The Queen's Honor Guard
by Nyohah
IV.
The two-week battle with the Chiss had been a swift, relatively painless victory for the Mandalorian army. However, Wei Yong was not so ignorant in the way of diplomacy to express such a callous opinion in his public summary of the war. He had no wish to face the sorrowful wrath of those whose sons, fathers, husbands, nephews, or even the rare daughters, had been ruthlessly slaughtered by the reptilian forces. Polite smiles and original-sounding generic condolences were, as he had long since been taught, the path to respect and the public's approving opinion of him.
He saluted his soldiers and nodded to the civilians that bowed as he passed, his eyes un-focusing themselves from fatigue as he climbed the stairs to the room Ming had insisted upon keeping. Both the carved wooden shutters and the decoratively etched glass windows were open; the crisp fall air whooshed through the room, rippling his soiled cape, and knocking a few strands of hair onto his face. He tossed his head in an equine manner to force them back and, with a great sigh, fell forward onto his bed. His armor pushed him into the soft mattress to such a degree that he couldn't breathe. Reluctantly, he mustered the strength to roll onto his back, and vowed to sleep until the trees that had not yet begun to lose their leaves regained them all.
A knock at the door spoiled his plan, and he ignored it, hoping that the person would think he was somewhere else. Unfortunately, the person was far too intuitive to be fooled by such a juvenile ruse.
He heard the door being gently closed, and light footsteps that most anyone who had not spent the previous two weeks on constant alert for the slightest rustling in the brush of a ghostly forest would never have detected. They stopped, and he sighed again, eyes still shut as he greeted the visitor. "What is it, Kei Sa?"
"Your presence has been requested at a meeting of the advisors."
"That's really nice. Can I sleep now?"
"General, this meeting could have monumental consequences. Yuen Po's death has tossed the council off-balance, and Yuen Jer Rod has plans for change."
"Honestly, Kei Sa, at this moment, I wouldn't care if they were deciding to execute everyone with gray eyes," he said, sleepily rubbing his.
"Would you like to consider what our queen shall do to you if you do not honor this meeting with your attendance?"
Wei Yong looked at the pale woman unhappily. He dragged himself to his feet and shrugged off his armor, letting it clatter to the floor in a disarrayed heap. "Give me a bit, will you?"
In a matter of minutes, Kei Sa stepped into the conference room, followed by a damp but clean Li Wei Yong. He glanced at the complete assembly of advisors. "Fashionably late, as usual."
"Actually, General," commented the emperor, "You're seldom late."
"But if you want to pretend because it makes you feel suave, you may," added his sister condescendingly.
"I don't have to pretend," Wei Yong responded to his wife. "I just am."
"I never noticed."
"Children, please," interrupted the main political advisor. "We haven't all day. Let's put these juvenile squabbles behind us and concentrate on the matter at hand."
"And that would be...?" prompted Wei Yong.
"Sit," the advisor sternly ordered. The general hurriedly took the chair on his wife's left, to the right of Kei Sa, who had already sat.
In his seat to the right of Ming and left of the empty chair caused by his great-great-grandmother's death, Emperor Yuen Jer Rod leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table's frosted glass surface. "I have called you together in order to discuss the revisions that must be made to our government. We have changed next to nothing since my father was removed from power, besides freeing the slaves—which was very much in order," he added quickly, nodding at Kei Sa. "I ask of you, is it moral, is it righteous, is it permissible for us to follow in the Tyrant's footsteps?"
The advisors shook their heads, some looking at the table as though chastised for their lack of effort.
One spoke, trying to justify their dormancy, "It's been a rough time, trying to accustom the people to freedom again, after such tyranny, then chaos—"
"I don't want excuses," Jer Rod rebuked, "I only want action."
The room fell into silence. "You're advisors," continued the emperor, leaning back. "Advise."
No one spoke. They fidgeted, and looked around, examining everything but Jer Rod, yet not one so much as opened his mouth.
He sighed. "Have I frightened you, now? I am not my father. You need not fear me. The lecture is over; now we remedy the problem. Our entire hierarchy must be reorganized."
The political advisor shook his head, "Emperor, do you suggest that we let these planets go back to their roots? For some of them, back to their barbarian practices? History need not repeat itself. I remember the Roman Empire's fall."
"Mr. Chan, we should be not the Roman Empire, with an insatiable will to conquer, but the Roman Republic, bringing our advancements still, but allowing the people to represent themselves. One step farther: every world can be equal."
"We'd still need a ruler over all," chimed in a different advisor.
"Naturally," said Jer Rod.
"And who will that be?"
"Me...hopefully."
"We'd hold an election," said another.
"Of course."
"Let the twelve planets nominate a candidate each."
"Absolutely."
"And you, being the only one qualified, would win."
"That's what we're hoping will happen. If it doesn't...we'll deal with that if it happens." To the shocked looks of his advisors, Jer Rod soothed, "I don't mean an assassination or anything of the sort. I will remind you once more: I am not my father. We'll hope the one who wins is capable, and help him—or her," he amended, glancing at his sister, who smiled back, "in whatever ways we can."
"Will the capital remain here?" asked Li Wei Yong. "Will the other planets want that? Do we want our palace to become abuzz with the activity of the galaxy, all our possible secrets laid open to every other leader? Do we want a senate—which I'm assuming you're implying—to meet in our palace? It sounds selfish, but, as general of our armies, though our affairs are not completely secret, I do not wish other governments to know of our techniques and our strength. I think other planets will feel the same, about everything. Do we not want ours to remain ours, and make a new place for a new government?"
"I had decided we must move the seat of the government," confirmed the emperor, "though for other reasons than yours, I must admit. I had thought it would appear to the others that we were only a member of our new government, rather than its ruler, if we moved the capital to, oh, Edenia."
Ming covered her eyes with her hands. "Is this related to that Princess Sindel whom you have recently met?" she dryly asked. Her brother did not answer, though his ears began to redden. The silence became disconcerting as Ming looked at her brother expectantly, as though if given enough time, he would answer.
Saving him from his embarrassment, an advisor offered, "Surely we must have a ruler on this planet, to further the point that we are only a member."
"I will," Ming said, suddenly serious. "Send Chan to the senate on Edenia. Leave me here, where I belong. Teach me everything you know, Jer Rod."
"Ming," he said slowly, "are you sure you want to do this?"
"Are you saying that I'm not capable? I have experience—well, some—and you can trust me. Everyone here can help me. Do you want to say to the people, 'Oh, she can't be your queen anymore. She was only a little doll on display'? I have to do this."
"Father didn't teach you how to be a leader—"
"I can't learn? Am I daft now because I happen to be female? I will learn."
Jer Rod glanced at each advisor in turn. "Her Righteousness Li Yuen Ming will remain queen; she will become the leader. Anyone who has a problem with that can report directly to me."
"She will need help with more than politics," said a soft voice.
Ming looked to Kei Sa, feeling betrayed. "You don't think I can do this either?"
"I think you can do it. You will regardless. I have no doubt of that. But you shall become a greater target than you ever were before. You will go to hostile planets as an ambassador. You will calm volatile situations on our planet, and any other where your help is requested. Do you want to do this alone? What happens when you're in the middle of enemy territory and you must be strong? Can you be without backup?
"Gentlemen, and queen, I suggest that we provide Li Yuen Ming with an elite force of guards, an honor guard, perhaps. The members would be excellent fighters, the best that can be found, with talents that will make them indispensable to our cause. Every one should be trusted to the end of the galaxy, or beyond, if necessary."
"A marvelous idea," commented Jer Rod.
"I don't need extra protection. I can take care of myself," protested Ming.
"The queen herself could be a member," added Kei Sa. "This would serve to throw off enemies. Such a drastic difference exists between her formal appearances in make-up and intricate attire and her simplistic style of fighting clothes that few would guess the two persons were one and the same."
"How many members?" asked Wei Yong, intrigued by the idea. "And when do I sign up?"
"Thirteen is a good number," commented an advisor.
"As good as any," said Kei Sa. "Any vetoes on thirteen? Thirteen it is. I have given this much thought, and I believe a tournament would be in order to help us select the members. Each should have four areas of skill: unarmed combat, armed combat—with wooden weapons in the tournament, naturally—proficiency with an element, and some special talent that cannot be tested in a tournament, but rather researched."
"This is the best idea I've heard in a long time—why, in fact since my father died," said Jer Rod.
"Emperor," said Chan, "I thought you said you were finished reprimanding us about that."
"Did I?"
"And when he's not busy saving the galaxy in times of war, as a brilliant sniper and captain, Nai Do Xian squanders his time cleaning up after other people's horses."
Do Xian dumped the pail of feed into the horse's bin and looked toward the entrance. "Good day, General. Here to see your horse?"
"Not primarily, but since I'm here, why not? We're a lot alike, you know, living on horses and fighting."
"The breeder gets annoyed when I drop hints about what you want to see. Tells me to tell you to stay out of his job."
"Maybe I should just fire him. Maybe I should just fire you, for being a coward."
"You and I both know that I am not a coward."
"Really? You hide and attack your enemies before you can even see them. This is considered bravery?"
Do Xian threw up his hands and admitted defeat. "You're not going to fire me."
"Of course not. You keep the stables cleanest. As for yourself..." Wei Yong flicked a piece of straw off the sniper's back, "it's hard to believe you clean up so well for the uniform."
"Have you come merely to torment me or was there a purpose to this visit?"
"Captain, you ought to reconsider entering the tournament."
The sniper slammed the bucket onto the ground. "No, no, no! Didn't we already discuss this? It's not possible. I'm not honor guard material."
"You don't know. How will you know if you don't try?"
"I'm perfectly happy where I am."
"You're going to sit around here for the rest of your life, cleaning up horse droppings and filling up water troughs as though you have the intelligence of a rock when you're actually the best sniper on the planet and an ace pilot as well? What a waste. I've sparred with you. You're good. You have to try."
"I said 'no' and I meant 'no', general."
"I could make it an order."
"No, you couldn't."
"Says who?" Do Xian frowned and Wei Yong continued. "You know I'm going to pester you until you give in."
Nai Do Xian rubbed his eyes. "I'll think about it."
"You better do more than that."
Li Wei Yong patted his horse's shoulder and left. Do Xian sighed.
Zhen Feng Qui pulled off his hat and ran his hand through his close-cropped hair as he stared at the Mandalorian palace. "How quaint." He looked slightly down to his friend. "Wouldn't you agree?"
Ta Lian Shi raised his eyebrows. "Haven't you been here before?"
"No. You talk as though you have, friend."
"For the wedding. Shenah made me come. Though I must admit, it's quite different now. All vacant and calm."
"You shouldn't allow her to push you around so."
"It was her birthday." He shrugged. "And she was mad because I went on that diving expedition."
"She had a point. You could have died."
"Would I have gone otherwise?"
The taller friend acknowledged the statement with a nod of his head. "So quiet here. I already prefer Onyx Coast."
"Indeed."
They struggled with their bags as they entered the palace courtyard, suspiciously guarding them from the servants who tried to help. Reaching the tournament registration desk, Zhen Feng Qui dropped his bags and leaned on the counter, smiling at the girl who turned to help them.
"Hello, madam," he said. "Sorry we're late, but we need to pick up our weapons now. Training calls."
"I'm sorry, but the registration deadline was a week ago, and most registered close to a month ago, to give the weapon maker time to work. You're too late."
"Excuse me, madam," cut in the shorter, wiry friend, "but I do not believe you realize who we are. I am Ta Lian Shi, champion of this year's Onyx Coast Fighting Tournament, and this is my friend, Zhen Feng Qui, second place."
The secretary raised her hands, palms upward, and shook her head slowly, clearly not recognizing the names.
"We had a special arrangement."
"Oh, you. I'll be right back." She walked to the tent behind the temporary desk, to retrieve their wooden weapons.
"Excuse me, gentlemen, but is this the registration desk?"
The fighters from Onyx Coast turned to look at the boy standing behind him.
"Who would this be, Zhen?" asked Ta Lian Shi.
"I wouldn't know, Lian. No one we've met. Look at the hair!" He pulled on the boy's locks, lengthy compared to his own.
"And the clothes. He looks like a farmer." They laughed.
"I think you're bit late, though, boy. Registration ended a week ago," said Zhen.
"I had to finish the harvest," the newcomer explained.
Lian hit Zhen in the chest with the back of his hand. "I told you he was a farmer."
"Now then," breathed the receptionist, returning and setting three packages on the counter.
"Uh, madam, there's two of us," noted Lian.
She lifted her chin and looked at him down her nose, pointing to the men standing at the desk and counting on her fingers. "One, two, three. Perhaps you should get a tutor to sharpen your mental skills rather than physical."
"He doesn't count," Zhen said, pushing the newcomer away, and standing in front of him, his tall form easily blocking the other.
"I had three special packages," said the receptionist, blatantly annoyed. "I brought them all." She looked at the tag on the top box, which was smallish and square. "Tieh Chen Yi."
"That would be me," said the newcomer, shoving Zhen away so forcefully that the older fighter stumbled.
"What?" exclaimed Lian. "They bend over backward for you? Boy from Middle of Nowhere?"
"I'm from Sapphire Coast," Chen Yi said, more than irritated.
"That's what I said. Middle of Nowhere."
"I happen to be the grand champion of Sapphire Coast," proclaimed Chen Yi.
"So? You're better than two thousand other people."
"Five thousand," he corrected with an adamant scowl.
"Oh, excuse me. You're better than five thousand other people. Well, listen, boy, I'm the grand champion of Onyx Coast. I'm better than five hundred thousand people."
"And I'm better than four-hundred ninety-nine thousand, nine hundred ninety-nine people," Zhen Feng Qui added.
"So I wouldn't get your hopes up in this tournament. You're outclassed, country boy."
The friends picked up their packages—Zhen's long and thin, Lian's flat and rectangular—and left.
Tieh Chen Yi rolled his eyes, and made a disgusted noise. "I wish I could apologize for their behavior toward you, ma'am."
He carefully opened his package, and pulled out a rubber whip and a waved, wooden dagger. He snapped the whip around, testing its flexibility and strength as he switched the dagger into several grips, evaluating its balance and weight, in an impressive display of agility and form. "Fantastic!" He turned back toward the secretary. "Where are our real weapons?"
"The weapon maker has them stored in the backroom of his workshop. You can have them back after the tournament."
"Well, ma'am, tell this weapon maker that he has my compliments on an impeccable job."