A crow's call might not be ominous.
Eastern Sage
Their party had to halt upon entering Ahava. The air buzzed with the clamor of merchants shouting their wares, the scent of spiced nuts and roasting lamb curling through the wide streets. Wagons bearing lacquered chests, rolled silk, and crates of exotic fruit from distant empires clogged the road, their attendants shouting over each other in a medley of accents. The envoy flags fluttered in the dry wind, casting sharp-edged shadows over the cobblestone.
A sharp whistle cut through the din—a warning too late. Feisty young masters, their embroidered robes snapping in the wind, galloped down the main thoroughfare on restless steeds, their hooves striking sparks against the stone. One nearly crashed into the Mu flag bearer, Arda' Zi. Raq' Mu spat a curse under his breath, his grip tightening around his reins.
With a sharp gesture, he signaled his men to veer left, leading them down a narrower side street branching off the Academy Road, to wait until the main road became free. The scent of freshly dyed fabric and parchment ink clung to the air here, mixing with the richer aroma of steamed rice and sizzling sesame oil from a nearby vendor's stall.
Tez' Mu's stomach was aching with hunger by now. He dismounted, the stiffness in his legs protesting after the long ride, and wove his way toward the family carriage. Inside, the air was thick with the fragrant warmth of corncakes and fried meat. His mother and sister had already started eating, their dishes arranged neatly on a lacquered tray. The silver edge of a sauce bowl gleamed in the sunlight as Eima, Essa-kest' Mu's maid, set it down, even as she refilled a delicate porcelain cup.
"Why don't you eat on your horse?" Chan' Mu snorted as Tez' Mu sat opposite her, the folds of his robe crinkling against the cushioned seat.
He ignored her and eagerly took the plate of corncakes that Eima offered. The golden crust was crisp beneath his fingers, still warm from the brazier, the scent of sweet corn and honey rising in soft waves. He took a bite—then nearly shattered his teeth on something hard.
"Luck is yours, my ke," Eima said, her lips curving into a knowing smile.
Tez' Mu rolled his eyes, fishing the small metal piece out of his mouth. A coin. It was cool against his fingertips, slightly slick from the cake's syrup. The image was an unfamiliar engraving—a woman's head, sharp-featured and imperious.
"Since when have we had sixty two kerahs?" Tez' Mu frowned as he examined the coin, running his thumb over the its edges.
"It is a new coin," Essa-kest' Mu replied in a low voice, chewing and swallowing. "I suppose it is one of the things we'll celebrate today."
"The Dowager is sixty two?" Chan' Mu raised her eyebrows, her lips quirking. "I didn't know she was that old."
"Chan'!" Essa-kest' Mu frowned sternly but Chan' Mu only sniggered.
"What? I'm sensible enough to know what not to say when we're in the palace."
"I don't think so," Essa-kest' Mu frowned, cutting open her own cakes to make sure there were no more hidden coins. Flattening the pieces on her plate, she spread a thin layer of sauce over them before eating, elegantly, not getting even one crumb on her mouth. Chan' Mu meanwhile, was tearing flesh off a chicken drumstick, her teeth sinking into the crispy skin with an audible crunch. Grease stained her fingertips, but she didn't care. She was determined to not change her demeanor until she had no choice.
"Is Father not hungry?" she asked, licking the salt from her fingers before reaching for a corncake. She selected the largest one, then, with the handle of her spoon, carefully carved her name into its surface.
"Give this to my lord father," she said, placing the cake onto one of the ornate plates and handing it to Eima. A sly grin stretched across her face. "With love from Chan'."
The elderly maid smiled dotingly and obliged her. Tez' Mu leaned out of the carriage window to watch her go. She reached Raq' Mu and pointed back towards the carriage as she spoke to him. Raq' Mu took the plate. A rare, fleeting smile flickered across his face before he bit into the cake. Then he winced and spat out a coin onto his palm. He looked at it for a while, his eyes narrowing. Clearly he was also seeing it for the first time.
"My lord, the way is clear!" Arda' Zi's voice rang over the din of hooves and voices. At once, the carriage drivers snapped to attention, reins tightening in their hands. Tez' Mu crammed the rest of his cake into his mouth, the sweetness cloying on his tongue. He reached for the glass of water his mother handed him and downed it in one gulp. Then he jumped down from the carriage and ran back to his horse even as Raq' Mu called his name.
Ugh, he thought, as he swung into the saddle, my stomach won't like this.
He would have preferred a slower pace, but Raq' Mu did not want to waste time anymore. One moment his father was beside him—then he blinked, and Raq' Mu had already pulled up to Arda' Zi, who had a hundred paces' head start. Tez' Mu had no choice but to also spur his own horse forward. The figures of Kai' Ai and Yu' Jun streaked past him, their horses galloping swiftly. Tez' Mu gave up then, only managing to stay just ahead of his mother and sister's carriage, already feeling the food churning about in his stomach.
The gates of the royal palace loomed ahead. Twin banners of Ochelon fluttered high above the battlements—one on the east tower, the other on the west—bearing the golden insignia of the empire: a golden crown and sword on a field of red, eye-catching in the blaze of the early morning sun.
Soon Tez' Mu found himself passing under the wide arch of the gates. It opened up into a wide garden, fondly called the front courtyard of the royal palace by the nobility; lined with groves of golden-leafed syri trees and fountains carved from luminescent jade. Ornate lanterns, unlit in the daylight, hung from curved wooden posts, their delicate glass panes painted with celestial beasts.
Here all the dignified guests were dismounting their horses and descending their carriages, before they assembled, family by family, envoys and ambassadors, officials and generals— and entered through the many doors leading into the towering domed structure at the heart of the courtyard: the Scith, its curved walls painted with gold-leaf patterns of dragons and phoenixes. The Scith was more than a mere banquet hall. It was Ochelon's royal court and jury house, the very core of imperial power. Above, on the pinnacle of the dome roof, a single flag of the empire fluttered.
Eima helped Essa-kest' Mu down from the carriage. She reached out to Chan' Mu as well, but the girl refused, leaping down with a smirk, earning a glare from her mother. Tez' Mu alighted from his horse and approached his father along with them.
Raq' Mu was already the center of attention. Nobles swarmed around him, murmuring their greetings before hurrying inside. Arda' Zi stood next to him bearing the flag of the House of Mu like a standard.
"Be mindful of your etiquette, children," Essa-kest' Mu murmured as they approached the crowd. A few noble ladies turned toward her, their painted lips curving into graceful smiles. She responded gracefully, reaching out and patting any proffered hands. Tez' Mu kept a thin smile that felt more like a grimace on his face.
Chan' Mu, on the other hand, was exuding a quiet but unmistakable repelling aura—one that made people instinctively shift aside as she walked past them. She reached Raq' Mu first, her eyes scanning the crowd with sharp intent. Tez' Mu followed her gaze but failed to catch who she was looking for.
"Alright," said Raq' Mu when Essa-kest' Mu and Tez' Mu finally waded through to him, "Come now."
Arda' Zi led the way, carrying the flag high as if he was afraid people didn't see it. Raq' Mu followed, then Essa-kest' Mu. Tez' Mu trailed behind his father, while Chan' Mu fell in line behind their mother. They entered through the main entrance of the Scith, the one directly opposite the dais. It was currently empty.
The royals would not arrive until the hall was full.
Rows of tables circled the hall on each level, arranged according to rank and prestige. Raq' Mu led his family towards the eastern side. As they took their seats, Tez' Mu exhaled slightly, allowing himself a moment to relax.
It didn't last.
"It's Lord-General He," Essa-kest' Mu said. Tez' Mu turned his head as a tall, broad-shouldered man began striding toward them. He recognized Jizu' He. "Tez', Chan'," his mother added in a low voice, "On your feet."
Chan' Mu rolled her eyes but obeyed, rising fluidly. Tez' Mu followed suit, straightening just as the man reached their table. They both bowed.
"Raq' Mu, my brother in arms!" Jizu' He spread his arms as he smiled. Raq' Mu stood and embraced him over the table, their hands clapping against each other's backs in a warrior's greeting. They immediately launched into a discussion about the campaign on Nuhai which Raq' Mu had just concluded.
Tez' Mu and Chan' Mu resumed their seats. But not for long.
"Saroin'!" Essa-kest' Mu's voice softened as she rose, stepping out from behind the table to embrace her brother. "I didn't see you the last time I was at Darin."
"You came home?" Saroin' Kest smiled and lifted a hand in recognition of his niece and nephew, who had bowed deeply. "I didn't know that."
Essa-kest' Mu beamed, "Father said you were on a patrol of the borders. How is Ru-yen'? And Huiran'?"
"They are well," Saroin' Kest replied, flicking his fingers, retrieving a small gold totem from his spatial ring in one smooth motion.
"They're not here?" Essa-kest' Mu frowned as she took the totem without breaking eye contact. The exchange was so swift even Tez' Mu barely caught it.
"Huiran' didn't want to come." Saroin' Kest smirked. "He's about to breakthrough and he doesn't want to be disturbed."
"Really? I didn't know that. What rank is he now?"
"He's about to reach Martial Lord. I hope he succeeds. At least Father would ease up on him a bit," Saroin' Kest said with a grin.
Tez' Mu turned his face away, blood rushing to it. Ancestors, his uncle would ask him his rank any moment from now...
He was saved by a regally dressed woman who approached their table, her flowing robe and jewelry not at all concealing her battle-carved aura. Following after her was a beautiful girl in a wudan robe, with copper-colored hair done up in a bun. Keiran' Ru. Tez' Mu reddened.
Niari' Ru, the third great-general of Ochelon, greeted Essa-kest' Mu with easy familiarity, even as heads turned towards the Mu table, where three of the four great-generals were now converged. Keiran' Ru bowed respectfully to Saroin' Kest, just as Tez' Mu and his sister came forward to greet the Ru matriarch.
"You've grown into a man, Tez'," Niari' Ru remarked, to his consternation. He dreaded what she should say next.
She did not disappoint. "Since Royan's wedding did not end well, shall we plan another, Essa'?" She asked of Essa-kest' Mu, brusquely, "Where is she, by the way?" Niari' Ru added as she glanced about her.
"Royan' could not come." Essa-kest' Mu pursed her lips, "And I'm afraid my House will not be hosting any weddings for a while."
"You don't have to; we will," Niari' Ru pressed. "Nahyu is always in a festive mood. You just have to pick a date. Or we can allow the children to pick."
"Mother!" Keiran' Ru exclaimed the same time Essa-kest' Mu let out an aggravated sigh. "Her majesty will soon be here, mother," Keiran' Ru added, pulling on the sleeve of Niari' Ru's narkkir. "Let's return to our place so we can present our gift."
"Alright," Niari' Ru turned around, allowing her daughter to pull her along, "I will speak to you about this later, Essa-kest' Mu," she said over her shoulder.
A blast of trumpets filled the air then, as an orderly band of musicians entered the Scith, their polished instruments gleaming under the high lanterns. Essa-kest' Mu shooed her children back to their table quickly as a short herald climbed up the steps of the dais and announced in a loud voice:
"Presenting Her Majesty, the Dowager Queen Iris-han' Hezt, of the bloodline of kings; the eighty-fourth Monarch and Reigning Regent over the sovereign kingdom of Ochelon!"
The murmurs in the hall ceased. Every gaze turned toward the door behind the throne on the dais. Then she emerged, a tall willowy dark-skinned woman with braided white hair on which sat a small crown, the very one depicted on the imperial banners above. Her eyes surveyed the room as she moved forward to take her seat on the throne. Everyone bowed.
"You may rise," Her voice, though measured, held a strange, tilting weight, like a scale never quite balanced. It carried down from the dais and filled the hall.
The herald's voice rang out again. "Families of renown, sworn to the crown, come forward and pay your respects! Kest!"
On the west side of the hall, Saroin' Kest rose and approached the dais, the Kest flag bearer following. Whispers filled the Scith. Tez' Mu watched his mother's lips press into a thin line, as if that would make it stop.
As Saroin' Kest took a knee, the murmurs increased.
The Dowager raised her hand. The hall fell silent.
"Son of Kest," she addressed the kneeling man. "Where is your father, my subject?"
"My lord father—your subject Offal' Kest—is recuperating from a bout of the flu, Your Majesty," Saroin' Kest replied with a steady voice, his head bowed low. "He expresses his deep regrets for not being able to attend Your Majesty's banquet."
"The flu, you say?" The Dowager leaned back, her fingers tracing the carved armrest of her throne. "What a shame."
She smiled faintly.
Tez' Mu shivered.
"I bring my lord father's wishes of health and longevity to Your Majesty," Saroin' Kest continued after a beat, raising a scroll high above his head. "May Your Majesty witness three thousand harvests," he intoned.
"Rise," said the Dowager coldly.
A servant moved forward, taking the scroll from Saroin' Kest and carried it up the dais. When he reached the throne, the Dowager waved a hand, dismissing it without even looking.
"Mu!" called the herald.
Raq' Mu rose, just as Saroin' Kest got up and returned to his seat. Essa-kest' Mu gestured to her children. Arda' Zi lifted the banner high as they approached the foot of the dais.
They all knelt.
"Your faithful subject, Raq' Mu renews his fealty," Raq' Mu's voice was unwavering. "Together with me, the House of Mu wishes Your Majesty a lifetime of peace and health."
"You may rise," the Dowager nodded.
Tez' Mu rose only when his mother tapped his arm. He averted his eyes from looking directly at the Dowager and only stared at the plush rug on the steps of the dais, half hidden behind the broad frame of his father.
"Tez," Raq' Mu murmured, turning slightly to pass him a scroll. The brown vellum scroll was cool against Tez' Mu's palm, but his fingers had gone clammy. Lifting his feet, he stepped forward, climbing the dais with measured steps.
He took a knee a few feet away from the throne.
"Tez' of the House of Mu presents our goodwill. May Your Majesty witness three thousand harvests," he lifted the scroll above his head.
The servant took it from him, then presented it to the Dowager, who unrolled it leisurely, scanning the list of gifts.
"I am flattered, Tez' of the House of Mu," she said, though her tone suggested amusement rather than gratitude. As if the offerings were his to give. "You may rise. Enjoy my banquet."
"Thank you, Your Majesty," Tez' Mu murmured. He dared a glance at her as he rose. She stared back at him, her sharp green eyes unblinking. He quickly looked away.
"Ru!" called the herald.
Tez' Mu bowed again before descending the dais, moving swiftly back to his seat. The Mus settled behind their table just as the Rus took their place before the throne. Niari' Ru and her husband, Hren-yi' Ru, stood at the forefront, with their daughter beside them, followed by their flag bearer and two others.
"The House of Ru pays our respects," Niari' Ru spoke, her voice strong. "May the stars bless Your Majesty with health and longevity."
"Health, health," yawned the Dowager lazily, smirking lightly. "Why are you all wishing me health? Is it because I'm getting old?"
Niari' Ru did not bother to reply. She did not even smile.
"Rise," sighed the Dowager. Keiran' Ru went forward and presented the Rus' gifts. Tez' Mu noted their scroll was even longer than what he had offered. The Dowager looked over it, but did not seem to find something she liked. She handed it back to the servant.
"He!" The herald called immediately the Dowager dismissed the Rus.
Tez' Mu leaned forward, searching the group that rose. He spotted his friend behind the He flag bearer, already holding their gift scroll. Jun' He turned. Their gazes met across the hall. Tez' Mu smiled, but Jun' He did not.
The Hes followed the same ritual—offering gifts, renewing fealty—before stepping back. Then came the envoys. They all acted according to their own customs. None of them took a knee at the foot of the dais, nor did they kneel to present their gifts. Some didn't even bow. The Dowager stared down at them impassively, her face betraying nothing of her emotions.
The only delegate she paid any attention to was Marquis Huren from the Calsour Empire.
"How are you finding Ochelon's sun, marquis?" she asked, her tone almost teasing. "You will surely become as dark as we are before you leave."
The young marquis' grin widened. His once-fair skin had deepened to a warm tan over the past four months. "Your Majesty's hospitality has made my stay most pleasant," he replied smoothly, inclining his head. "Though I must say, Ochelon's warmth is generous in more ways than one."
Tez' Mu smothered a yawn. The officials had started filing in, by rank rather than family name. Among the Scith judges Muri' Ji stood out in his ostentatious tudan as expected.
Tez' Mu shifted in his seat, stifling another yawn. The greetings dragged on. How much longer would this last? His legs ached for movement, his fingers for action. He couldn't wait to take the floor, to prove himself among the gentry's finest. And when he stood victorious, Raq' Mu's gaze would find him—not as a boy, not as a son to be shielded, but as one worthy of his pride.