Spring, 455 H.E

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March 29

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I feel as though I am steadily turning into a coarse, low-class woman. I can't escape the feeling that it is by sucking the life from Chisokami that my life has become happier. Everywhere I go, the servants bow a little bit lower, the samurai are even more on their guard, and an Imperial spy is sure to follow, for I have never been so important. People give me gifts and invite me to banquets. The Emperor comes to visit me.

The Emperor showers me with lavish presents and frivolous items, and though I thank him as much as court allows, secretly I give them to Yuki with the intentions of feeding the peasants. She agreed to help me, and though the peasants will never thank me for it –I am not allowed to consort with such lowly creatures- they will have hope. They starved, during the winter.

I must have been brought up so very much the "proper lady" that I never noticed these things. But now I do, and it shocks me. Could I be so sheltered that I never opened my eyes to the world around me? There are so many secrets, so many things that I never understood. Until now.

I remember my brother, dear Kajuo, who went to university and was never the same. I can picture the last time I saw him, the day he first got back from his 'higher education'.

"You look older. You should be married off soon. Is there any saké around? I'm going to get drunk."

There was no saké; Father disapproves of drinking. I told him so, relaying choice words that I had heard Father speak years before, and his face darkened into an expression I had never seen, a look which made him a stranger to my eyes. "This whole country has gone to the sewer." He told me to inform Mother and Father that he had left to visit Uncle for the weekend and departed soon after. Uncle: the only man he truly respected, the man who changed him from my older brother to someone unrecognizable.

I felt as if I could weep as I relayed the message. Somehow, upon seeing the tiny twist of Mother's usual smile, I knew that I would never see him again.

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March 30 -evening

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The Tortallan ambassador came to visit me this afternoon, the same as every day since my announcement. Although the contract has not been made official with the Tortallan Royal Family –we must await their reply by letter- the ambassador still wishes to converse with me.

I could not help but feel nervous when we first met, though I have spent my whole life being trained for this moment. I know that every word we speak, every action I take, is a test.

To my surprise, the ambassador is quite kind. He spoke enthusiastically of Tortallan food, something which I had never tried before. He is quite unlike anyone I have ever met; much like a parchment: easy to read, secrets out in the open for those who wish to know them. His face shines with goodwill and –almost- happiness.

It is quite peculiar.

We sat in my greeting room today, enjoying some freshly-made green tea. Although the day was slightly hazy, it is getting much nicer now that the spring showers are finishing off. The mist hung elegantly, like a curtain, over the forests and mud rooftops. Everything seemed almost surreal, as if it were covered in shimmering gauze that concealed all flaws.

Upon parting the other day, the ambassador gifted me with a possession which I will prize forever: a black mare with a placid quality that reminds me of Mother. Or so I thought at first. After our first ride, I was startled to find myself flying in the air, off her back.

Yuki was much amused. She immediately dubbed the mare, named Cheko, my 'personal dark horse'. I did not understand what she meant, and she laughed.

Yuki will fit well in Tortall.

Shortly after the ambassador's visit, an even more distinguished guest arrived. Princess Narimoku, the Emperor's eldest daughter, came unannounced. I have the itching feeling that she was ordered here by the Emperor, to work with the ambassadors and Lady Hebi in furthering my education.

Her greetings were cold. Perhaps she feels that the responsibility of her sister's death lies on me. How can it not, when I have benefited from it so much?

There was a silence, and at that moment I knew she did not wish to be here. I am still the high-class daughter of a disgraced family, and that will never change. To the married daughter of the Emperor, I am someone that doesn't belong. Even when my family had honour, I did not feel welcome. I was –and still am- another pawn at the Emperor's disposal.

But Princess Narimoku is different.

She married to a family related to the throne, and she will use it to her advantage. When the Emperor dies, there will be a war between her and her twin brother over who inherits. After all, the honour to rule is great, worth killing your brother for. Maybe even worth killing the Emperor's niece for.

It is a terrible business, these politics.

"Why, Princess Narimoku, my roses have bloomed at last!" I broke out, uncomfortable under her calculating expression, revealing nothing yet everything at the same time.

The Princess smiled softly at this, and the tension in the air lessened a little. She admired the blooms, and even went as far as to compare them to the delicate kimono I wore, embroidered heavily with dragonflies and roses.

The roses in my room were given to me long ago, imported from Maren –or was it Tortall? at any rate, some distant country that I have never seen- and bestowed upon me by Lady Ilane of Mindelan. I had been fully aware that they had bloomed a few days ago, but could not think of anything to break the uncomfortable silence. The flowers, a magnificent purple, seemed to be drooping slightly. Haijuko, the Imperial gardener, had explained to me that they do not thrive in this climate.

They do not belong in this country any more than I.

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March 31

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The maids come every day to my rooms, bringing in old furniture and clothes. I had inherited it from my parents, but have no use for it. But now that I might be going to Tortall, I must decide what to keep and what to throw away.

Today we went through old clothes and furniture. While the maids were out in the garden burning waste-paper and wood, my ladies-in-waiting and I stood in the safety of my viewing room, silently watching the blazing fire. The fire hissed and crackled, burning away remnants of my old life. A cold greyish wind from the west was blowing, and the smoke crawled over the grounds. Creeping, slithering, around, causing the poor maids to cough quietly into their hands. I happened to look up at one of their faces, and was startled to see how poor her colouring was.

"Oshimi, you do not look well!" I cried. Oshimi stopped working for a moment and spoke to me, keeping her eyes fixed on the ground. "It is nothing." She moved soundlessly back to her work.

At that moment, I had the unbearable sensation that some little snake lay inside me, sucking away at her life. I was so tormented by the fear that I may be harming my maids in some way that I ordered them back inside. We will wait for another day to burn the papers. And next time I will help. Should not a Princess set an example for her subjects? That is what Mother taught me, though Lady Hebi thought otherwise.

Haname raised one elbow to my desk, touched her hand to her forehead, and let out a small sigh, distracting me from my thoughts. "They say Tortall is a nice place, I hope we enjoy it, Shinko."

Both Yuki and I exchanged glances of pity. We know that Lady Haname desires to stay in the Isles. She was brought up to believe that foreigners were barbaric, and now she is going to live with them. But she will do her duty, to maintain the position of her family, and to keep her honour.

We sat there, clothed heavily in our kimonos, sipping tea. The afternoon sunlight filtered through the leaves and fell on our laps, giving them a green tinge. The branches of the trees hung low, framing the view from my rooms. The harmony of the blossoms and the black branches clashed with the fog, stabbing the night sky. Although I admired the beauty of the blossoms, I appreciated the branches most of all. Some were destitute of even a single leaf, and, despite being perfectly bare, were fully alive.

"Branches are beautiful, aren't they?" I whispered, peering into the air, wishing I could see the stars.

"Yes," Haname agreed, "They are."

Outside it is dark now. The rain has stopped, but a wind is blowing. I can hear my maids in the next room, fumbling around for their clothes without a candle. I excused myself from Haname and Yuki; I am going to find a candle, or some form of light. A peace offering.

Note: I like this chapter. Even if it is a bit confusing, it leads well into what I'm planning later on in revealing more family history. And, on the good side, I discovered how to change my spellchecker to Canadian English. Ha! Take that, Microsoft Word.

Do not read further on into this note unless you don't mind my rant. It's really long- I actually had to edit it down.

--rant--

Most of the fanfics in TP are so black and white. Very much like TP's books. And I am NOT insulting TP at all (I am posting in this domain, aren't I), but it's just that in her books there is good, there is evil. There are no huge character conflicts, no real life situations, no political commentary. The fandom expands on this: we do every single character plot possible -giving them more character- but mostly love plots.

I am not commenting on anyone's story; I think everyone does a wonderful job here in improving their writing, enjoying other peoples' writing, etc- why do you think I started posting here?

Anyways, long rant drawing to a conclusion. I want more people to start writing about us. Humans. Ourselves, flaws and all. Politics, opinions of nature, are we good/evil, religion, etc. These are hardly ever, EVER written or talked about. I think (correct me if I'm wrong) that besides the fact that most of the people here are in their early teens, and besides the fact that T/P is meant to be a children's book, therefore have an easy reading style, that a lot of writing done now is…needing to… expand. And I say this is the nicest way possible. What I mean is that why don't we create our own themes out of a K/D story? Or a A/G? Why don't we create unique styles and voices?(I understand that we are mostly girls and we love our romance plots- I'm not denying that I don't!) Use TP as your starting point, and create your own voice.

So: my challenge. To all you authors who know (slightly) what you're doing. You don't necessarily need to make some sort of commentary on issues (I'm not expecting that from anyone, because I know I won't be able to pull if off myself). I'm just saying… go outside the box. Make Dom secretly the Black God's apprentice, or something. Or write something you've never written before, with a style you've never considered. There's a huge potential in writing that not many people are taking advantage of… whether it is style, originality, flair, etc...

But, if you wanted an example of what I'm ranting about… Sivvussa's The Autumn Assignment and Contorce's Rite of Passage, and Tales by Rainstorm Amaya Arianrhod are fantastic and worth a read, and people like Sarcastic Rabbit, Gavin Gunhold, and lyredenfers have a really unique, funny way of looking at things. They thought outside the box. So... accept the challenge, and start writing!! I can't wait to see some really, really unique works.