The night drums had only just faded when the Palace of Clear Skies awoke beneath a pall of grey. Mist coiled along the vermilion corridors, swallowing the echoes of footsteps and whispers alike. Even the courtiers who usually gathered early before court found reason to linger behind their screens, wary of the sudden weight that seemed to hang in the air.
By the time the bronze bell tolled the first hour, Captain Yan Jing stood before the Hall of Tranquil Radiance, his armor still damp from the dawn dew. He had learned the silence between words could weigh heavier than any decree. Today, that silence felt sharper than a blade.
Inside, the Emperor Xuan Li sat not upon the Dragon Throne but before a low table strewn with open scrolls. His crown rested on the armrest beside him, forgotten. The faint scent of burned wax lingered the remains of the two letters he had torn apart the night before.
"Captain Yan," the Emperor said at last, without looking up. "When a messenger's tongue lies, does his horse lie as well?"
Captain Yan bowed low. "A horse may stumble, Your Majesty," he said carefully, "but it does not forge its master's mark."
The Emperor's lips curved slightly not in amusement, but grim acknowledgment. "Then tell me," he murmured, "which man now holds the reins of lies?"
Capital Yan straightened. "I have begun quiet inquiries among the couriers, Sire. Two riders who claimed to have delivered reports from the northern border… vanished before reaching the capital stables. Their saddles were later found near the Stone River Gate."
The Emperor's eyes, cold and deep as stormwater, lifted from the table. "And the keepers of that gate?"
"Dead, Your Majesty. Poison in their wine."
The Emperor rose. His dark robe swept across the jade floor with a whisper like a sigh.
"Truth dies quietly in this empire," he said, "and yet it dies faster than wine cools."
He turned to the window, where thin sunlight tried to break through the haze.
"Tell me, Yan Jing.... how long have you served my throne?"
"since I was given as a play mate and your personal protector to you Your Majesty."
"Then you have seen how peace rots faster than war. When men stop fearing enemies beyond the walls, they begin to make them within."
Captain Yan bowed deeper, voice low. "Then command me, and I will cut out the rot."
The Emperor regarded him for a long time. "No. Steel draws attention. Use the quiet blade."
He handed him a small jade tablet carved with the imperial dragon's eye a rare token of secret authority. "Search the Records Hall and the couriers' registry. Speak to no one. Not even the Crown Prince's tutors. And if you find a name, bring it to me in silence."
Captain Yan put his two hand at the front together and bow is head "As the Your majesty commands."
The Hall of Eternal Harmony emptied after morning court, but whispers clung to its pillars like cobwebs. Eunuchs scurried in pairs, guards shifted uneasily, and ministers' servants traded anxious glances. Something unseen had changed in the wind something that smelled faintly of smoke.
Captain Yan moved among them unnoticed, his steps measured and his gaze unreadable. Beneath his arm he carried a plain scroll case, though within it lay not ink and brush, but a narrow dagger hidden under false parchment.
He paused beside the Head of Records, who was inspecting memorials stacked upon lacquered trays.
"His Majesty grows fond of night readings," captain Yan said lightly, as though making conversation.
The old scribe smiled nervously. "A diligent ruler, Captain Yan. The empire prospers under such vigilance."
"Diligence indeed." Captain Yan's tone was mild, but his eyes lingered on the man's ink-stained fingers. "Strange, though l thought the border reports were copied with black pine ink. Yours smells of camellia resin."
The scribe froze. "It.... it was a substitute batch from the Treasury, Captain. The northern frost delayed delivery"
"Mm." Yan inclined his head. "Of course. Frost delays much."
He left without another word, but as he turned the corner, his hand brushed the inside of his sleeve where a tiny scrap of the scribe's writing, brushed there "accidentally," now rested between his fingers.
He would test it later under heat; forged ink always revealed its deceit in the flame.
By evening, lamplight flickered against shelves of jade and gold, throwing restless shadows along the Emperor's walls. The soft scratch of a brush broke the quiet the Emperor writing a single name, then crossing it out again.
Minister Rong.
Minister Han.
The Treasury Clerk.
Even the Grand Astrologer's name found its way to the parchment before being struck through.
When Captain Yan was announced, the Emperor's first words were weary. "How many masks must I lift before I find a face?"
Captain Yan bow. "Perhaps none, Majesty. Perhaps the mask itself is the face."
That earned the faintest smile. "Then the emperor say rise up tell me, old friend, what did you find?"
Captain Yan laid the scroll before him. "Three sets of ink, Your majesty Two from the border both forged. The third… written within the palace itself."
The Emperor's hand stilled. "Within?"
"Yes, Majesty. The handwriting matches the Treasury's scribe the same who prepares the grain tallies. But the seal… belongs to Minister Rong's office."
For a long moment, only the fire crackled. Then the Emperor said quietly, "So the serpent warmed itself by my hearth."
He looked toward the window again, where snow drifted down like pale ashes.
"Bring me proof," he said. "Not suspicion. Proof that can stand before Heaven itself."
Yan hesitated. "And if proof hides behind noble rank?"
The Emperor's gaze hardened. "Then drag nobility through the mud until truth shines through it."
That night, Captain Yan descended beneath the palace to a forgotten archive a chamber sealed since the reign of Emperor Xuan Li's father. The air was heavy with dust and old smoke; the walls bore faint scorch marks from some long-ago fire. Here, the empire kept records too dangerous to destroy and too shameful to show.
Captain Yan lit a single lamp. Its light revealed shelves of half-burned scrolls, charred ledgers, and fragments of wax seals melted into the stone floor. He began to search.
Hours passed. Then his hand brushed a cracked tablet half buried beneath ash.
He lifted it a courier's registry dated from the northern campaign's end.
Several names were smudged out, replaced with the same character written again and again: "Loyalty."
Captain Yan frowned. "When men must write 'loyalty' to hide a name," he muttered, "it is loyalty that's missing."
He slipped the tablet into his sleeve just as footsteps echoed above heavy, hurried, too confident for a servant's tread. He extinguished the lamp and pressed himself into the shadow of a pillar.
A voice drifted down the stairwell. "The Emperor grows restless. He must not see the next message."
Another voice smoother, higher. "Then send word before dawn. Our phoenix will handle the rest."
The footsteps receded. Only the dripping of melted frost filled the silence.
Captain Yan waited a long time before moving again. His pulse was steady, but his jaw had tightened.
The phoenix.
So the poison indeed flies within the palace.
He replaced the lamp's flame, the light catching on the soot-stained walls. The ashes stirred slightly in the draft grey, ghostlike as if some old sin were sighing awake.
At first light, snow covered the courtyards again, muffling the world in cold hush. The Emperor stood upon the upper pavilion overlooking the lotus ponds, their surfaces frozen solid.
Captain Yan approached quietly, the frost crunching underfoot.
Your Majesty," he said, bowing low. "I bring what truth I could grasp before it slipped."
He handed over the scorched registry and a small vial of blackened ink. "The same camellia resin as the forged letters. And the tablet the erased names belong to two Treasury clerks and one messenger… all disappeared the same week the victory reports arrived."
The Emperor studied the evidence in silence. Then he tipped the vial into the pond. The ink spread slowly across the ice a dark bloom beneath the glassy surface.
"Look, Yan," he said softly. "Even in stillness, corruption finds a way to stain."
He turned, his face unreadable. "This ink was brewed with coin, not loyalty. The Treasury… Minister Rong's men."
Captain Yan nodded grimly and said "It seems the serpent wears gold scales."
The Emperor's gaze drifted toward the distant roofs of the Minister's compound. "Then the serpent has slept beside the dragon too long."
A sudden gust swept across the pavilion, scattering snow like ash. The Emperor's cloak flared behind him; his eyes burned like smoldering embers beneath a mask of calm.
"Let the court see peace," he said quietly. "Let them feast, let them smile.
But in the silence beneath, you will prepare the blade."
Capital Yan bowed. "Yes, Your Majesty."
The Emperor looked once more toward the horizon, where the faintest red glowed beyond the palace walls the sun, or perhaps the warning of fire.
"Peace is brittle," he murmured. "When it breaks, the sound will shake Heaven."