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Chapter 7: The Consort's Festival (Part Two)
They stood a few steps from a gold carpet covered in red chrysanthemums, in the arch of the Throne Hall. The fabric was strewn, sleek, across the dulling red and grey stone that accumulated into a path beaten by millions of footsteps accumulated over two thousand years. It was a streak of sunlight against a darkened forest floor, fit for children of the Phoenix. Trailing to the Ilsalyang Pavilion, the carpet was snuggled between two large masses of colorful fabric and painted faces. Kurapika could make out figures, dressed in petal pinks and dandelion yellows, sitting in a circle on red cushions with gilded backs. The rest of the consorts, no doubt, waiting patiently for the Emperor and his chosen consort. A large throne sat at the front, scrubbed in blood. Despite it all, despite his status as an outcast, the Emperor lodged into the picture like a long lost puzzle piece, even when he looked so cross.
Pakunoda crossed her arms, but a playful smile grew on her lips. "You seem well. How's married life treating you?"
The Emperor grimaced, and Kurapika wondered if he might be going insane. So much emotion couldn't be healthy for his nonexistent heart. He was even slouching a bit now, and Kurapika was quite certain the man's posture had always been stiff as a rod. "Who told you?"
"I have my sources," Pakunoda replied. Siblings? But Kurapika was sure the Emperor was an only child. Then again, his origins were a mystery to all but the man himself. But the woman looked nothing like him. She was beautiful, yes, but not the sort of beauty one could find in the Emperor's perfectly sculpted features.
Kurapika watched the scene divulge, as the Emperor's eyes narrowed and his mood dipped from concern to irritation.
"You're going back to your room," the Emperor said, gesturing to his own guards. Only one of which actually stepped forward. He was a scruffy man, older than the Emperor, and he looked thoroughly ready to take a nap as soon as the moment became available to him.
"I feel fine," Paku insisted, placing a hand on his shoulder, reassuringly. She was so casual about it, too! Who was she?
The scruffy guard looked between the two, looking dazed, while Kurapika watched with intensity. This could be vital to his mission.
For a few seconds, the two of them stared at each other, then the gong rang to signal the beginning of the festival and the Emperor tore his gaze away.
"Very well, but if your heart starts acting up, I'm sending you back to your quarters," snapped the Emperor, taking Kurapika by the arm and stalking away. Kurapika was still shell-shocked. Emotions? The Emperor? Especially those sorts of emotions?
"Are you feeling alright?" Kurapika asked. If the Emperor was going insane, that might put a damper on their plans, or expedite them. "Who is that woman?"
"Currently, the bane of my existence," the Emperor said, returning to that mellow, even tone.
Kurapika ignored the insult. "Is she another one of your advisors? They keep ambushing me."
"Not exactly," the Emperor replied, letting go of Kurapika's arm once they achieved sufficient distance from Pakunoda. "She's . . . an old friend. We have a complicated relationship."
"Does she want to end you, too?" Lanterns were strung from the rooftops, the phoenix insignia a fiery orange against pale yellow. As a nation built from nothing, that had been torn apart and had vanished from the map several times, the phoenix was a fitting national symbol, and it was everywhere.
"For an assassin, you're quite vocal about your plans," the Emperor said, nodding to the guards posted at the doors. The two of them walked down a path of gold silk and red chrysanthemum petals. Gold for eternity, and red for true love. People were already gathered in the courtyard, carrying mooncakes and tteok. Most of them bowed, though it was not required. The Emperor might have been a tyrant, but he demanded respect, and his subjects gave it to him without question.
Well, most of them did.
The throne, made for two, sat at the end of the carpet of gold silk. The pavilion built around it had been dressed in lights and flowers and had a seat for each of the other consorts, as well as the Emperor's trusted advisors. Behind them, Gyeoljeong Lake cracked open in the cascading light. The slow breeze brushing through the folds of his clothes and casting a slight chill over him.
The Emperor allowed him to sit down on the cushioned throne first, kissing his hand at some point in that process. The rest of their party took seats around them. Several servants arrived with food and drink, and the Emperor offered him a cold beverage colored a pink hue. Kurapika sipped it reluctantly, instinctively wary of anything his arch enemy gifted him. It was delicious but definitely alcoholic.
"I'd rather not become intoxicated in front of all these people," Kurapika said, handing the drink back.
"I've yet to see anyone get drunk off one of these," the Emperor replied. "Besides, I'm not one to allow my consorts to humiliate themselves."
Kurapika tipped a dubious eyebrow. "Somehow, I can't bring myself to believe you."
"It's also tradition for the consort to accept a drink from the Emperor as a token of their trust and appreciation for one another," he added. Kurapika ran through a mental checklist of all the responsibilities of a consort. Sure enough, the acceptance of some sort of beverage was among them. How vexing.
Kurapika took another sip. Despite the fact that he was still recovering from his unfortunate intoxication a few nights prior, Kurapika found himself taking a liking to the sweet tang of the drink.
"Pomegranate champagne," the Emperor supplied. "Thought it was fitting."
"Must've been expensive." Far too expensive for an obscure reference to a Greek myth.
"It was a gift," said the Emperor.
"From whom?"
A pause in the Emperor's usually fluid responses made him turn. His lips parted, but nothing came out. Kurapika felt the urge to touch his shoulder and shake him back to reality, but that would require more contact than desired.
"Just some old acquaintances," the Emperor replied. "From Peridot."
Peridot. That was quite a trip. At least three weeks by sea. Then another few days by land. Most of Peridot was populated by the rich and influential, but even they would be cutting it close with that sort of journey.
"They must be fond of you," Kurapika said.
"Indeed." The Emperor took a long swig of his own champagne, and Kurapika wondered how much further he could push him without stirring his seemingly nonexistent temper. Then again, was it worth seeing more of the Emperor's apparent humanity just to satisfy his curiosity.
He kept his mouth shut. The Emperor stood to greet his guests, who gave him their undivided attention.
"My friends," he outstretched his arms to his people. "These past few years have been filled with strife and suffering, as we dealt with the remnants of the last Emperor's corrupted court and helped appease the rioters." Appease. Kurapika nearly rolled his eyes. His parents had been among those rioters. They'd been anything but appeased.
Kurapika took a breath, trying not to have his eyes linger on the Emperor for too long. He could skewer him with a dagger through the back right now, but just a glance toward the guards on either side of the throne quelled those ambitions.
"Tonight marks the beginning of a new era in which we will strive for peace and prosperity." He turned to Kurapika, gesturing to him grandly. "And what better way to usher in a new time than with a new love."
Love?
Why was he surprised? From the moment he met him, he'd known the Emperor was skilled at deceiving individuals and crowds alike. But right now, even Kurapika found himself drawn in, believing him, despite knowing that what they had could only be hatred. His words alone were simple and saccharine, but when they came out of his mouth . . .
Tch, manipulative bastard. Yet another reason to despise him.
"Therefore, I implore you to enjoy tonight's festivities, as well as join us for the next two nights in our celebration of a new era," the Emperor continued, his eyes still on Kurapika. Oh dear. "But first, let us enjoy the performances of our lovely consorts." Our? "As they greet the arrival of our partnership with a number of carefully crafted lines of verse." The Emperor offered a hand to Kurapika, and the two of them stood before the crowd with joined hands.
Kurapika glanced at the Emperor, who offered no instructions. Surely, he didn't expect him to have memorized every line of that poem? The mass of people gazed at him, waiting for the poem of the century.
In his mind, the consort threw up his hands in exasperation. He'd been through worse. A little thing like total public humiliation wouldn't stop him. Besides, this was Pairo's poem, and Kurapika had never forgotten a single word of Pairo's poems.
He wet his lips, and spoke, trying his best to imitate the Emperor's soft baritone. Or maybe he was a tenor. Kurapika couldn't be sure.
"I crave
for a distant future.
Of loving whispers
and tender nights.
I gaze into silver
and run my hand through
luscious ebony waves,
and what I crave
is the present."
Kurapika was certain he'd missed a few lines, but the Emperor seemed satisfied as he led Kurapika back to their throne. The other four consorts were led up to the front of their little stage one by one, but Kurapika didn't bother listening to their poems. His attention remained on the Emperor's expression, one that remained polite yet indifferent throughout. How rude. These girls had to work hard to get to this point. Ah well, Kurapika supposed that was a good thing. If the Emperor genuinely fell in love with one of the other Consorts, then he might reconsider playing this game with Kurapika. On the other hand, Kurapika had no way of knowing if this indifference was real, or if he was simply putting up another front. Even with all his training, the Emperor's psyche remained a mystery. Well, almost.
Kurapika glanced toward where the Emperor's advisors sat, talking amongst each other with mountains of food before them. Pakunoda sat beside the strikingly frigid Machi, engaging the woman in what looked like polite small talk.
Who was she, really? And what had she done to earn a piece of the Emperor's heart? And did it matter? How much of an impact would she have on his plans?
"Plotting, my Prince?" the Emperor asked, sitting down next to him once more. Kurapika nearly jumped off the throne. His hand was wrapped in the Emperor's firm grip, and Kurapika turned to him, aware that there was currently a crowd of people stealing glances at the two of them.
"Of course not, your Majesty," Kurapika said. "Just thinking."
"Scheming, you mean," the Emperor sighed. Kurapika fought back the urge to scowl. "You must forgive me."
Kurapika's brow furrowed. If he thought a simple apology would make their situation any less murderous, then he was gravely mistaken.
"I know you were looking forward to spending the Festival with your friend," he finished. Kurapika stared at him, his expression blank. What was happening? Was he facing up to the consequences of his own actions? Impossible. "I do it only because sacrifices are necessary when you rule a country. That being said," he leaned his elbow against the throne's armrest, "I suppose there's nothing left for you to do."
"Pardon?"
"I'll give you an hour," the Emperor said. "Use your time wisely. There'll be guards monitoring your movements, but they shouldn't bother you unless something happens."
Was he kicking him out?
"I thought that was against tradition?" Kurapika asked.
"Oh, it is, but I've already broken so many rules, I doubt anyone will mind," the Emperor sighed, massaging his forehead. "Or at least, I'll be the one to take the fall, so don't concern yourself with it. Go to him."
Kurapika stood, still hardly believing what had transpired. He'd been under the impression that the Emperor was trying to force his hand, but in that case, what was the purpose of helping him? Nevermind that, why had he saved Pairo in the first place? The man's actions had been nothing short of contradictory. Could it be he was just doing whatever he pleased?
The consort kneeled on the stone floor before his Emperor and kissed his hand, before stepping out of the back of the gazebo, away from prying eyes.
"May I borrow your cloak?" he asked one of the guards, who obliged without a sound. It was a drab, brown color, and covered him from head to toe with ease, obscuring the black cloth underneath. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Pakunoda approach the Emperor. Perhaps they were lovers? But why would the Emperor need consorts, then? Why not just marry the mystery woman? She seemed intelligent enough, and they got along well.
Kurapika shrugged. He had an hour. Best not to let it go to waste.
If he knew Pairo, he'd be next to the artists' tents. The Emperor had run down the layout of the Festival a few hours prior, and if Kurapika remembered correctly, the artists were just behind the fabric stalls. He dove into the crowd, free from those everpresent stares. The extra cloak turned the warm night sweltering. Even so, it gave him an extra layer of security, and so, Kurapika felt it was worth it. There were six sections to the festival: food (the largest section), clothing and fabrics, artists, performers, and souvenirs for all intents and purposes. Each of them took a spot on a different side of Gyeoljeong lake, painted yellow by the lanterns around and inside. Had someone drawn a line between each of them, they would have created a sub-perfect hexagon.
The scent of mooncakes and tteok drifted about the food tent, a large sprawling thing, and Kurapika was driven to buy two cakes: one for himself, and one for Pairo, once he found him. Pairo couldn't have sweets too often, but this could be considered something of a special occasion. The vendor had given him a suspicious look but decided not to comment on his appearance. After all, a paying customer was a paying customer. The saying permeated every industry, it seemed. Many of his clients would wear masks when they came to Mother's House, and they would not speak of it if the pay was good. And most pay was good depending on which courtesan they planned on wooing.
Several of the people in the clothing section gave him suspicious glances, no doubt judging the drab cloak obscuring his figure. It was nigh sacrilegious not to wear your most expensive hanboks and clothes to Festivals, particularly those hosted by the Emperor himself. They peered at him from inside the tent, peeking through the yellow folds. Outside, the picture of elegance stared him down, each individual intricately woven to doll-like perfection. They were all nobles. None of the common folk could afford the silk and satin in that tent. Perhaps, a few might be window-shopping, but it wouldn't take long for them to be suspected of theft and inevitably scared away.
Kurapika looked up ahead to the artists' tent, forming the top of the hexagon. It was smaller than the clothing or food section. Art, unlike clothes and sustenance, wasn't a necessary condiment of life. Pairo undoubtedly mouthed off when he saw it. Kurapika allowed himself a small smile as he ducked inside the tent. Wooden shelves paneled the walls, resembling the beams of Leorio's tiny house in the countryside. Scrolls, books, and paintings immortalized in glass thronged the tent. One man lay on his side, smoking a sweet-smelling substance, pipe dangling off the corner of his mouth. Another sat cross-legged, reading a green-bound book with a tired expression. Kurapika approached the one with the pipe, knowing not to interrupt someone when entrapped in a book. With all his descriptive prowess, he illustrated Pairo's general appearance.
"A pretty boy in red?" the one with the pipe repeated. "Can't say I've seen him. What? Did something happen?"
"No. Well, at least I hope not," Kurapika said, genially. "Keep an eye out for me, will you, gentleman?"
The men shrugged, "Yeah, whatever."
Kurapika gave them a dashing smile, knowing the bottom half of his face was now exposed, and turned to leave.
"Alright, lads, what've you got in this shack?"
Kurapika's brain felt numb. Some part of him was aware he had frozen at the voice almost immediately, and that the men had noticed, and that the best course of action right now would be to keep moving. But the rest of him was overcome with fright.
"Sing for me."
It was the same. The same voice. He daren't look.
"Prince Tserriednich," one of the men spoke again, though their heart wasn't in it. "We're honored to be in your presence."
"No need to be so formal, my friend," Tserriednich said, and the relaxed tone of his voice seemed to free the consort. Kurapika pulled his cloak closer around him and approached the entryway, but Tserriednich placed a hand on his shoulder. "And you are?"
"Pardon?"
"Sorry," Tserriednich chuckled. Everything about him was welcoming until he pinned you to a bed and tried to crush your windpipe. "I heard you talking outside, and thought you sounded familiar. Have we met before?"
Kurapika shook his head vigorously.
"No? That's strange," he scratched the back of his head, "I was so sure." He looked down at him through hooded eyes. The consort's fingertips grazed the curtain to the outside. If he took a step back, Kurapika would be out of the tent. But that would mean officially piquing the Prince's interest.
The Prince put a hand against the wooden beam beside his left ear and leaned forward.
"Mind taking off the hood?" he whispered, so close Kurapika could feel his breath on his cheek. It smelled of tea and cake.
The consort pulled at the tip of his hood with two fingers, further concealing his eyes. "I'm afraid not. I had an accident a few years back that left my face scarred. It's left me unfortunately insecure about my appearance, you see."
The Prince's eyebrows rose in skepticism, but they were cut off by the other men.
"Would you like to see our latest shipment, your Highness?"
Saved. They were good men after all.
The Prince was now distracted, and Kurapika slipped out of the tent without a sound and ran. He didn't get too far, colliding with some idiot standing just a few feet away. His mooncakes nearly fell on the dirt path. Some part of his mind registered the proximity of the lake. The clothing section loomed a few meters away.
"Kurapika?"
Pairo. Kurapika gazed up, though it wasn't Pairo he saw. It was a gangly, tall young man with spiky hair and the smallest glasses you've ever seen, dressed in clothes that were too formal for him, drenched in yellow light. His heart nearly leaped out of his throat. God, how could one person age so ungracefully and yet look so gorgeous? He was being sentimental, he knew, but just the sight of him seemed to chase away the thought of Tserriednich. It was only temporary.
"Leorio?"
His childhood friend popped his head over Leorio's shoulder. "So, you do know each other!"
"Are you okay?" Leorio asked, hands clasped on Kurapika's shoulders. His hood fell now, revealing his painted face, and Leorio's jaws unhinged. Slowly, a red blush crept up his face.
"Is something wrong, Kurapika," Pairo asked. Kurapika felt his pulse begin to race again, that familiar panic clenching his heart, his breathing coming out in shallow bursts. No. Nonononono. He wasn't doing this here. Get a grip.
Leorio seemed to move in for a hug, and Kurapika pushed him away with a little too much force than was necessary. One deep breath was all it took to regain some semblance of his composure. He handed Leorio his bag of mooncakes.
"You can share these. I need to be heading back already." He pulled his hood up. Somehow, he longed for the well-secured confines of the Emperor and the pavilion. Where he was now, he was vulnerable, even with that guard in the shadows (who was clearly useless).
"But we just met up again," Pairo said, and Kurapika wished he could be braver for him. But not now. Not with Tserriednich roaming about.
"I'll meet you back in my room," Kurapika said, squeezing his hand. "I'm on a time limit. You two just . . . stay safe."
Pairo pouted but shrugged, anyway. "Alright."
"Hey, what about me?" Leorio asked. "I won't be able to see you again after this!"
"We weren't supposed to see each other again in the first place," Kurapika snapped back, moving past him with finality, and his heart bled and reconsidered. "Besides, all three days of the Festival are open to the public. We can meet tomorrow."
Leorio gazed at him as if he'd handed him a chest of jewels.
Well, he supposed a few more brief meetings wouldn't hurt either of them.
. . .
"That was quite the charming thing you did, Kuroro," Paku said. The woman had seated herself beside him now, her lips darkened by wine. He knew she wasn't drunk. "Though, I'm afraid it just served to make the poor boy more confused regarding your intentions."
"Oh?"
Paku shrugged, matter-of-factly. "I thought your whole plan was to break him? He did, too, apparently."
"I never said that."
"It was implied," Paku said. Kuroro rolled his eyes. She'd always enjoyed reading in between the lines.
He looked down into his half-finished glass of champagne. "I thought so, too, at the beginning."
"What changed?" She took a small bite of a dessert she'd taken off the silver platters being carried around.
"I suppose," he took a sip. "I realized he was already broken. Nothing I did would break him further, short of torture. And I'm afraid I'm not too keen on torturing my consorts."
Her expression grew thoughtful for a moment, but then she simply rolled her eyes. "Just admit that you've taken a liking to the boy."
"It's a complicated relationship," Kuroro replied, looking over the crowd of subjects. "I'll let you know when it sorts itself out."
They sat in comfortable silence for a few seconds, admiring the view. Kuroro would've preferred to have a view of the lake, but he wouldn't be able to greet his subjects face-to-face otherwise. This vantage point gave him a broader view of the crowd, so he was stuck staring at limestone paths and the wide eaves of moon-streaked pagoda rooftops.
"And what of Peridot?"
"There's nothing to say."
Paku fixed him with a stern gaze. "Kuroro, you know lying is bad for my heart."
"I'd wish you didn't speak of your illness so casually," Kuroro sighed. "But I suppose that's impossible." He spotted a hooded figure winding its way through the crowd. Back so soon? Kuroro had expected him to be late if anything. How strange.
"Looks like your husband is back," Paku stood, flattening out the folds of her clothing. "Enjoy yourselves. I expect an answer tomorrow." She placed her empty dish on a passing platter and returned to her seat beside Machi.
Kurapika had vanished from his sight by that time, presumably taking another path to the pavilion. A few minutes later, he heard soft footfalls on stone. Kurapika appeared behind the throne, cloakless.
"I see absence does make the heart grow fonder," Kuroro said. His consort sat down beside him without a word, and Kuroro glanced at him. There was pink flush to his cheeks, his breathing coming out ragged.
He'd run here.
"Something happened. What was it?"
Kurapika swallowed, thickly. "It does not concern you."
Five seconds in and the freeze had already started. "Kurapika, if there's anything that poses a threat to you, then I'm afraid it does concern me. What happened?" He couldn't have potential assassins running around. Well, other than the one beside him right now.
The consort refused to answer him, his face obscured by golden locks and a hand that seemed ready to pull them out. That was telling. And yet, Kuroro couldn't even begin to guess what could be so horrible that his consort would be rendered speechless. Kuroro already knew his little Prince was out to kill him. What could possibly be worse than that? Nevertheless, he leaned back in his throne, letting the topic go.
Just a few more hours, and then he'd force it out of him.
. End of Chapter .
Notes:
(!) This took me so long, you guys! I don't wanna say it's all because of my new puppy, but it's all because of my new puppy. Had to get a border collie. Not some normal, calm breed like a lab. Tsk, tsk. Jk, I love my Mikoko.
(2) I had a lot of inconsistencies I was gonna talk about here, but I forgot all of them. Ah, I hope this chapter cleared up Chrollo's intentions, I guess. Forgive my nonexistent poetry skills.
(3) Did you catch that stuff about Peridot? Hold onto that.
(4) I'm dying over here. There's so much to get to!
(5) I hope you liked this chapter anyway.
