May was Con Month – three of them omg! – so this was delayed quite a bit. I apologize.
Several days later Rakushun received another summons, but it was to the general court and he was as clueless as the rest of his office. The runner who had been sent to fetch him was also of a higher rank, and his face was impassive. He would tell Rakushun nothing.
"You're getting awfully popular," Toharu said with a playful shove toward the door. "Whose eye in the court did you catch?"
He furrowed his brows and projected a rather helpless expression. Getting noticed by people in high places invariably led to trouble, he had learned. That, and pretty girls.
He smoothed out his robes and took a calming breath once he was outside. Surely there was a simple explanation for this. The runner led him toward the Inner Castle, and then the large throne room where Yoko held court on most days.
"The Scholar Rakushun," the herald said quickly once they approached the main hallway. As the two entered, the runner bowed to a mid-level, and Rakushun followed suit. Today was an ordinary day for the court, it seemed – a business day.
Yoko's face froze in surprise when she heard the herald, although she quickly hid it. Interesting, Rakushun thought. This was not her doing.
"Your highness," her Chief of Staff said, "before you is the most excellent scholar that the kingdom of Kei has produced in 200 years. Lord Keiki has explained to us that you have learned as much about Kei as he is able to teach you, yet he feels there is much that you can learn. If the court approves, this scholar Rakushun will be appointed as the Royal Tutor and personally entrusted with your remaining education."
Both Yoko and Rakushun stared at Keiki, who showed no expression on his otherworldly face. But his eyes twinkled just slightly as the court buzzed with the suggestion of hiring a tutor for the empress.
The snippets of conversation that Rakushun could here from the center aisle where he sat on the ground were incomplete. But he could pick out certain phrases – hanjou, perfect score, from Kou province – even a recommendation from his boss at the Office of Archives. He had worked there less than one month. There were, thankfully, few notes of concern.
"Are there any objections?"
"How do we know he is not a spy for Kou?" someone asked. Perhaps not an unreasonable question, considering he was not a native to Kei.
"Who in Kou could he be spying for? The king is dead," another person shouted from across the room.
"He's a hanjou," someone said softly. Rakushun saw Yoko's eyes blaze – she'd remember that insult to her beloved, and the junior courtier who clearly hadn't learned when to hold his tongue would probably find himself punished or at the very least chastised in private later on. There were few things that riled up Yoko quite like overt discrimination.
"He's also smarter than you," Keiki rebutted sharply. The court tittered.
The chief tried again. "Are there any valid objections?"
The court fell silent, and Rakushun held his breath. Yoko could barely keep her face still. The matter of hiring him as a tutor for her should be an impersonal one, since few people in the court knew what they meant to each other. There was no doubt that it was Keiki's machinations that had brought it about, but that didn't mean everyone else knew Rakushun aside from him having been a diplomat whose education Kei had funded for service during the early years of Yoko's reign. They all knew of him – but they certainly didn't know how much he meant to Yoko.
"Then the hanjou Rakushun is hereby titled the Royal Scholar. You will report to Keiki and you will work to ensure the empress gains as much knowledge as you can impart."
"Yes, sir," Rakushun said with a bow, noting to himself wryly that he'd never been asked his opinion on the matter. That was the way an efficient kingdom worked – people were put where they would be most effective, whether they wanted to be there or not.
He was dismissed from the court, then asked to report to Keiki every day after lunch, to discuss the Empress's lessons for that day. He would continue to work in the Ministry of the Archives in the morning as before.
"Toharu is going to be mad," he thought to himself as he was escorted back out of the court.
But Yoko's happiness trumped all. Her normal poker face had dropped completely when her Chief had conferred him his new title – she'd smiled brilliantly at him, that smile he loved so much.
For his own part, he was floating off the ground. Never mind that it defied all logic. He was definitely floating.
When he arrived back at the archives office, and returned to the earth again, he was greeted by Toharu attempting to look angry, but unable to completely hide her own smile. The rest of his office mates gave him sincere congratulations. They'd been informed ahead of time.
"So did you get to see the Empress today?" Toharu asked. When he nodded, someone else chimed in, asking if he'd ever seen her before.
"She came to my graduation," he admitted, "and of course I had to see her when I was assigned to this job."
The others crowded in on him, and pressed him for more details. It wasn't every day that the government created a new position for someone, and the fact that he had been chosen from their office for his new part time role made them all bask a bit in the prestige. The Archives was not the most happening place in Kinpa Palace even on busy days.
Rakushun laughed. "I suppose I can let you in on a secret. Have you heard the story of the hanjou that rescued the Empress and took her to En?"
They all nodded; the story was quite a legend, and while most of the inner court knew of his identify, as part of his request to keep his connection to Yoko secret no one else in the palace knew.
"That was me." He looked at his hands, a gesture that was so comforting in his rat skin, but which still carried over to the human form he had to wear more and more often these days. "She's wanted me in her court since then, but I wanted to earn the position." He looked back up at Toharu, who had an understanding look on her face.
"I'd say you have, Master Rakushun," she confirmed.
But the rest of the office workers looked shocked. If the story was true and he was the hanjou of legend, then it was no wonder that En had used him as a courier and that Keiki trusted him to be with the Empress on a daily basis.
"You know, I though you sounded a bit familiar," Toharu continued. "It was you that came and helped convince us that Jo'kak was an imposter." He'd been a rat at the time, but his voice was always the same.
Rakushun nodded. "I was promised anything I wanted by the King of En… but all I ever really wanted was to go to the university."
"And you just happened to get the highest score in two hundred years?" a voice said suddenly. Everyone turned to where it had come from. There was the one who had spoken up in the court – no, his clothes were different, Rakushun realized. Brothers? Twins?
The young man looked sullen. Rakushun had not heard him speak much before.
"Master Markrei, you know it's impossible to cheat on the exam," Toharu said in a warning. "On that note, I think we've all spent too much time gawking over Master Rakushun. Everyone, get back to work. These records won't copy themselves." She clapped her hands in emphasis, and the cluster of government workers scattered like recalcitrant school children.
"Yeah, you can't cheat, but what if the college of En only accepted him as a favor to the king? What if our own university gave him a perfect score because of the Empress?"
Rakushun tried not to wilt. Toharu rounded on her employee like a mother hen. "Master Markrei, that is enough. Please get back to work."
Duly chastised, Markrei turned to go back to his desk, but not before giving one final bitter glare at Rakushun.
Toharu pulled Rakushun back outside the building to the tiny courtyard that surrounded the office.
"No one at the university knew," Rakushun said, trying not to sound desperate. "I never told them and I asked no one to do any favors for me."
Toharu nodded. "I was not told anything of the sort by anyone. The committee was genuinely in awe of you. I applaud you for working to earn a position rather than just taking advantage of connections."
Rakushun remembered the glare from Markrei and tried not to shudder.
Somehow, he'd already made an enemy in the office.
Despite his worries over Markrei and his mysterious twin in the court – both of whom seemed to bear a grudge against hanjou – Rakushun felt that his first meeting with Keiki after lunch went well.
"Thank you," had been the first thing he had said to Keiki, with a long deep bow.
"For what?" the higher beast said with half lidded eyes.
"For giving me this opportunity."
"This isn't merely an opportunity to give you time with my Empress more often, although I'm sure neither of you will mind it. This is truly a matter of practicality." The kirin sighed. "I have reached the limit of what I can teach her - she does not listen to me. You already have the trust of the court and the clearance needed to see her personally, and no one can dispute that you're the best of the young scholars. It works out well for everyone.
Despite his protestations, Rakushun knew that the real reason for this was a lot deeper.
Once upon a time, Keiki had tried to reach the late Empress Josei by giving her the gift of a new garden. She had mistaken his concern for her wellbeing as romantic love.
This time, Keiki had given Yoko one nicely gift wrapped scholar as a present – and there was no danger of her mistaking this present as a token of affection.
Cold, calculating, yet benevolent and kind. Keiki was a typical kirin, and his thoughtful depths were a good match for Yoko's impulsiveness. They were partners in ruling the kingdom – "like business partners" as Yoko had once put it – and for that, they were well suited. The Empress part of Yoko was a side that Rakushun did not get to see very often, but it was the part of her that Keiki nurtured and owned.
"I want you to focus on the task at hand. Please don't waste too much of her time, or else I will have to find another suitable tutor."
Ah, but the gift would come with a warning.
Rakushun grinned. "She seems to know that she has to study hard. It's all she ever talked about in her letters to me."'
Keiki was unimpressed. "And yet she still needs a scribe, because she insists on writing in that squiggle language. Do try to break her of that habit."
"If Shokkei cannot do it, I'm not sure I can either."
"She will listen to you."
He said it so finally that Rakushun found himself nodding anyway.
"Now, your specific course of study for this week is the history of the Kei court. I only know how it is today and what I learned from reading, which is enough for me. But there are things I know innately that I cannot express adequately to her. This is your purpose."
"Is it because you grew up on Mount Hozan?"
"It is. The way of the world is fixed here, but in the place where she grew up… it is very different. She said that the court has been replaced with something called the Diet, and the Emperor's position is merely ceremonial."
She seemed to dislike that idea. She hated the trappings of the court and all the pomp and circumstance that went with it.
He remembered her standing in front of her own army defiantly. He smiled. "Yoko is anything but ceremonial."
"And that is why I believe she can be a great Empress," Keiki agreed, but he did not match Rakushun's grin. "But she still has so much to learn." He looked away sadly. "And yet, she has already learned more in eight years than Jo'kak learned in twice that time."
Rakushun cleared his throat. Seeing Keiki get emotional was unnerving. "When do I start?"
"Today." Keiki's impossible violet eyes turned on him. "So eager to begin?"
Rakushun's enthusiasm was palpable. "I promise I will do my best to teach her to your expectations."
Rakushun lugged a heavy history book to the Inner Palace, and was escorted to the Queen's Study, a private library tucked away not too far from her personal quarters. The palace servant checked in with Yoko, and only left once she had been assured that her empress was comfortable alone with her new tutor.
"All I want is some privacy sometimes," Yoko complained, and sat on the floor defiantly. She was dressed down again today, although in much more traditional clothing. Rakushun too had shed his formal robes in favor of the light green tunic that the Emperor of En had once given him.
Yoko leaned back on her elbows. "This feels a bit like the old days, now" she said as he settled down beside her. "I always liked you in that outfit."
He blushed. He couldn't help it. "Well, I was wearing it the first time you saw me as a human."
"I see you like this more and more often, though." Her eyes narrowed. "It's your own personal choice, I hope. Is anyone telling you not to wear your hanjou form?"
"It is," he said hurriedly. "To be honest, I did get more comfortable as a human when I was at the academy, where it was required. I'm no longer as clumsy or prone to slipping and tripping. I don't have a mouse-sized uniform, anyway."
"You could always ask for one," she persisted.
"I could," he agreed, although he could imagine that conversation with the tailor going downhill rapidly. Yoko's declaration of equality for hanjou hadn't eliminated discrimination. It probably never would. It had instead driven it underground, where it simmered below the surface, building up pressure from resentment. He was afraid that someday it would boil over. He kept these concerns to himself – Yoko really did believe that if she enforced her laws firmly enough, she could eradicate the inequality that pervaded her country. So long as Keiki remained well, then the Heavens were agreeing with her methods.
He settled the heavy history book down between them. "I wanted to go back to the earliest part of the kingdom of Kei. Most of the writings from that time are not period authentic; they are oral traditions written down much later. But we do have a few writings that survived nearly two thousand years, copied from scholar to scholar."
"Are those just from Kei?" she asked, flopping forward from her position on the ground and resting her chin in her hands like a fascinated young child.
"From all over the Twelve Kingdoms," he explained, and opened the text book to the first chapter, which contained painstaking copies of the original writings, etched on papyrus. Bound books like the one he held were rare. Scrolls were much more common. But a bound book could be stacked and stored more easily. The information this one tome held could take up a dozen scrolls.
He had her read aloud to him. She stumbled over every other character, failing to recognize it or giving it the wrong pronunciation for the word combination it belonged with, but her literacy had improved over the years.
" '- and the sunny water skies' -"
"That character is considered to indicate 'blue' and not water, when in the context of the sky," he corrected gently.
"Okay. 'And the sunny blue skies shone over the city, with the blood drying on the murder fields-"
"I believe that would be more appropriately described as 'field of battle.' "
"Got it. '- with the blood drying rapidly on the fields of battle'-"
And so it went, until she finally reached the end of that first page of bound papyrus.
"Ugh, I'm popped. No more." She sprawled out on the ground, face down.
"You did very well. Even if you didn't have the syntax quite right, you recognized the meaning of the majority of the characters." He patted her on the back. The meaning was the most important part. Syntax could come with practice.
His finger touched the bare skin of her next, and it felt like fire. She glanced up at him, and they both were caught in each other's gaze for a small infinity.
"Yoko," he breathed, and felt his fingers curling into the soft hair at the nape of her neck.
She sat up slowly, carefully, deliberately not breaking the contact of his hand.
"I don't want to do any more lessons," she repeated, but she scooted closer to him.
He tried to remember to breath. He could feel his human Adam's apple bobbing up and down as he swallowed.
"So what do you want to do with the rest of our time?" he heard himself ask.
"I want you to make love to me."
As soon as the words came out of her mouth, he could see she regretted them. Her lips clamped shut and she turned a fierce crimson. How does one recovery gracefully from such a sudden statement? One does not.
"That may not be a wise idea," he answered, and he was grateful that his own voice did not crack.
"I'm not a good girl," she reminded him. "I'm selfish and greedy and I want to do things my own way." She was still burning up with embarrassment, but she felt emboldened that his rejection was so tentative. She inched closer with each word, until her face was just next to his.
His hand was still on her neck, and it was very natural to slide behind her head and cradle it gently.
"But you will always respect the rules in the end."
"Only the rules that deserve to be followed," she affirmed, and kissed him.
This is what he had hoped for, he realized, as her mouth blossomed beneath him. And it was what Keiki probably expected to happen when he set him up. Despite his protestations to the contrary, Rakushun was Keiki's gift to Yoko.
And since he had achieved his own personal goals with his own skills and talent, he had no qualms at being reduced to a gift wrapped package for the Empress.
After all, it was Yoko. He would love her until the day he died.
Thanks to her, that would be a long time from now.
A few hours later when Keiki came to fetch Yoko for the evening prayers and activities, he found the two diligently reviewing a scroll containing the court protocols of the Biwa era, sitting together at a table, close but not actually touching. And yet, he saw Keiki's nose twitch. It would not surprise him if the Greater Beast could detect what had transpired between the two young lovers, and if Keiki did notice the scent of... certain activities, he chose not to comment upon it.
Keiki glanced at the scroll, and nodded approvingly at their choice of materials. "Court protocols," he said, evidently pleased. "A solid selection. But I am afraid you must cut your current subject short. Master Rakushun, you are dismissed for today. Please accept my regards for your diligent work."
Rakushun shared one final glance with Yoko, who gave him a tiny smile of encouragement. He should be the one encouraging her, but their relationship was full of such inversions.
"Thank you, Lord Keiki." Rakushun carefully backed out of the room, following the most formal protocols as a reminder to Yoko about the lessons they had just covered.
"Established in the Biwa Court, Year 287," she called out to him as he shut the door.
He heard Keiki murmur a "very good" to her for remembering that factoid.
On the other side of the door, once it was shut, Rakushun felt himself collecting his thoughts as the servants stared at him. He hadn't quite meant for the events of the afternoon to transpire as they had. He only hoped that his precious friendship with Yoko was not damaged by having reached "home plate" so quickly, to use the metaphor she had described previously. But somehow, he felt that things would work out. They'd been through too much together at this point.
So the next few weeks flew by in a blissful blur for Rakushun. Yoko was a stubborn student, but he always coaxed her into working hard through games or outright bribery.
And they always made sure to include a little bit of play, as well.
He was called into a meeting with Keiki after about a month to discuss Yoko's progress.
"It's not going as fast as I had hoped," Rakushun admitted with a sigh. "The Empress is very smart – you already know of her knack for numbers – but she is very resistant to change. She still prefers to take notes in her old language, so that she can review it later, she says."
Keiki shook his head. "Their language is so different. I wonder if it was easier for Enki and the Emperor of En, since they were both raised there."
"I can see why they use the shorthand systems, though," Rakushun said. He'd inadvertently picked up much of Yoko's writing system in the last month, just from helping her. She had explained the "Romanized," katakana, and the short-hand hiragana systems that they used. The latter two were special adaptions of ideograms for syllables whereas the former was an alphabet for single sounds. Her native language was not tonally bound, so it made sense to use the simplified sounds. But for the language of the twelve kingdoms, which had, according to Yoko, diverged from ancient Chinese 2300 years ago, and which was firmly based in a musical seven tones, an alphabet or even a syllabary was inadequate. Only a full character could capture the nuance of a word.
"How is her progress in other areas?"
"What other areas?"
"Surely you review materials other than what she must take notes on?"
Well, considering they usually spent an hour on… non-academic activities, there hadn't been that much time for anything else. But he certainly wasn't going to tell Keiki about that.
"She has been creating a timeline of her old world's events to ours, to help her pinpoint areas where kaikyouku influenced us in the past. She suspects the worlds were split 2300 years ago because the gods were angry with an emperor that wanted to conquer death."
Keiki's eyebrows shot up. "A mortal king from her world thought he could conquer death? How?"
"With a clay army, apparently." Rakushun grinned wryly. "She says it didn't work, since he still died, and probably annoyed the Tentei, so much that they tried for a more perfect world where a good king should have no fear of death…"
"And where no king could conquer another and stay in heaven's favor."
Rakushun nodded. The dates she had outlined matched up.
"Thank you for the update. You are dismissed to her." Keiki's eyes suddenly narrowed. "And mind that you keep your extracurricular activities as quiet as you can."
Rakushun blushed and hurried out before he said something embarrassing. Of course their relationship was well known to the sensitive kirin, but his affair with Yoko was nonetheless something he agreed should stay secret.
"So in 875, the principle of three primary advisors was established by Imperial Mandate." Yoko sighed and stared at her scroll. Her time line project to assign numerical dates to all the ages had been especially helpful to Rakushun, too. The eras had ranged from only a few years to several hundred in all. There had been twenty five kings of Kei since the beginning of history. Having their major events quantified by annual numbers made them much easier to arrange. Yoko had assigned the first king the year of zero, although it was unknown how long between the creation of the world and the acceptance of the first king had past – that was lost in history, and the first king of Kei was more legend than fact. Good records did not begin until the era of the second king.
"Then in 876, the emperor today known as The Poet took a consort." Rakushun continued where she had left off.
Yoko's eyes widened a bit, and she put her hands on her chin, staring at him. "I thought Imperial Consort was the title reserved for the former wife or husband of a king, since they could no longer have children?"
Rakushun nodded, although his whiskers gave a telltale twitch. "That is usually the case. However, a king may take a consort after the fact. They may also dissolve the union if this do not work out. That's what Suzu's old master, Gyousenki, had been through." His whiskers twitched again. "I suppose you can say the divorce proceedings are usually amicable. Rather than dissolve her contract and sentence her to die as a mortal, he arranged for her to become an Immortal Sage."
Yoko was staring at him, silent. She seemed to be digesting the information.
The she asked a question that blindsided him.
"Could I take a consort?"
Rakushun's jaw dropped. "Yoko…" he started, but he could not find the words. He was, for one of the rare times in his glib and logical life, utterly speechless.
She continued in a rush. "You know I love you and I want to be with you forever. When I learned I could never marry and have children I was sadder about the idea that I could never marry. I've always wanted that, even if I never voiced it in words. A consort isn't quite the same, but it's a similar binding contract, isn't it?"
Rakushun shook his head. "It's also the third highest court position, and it's almost always left unfilled if there was no previous marriage. It has a lot of duties, but they're shuffled down to the advisors right now."
Yoko's face fell. "So it wouldn't work for us."
"Well," Rakushun began, shifting uncomfortably in his chair. This was not a discussion he had ever anticipated. "I'm not saying it couldn't work. I'm just not sure… that I'm ready for that kind of responsibility. I like my work in the archives. I like recording your story for history."
"It's your story too," she reminded him gently, and took his hand. "This is your age as well."
She had chosen the name for her era using the characters from both their names. At the time it had just been a token of her gratefulness, or so Rakushun had thought. On retrospect, her action was almost a binding agreement between them in itself. The office of the archives had joked about it when they saw the similarity, but he never told them that it meant something so personal.
"I… have to think about it."
Yoko withdrew her hand. She was clearly hurt. "What is there to think about? I'm tired of keeping our love a secret. I want to fall asleep in your arms and wake up to your smile." She took a deep breath, trying to regain her composure. "But I guess it is too selfish a request for an Empress."
"Yoko-"
She stood up, cutting him off, and began rolling up the scrolls. "I am not feeling well. You may tell Keiki our lesson for the day has ended early because of it."
Yoko tucked the documents under one arm and fled the room.
It all happened so suddenly that Rakushun was still trying to figure out what went wrong many hours later. It would be a lie that Yoko was physically ill – she was a god, it was impossible. But pangs of the heart could affect anyone, regardless of their immortality.
Was she feeling rejected? Her words of love had been spoken too passionately. She was the empress; all others were supposed to be secondary to the kingdom. He did not want to be the cause of her kingdom's failure if she forgot her priorities… like Josei had.
A knock on the door after dinner revealed one Ohki Suzu, the charming kaikyaku that had worked for Gyousenki. Yoko had sent out the big guns, as she would have put it.
"Welcome," he said politely as he showed her to the sitting room. His mother was silently panicking. She offered tea and snacks, but the dainty Suzu refused. Although she looked no older than Yoko, the sage was pushing a healthy 130.
"Yoko sent me here because she is unable to leave the inner palace," Suzu said, smoothing the simple cotton uniform she preferred. "She sends her regrets, her apologies… and her love."
Rakushun, who wore his comfortable rat form at home as always, could only stare at his toes.
"She said she was being selfish, but wants to remind you that she too is human. Sometimes an empress, sometimes a monster, but always human."
Yoko had once called herself a monster after she had seriously considered killing Rakushun to protect herself. She had been through a lot at that point and was nearly driven to the brink of madness by her own sword. But she had overcome herself and pulled through. She was no monster.
But she was, indeed, still human.
He hesitated for a moment.
"I understand that in Hourai, marriage is different," he said finally.
Suzu nodded. "Unless it's changed, marriage was the ultimate achievement of womanhood. It secured a future for yourself and for your children. Marriage was a privilege reserved only for the wealthy, though. As a child I never expected it for myself, but things may have become different by Yoko's time."
"Were children your only goal for marriage?"
Suzu shook her head. "They could be considered a primary goal, but people also got married to join families or because they wanted to be together until death. In Hourai, children can and do unfortunately happen outside of marriage, so they weren't really exclusive to it like they are here." Suzu grew wistful. "My parents were not married formally. My family was too poor for that."
Rakushun nearly fell off his chair. "I know it's different there, but children born without marriage…?"
Suzu giggle. "Well, the plumbing in our bodies here is the same, but the Tentei in their wisdom separated sex and reproduction. It causes too much sorrow, I think. Many women died in childbirth in Hourai. Yoko said it has greatly improved in the last hundred years, but when I was there, childbirth was very painful for a woman."
"I see."
"Yoko has always felt insecure as a woman ruler, partly because no one here wants to trust empresses any more, but also because in our world, women do not rule."
"So… she doesn't think she can be a good ruler because she is a woman?"
"More like, she does not feel like she can be a real woman if she is a good ruler. That's just my observation, though. Being married would normalize things a lot for her, at least in her mind. She knows she is doing a good job as empress, even if it's not consciously. But she fears losing herself as a person as a result."
"And I rejected her." Rakushun put his head in his hands.
"No, you rejected her sudden proposal. You do still love her, right?"
Love… "Yes."
"Then tell her that. She loves you too. Even if you do not want a high court position, you love each other. Perhaps there is some other way to be together more often?
Rakushun shook his head. "Only the Kirin is allowed unlimited access to the Empress."
"And you are no kirin, hanjou," Suzu said, her voice sharpening slightly. "But you can be a consort." Suzu stood up and smoothed her skirt. "She wants to meet you in the east garden tomorrow. Whatever you decide, remember that her happiness is our responsibility, as her courtiers. If she is happy, this country will prosper. If she falls into despair, this country will suffer." Suzu clasped her hands primly. "This is the burden of those who serve. If you can please your master, you should try. My last master could not be pleased. You should consider yourself lucky that Yoko is not that sort of person." Her voice grew quiet. "I thank the heavens every day."
Suzu excused herself, her admonishment completed.
The burden of those who serve. Rakushun had heard that Suzu's 110 years as a sage on Mount Hozan had not been pleasant, but she did not discuss the details. But no matter how hard Suzu had worked, she had been punished, until one day she ran away, and became a very rare ronin sage: immortal but without a master and without a home.
She had willingly pledged herself to Yoko because Yoko was "not that sort of person."
Now she and Shokkei filled the positions of close advisors, ladies in waiting, to Yoko.
Close advisors…
Rakushun sat up a bit straighter, his whiskers twitching.
Why couldn't he serve Yoko in and advisory role as consort, rather than doing the other ceremonial duties that were usually reserved for the consort? It wasn't as if no one else was currently doing them. The rule of "three primary advisors" had only been established by Imperial decree because that particularly emperor had three close friends, as Rakushun recalled. There was no reason that the consort could not act as an advisor as well.
He would have to chew on that idea overnight, and he would have much to discuss with Yoko tomorrow.