She must have quite a dreadful expression. With a shy smile, she took her chopsticks in hand and extended them towards the only dish she recognized: the braised pork. Hand cupped beneath, she lifted it.
The entire room had fallen quiet. Everyone was trying to hide the fact that they were watching her. When she slid it into her mouth and nodded graciously, the collective sigh of relief was silent but obvious.
How ironic. Her recent flare-up of food allergies was a state secret, to prevent tarnishing the image of Perfect Princess. As hard as it was to maintain that façade, her countrymen tried even harder to accommodate her.
Pretending to ignore their stares, Kaiya raised her rice bowl and scooped out a small clump with her chopsticks. She took a few small bites, and the weight of attention gradually fell away. Thank the Heavens for the reprieve from the guests’ scrutiny. She tentatively picked at the unfamiliar dishes.
The evening wore on, with the slow trickle of individuals coming to introduce themselves with deep bows soon building up to a torrent of bobbing heads. It became the perfect excuse for ignoring the food. Even if socializing was tiring and not particularly enjoyable, at least she excelled at it. Her neck would certainly be sore in the morning from all of the nodding. After the ritual exchange of pleasantries, she committed each person’s name to memory.
Tomorrow’s welcoming reception at the Teleri Embassy would be more of the same, albeit with a bewildering plethora of foreign names and faces. Among those would be First Consul Geros Bovyan of the Teleri Empire, and she’d be relying on Tian to guide her.
Tian. She’d have to apologize to him in private, and then share her biggest secret: the imminent announcement of her betrothal. He’d want to know.
She looked towards his corner, only to find that his seat was empty.
CHAPTER 8:
A Losing Game
Summoned by Jie, Tian was grateful to escape the reception and focus on something other than the slow and tortuous death of his childhood memories. From the shadows of the hall, he shot a last glance back at the princess. How could she be so picky? She wouldn’t so much as look at the clams, an expensive delicacy and the main course of the meal.
The girl he remembered was open-minded and adventurous. He was just now coming to grips with the notion that that girl was gone, transformed by years of extravagance in the Hua imperial court. How different from the austere life and demanding training he’d endured. Hopefully, she would return home soon, before the memories of his youth were completely poisoned, leaving him only with the realities of the present.
“King’s rook forward three,” Jie said even before he set foot in his office. “Check.”
“Interesting move. You’ve played an unorthodox game so far.”
Jie shrugged, her expression blank.
Tian absently ran a hand over one of the Cobweb lines. “Did our prisoners have anything to say?”
“If he’s to be believed, one said that their goal was to catalog this office, to see what you knew.”
“You don’t believe him.”
Jie smirked. “I have no doubt he was telling the truth. But I couldn’t get them to say why they’d placed a staged intoxicant in the princess’ lip rouge and gowns.”
Tian nodded, pondering. “They breached our security. How?”
“They’re recent arrivals, hired by the Zhou family as bodyguards.” She traced relative locations in the air. “After escorting them here, they told the gate guards they would wait in the barracks to meet some friends. That is when one tried to access the Cobweb and the others snuck into the princess’ chambers. Hired hands and some other Teleri soldiers made a concerted effort to create distractions outside the walls.”
Tian scrunched his nose. Such poor planning, and even worse execution. “Where are the prisoners now?”
Jie pointed down. “Still in the warehouse tunnels. I was waiting to see what you wanted to do with them.”
“Find out more about the Nightblades. Who trains them. How many there are here. This might be our best chance. I trust that you can do that? Given a little more time?”
Jie brushed a lock of hair behind her ear and looked up through her lashes. “Unfortunately, with my limited tools, teenage boys are a difficult lock to pick.”
That seductive look! It made perfect use of her exotic elf-influenced features. Heavens, Jie was quite beautiful. How had he missed it all these years? Maybe calling her Little Sister so many times had consigned her to the inappropriate category in his mind. Or perhaps idealized memories of a child princess had blinded him to the young woman right in front of him.
Jie wasn’t just cute. She was beautiful. Such a novel concept.
She looked up, one eyebrow raised. He had paused for more than a beat, and she was waiting on his answer.
“Um, good.” What was the question again? Tian quickly changed the subject. “Now. What about the Teleri? Their troop movements?”
Jie produced a map of the city from the fold of her dress. It depicted Iksuvius’ location between the west bank of the Alto River on the east and Cold Harbor to the west, with city walls surrounding the Old City on the north, east, and south sides.
She pointed to the center of the city, close to the Teleri compound. “Their cavalry are stabled here.” She then indicated a spot near the Hua embassy. “Here, off of the western market, are five hundred soldiers; and near the northern and eastern gates are three hundred soldiers each. Another three hundred at the southwest and northwest gates. The rest are staying on Teleri embassy grounds.”
“That’s not protection for the First Consul. That’s an army. Three thousand additional Teleri soldiers. That triples the number of Bovyans in Iksuvius.”
Jie sucked on her lower lip. “A simple show of force? The Northwest Summit is when they demonstrate that they are the real masters of the region, to show they are the inheritors of the Arkothi Empire.”
Tian glanced up at his nest of notes, then back at the map. “Look at their positions. They control all of the main gates into the capital. Except the southern gate.”
Jie’s eyes widened. “The summit is a distraction. They’re staging an invasion. The capital is their prize. "
“Four thousand Bovyans. Against twenty thousand Iksuvi soldiers and city guards.” Tian shook his head. Was it possible? Bovyans weren’t just the most physically imposing men in the world, but also the best trained. From six months of age, when a Bovyan was weaned from the breast, he’d be raised by men in a warrior culture.
Jie made a show of counting on her fingers, though she’d likely run several scenarios through her head already. “Almost an even match, but it would leave the First Consul exposed. And with the Nothori nations already paying an exorbitant tribute, what would the Teleri have to gain from an invasion?”
Tian tapped his chin. Of course. If anything besides brutal training and constant warfare kept the Bovyans’ population in check, it was the Orc God Tivar’s curse on their ancestor. Because of it, their race had no females, and women of other races would miscarry a second Bovyan pregnancy. They procreated through the institutionalized gang rape of every last flowering girl in their vast territory. Tian’s face scrunched up. “Breeding stock.”
Jie fidgeted. No doubt she’d seen it played out during her deep reconnaissance into the heart of the Teleri Empire. How could it not be unsettling, especially with the Teleri Empire’s inhumane process? After giving birth, a new mother would never even hold her own baby. He’d be taken away,
so that the empire was the only mother he’d ever know. Meanwhile, the young woman would serve as a wet nurse for a different lot of boys before being sent back to her life. To marry, give birth to more girls. To continue the inhumane cycle.
“Ignore the motives,” Tian said. “For now. Can four thousand Teleri soldiers take the city? I don’t think so.”
“There’s another piece of the puzzle. We believe there is a Keeper from the Shrine of Geros,” Jie said, referring to the Bovyans’ most sacred temple in their capital of Tilésité. It housed some of their progenitor’s personal effects—most importantly, his final testament, which laid down his vision for establishing peace and stability. The Keepers were trained to read and interpret its arcane language, and provide guidance as to how the Testament should be applied to the modern Teleri state.
Tian sucked in his breath. “Keepers don’t leave the Shrine. Let alone Tilésité.”
“There’s something much bigger going on than just the Northwest Summit,” Jie said. “We have proof they tried to poison the princess. Even if it seems more like a prank than a threat, the Teleri are up to no good. We should call off her meeting with the First Consul and send her home sooner.”
Tian shook his head. “Hua would appear weak. It’s a drastic decision. We need to find out more. Tomorrow’s reception at the Teleri embassy. It’s the perfect opportunity. Every dignitary will be there. The princess gives us a reason to be there, too. I’ve never been inside.”
Jie glared at him. “Be careful how you use the princess. She’s not just a chess piece to set out as bait.”
Chess piece? Tian grinned. Jie’s unusual strategy had given him the upper hand, but maybe he was missing something. “Speaking of which. Queen takes rook.”
“King’s knight to king’s three. Check.”
Tian sighed. He could sacrifice his knight now to save his queen, but it would only prolong the inevitable. “It’s just as I feared. My queen is hopelessly lost.”
“Your move.”
CHAPTER 9:
Rogues’ Gallery
With spears in their left hands, the black-clad soldiers thudded their right fists against their chests as First Consul Geros Bovyan XLIII passed. The sound of their salute and his own heavy boots echoed down the bare stone halls of the Teleri embassy, the rhythm reminding him of cocking Eldaeri repeating crossbows.
A titan among giants, he absently nodded down to his fellow Bovyans, thinking more about the impending meeting with his spymaster.
The embassy steward shuffled toward him, his impeccable dress coat rustling with his incessant bowing. A balding Nothori man of middle years, he barely came up to Geros’ chin. “Your Excellency, you have a visitor in the audience hall.”
Already. Geros harrumphed. The local sycophants were so pathetic. Without slowing his pace, he waved a hand. “Yes, yes. The Nothori kings undoubtedly heard of my arrival and are coming a day early to kiss my feet. However, I gave you specific instructions that I was not to be disturbed by outsiders tonight.”
The man’s head bobbed, and he licked his lips. “Your Excellency, it is not the kings. This one… I could not keep him out. He just…appeared.”
Geros paused mid-stride. “Appeared?”
“Yes, Your Excellency. He was in the audience hall, demanding to see you. He is…is…sitting on your throne.”
On his throne! Someone would die tonight. Geros suppressed an angry snarl, looking back to see if his shadow was still following him. He lengthened his gait towards the audience hall, motioning for the guards stationed along the walls to follow. “My men did not remove him?”
“They are trying…”
Geros slammed the double doors open and stalked into the spacious audience chamber. It was almost as he remembered it from five years before: stone, cold, and bare, save for the banners of the Teleri Empire and each of its army divisions hanging from the walls.
One difference was the sight of his soldiers littering the floor, all alive but nursing wounds with low groans. The other difference was on the throne directly in front of him.
Slouching back with legs splayed sat the King of the Altivorcs himself. Bedecked in a sharp dress uniform and sporting a thin silver crown, he lazily twirled a magic wand around a finger. A half-dozen stocky, turquoise-skinned altivorc guards in chain tunics flanked him with arms crossed, though their broadswords remained sheathed.
With a shout, one of Geros’ guards surged forward, lowering a spear.
Geros’ vision flashed with lines of yellow as the Eye of Solaris in his skull processed the guard’s vector of attack. It would hit the Altivorc King's chest.
The wand stopped spinning and settled in the King’s hand. Pointing it at the guard, he grunted a grotesque-sounding syllable that the human mouth probably couldn’t imitate. A blast of blue energy burst out from the wand and slammed into the guard.
Knees buckling, his man crumpled to the floor in a heap. The spear clattered away.
Two more guards roared out challenges and stepped forward with weapons lowered, but Geros raised an open hand. “Enough!”
Both soldiers snapped to attention, while the King grinned and resumed the twirling of his wand.
“You.” Geros regarded the King of the Orcs through narrowed eyes, evaluating. No one was sure how old he was, and some suggested that he was not even the same individual over the centuries. He had first appeared in history almost a millennium ago, as his people were losing control of Tivaralan during the War of Ancient Gods. Unlike other altivorcs, whom humans would consider short and quite unattractive, the King combined the handsomeness of an elf with the frame of a Bovyan.
“Thank you for answering my summons so promptly.” The King grinned, revealing his fangs.
Heat surged into Geros’ head, but he held his tongue. Only this pompous boor could lift the curse the first Geros—the mortal son of the Sun God Solaris, and progenitor of the Bovyan race—had submitted to. In return for strength, he had sacrificed his descendants’ life force to sustain the Altivorc King. Until the King relinquished this benefit, all Bovyans would expire just past their thirty-third birthday.
A date in Geros’ near future. He clenched his jaw.
The King stood and stepped down off the dais, laughing. “Geros, Geros, forgive my bad joke. We’re all friends here.” He sheathed his wand and sat down on the edge of the dais, patting a spot for Geros to join him.
“Of course.” Geros didn’t bother to disguise the disdain in his voice as he walked over and sat. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your company? I am sure you have more important matters to attend to.”
“Nothing is more important than giving an old friend advice. Especially on the eve of, shall we say, his crowning moment.”
Crowning… How did the King know so much? Geros scowled, the underlying messages in that one statement not lost on him. “And what advice is that?”
“Bovyans have a propensity to underestimate what you humans would call the fairer sex. My counsel is this: do not take the princess of Cathay lightly. Your allies in the South did and fared the worse for it. So did Avarax.” The King produced a grey metal collar and tossed it at Geros’ feet. "Put this around her neck, if you have a chance."
Geros laughed. “I was not elected First Consul by my peers in the Directori for my charm. Nor have I defeated all of my enemies by looking down on them. Your advice is duly noted. But rest assured, I have taken measures to ensure the girl’s capacities will be impaired.”
“Your Excellency.” A small Bovyan soldier in dress uniform stepped forward, pounding his fist against his chest. Fair-skinned with short-cut blond hair, he was clearly of Nothori stock. “I am your chief of spies in Iksuvius. Might I discuss the matter of Princess Kaiya in private?”
“No need,” Geros said. “We are all friends here. Speak.”
The spymaster’s gaze darted from the First Consul to the King and back again. “I am afraid the outcome of our attempt to influence the princess with an intoxicant is u
ncertain.”
“Uncertain?” Geros frowned, and the spymaster shrunk under his glare.
“Our insertion into the Cathayi embassy was countered. The lone survivor reports that the intoxicants were delivered into the princess’ effects, but that they might be discovered by their Black Fists.”
The Altivorc King chuckled. “Black Fists? What ever happened to the Black Fist traitor we recruited for you, what—twenty, thirty years ago? The Surgeon? It sounds like he’d do a better job of planning than this fool.”
The spymaster snorted. “With due respect to Master Feiying, he is not Bovyan.”
The King burst out laughing again. “Neither were the ones who countered your insertion.”
Geros snapped his fingers.
A shadow by the throne coalesced into a slim humanoid shape, dressed all in black. In the light, the short, wiry man was revealed to be Cathayi, with a honey-toned skin coloration that emphasized the sharp cheekbones and sunken eye sockets in his gaunt face.
The spymaster’s eyes widened, and he hit his chest with his right hand. “Master Feiying.”
Feiying’s expression seemed frozen in a perpetual frown. “I may not be Bovyan, but as the King of Orcs says, I would not have been so foolish as to plant Nightblades in a place protected by Black Fists. You may have the physical assets, but not the right mentality.”
“Which is exactly why I brought Feiying with me from Tilésité.” Geros frowned at the spymaster while jerking his head towards Feiying. “Debrief the master—and the rest of us—while you are here.”
The spymaster bowed his head in acquiescence. “A dozen Black Fist spies operate out of the Cathayi embassy. They mostly function as information-gatherers. However, since a half-elf girl joined their ranks a month ago—”
“A half-elf Black Fist?” The King sat up straight, his aloof demeanor jolting into one of keen interest. He and Feiying exchanged glances.
The spymaster continued, ignoring the King. “—their duties have shifted towards security. We assumed that was in preparation for their princess’ arrival. After our failed attempt to penetrate their security, only two of our Nightblades remain. ”