16

Mass-murdering & Much-suffering

"There'll be a letter waiting for you back East. She's sending it all the way back to the desert, you know."

Sunset came and with it a rush of scholars looking to settle in for dinner; their footsteps echoed in the stone colonnade, and Kuja watched as one large glowing disc of orange perched itself low in the sky, by the point of a sun-bleached minaret.

He bid a good evening to a passing scholar in white robes, and as he walked alone in the courtyard, he sat on a bench by the fountains. The day was fast turning cool, and he twirled the crystal he held in his hand. It radiated heat and glowed with the magoi he funneled into its tiny crystalline form; across the Tenzan Plateau and the Jiniyan Peninsula, Davvid held a twin and funneled his own magoi into it.

Kuja had gone a long way from home, nearing the province of Qishan. Here, there was naught but the city and arid desert for miles and miles; camels and caravans, incense and well-traveled spices, and the blazing sun that hung above all.

"Her patience for a reply must be infinite," He commented, a chuckle escaping his mouth. "It will be months before I return."

"Oh, she knows," A pause. Then Davvid's low, gravelly voice buzzed after a beat: "She isn't treating this like it's a one-time assignment anymore. She knows she's…she knows she's stuck here forever."

It was hard not to miss the small notes of accusation in his voice. The sky bled a violent red now, and bells throughout the city tolled the end of the day, calling everyone to their homes.

The magister just smiled wryly to himself, dipping his head in quiet acceptance of the blame.

"I—We never expected any less," Kuja said, simply. "What else is there to say?"

This was Rakushou: the crown jewel of an empire only 30 years in the making, whose sole pretense was the imperial palace in its center. It was a city that thrived in rigidity and uniformity, whose citizens were loyal to the imperial family and the imperial family alone; its streets, which she had toured yesterday, arranged itself in perfect symmetries—there were square houses within square compounds, within a square on a larger square grid.

Hakuei's tearoom was on the second level of the imperial palace. It displayed the brilliance of Rakushou's urban planning, and her fondness of looking upon it—"It's a pity that the rainstorm continued; I love the view, since I'm never really home much these days, and my rooms used to be at the very back of the complex," the princess said as she put her teacup down and smiled. "I asked to be moved here, you know. Luckily, Kouen—"

Sayuri took a soundless bite out of a ricecake. It was chewy and sugar sweet; she had come to like the Kou variety, in her months-long stay.

"—that is, Lord Kouen—he helped me with my request."

She supposed it was beautiful, in a way, to see everything so structured and organized. Rakushou was unlike the capital cities of other empires and nations in that it lacked the lavish public works—the libraries, the arenas, the monuments—that distinguished those other capital cities.

It must have been strange, something in the back of her mind said as she began to consider Hakuei's words, to have asked something of the sort from the son of the man who usurped your own brother's claim to the throne, the same man who married your mother, right after your own father's death.

But as it were they were only two members of the imperial family having tea together on one rainy morning. The invitation for it had been the first message Sayuri had gotten since waking up late, and she had hastened to the other side of the imperial complex just to see Hakuei.

She would not go so far as to call them allies, yet there was something undeniable about the softness in the eighteen year old's eyes, and part of Sayuri refused to believe that someone so young was only stringing her along with her kind words and entreaties to tea.

Never mind that Sayuri was only twenty-four herself; she had lived enough lives in court to know that nobody had noble, let alone innocent, intentions. But there was something about Hakuei she couldn't ignore—whereas the rest of the imperial family seemed content to keep to themselves, Hakuei had welcomed her openly and called her sister. Hakuryuu had been a somber presence during that declaration, but Hakuei's white-blue eyes had shone with warmth the whole time through.

It was compelling. It was perplexing. It was what brought her to her wing of the palace, that morning.

"One of the ministers once told me that Rakushou was the former emperor's vision for the entirety of the Kou Empire, in one city," Sayu spoke.

Hakuei smiled. "It was. My father wanted many things for Kou, one of them was its proper planning and organization."

"He sounds like he was a great man," was her quiet reply.

The younger woman merely nodded, her smile growing ever so regretful. "He truly was," and in another beat, she locked eyes with Sayuri once again, a playful brow raising itself: "That minister who told you was Lord Chen, wasn't it? You didn't tell me you were friends with him."

For a moment Sayuri was intrigued by the use of Lord Chen instead of Minister Choyian, as Sayu herself would've addressed such a high-ranking servant of the empire. The brief moment before that however she spared for surprise and cringing slightly—she wouldn't really call the old man a friend either, and she hadn't anticipated Hakuei knowing the man…

She decided to be truthful: "I wouldn't presume to know how I stood with the minister," then she added after a quiet breath, "I didn't know you knew His Excellency either. But it would make sense, wouldn't it? He…used to be a general."

"I wouldn't worry. He speaks highly of you," Hakuei promised with a sweet chuckle. "And—yes, he used to go on campaigns with my father. He was even named Hakuryuu's godfather, you see."

That shocked her. And Kouen hadn't known that? Or—and this seemed more likely in Sayu's mind—perhaps he hadn't found it relevant to him, and therefore relevant to her. "But he retired."

The smile on Hakuei's face stilted once more. And before their topic of conversation turned to other things, before their friendship truly began to blossom, the younger princess and Captain in the Kou army uttered: "War takes from everyone."

They were later called away on the Empress's summons. Gyokuen would be meeting them in her own tearoom, which meant she and Hakuei walked the long and winding halls of the imperial palace together as they headed in the direction of the main keep.

"To be a desirable bride in Jishou, one must be versed in a lot of things," Sayuri said in answer to a question Hakuei had made, a smile taking over her face. "Poetry, art, music…conversation. Dancing too, especially." She looked at the younger princess with a brow raised: "You don't do a lot of dancing here in Kou, don't you?"

Hakuei shook her head with a laugh, as if the idea was absurd. "No—no. I mean…" The eighteen year old said wide-eyed, staring at her earnestly curious, "What kind of dancing do you do, in Jishou? Here, the peasants do it of course. But in the palace we only reserve it for…for dancers, as you know. And if…"

Her pale face went pink, even as Hakuei's voice kept steady. "…if you want to please your husband."

Sayuri's brows shot up. "That's a very different kind of dancing. Very private, between husband and wife. I see."

Hakuei's jaw dropped at her words. "I—Sayuri—!"

There was both incredulity and shock in Hakuei's now red face. But they both began to crack up at the insinuation. Sayu snickered.

"Well, dancing is more of a social thing we do in Jishou," She commented lightheartedly. Indeed—that was not only the case in Jishou, but in the entire Triangle. It was a practice that had originated in Ariavat but had soon spread to the other countries, and was now a well-shared pastime even in the aristocracy and upper classes. "We have games and music in every banquet. And lots of food."

She snuck a secretive look at Hakuei. "And what about you, Hakuei? Do you dance a lot? Surely, being so familiar with the subject, you…"

Sayuri wriggled a single brow, letting the rest of her words go unsaid. The princess just giggled, though her face was still burning. "No—no—unless you consider swordplay a dance too."

"It's a fine dance," She complimented sincerely. "Exceedingly complicated! To be a captain at the age of eighteen, I expect you must be a very good swordfighter."

Hakuei just continued to glow. "Thank you."

She—she was a very beautiful girl, Sayu thought, as she grinned back at the younger princess's wide smile. It made her wonder if Gyokuen and Koutoku considered a marriage already, when she knew the rest of Hakuei's half-sisters had already been married off.

On the other hand however, Hakuei was in the military, an important arm of the imperial family's influence there. She was important to Kouen's operations, and she would not disappear into some lord's household as easily as every other princess.

She has quite a bit of leverage, Sayu realized. She asked playfully of Hakuei, "Have you ever thought of the kind of dancing that requires a partner, though? It's freeing. And it makes you realize how much you value some people over others, not only because of their footwork. It can be so intimate, sometimes. And still very enjoyable. Sharing a dance with a friend is a sacred thing."

The princess stared off to the side. But she fanned her long lashes, so alike to Gyokuen, and said: "Yes. The way you describe it, it sounds wonderful."

"I just happen to have wonderful dancing partners," Sayu said, gently. Then she stared straight ahead of her, at the stretch of imperial hallway lying in wait for them. "Had, anyway. As you said, I know you don't dance very much here in Kou."

It was as if Hakuei sensed the shift in her mood. The raven-haired Captain peered at her with a smile, and asked eagerly, like she was trying to cheer her up, "Was there anyone in particular?"

Sayuri silently lauded her, even if it only succeeded in making her a bit more nostalgic. She had had many dance partners over the years, and having toured the Triangle for so long and been warmly welcomed into many societies, she had gotten to know many people.

There was one person, however, who she had always enjoyed dancing with. "One man, a prince who I've known since I was a child. We've always danced together when we knew the other person to be in attendance of the same party."

"You must cherish him deeply," Hakuei said.

Sayu nodded, a ghost of a smile on her lips. "He has always been my friend."

Then she leaned into the younger princess, whispering, "Anyone you cherish so deeply, Hakuei?"

At Hakuei's light laugh, Sayuri chuckled. She just tilted her head knowingly at the princess. "It's not uncommon for someone your age to like someone in the military. Those soldier uniforms are irresistible—and to always be encamped, and to travel so much during a campaign…you must know a lot of men. Brave men. Courageousmen. Truly noble men, as some people say."

Save for a select few areas where the activities of the Kou military overlapped with Jishou's and with trade, everything else was entirely foreign and unwelcoming to Sayuri. But she did not say this to Hakuei.

She could, however, speak on a general basis about soldiers. And: it wasn't as if she was innocent of falling for military men either. Heaven knew just how much she herself had swooned over men who could wield a sword and a spear when she was younger.

A simpler time, it had been.

To her surprise, Hakuei seemed to struggle with her answer. Her once pale, heart-shaped face was reddening again in earnest, as she knit her brows and sputtered "I—I—really—"

Sayuri narrowed her eyes, a sly smile taking over her face. "Oh, you do have somebody in mind, don't you?"

The princess looked away guiltily at that. Sayu grinned, opening her mouth to speak—"Who…who is it, then? If you don't mind me asking?"

"It's…"

But their conversation was cut short as a set of doors to their left were opened, and again Sayuri was surprised to see her husband come out with Koumei following not far behind him, caught up in a cluster of assistants and scrolls. She and Hakuei were both halted in their path as the two brothers turned to see them come up the hallway.

"Oh, hello, Kouen," Sayu blinked. To her side, she watched Hakuei curtsy hurriedly, and briefly she wondered if she should curtsy too.

The thought was interrupted by her husband's voice calling her name, "Sayuri." It was just as surprised as hers had been.

Sayu watched Kouen glance at the younger princess beside her, "Hakuei."

Koumei had finally seemed to disentangle himself from the bevy of servants, and had walked up to the three of them; seeing Hakuei's curtsy, he returned it by clasping his hands and bowing.

But Sayuri's eyes were locked on Kouen's, by then.

They were the same narrowed crimson, and her lips twitched at the unspoken question she easily read in them: where are you both headed to?

She, however, chose to speak out loud. "We're headed to the Empress's chambers, we've been summoned. We were just having tea before this, though."

Hakuei nodded in confirmation. Her hands were clasped behind her now—but she was staring to the side, not really looking Kouen in the eye, which Sayuri found a little strange.

Sayu turned to smile at Koumei. His was a face she hadn't seen in a while. "Hello, Koumei."

There was a tugging on the corners of his lips, a small smile of his if she had ever seen one. "Hello, Sayuri. We're headed ourselves to a meeting in the west wing with the Emperor."

A meeting in the west wing, she had come to learn, was a euphemism for war meeting. The presence of the Emperor was what piqued her interest slightly—it must've been a meeting calling for the Kou high command.

But what did she care?

Sayuri bowed her head in acknowledgement of the information. Beside her, Hakuei spoke up in an unusually anxious voice, "It'll be about the north, won't it?"

Koumei replied with a small nod: "Yes. I expect we'll discuss your regiment's movements as well, Lady Hakuei."

"We will be late if we don't leave now," Kouen pointed out impatiently, in his low voice.

She and Hakuei bid their goodbyes. Before they parted ways, Kouen looked at her and said, "I will see you tonight."

Which had surprised her so much all she could do was nod mutely in response.

"A coincidence," Sayuri was saying, as she watched the retreating figures of her husband and her brother-in-law over her shoulder. She transferred her gaze to Hakuei, who had been doing the same, though the younger princess's brow was wrinkled.

"What is?" Hakuei blinked.

"We're going to meet the Empress in a few minutes," She shrugged. "What are the chances the Emperor would call a war meeting at the same time?"

It would not be coincidence at all, she would later learn. Everything had been planned since the beginning, all according to the imperial couple's whims.

It had planned even for its direct contradiction: when she and Hakuei entered the Empress' tearoom, the Emperor was sat at a large chair by the open windows, his wife sitting some ways across him. Scattered across the room were Kougyoku and Kouha quietly bickering over something, and Hakuryuu quietly reading in another corner.

"Ah, so you've finally come," Gyokuen said as she stood to greet them. Sayu and Hakuei remained in their low curtsy, however, waiting for Koutoku's word to rise.

Eventually, he did. He spared one glance at them both, before turning his gaze again to the open window, where the noonday was still raining and roiling with thunder. "Rise."

This was the first time she'd come so close to the Emperor since her wedding day.

And he wanted to speak to them, there was no doubt—the way he sat, the pensive arch to his brow. She could see it all, because he didn't wear his headdress this time; his head was tilted toward the view of Rakushou, but Sayuri saw that his eyes were seeing something far, far more distant.

The Emperor of Kou was contemplating something.

And if she knew anything at all about great men, about powerful men, it was that when they made their mind to speak, they expected all to hear them.

Koutoku's face was wrinkled, riddled with discolored spots. But he did not stoop nor stutter like other old men—he remained tall and proud, his broad shoulders (so much like Kouen's) outlined in his regal violet robes. Even his beard was well maintained, trimmed and oiled and still a startling shade of the deepest vermillion.

He wasn't even bald. Or balding. His thick, curling hair was just tied back with a gold clip.

"Come forward. Both of you."

This time the Emperor's voice did not roar, but still it did not request; it commanded, quietly, dangerously. She and Hakuei shared one glance before walking towards the Emperor. Gyokuen just watched them with a faint smile; she gave them one small nod of encouragement before moving to sit with Hakuryuu in his corner of the room.

Finally, the Emperor turned away from his window and grasped the armrests of his seat. Only now and up close could Sayuri see that the thing had been carved with dragons curling up and down the chair. It was large, but Koutoku was even larger—he looked at both women with a neutral expression, which Sayuri beforehand would've declared impossible.

She'd witnessed only two default expressions of the Emperor, before: his face was always sneering with malice or curling with rage.

Never something in between, as he was staring at them now.

He gave Hakuei a once-over. "You may sit," he said, before he pointed his gaze like a dagger solely and fully on Sayu.

Koutoku seemed to be assessing her. Only once before this had she ever been so close as to see the shades of red in the Emperor's cruel eyes; his eyes roved up and down, before settling on her face.

Sayu bowed her head dutifully, wondering to what reason had she suddenly received the full scrutiny of the Emperor, who after her wedding day and before this very instant, had always scrupulously pretended she didn't even exist. "Father."

That seemed to amuse him, for some reason. His lips twitched. "And how are you settling in Kou, daughter? Does it please your senses enough?"

There was that undercurrent of mockery she had come to know, though in the privacy of the Empress's tearoom, it was toned down, almost subtle. Perhaps he was insinuating he knew about her romp around Rakushou yesterday. Perhaps he wasn't; merely commenting how totally different, and how totally a foreigner she was in Kou. She had been transplanted here, an outsider, and he wanted her to remember.

He need not have bothered. She wasn't likely to forget how much she had been isolated from her parents, and from everything she had previously known.

I would never forget, she thought scornfully.

Sayuri kept her own voice neutral, knowing the Emperor wouldn't be fooled by false smiles and titters, "The people of Kou have a different way of doing things, but difference doesn't detract from efficiency. Or efficacy, or even ingenuity."

Sayuri meant every word. Rakushou lived in rigidity and regulation, but somehow it thrived, and there was order. Her visit yesterday had only proved that. She was not exactly thrilled to have been ripped from her family and friends, but she acknowledged the Kou way of life.

Her words constructed, if nothing else, a careful, judicious answer.

"A diplomat, aren't you," The Emperor said, his voice suddenly devoid of any emotion. It reminded her so much of Kouen's own monotone voice that she blinked upon hearing it. "My son didn't tell me he brought home a diplomat."

Sayuri paused, genuinely wondering what he was getting at. She stared at him critically. Earnestly. "I…don't know what you mean, Your Majesty."

It had been a mistake. He seemed to be infuriated by her answer.

Koutoku suddenly sat back on his chair like a throne, a tsk escaping his lips. The motion wrinkled the silk of his fine robes, and he restlessly palmed an armrest, which had a dragon's gaping maw carved into its end, the teeth crafted in sharp and meticulously aligned rows.

He was staring straight into her face again, and while it made the back of her neck sweat, it seemed like he was seeing right through her; like he could see each and every thought forming in her little head, and as his mouth thinned, she knew whatever he saw, he was either displeased or annoyed by.

The Emperor stood. He towered over her as he drew closer and closer with each step.

Eventually she had to tilt her head to look up to him, which was nearly blasphemous in the Kou court. When he stood so close, no one would look the Emperor square in the eye like so.

Yet she would not—could not—look away. This was the man who had demeaned her the very moment she had step foot in his court, the man who had mocked her for all to see and then ignored her, only to suddenly call upon her once more.

He was the man who was practically demanding her attention when he tried to corner like this, like he relished in being the predator that hounded her at every turn.

And what else would she do but oblige him, however scornfully?

"Then tell me," Koutoku began carefully, his voice almost an insidious whisper hissing in her ears, "why one of the provinces of my. EMPIRE. IS SUING FOR PEACE. UNDER YOUR NAME!"

By the end of it, his voice had risen to a shout that had made Kougyoku cower in terror, while Kouha, Hakuryuu, and Hakuei looked on in complete shock.

Sayuri stared at the Emperor, utterly and completely not grasping a single thing he had shouted in her ears, wondering if she had heard anything correctly. "What?"

Gyokuen was at her side, immediately. There were hands on her shoulders, and the Empress looked at Koutoku with reproach. "Koutoku! Is that any way to speak to Kouen's wife?"

Is that any way, Sayuri thought as she looked to the side, assessing the situation as fast as she could, to speak to anyone?

Had she heard correctly? What did that even mean? That a province of Kou wanted peace…"under her name?" Were they not at peace now?

And why her?

In her peripheral view, she watched as Hakuei got up from her seat to approach the three of them. "Does that mean," She breathed with real, mounting fear in her eyes, "that the north has truly risen in revolt?"

Koutoku started pacing. He wore a path in the sumptuous carpets as he spat out, "Those barbarian tribes have united." Then the Emperor turned to her again, the fire in his eyes suddenly burning with rage barely contained by Gyokuen's rebuke—"So you. You say you have no part in this?"

"If you mean I incited a rebellion—"

The thought was so ridiculously impossible that she was taken aback by how serious the Emperor took it. Her? The eastern wife of Kouen, a foreign woman with no connections, who had never even left Rakushou, she had something to do with a province of Kou revolting?

"No, she couldn't have," Gyokuen's hands were still warm upon her shoulders. They lifted, and the Empress stood at Sayuri's side, grasping Sayuri's fingers in reassurance. "Could you, Sayuri? You have been in conference with the trade ministers only this spring, you could not have done anything."

It came as no surprise that her activities were known to the Empress, but Sayuri was still shaken by the accusation that she had been scheming to harm the Empire. She had never interfered with Kou's military affairs in her short stay, and had never once even spoken about it to Kouen. And she was being accused of treason?

Who or what is the source of this, her mind automatically turned to.

And to what end?

Koutoku stopped. He turned to face them all again, breathing deeply. He pulled something out of his robes—a small, folded square of paper that he then threw at their feet.

"Tell me," Koutoku snapped, "why is there a letter asking for your intercession in a peace treaty with the barbarians from the governor of Qileng?"

He stepped closer, and it took all her self-discipline not to retreat from this man that she had spoken to for all but four times.

He was so close and his hands had risen from their place by his sides, "Answer me!" he thundered, when she did not reply.

Peace treaty.

Barbarians.

Qileng.

Governor.

This—it was absurd. She had never even strung a phrase, a sentence, in relation to any of this, she had never even heard of the province of Qileng before this—

Nothing—she thought frantically—nothing makes sense.

"ANSWER ME!"

Koutoku raised one ringed finger and placed it on the column of her neck, tracing a path that edged toward her jaw.

It trembled, and his knuckles clenching his fist were sheet white, as if he was literally shaking with rage, as if he was only a few small moments away from striking her.

His finger moved from her jaw to her chin, and he tipped her head up, like he was a butcher inspecting an animal whose throat he was about to slit from end to end.

Sayuri's heart tripped, her chest pounding, as she gazed deeper into the Emperor's eyes and saw only her pale, frightened reflection in them.

She breathed one ragged breath; it would not do to show cowardice at such a critical juncture. If she backed down from this, if she gave a meek and frightened answer, what would Koutoku think of her? That his belief in her being nothing more than a weak woman with a foreign title was justified? That she was easily cowed into submission to his every urge?

And yet—

There was a very real danger that he would hurt her. His finger was painful against the soft, fleshy skin of the underside of her chin; she was not his wife, nor his concubine, but she may as well have been, because he would beat her anyway. He was Emperor, and he was beyond reproach.

He had always had such a reputation for brutality, clinging to him like an ever-present mist.

Damn it all, and here she swallowed, choking back the fear lodged in her throat. She should be unafraid of tyrants, of despots. She should be unafraid of being hurt in the process of standing up for what was right—wasn't that what she had done, before?

Briefly, she screwed her eyes shut, and Alexander's face flashed in the black of her mind.

Then she stared back at the Emperor, uttering, with all the strength and venom she could muster, taking extra care to keep the quiver out of her voice, "No. I know nothing about this. I am innocent of whatever you're accusing me of."

And slowly, she raised her own hands.

She took his much bigger fist in her own more delicate, uncalloused hand, lowering it from her chin. As she surveyed the scene around her, she saw the children of the imperial family's reaction to what the Emperor had just done to her vary from shock to utter horror to disgust.

The Empress was staring at her with pity, and it had been Hakuei who'd had the indignity of having to bend over to pick the square-folded paper from the floor, which now lay open in her trembling hands.

"It's—it's true," The younger princess said. She looked at the Emperor with heavily veiled anger, but when she turned to Sayuri, her gaze turned pained and regretful, as if conveying, I'm sorry I let him threaten you. "The governor—Lord Hanzuo…he was asking for you, Sayuri. Even if it was to a private letter to his daughter here in court—he was completely serious. He wants you to intercede on behalf of him and the Empire, against the tribes."

Sayuri's ears had somehow tuned out the rest of the speech the moment she'd said it's true.

When she noticed Hakuei's mouth had stopped moving, she held out her hand. "Please…Princess Hakuei."

The letter turned out to be even stranger than she had thought.

Hanzuo Guang had been the governor of Kou's Qileng province; for years and years the tribes had raided the Kou fortresses installed up north, but now they had banded together and threatened an actual uprising that could wipe out the northern garrison…as well as Hanzuo himself.

But the governor had heard of her, Sayuri Jie, the new wife of the General Commander of the Kou forces. Hanzuo could not bring himself to plead for Kouen's help, fearing her husband would sooner raze Qileng and scour the province for every traitor until only the women and children were left alive. And so Hanzuo had turned to her: the Crown Princess, the woman who held Kouen's ear, who in turn held the Emperor's ear.

And crazier still: he had heard of her, of her past. Of her past titles; of her past husband. His demise, and what role she had played.

Surely, being who she was, she could convince the imperial family to spare the lives of everyone in Qileng. Surely she could broker a peace between the barbarian tribes and the Empire of Kou, if only she would make the travel north in the next two weeks…

All of this, he had outlined in a letter addressed to his sole daughter, who was serving as one of Gyokuen's ladies-in-waiting at court.

It was poorly written: every line she had read was more outlandish than the last, and Hanzuo's increasing desperation shone through every hastily penned plea. It was like reading the thoughts of a man falling slowly into insanity, but was cruelly unaware of it: I know this is the last thing we can do for these people, but we must try, we must try, surely you understand, we must reach the Crown Princess somehow…

Sayuri resisted the urge to crumple the letter in her fist. It had not escaped her notice that Hanzuo's daughter was in Gyokuen's employ; she looked to the Empress, quietly asking, "Did his daughter approach you, Your Majesty?"

Gyokuen nodded gravely, her hand lifting to shield her mouth, as was her habit. "Yes; I brought the matter to the Emperor immediately. But know this: I never doubted your innocence, not even once, Sayuri."

She bowed her head, in deep thanks.

'We must reach the Crown Princess somehow…'

The letter had repeated that line over and over again. Perhaps Gyokuen took this to be a sign of how truly desperate and helpless Hanzuo was, to be asking the help of a complete stranger.

And perhaps Koutoku had construed it as something else. After all: when confronted with something already outrageous, one would begin to think of other strange things.

Then she remembered: part of the Jishouan fleet traveled courses passing dangerously close to the coastal provinces bordering Qileng. They covered supply routes for the Empire, as was part of their alliance's terms, that ran from Rakushou to Darrieh, and even as far as the provinces bordering the Tenzan Plateau.

Slowly, how Koutoku came to the conclusion that she was a traitor to Kou from this hopeless request for her help, was illuminated.

This was perhaps how it went: Hanzuo was secretly collaborating with the barbarian horde all along. She had already been acquainted with Hanzuo, and the letter was a ploy to get her to Qileng. She was secretly supporting the rebellion, promising the aid of Jishou in their endeavor, and together they would somehow grind the Kou Empire to dust under their heel.

It was…an elaborate, grandiose plot, of that there was no doubt.

It was also stupid beyond anything imaginable.

Yet then again, stranger (stupider) things have happened. Hanzuo's letter in her hands was living proof of that.

"I understand why Your Majesty the Emperor would think I would be involved in this rebellion," Sayuri said, slowly. "I am close to my father, the King of Jishou; my backing of Qileng's revolt would mean my father's backing. It could also, possibly, mean the backing of Ariavat and Caera. Whatever coalition results from my father agreeing to help, however, would assist the tribes in throwing off the yoke of Kou's tyranny. In the revolution that would undoubtedly spill over into the other provinces, Jishou or the Triangle might gain some new territory for itself, or even fashion itself as the new master of the Eastern continent."

A ridiculous thought, she added internally.

"I refute all this, though." She gazed at the Emperor. He had seated himself again in the length of her monologue, his fingers tapping impatiently against his wooden throne. "I do not know Hanzuo Guang. I do not know his daughter. I didn't even know they existed until this point."

"So you say I have no reason to doubt your loyalty," Koutoku summarized with a growl. "Is that true?"

Sayuri clenched her jaw. That was an entirely different matter.

But hadn't she made her vows? Hadn't she sworn herself to Kouen? He was indistinguishable from Kou. Her husband was its soul, and being married to him—to be Crown Princess, to eventually be Empress one day—it meant being married to Kou itself.

And hadn't I made that choice, that very day in Tohouku with Kuja at my side, to accept his proposal?

"No," She uttered plainly. "No, you do not, Your Imperial Majesty."

The Emperor shared a glance with Gyokuen.

The look between them had been so fleeting, yet Sayuri had caught it almost immediately—the brief glint in both Koutoku and Gyokuen's eyes made the hair on the back of her neck stand on end.

It was a knowing look they shared.

And it was at that exact same moment when Sayuri realized this entire confrontation had been planned and choreographed from the very beginning.

"You should have no problem, then, if I decide to test this loyalty of yours," The Emperor of Kou decreed.

He lifted a hand and gestured; with one flick of his wrist, her fate for the next few months had been sealed. He said carelessly, "You will go north and intercede on Kou and that pathetic fool Hanzuo's behalf. If whatever peace terms you craft with the barbarians are acceptable, then good for you, and for the barbarians; if not, then by the end of this year I promise you, no one and nothing in Qileng will be left alive.

"Hakuei," He pointed one ringed finger at the princess who seemed to petrify as the Emperor turned his gaze on her, "you will be the captain of her guard." A vicious smile alighted on his face, "If you succeed in keeping your brother's wife alive, I will personally see to granting you the command of your own battalion."

Having apparently no interest left in either of them, Koutoku once again turned to his window. The rain poured, and the thunder rolled.

It was as if nothing at all had happened.

He had laid the lives of every northerner in Kou on her shoulders; so eloquently had he promised their survival, and in the next breath, their extinction. These people—these people who she had never even met, let alone knew of up until this very instant, and all because of a single letter—

Neath her robes, her legs felt weak. She supposed it wouldn't be very far from what she was feeling, if she suddenly went on her knees in front of the Emperor. It would be a sadistic reenactment of the first time they'd met.

Beneath his own robes, Koutoku shifted his legs into a more comfortable sitting position.

And then he addressed her one last, final time, not even deigning to look her in the eye. "You married my son, girl. He has made his bed a long time ago; now, you must lie in it. This is who we are, as Kou."

Notes:

You see it's funny, because Koutoku complains about barbarian tribes, but like...he's somewhat barbaric too. And he was bound to return to this fic someday!

(1) Another reference in this chapter's title, from Euripides' Helen, but translated by the (great) tumblr user terpsikeraunos: 'The razing of Ilion / Falls to inimical fire / Because of me, mass-murdering / Because of my name, much-suffering.' I found it to be a good summation of the two main characters of this chapter.

(2) I use the term "barbarian" loosely, because, honestly, people throughout history have always used it to describe the "uncivilized" other, often in referral of those most uncivilized of all peoples, the tribal people.

(3) A response to morpheusandmuse's review: hello hello again, and thanks for deciding to stop by. I agree with your review completely; I will be trying to rectify this with the ensuing chapters (including this one). How well I've done to expand upon or take us further into Sayuri's psyche, which I honestly want to do, I leave up to your critique, however. I'm hoping you decide to stop by again, just to tell me how I'm doing on that, and other fronts.

To be honest though, I should get to work on the rest of Ch. 17. We finally do hit more of Sayuri's past, as hinted in this chapter, which was sort of purposefully left up to this point. And if anyone's at all interested about a little more on Alexander, I actually included him in a oneshot on Night 2 of 1001 Nights, my other fic (which is a collection of oneshots, haha), thought Night 2 also includes Shiro and Kuja, and a bit of their respective backstories too.

Thanks again to everyone else that reviewed, however; theirs were the words that kept me on updating this fic. I'll be responding to everyone personally in a few hours! And to everyone who's found this fic and put it on their follows/faves list in my short hiatus - welcome!