I don't know what tomorrow holds, but I can guess.
Tez' Mu, Head of the Onan Desar
Over the next few days the Scith was a hub of activities as reports kept coming in of the escalating restive situations in the west and south. The Dowager had ceased attending court, leaving Tez' Mu standing behind an empty throne—a sight that unsettled many. According to tradition, an untended seat of power was an ill omen, the meaning of which, no one was willing to discuss. Normally, a royal steward would place a symbolic object—a gilded fan, a ceremonial dagger, or even a small token—on the throne to indicate that the Dowager was absent by choice, not by weakness. Today, however, the throne remained bare, and whispers of unease rippled through the assembly. The lords and judges bickered below, contradicting themselves and hurling accusations.
Raq' Mu had obeyed the Dowager's command and was already deployed to Najan, where the conflict was fiercest. Meanwhile, Jizu' He had angrily departed for Irvan, the He fief, after learning that the Haru Invaders had re-annexed Alhui—a territory he had previously reclaimed before the Dowager's Banquet. Before leaving, he had made his position clear: the conflicts in the west were the Kests' responsibility, and he had no interest in suppressing their dissenters.
"Her Majesty isn't coming today either?" a ninth-rank judge, Ira' Sen, asked.
Hu' Ran shot him a scowl. "Commence proceedings!" he barked. His temper had grown short in recent days, the deep lines on his forehead never easing.
"Then I'll speak first," Ira' Sen stepped forward. "Lords, judges, officers, and councilors—I propose today's assembly be annulled! If Her Majesty refuses to appear, what purpose do we serve?"
A few lords murmured their agreement.
"There are cases to be decided," Hu' Ran countered. "Let the petitioners in!" he called out in a firm voice.
A judge scoffed. "And who will pass the final verdict? You?"
Hu' Ran turned sharply. "Guards," he said, voice steady but cold, "remove Judge Karan' Ui. The Scith shall remain sober."
A hush fell over the hall. The guards did not simply drag Karan' Ui away. Instead, they performed a ritual expulsion, waiting until Hu' Ran struck his ceremonial staff against the marble floor three times before seizing him. The cracks echoed through the chamber like a funeral knell.
As Karan' Ui was hauled from the chamber, the architecture of the Scith magnified his outcry. The high ceilings and curved walls were designed to amplify voices, a symbol of justice's transparency. But when the court was divided, it was said that the chamber "swallowed the voices of the weak."
Around the chamber, several lords paled, their faces turning ashen. Tez' Mu frowned. A judge cast out in disgrace could not return to court for a year unless they underwent a Trial of Reflection—an exile in which they were required to render impartial judgments in rural villages before their honor could be restored.
"Let the petitioners in!" Hu' Ran repeated.
A group of commoners shuffled into the hall, eyes darting between the grand pillars and the towering figures of the lords. Tez' Mu recognized them—Joavir dwellers.
"Kneel and show respect to the Scith!" the escorting official commanded.
The handful of men knelt clumsily. Several lords clicked their tongues in disdain, looking down their noses at them. But Tez' Mu noticed something else: the raised sigils embedded in the floor beneath the petitioners' knees. These symbols, cast in metal and stone, were heated from below—not enough to burn, but enough to make kneeling painful. It was an old practice meant to test a petitioner's sincerity and endurance.
One of the commoners, an older man, shifted slightly, his knee brushing against a carved emblem of the imperial crest. A nearby lord smirked.
"State your case!" Hu' Ran called out.
The foremost petitioner hesitated for only a moment before rising to his feet and bowing deeply. Behind him, another of the kneeling men gritted his teeth, trying not to wince.
"Your eminence, this humble one is called Airu. I have a stall in Ruanlin, which was set on fire because I refused to pay a so-called 'trading permit fee'." Despite his ragged appearance, he was well-spoken, "Now my means of livelihood is gone! I beg the Scith for justice." He knelt again, forehead pressed to the cold floor in the traditional sign of supplication before the assembly. Behind him, the other petitioners echoed the plea for justice.
"Give an answer, Lord Nur," a judge called out. "You oversee trading affairs, after all."
"Each district has their own rules," Lord Nur shot back, "and that is within the law."
"Extortion is not, though," Lord Kel countered, raising an eyebrow. "What is a trading permit fee?"
"It's probably exactly what it sounds like," another judge sniggered, "a fee to be allowed to trade."
Hu' Ran tapped his council staff against the floor—once, to signal the chamber to hold its decorum.
Ira' Sen turned to Airu. "Can you say for certain that you were unaware of this fee before setting up your stall? And how much was your loss when it was set on fire? The Scith requires answers."
"Thank you, your eminence," Airu bowed, "I asked round, and no one told me about the fee. I had been trading for twelve days before they came. And they didn't set it on fire in my presence. I arrived the next morning to find a smoldering ash heap. I lost nearly five thousand kerahs, my lord!" His voice cracked with emotion.
"You said 'they' came. Who are 'they'?" Lord Nur narrowed his eyes.
"The district trading officials, my lord, followed by some good-for-nothing thugs."
"Did they carry any official document? Stamp? Seal? Token?"
"No, my lord. They only said: 'In the name of Karra' Ruan, lord of Ruanlin District'," Airu replied.
A ripple of murmurs spread through the chamber. Invoking a lord's name without written decree was a punishable offense—but only if the lord in question did not later approve the act.
"Shall the Scith summon Lord Ruan?" Ira' Sen looked around. Many of the judges looked away, suddenly finding their documents very interesting.
"This is an isolated case," Lord Nur shrugged, "We cannot summon a noble lord over trivialities," he said, to assenting murmurs.
"My lord, please!" Airu's forehead shone with sweat. "My livelihood is gone! I have no way to feed my family!"
"Then why don't you go lie in the dust before the Ruan Estate and tell Karra' Ruan exactly that?" Lord Nur sneered. "Next case!"
"Wait." Lord Kel raised his hand. Airu turned toward him, hope flickering in his eyes. "The Scith shall summon Karra' Ruan."
A roar of outrage erupted from the judges' benches.
"That's on you, Lord Kel!" Lord Nur spat.
"Yes, put it on me," Lord Kel replied calmly. "Steward, mark the summons for Karra' Ruan. Call for assent?"
A heavy silence followed. Some lords turned their faces aside. Others tapped their rings against the table in silent agreement.
"Call for dissent?" Lord Nur said after a beat.
"I dissent!" A second-rank judge stood abruptly.
"I dissent as well! How can we summon a lord over a squabble of five thousand kerahs?"
"I assent!" A short noble with a voice like a battle horn hollered. "Five thousand kerahs may be nothing to you, Judge Ji, but it is this man's livelihood."
"And I as well." Another lord nodded.
"I stand with Lord Kel." Ira' Sen rose up too.
"I dissent!" A potbellied judge slammed his fist against the table.
"Is it lords against judges now? I assent!"
"Enough!"
Hu' Ran's voice crashed over the chamber, and the silver lattice of the dome above vibrated with the force of it. His council staff struck the marble floor, sending a low, ringing chime that cut through the arguing. His chest heaved as he glared down at the red-faced officials. Rather than restoring order, admitting petitioners had only stoked the flames of discord.
"The Scith shall be sober."
He had had enough.
"Take the petitioners into the side courts and decide their cases. You can make all the noise you wish there," Hu' Ran flung out his sleeves in a swirl of midnight blue fabric as he marched off the dais. Tez' Mu followed him resignedly, and was halfway across the floor when a loud voice made him stop.
"Report! Report from General Mu!"
Almost simultaneously, another runner entered, his voice ringing out.
"Declaration! Declaration from Darin Dal-kest!"
Both men dropped to a knee at the foot of the dais, holding up their respective scrolls.
Hu' Ran halted mid-step and turned, his brows knitting together.
"Hold! Wait until Her Majesty arrives before you report." He gestured them to remain. Then, without another word, he strode from the Scith.
Tez' Mu's gaze flickered to the runners as murmurs rippled through the Scith anew. The petitioners were shooed away, barely protesting as the low blare of a horn signaled the Dowager Queen's arrival.
She swept in, emerald robes trailing, her green eyes cold as she surveyed the assembly. Silence fell as the lords and judges bowed.
"Rise and report."
The Dowager seated herself. The two runners hesitated, glancing at one another, unsure who should go first.
"What does General Mu say?" Hu' Ran prompted.
The runner from Najan rose, unrolling his scroll with precise hands.
"My lord general Mu's hand: Greeting Your Majesty and the Scith!" he started to read, "Arriving in Najan this subject did not see even a shadow of the Keolyor but instead encountered the Arban Army, entrenched within our borders at Narhesh. Their commander at first sought my head, but after a friendly joust, I convinced him we had a common enemy. Our truce, however, was short-lived." the runner paused, then continued.
"The Mu Army camped opposite the desert plain near our Arban friends. A commotion broke out during the night. A Keolyor mole infiltrated the Arban camp under cover of darkness and assassinated their commander. The Arbans believe I am responsible. We are at war."
He rolled the scroll shut and bowed deeply.
A judge swore under his breath. "Ancestors' misdeeds! The effrontery of those Keolyor!"
"Peace," the Dowager raised a hand, her gaze turning sharp. "Are the Arban envoys still in the capital?"
"No, Your Majesty," Lord Ren answered, "they left yesterday."
"Very well," The Dowager's lips curled in a knowing sneer. "I believe the Arban Empire is in a cohort with these militias. So be it. Let us hear the report from Offal' Kest."
The second runner rose and unrolled his scroll.
"The fief of Darin, under the House of Kest, along with its neighboring towns and villages, hereby declares this day in the presence of the Scith, its secession from the kingdom of Ochelon. We shall be governed in the interests of the common man, under the banner of our noble lords and viscounts. We shall remain apart until the rightful ruler of Ochelon, His Majesty King Keol' Han, ascends the throne—"
His voice faltered. He glanced down. A silver dagger protruded from his stomach, its red tassel swaying gently.
A thin line of red beaded against his tunic. A strangled cough escaped his lips.
His knees buckled.
The Dowager Queen placed her hand calmly back onto her lap.
"Behead him."
Two guards emerged from behind pillars, swords unsheathing in one smooth motion.
The first guard reached the runner in a single step, his blade flashing. Blood sprayed upward, spattering the marble as the headless body crumpled to the floor.
The Dowager smiled grimly, clapping once.
"Very good." Her voice rang light and lilting, like a mother amused by a child's mischief. "Very good of my dear servant Offal' Kest. A shame this queen did not see it coming."
She turned her gaze upon the second runner—the man from Najan—who cowered in the growing pool of blood.
"I put it to the Scith." She crossed one leg over the other as the guards dragged the corpse away, crimson still pouring from the neck. "What shall be done to the traitor?"
There was silence.
Jin' Hei rose, his expression tight. "Would Your Majesty shock these subjects with such a gory display if envoys from, say, Calsour or Miyuan were present?"
"I would," the Dowager replied without hesitation. "I shall never stand for treason."
Jin' Hei exhaled sharply. "Your Majesty has eroded the dignity of the Scith," he said, shaking his head. "This is no battlefront, and these runners are akin to emissaries—"
"You shall not lecture me again today, Jin' Hei," the Dowager interrupted, her tone hard. "I asked the Scith: what shall be done to Darin?"
Jin' Hei did not answer, nor did he take his seat. His frown deepened.
Then, from the assembled lords, Lord Kel rose, his face dark with disapproval. "Lord Hei is right," he said, his voice low but firm. "This outrage has not been seen since the founding of Ochelon. That man was merely a messenger, bound by orders. He was not the traitor."
"That is true," came another voice. Lord Rui stepped forward, the candlelight catching the deep lines of his face. "And for this, I hereby renounce my position as a lord of the Scith from this hour."
Gasps rippled through the hall as he removed his silver signet ring and cast it to the floor. The metal struck the marble with a hollow clink. Without another word, he turned on his heel and strode toward the great doors.
"So do I."
Heads swiveled as Jin' Hei stepped back from the table, unfastening his own ring. He set it down with deliberate care. "I shall resume my office when justice is enthroned in the Scith."
He did not walk away. He simply vanished, the air warping around him as the soft hum of a teleportation artifact dissipated into silence.
Lord Kel let out a quiet sigh, rolling the ring on his finger between his thumb and forefinger. "I had high expectations for this court," he murmured. "But those expectations will have to wait."
With a small, regretful smile, he crushed the silver band to powder between his fingers.
Then, with a flick of his wrist, a scroll appeared in his palm. "Your Majesty, my lords and judges," he smiled round at everyone, "I shall take my leave of you." He tore the scroll in two, and the sigils inscribed upon it ignited in blue light. A teleportation matrix bloomed beneath his feet.
He disappeared.
The Scith took a collective gulp.
Three western lords had left the Scith.
The rebellion was real.
The Dowager Queen exhaled, long and slow. "Hu' Ran," she said, rubbing her temple as though weary. "You know what to do, don't you?"
***
Tez' Mu took a seat at a table in the Dowager's war room, on which the map of the kingdom was mounted. Heavy silk drapes embroidered with the imperial sigil adorned the walls, and the room stank of burning agarwood, its curling smoke rising towards the ceiling, which bore the faded remnants of a painted constellation—perhaps a relic from a previous age. Though the Scith was the legislative body of Ochelon, it was clear that much of the real governance took place here, among the four officials who made up the Imperial Council.
"I did not know it would come to this." The Dowager held a delicate porcelain cup in both hands, inhaling the steam before taking a sip. "Who knew I would live to see the day a fief would secede from the kingdom?"
At the far end of the table, opposite the Dowager, sat a broad-shouldered man in deep crimson robes. He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "Wishful thinking of that chameleon, Offal' Kest," he growled. "It cannot happen."
"But it has, my good conciliator," the Dowager replied with a small smile. "From Kehir down to Guho, the entire western region has risen in rebellion. Offal' Kest sent a runner with the declaration this afternoon."
It seemed the Imperial Conciliator, Lord Zei, had not yet heard the news. The other two council members were already engrossed in their work, scratching their quills across parchment. Hu' Ran, who had been pacing, stopped abruptly to lift a few blank sheets from the table, dropping them in front of Tez' Mu. He met Tez' Mu's shocked gaze with a sneer before returning to his restless pacing.
"We do not despise the input of a young member in this court, son of Mu," the Dowager said. Tez' Mu turned his gaze to her quickly—she had been watching him.
"Do feel free to share your thoughts," she added, smirking over the rim of her cup.
Tez' Mu swallowed hard. Since witnessing the west's declaration earlier in the day at the Scith and the ensuing chaos, a lump had settled in his throat. It did not help that the traitor in question was his own grandfather!
He could feel the weight of the other lords' gazes on him as they lifted their heads from their writings. He looked down at the pristine white parchment before him, a quill placed neatly at its side.
How must his mother be feeling right now? He could not imagine standing in her place, watching her father branded a traitor to the kingdom.
"Your Majesty, I—" Tez' Mu found his voice, though it wavered. "I hope Your Majesty understands that the House of Kest is not the same as the House of Mu."
The Dowager looked intrigued. She leaned forward and rested her chin on her hand.
"Oh, I don't. Shed more light," she replied.
Tez' Mu met her gaze. "The House of Mu had no hand in this rebellion. We are not allied with the Kest. And my mother is also innocent. What my—" he hesitated, forcing himself not to say 'grandfather,' "—what he did has nothing to do with her."
The Dowager smiled faintly. "Put your mind at rest, son of Mu. I am well aware of that. Your House will not suffer repercussions. If I did not trust your father, I would not have sent him to Najan."
"Speaking of Najan, Your Majesty, if I may," Lord Zei interjected, leaning forward. "Let us address this issue."
"I'm listening," the Dowager nodded.
"Before the Arban envoys left, I spoke with them alongside Lord Hu. They informed me of a group of bandits raiding their border villages. Najan's governor hesitated to act, as the bandits were Ochelon citizens. Our relationship with Arban is already fragile, and he did not want to escalate matters."
"When I investigated," Lord Zei continued, "I found something troubling. It struck me as strange that Offal' Kest, with Najan as his neighbor, had done nothing to curb these bandits."
"The bandits were Offal' Kest's diversion," Lord Hu sighed, stretching in his chair. "But that's over and done. How do we retaliate? The palace cannot remain idle."
At the word 'retaliate,' Tez' Mu's breath hitched. His brows knitted in worry.
"Hu' Ran?" the Dowager called.
Hu' Ran halted his pacing and returned to his seat beside her. "We have already sent Raq' Mu to Najan. That much is settled. If the Arbans refuse our goodwill, we will remind them that Najan is ours. King Hul' Han relinquished two-thirds of the desert to them. It may have seemed a waste, but Najan has its uses."
He reached across and plucked a parchment from Lord Ren's pile. Lord Ren frowned and made a motion to snatch it back, but Hu' Ran smirked and raised the sheet to his line of sight.
'"Attack to defend,'" he read aloud. '"Dispatch the imperial army to Darin. Send elite assassins to eliminate Offal' Kest—'" Hu' Ran let out a dry laugh. "Lord Ren, it is truly a pleasure to have you here."
Lord Ren scowled, retrieving his paper with a sharp tug. Lord Zei and Lord Hu exchanged quiet snickers, but Tez' Mu found nothing amusing. Quite the opposite—he found Lord Ren's suggestions vengeful and chilling.
"But he has a point," the Dowager mused.
"No, Your Majesty," Hu' Ran shook his head. "The best counterattack will be 'peace and safety.' We have other empires watching our every move. We must position ourselves as the merciful party. Let us reach out to Offal' Kest with forgiving arms. We shall send an envoy."
"He will kill the envoy," Lord Hu reminded him. "As we killed his."
"Oh, that was merely an impulsive misstep," the Dowager waved a hand dismissively. "Losing the support of the strongest and largest fief was a heavy blow to my poor heart."
"Let us send a peace envoy," Hu' Ran insisted. "Then, we will enter the west—through Guho Valley." He pointed to the map. "If Offal' Kest can use diversions, so can we."
Lord Zei nodded slowly. "That does make sense, steward."
"Will we not draw on the He and Ru fiefs?" Lord Ren asked.
"We will not," the Dowager answered swiftly. "That would mean declaring war on the west. And my steward does not want that, do you, Hu' Ran?"
"It is not a matter of what I want, Your Majesty," Hu' Ran deferred at once. "It is the correct response to the situation. Offal' Kest desires war. A war would unsettle the palace and the Scith. We cannot let him succeed."
"The steward has me swayed," Lord Hu admitted, leaning back in his chair. "But what shall we offer the traitor?"
Hu' Ran gritted his teeth. "Not all can be spoken, even in the Council."
Tez' Mu expected the lords to protest. They did not. Instead, they began gathering their notes.
"Well, who shall we send, then?" Lord Ren asked. "Someone from the Scith?"
"No, I think not," Lord Hu countered. "Offal' Kest has infiltrated the Scith, though how he did so without attending a single proceeding baffles me. Those three lords that ran are with him."
"I'm glad they left," the Dowager narrowed her eyes. "I will not feed traitors."
"Does the steward have a recommendation, then?" Lord Zei asked. "Surely not one of us? We should send someone worthy of speaking to Offal' Kest on his level. We council members don't hold public office—except for you and Lord Ren. The rest of us are unknown. He would feel insulted if one of us were sent as envoy."
Hu' Ran turned to glance at the Dowager. She did not look up, merely turning the spatial ring on her finger.
"Tez' Mu will go," she said.
"What?" Lord Zei couldn't restrain his shock. Tez' Mu stiffened, eyes darting around the room in confusion.
"I see," Lord Hu suddenly spoke up. "Now it makes sense. Otherwise, why would the Head of the Onan Desar be here?"
"But he is young," Lord Zei grumbled. "Yes, being Offal' Kest's grandson will grant him easy entrance, but—" he shook his head, "I don't think this is a good idea."
"Then name a better candidate," Hu' Ran sneered.
Lord Zei had no reply.
"Yet," the Dowager murmured, ceasing her fidgeting and raising her gaze to Tez' Mu, "this court does not coerce. The choice is yours."
Tez' Mu looked down at his hands. Raq' Mu was far away in Najan, beyond reach. Seeking his advice was impossible. But still—
"I accept, Your Majesty," he said at last. "But I will like to visit the Mu Manor first."
"No rush, no rush," Hu' Ran waved a dismissive hand. "You're not leaving immediately. We must prepare well, after all."
"That is settled, then." The Dowager flicked her wrist, and a small dagger—twin to the one she had wielded in the Scith—appeared in her grasp. Slowly, she unsheathed it and, with casual precision, tossed it.
It landed with a sharp thunk, its tip embedded in the Kest fief on the map.