Spring, 455 H.E
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April 5
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My ladies and I moved outside today, celebrating the arrival of Kuda, the Sun, by wearing our brightest kimonos. Maids flitted in and out, providing drinks and shukusen, as the Imperial ladies joined us in a game of fan toss. In my mind's eye I pictured us all as butterflies, delicate but deadly with beauty, our coloured silks warning off predators.
The sea, bathed in the noon glare, glittered with the dazzling intensity of the jewels Lady Hebi so eagerly coveted. The Lady herself sat primly on the sidelines, deep in conversation with the Tortallan ambassador and his wife.
I stopped the games for a bit to kneel with Princess Narimoku. "It is a pleasant day, better than I could have imagined." I said, still gasping for breath.
Lady Hebi fluttered her dandelion-yellow fan. "Yes it is," she answered, a strange expression coming into her eyes for a moment.
"The air is good. Fresh air," declared Princess Narimoku with self-satisfaction, as if she had caused the weather herself.
"It really is," I smiled. "The air is quite delicious."
We all three laughed at the strange Tortallan word.
It was about noon, and the spring sun was gently striking the garden lawn. At the foot of the garden a flight of stairs led from the lawn to a little pond surrounded by plum trees, and beyond it, orchards of trees. A muddy road, rice fields, and the village could be seen in the distance.
"It is quite a wonderful landscape," the ambassador's wife, Lady Fenerah, murmured uncertainly. I felt almost pity for her. She is unused to our customs and ways of conversation.
"It is because of the air," Lady Hebi answered promptly. "See the sunlight? It is if it has been strained through the finest of silks. The sun is like the Emperor: it is controlling, useful, and cunning."
Lady Fenerah nodded enthusiastically, but we could tell she disagreed. Privately, I did as well. The pale, meagre yellow sun seemed so feeble and unreal. Shining simply, but taking away the aura from everything else.
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April 8
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I signed over my estates to the Emperor today. It is possibly the hardest thing I have ever done, though it was necessary. I will never see that home again; there is no point in my keeping it.
We continued to clean out the bits of my inheritance. Old furniture, old letters. Today we started to open the boxes containing my brother's books. It was probably the hardest time of all.
My reclining room was so cluttered that there was scarcely space enough for the maids to move around. Aimlessly I picked up one of Kajuo's notebooks from a pile of papers. The words "Testimony of an Aristocrat" were written over it. It appeared to be one of the journals he kept while attending University.
I remembered to keep the Face stone-still. I cannot show any emotion, or honour will be ruined. That was my first introduction to University.
Truth? Forget it. Principles? Ideals? Sincerity? Better off lying. You may keep your honour that way, if the Emperor wills it.
If the Emperor wills it.
It is against human nature to repress emotion. And yet we do it all the time.
People make serious faces when they tell lies. The seriousness of Yamani culture. It is something to be proud of. Pfft!
You can be sure of one thing here. A man has got to fake to stay alive.
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In between University courses I strolled around the streets, admiring the beauty that we have created in each other. Something so inhuman in ourselves, it is almost human. We do not even talk to each other. A mere bow, a glance, is enough.
Anything else and you are barbaric.
Aristocrats and samurai ride their horses through the street, always careful of the peasants. In case they get too near. The peasants are barbaric, you see.
The peasants do not talk to me, but they do not need words.
They have eyes, and the eyes plead to me in such a pathetic human way, I have to avert my gaze. They turn away- I am too cowardly to give them food or money. They turn to an Imperial courtier. Yelps follow my ears as I quickly go back the way I came.
Next time I walked through the streets, the peasants ignored me. I was, after all, an aristocrat.
For the first time ever I realized what a horrible, miserable, hopeless life it is to be without money. My whole life I have been sheltered. Sheltered because of my birthright, sheltered because I am related to the Emperor. My face closed off, and my heart hardened. The second I heard that poor man being beaten, I hated the Emperor with a loathing such as I had never had before.
They call this relationship with the lower class 'necessary'. A relationship between lower and upper class, where the peasants take the brunt of everything. It is a beautiful pyramid- precise, perfect, and deadly. The peasants give everything and get nothing, and we aristocrats take take take. The Emperor made this pyramid, along with his ancestors.
His ancestors: my family. But it is up to me to make it right. Uncle has promised me I can.
A letter from Uncle: Come.
Come.
It is time.
I want to throw it away, to pretend I never received the letter. I want to die by way of apology to my family, for not fulfilling my role as a prince.
But I cannot. There is more at stake. There are people who may get some good out of the Emperor's death, good people who are deserving of everything but get nothing.
Father, I stood by as samurai killed a bandit. A man who was trying to feed his family.
I have never been more ashamed of myself.
Maybe one day, if you find this journal, you will forgive me for my actions, maybe even understand them. I know it is hard for you to accept that the world is changing, but you must lift your eyes from the veil you have created and look around you. See the poverty, the culture, the politics, for what it truly is. See humans for what we truly are.
Family, forgive me.
Do not speak of me with shame. I separated myself from you, banished myself to University. I was not the little samurai you wanted me to be, Father. The honour was too great for me.
I should have killed myself before I came involved with Uncle. "He will lead you to bad ways, entice you to bad things." You were right, Father, about your own brother. You are always right. He is an opium addict, and he has now passed the habit on to his favourite nephew.
Uncle is like a snake: sucking out hope, intelligence, and goodness, and replacing it with his own brand of poison. Despair, guilt, hatred.
But I have to make things right.
Mother's love is the only thing that keeps me going these days. Dear Mother, so innocent and loving.
After I witnessed the beatings of children -no more than ten years old- it was the image of Mother's shining face that kept me going, that made me see through my clouds of confusion. But I am still ashamed. I could have done something, could have saved those children. Was their crime -stealing a mouthful of rice- that offensive? The guards would have listened to me.
I am, after all, an aristocrat. I can order them to do whatever I want.
Family, forgive me.
I must make up for my human emotions. I must make a better life for the Yamani people. Is that not the duty of a young prince?
As for my sister… the only hope she has now is to be married away from this family.
She is, after all, an aristocrat.
There was more, but I cannot bring myself to repeat it. I placed the journal carefully back in its place and grabbed my glaive. The journal has given me much to think about. A piece of my brother I was never able to see. Because customs dictated for it to be so.
I walked to the doors looking out into the ocean, opened them, and while looking down at the smoky ocean with white sea foam spray, I remembered the events of those days.
I wish I could see my brother.
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Note: Because this chapter deserves a little note. This one is for Gavin Gunhold, Sarcastic Rabbit, lyredenfers, sivvussa, anythingatall, and all the other members of theswoop who are fantublously awesome. This chapter is all your fault. Thanks to you, I am procrastinating, and I blame you all. Particularly teamfen.
And thank you very much to sarcastic rabbit for painstakingly going over all my silly errors. You make writing this worth it!