Takuaka and Hiiragi had spent the morning hard at work, examining star charts, reading tea leaves, and scanning manuscript after manuscript of portents, omens, and signs, to try and discover what fate awaited Emperor Leo Maximillian, Aronia, and, of course, themselves. The revolution had made both men's schedules suddenly very full. During times of relative peace the emperor and his court were scarcely spiritual and rarely mystical. The two priests copied texts, took walks in the castle gardens, and used the majority of their wages on very expensive tea. Upheaval, largely among the lower classes, stimulated interest in their profession. Generals asked if they would win the upcoming battle, mothers tearfully inquired if their sons would survive the war, and foot soldiers wondered if they would do something to merit a promotion. And the emperor came as well. Nearly every other day, as a matter of fact.
"What are your conclusions?" Hiiragi asked his comrade, straightening the papers before him.
"The empire fails," Takuaka said decisively.
"I saw that as well," Hiiragi agreed, "A phenomenal movement of the stars. And the True Runes as well. This will be the beginning of a new cycle. A spreading of new ways born from the old."
"To live in such trying times is truly a blessing and a curse," his friend added.
The priests were prepared to see things through to the end. They knew they would be present at the last deciding moment and they eagerly awaited with anticipation those defining words which would shape the future of the land for centuries to come.
"Let's place bets," Takuaka laughed, "On what the decisive words will be."
"That's ridiculous. We shouldn't trivialize it," Hiiragi scoffed, "But I suppose they'll be something to the effect of "Now that this land is free I'll take charge and fix things up," wouldn't you say?"
"No," he shook his head, "I don't think he'll even have that much to say. Just-"
"Well?!" roared Emperor Leo Maximillian as he burst through the doors, "What did your auguries say?!"
"It's on their side now, but you still have a fighting chance," Hiiragi ventured cheerfully. Despite all information pointing otherwise he knew the value of staying on the emperor's good side. Only tell the emperor good news when he's angry was his rule on the matter.
Takuaka nodded in agreement, "Don't waste your time here, Your Highness- Kiyon must be waiting to tell you about his newest winning strategy right now!"
The agitated ruler agreed succinctly and strode quickly out.
Murasaki Fuji no Shita ni Kuni
"The Country Under the Purple Wisteria"
Chapter 67- From the Fields to the Lake
Mieno had fought with the offer the turan had dangled in front of her. Employment with the Serif State Army was quite an appealing job opportunity. She toyed with the thought seriously, considering the phenomenal increase in salary she would receive. When Amarilla explained that her brothers' care would be taken care of, she was sold. The mapmaker bundled up her charts and tools immediately. There were other regions to document and advice to give. The idea of the work ahead exhilarated her. The sun was bright and the air was cold.
"You appear excited," Azai commented quietly.
"Thank you so much," Amarilla added with a smile.
"It's no problem at all," Mieno replied, "I'm grateful to Turan Magno for giving me the opportunity to get out and see this changing country. I mean, I'm sure that all my father's maps of Aurel and Tawa are in need of some serious updating."
"Good honest work!" the turan laughed from astride his dappled mount, "An excellent trait in the young!"
Mieno did not know exactly how to respond to that assertion.
Farmers watched from their bare fields as the Serif State Army passed through their lands. Two banners waved at the forefront of the army: the state flag of Serif and the turan's personal standard. Mieno rode beside the Turan, pointing out landmarks and commenting on the history of the particular road they traversed.
Atera, Azai, and Falina stayed further back, riding on a supply wagon. Falina watched the peasants who stared after them. They were just like her fellow villagers from Finnel Village, despite living miles away in another state. Although they did not appear destitute, they were by no means in a particularly secure financial situation. The fields dictated their fate. A good harvest meant full stomachs and happy families. A bad harvest... The dark-haired girl stopped herself. It pained her to imagine these curious folk starving and suffering. She could remember a few times in her life when she had eaten the same bland meal everyday for weeks, but life in her home village had always been relatively stable.
The day they reached the edge of the Omasas Plains Turan Magno interviewed the hopeful men who had trailed after the army in search of some sort of employment during the idle season. Very quickly the army acquired a much more skilled staff of cooks, as well as a few assorted warriors. The one who caught Falina's eye was a dark-skinned man with the largest bow she had ever seen. The archer was taller than the turan with a thick accent. In a way, he reminded her of Hai-Yong.
"Hello, zhere," he nodded as she approached.
"Hello," she stepped around some scattered equipment lying on the ground; "I've noticed you around lately. Where are you from?"
The archer stretched and stood up, "You've behn aroun' here too, Missie. I seen ya with za turan."
"I'm Falina," she curtsied politely, being careful not to let the flower crown fall off her head.
"An' I be Kano. Twaz barn in za state of Linren, in a city call Arribo. I behn travelin' fur quite some time nah, tho."
Falina giggled softly, "Does everyone in Linren talk like you, Mr. Kano?"
"Ach, not by a long shot zhere," he noted, "Only on za river. 'Tsa way my ol' parents spoke, an' 'tis wha I learned too."
"Are you a fisherman? A ferryman? What did you do on the river?" she inquired further.
Kano adjusted his quiver and continued, "Nan of those, Missie. Trappin' be my kin' of job. Up za river, out a Linren, ya reach za Ou'lands. In za Ou'lands, zhere's plenty of wild things. 'Tsa nice sorta country out zhere. Mebbe someday I make a job of travelin' it. Could name somewha' after me ol' self." The trapper threw back his head and laughed, "That'd be purty arrogent, doncha think?"
He slapped Falina on the back and she nearly jumped in shock, "Ya be a nice girl, Falinah," he chuckled.
"Th-thank you," she gasped.
Sanada and Sita had spent the afternoon wandering around the tiny port of Kirov, but they had yet to find what they had come searching for. Tired and somewhat exasperated they slumped down on a bench near the waterfront and watched the townspeople come and go.
"Everyone of my sources agreed that he lives here," Sanada complained, "And yet no one we ask in town has the slightest idea who we're talking about."
"It's not as if being a military engineer were a terribly common job," Sita noted, "I've never met one. You'd think if you had you'd remember that person better."
"Maybe he's just changed professions, Ladies," a roguish voice offered helpfully. Both women turned around instantly to look at the man who had spoken. He was thin and a bit scruffy, with a dangling gold earring in the one ear and an orange scarf tied over his wavy golden hair.
"Who are you?" Sanada demanded, "If you know anything about Celan Leblanc the military engineer I'd greatly appreciate it if you could tell us."
The rogue grinned, "Yeah, I know the man- he's my older brother. My name, Ladies, is Tiro Aaron Leblanc, but you may simply call me Tiro."
"Never mind that, Tiro," Sanada replied sharply, "Where's your brother? Can you take us to see him?"
"Please?" Sita added nervously, slightly afraid that Sanada's rough way of doing things would scare the man off.
Tiro threw up his hands melodramatically, "How could I say no to two such lovely ladies? It would be a crime! now, I'll take you to him, although I can't vouch for whether he'll actually talk to you or not."
Sita and Sanada got up off the bench and followed Tiro through the maze of ramshackle warehouses and the better constructed houses of the merchants who owned them, "You ladies wouldn't mind introducing yourselves to me, would you? I am doing you this favor for free, you know."
"I'm Sita and this is Sanada," the duchess declared cheerfully.
"Sanada Morin and Duchess Sita Katyana," the strategist clarified, "Don't get any ideas, you dolt."
Tiro shuddered at the ice in her voice, "Ladies, ladies, what makes you think that I would be that sort of guy?"
"Just keep walking," Sanada commanded.
Tiro turned back around, obeying silently.
The home of Celan Leblanc was a white cottage surrounded by a fence made of unpainted driftwood. Tiro kicked open the gate and the two rebels followed him to the door, which he rapped on unceremoniously, "Hey! Open up in there! It's your brother!"
The door opened quickly, to reveal a chestnut-haired man wearing an apron. When he looked around his younger brother and saw the two women his dark eyes narrowed for a moment, but he still grumbled grudgingly, "All right, all right, all of you, come in."