Spring, 455 H.E.

April 18

A few minutes ago I was standing out on the porch watching the maids, samurai, and nobles bustle past the courtyards. I had sent Oshimi on an errand and wanted to observe her doing it. Because it was early people were still wearing plain cotton sleeping robes, but it was easy to pick out my maid from amongst the courtiers. Invisible lines divided servants from warriors and warriors from courtiers. Only the highest ranking servant would dare look at a courtier in the eye, and the warriors loomed, threateningly, with one hand always gripping some hidden weapon.

Not that they shouldn't. The cold winter was hard for everyone, and Copper Island and Scanran bandits are emerging in greater numbers now that famine has started. There have already been two assassination attempts this week. Everyone is on guard.

There was a shout from the sentry on duty and I ducked back inside. Cool, foggy weather like this is ideal for bandits. No one can see them coming.

Outbreaks of animosity.

Robe fittings a few days ago with Lady Fenerah were a disaster.

In order to attract less attention from bandits, we had set out with very few people to the dress store. A few trusted samurai for each Lady, a few maids, and only three ladies-in-waiting to oversee them. Lady Fenerah herself only brought a horse and a few plain saddlebags. Even she has heard of the attacks on wealthy-looking parties.

We set off silently from the castle, and I slipped off into a reverie until I found myself standing on the white bridge where my mother nearly drowned. The landscape sent a thrill of recognition up my spine, and I explored the place of my childhood with no sound of footsteps. For the briefest of moments I felt the strange, irrational sense of happiness that children feel, before my beautiful home melted and my world turned back into the reality of dusty streets. Since I read Kajuo's letter, my family and family honour has constantly been on my mind.

The store we went to was an old one, no longer in favour with the Emperor but still flocked to by wealthy merchants and lower noble houses. The shop's courtyard was crowded when we first arrived, but everyone –servants and nobles alike- seemed to disappear in the mist, chased away like ghosts by the Emperor's family. Yuki had not wanted to go to this store, desiring the more modern Eastern-style kimono currently in favour with the Imperial Dressmaker, but Haname and I both prefer the look and feel of traditional kimono. My mother used this dresser, as did my grandmother, the Old Empress, and her mother and grandmother as well. There is something reassuring about kimono fittings here. I stand, arms out, in the same place where generations of my family have stood. They were fitted here for court robes, coronation gowns, funeral attire… with each kimono more perfect than the next.

The dressmaker came out to greet us, kneeling down in the dirt and murmuring blessings. I could see the Lady Fenerah shift uncomfortably. It began to rain, and a grey-colored desolation lingered over air.

We were quickly ushered inside as the maids put away our horses. Servants came forward and kneeled on the ground, their heads bowed to the floor, their hands proffering cushions for us to place our weapons. This time Lady Fenerah had a hard time covering a stern look as Yuki, Haname, and I began to strip ourselves of concealed weapons – throwing stars, shukusen, and arm guards.

We knelt on the tatami mats in a room reserved for solely for members of my family. The tatami mats were woven with gold, and huge red roses were blooming with a burning intensity. I looked at them and began to feel uncomfortably warm. Our maids softly lit candles, poured plum wine, and let themselves out. The ancient dressmaker came in and bowed, maintaining his bow as he slowly crawled in to the room.

"It is a pleasure to have such nobility gracing our halls," he said, his voice as smooth and pleasant as silk. The dressmaker was in good spirits today. He began explaining to Lady Fenerah this history of kimono, the significance behind common embroideries. As he was forbidden to touch a noble, Haname took Lady Fenerah's measurements herself.

I could see Lady Fenerah struggling with herself, and I began to worry. Perhaps we expected too much from her, taking her away from the Yamani court she was just beginning to be familiar with. I asked the dressmaker for a few minutes of relaxation alone while Lady Fenerah examined some of his finest embroideries.

The dressmaker bowed himself out, and Yuki began to whisk green tea for a proper Yamani tea service. She too, was avoiding looking at Lady Fenerah. I heard a gentle hum coming from Haname and saw a small, grey-silver cloud drip from her fingertips – she was making it so that no one could eavesdrop on us.

I finally brought myself to look in to Lady Fenerah's face and could see the day replay in her eyes – the bowing servants, the extreme care with which I had armed myself, the dozens of poor commoners who had lined the roads, the fear and risk of bandits, the recent assassination attempts – all of this she struggled to form in to words.

"You have put yourself at risk, coming here" Lady Fenerah said neutrally.

From the corner of my eye, I could see Haname and Yuki casually reaching for their fans and propping them open, as if they too began to feel the heat of the room.

"Our culture here is one of warriors." I told her. Lady Fenerah's emotions were plain on her face, and I saw a look which spoke of judgement. "We will never let bandits dictate our lives, nor will they stop us from giving the Yamani people our custom."

Looking back, I worry that my words carried too much pride. It was wrong for me to rise to Lady Fenerah's judgement. She is cut from a different cloth from us, and I must be used to it when I move to Tortall.

Lady Fenerah shifted uncomfortably on the mat. She was still starting at my shukusen, frowning.

"To be a warrior in our culture is to carry the highest honor for your family." I said these words softly, reverently. Every good noblewoman was raised to believe this. "Whether you are female or not."

"Yes, but assassinations" Lady Fenerah was wincing as if the words hurt her to say. "And suicides. Are they really such a part of your warrior culture? Do you not think that teaching people that there is honour in being a warrior leads them to these ways?"

She gestured to my fan, and I realized what the problem was. I had been told before that female warriors are rare in Tortall. It never occurred to me that they might not be accepted.

"Honour means much in the Yamani Islands." Yuki was normally reserved in these discussions. As the eldest daughter of the Imperial Advisor she considered honour to be sacred, and was a fierce fighter. I wonder if she was beginning to regret her decision to go to Tortall. "Do you not have your own systems of honour in Tortall? There is no better or worse way, only differences."

"It is because we love the Emperor that we swear to obey him," I reminded Lady Fenerah softly. "Our traditions and customs are different, but that is not what makes him a good or bad Emperor."

"Many assassinations are caused by Jindazhenen bandits," Haname -ever the academic- couldn't resist turning our discussion in to an education session. "The Emperor is descended from one of our greatest Samurai, Koutetsu noh Nakuji, who was given the swords of law and duty by Yama. Once the Islands were ruled by several different noble houses, and they were constantly under attack by invading neighbours, particularly Jindazhen. The Jindazhenen Emperors came to conquer us, and they partly succeeded by conquering the majority of the Northern Islands. The Yamani people suffered under their rule – unspeakable crimes were permitted. It was Koutetsu who brought the samurai together and reminded us how to be one people. He used the swords of law and duty to free the islands. He was made Emperor, because Yama decreed it so. To serve his ancestors is to serve the gods themselves. But the Jindazhenen will never forgive us for murdering their people, even if they were conquerors."

There was an uncomfortable silence after this, while my mind fluttered. Are assassinations not common in Tortall? Or could Lady Fenerah be involved in a plot against the Emperor? Yuki's sudden interest in Lady Fenerah, cautious eyes peering over her fire-red fan, told me she was thinking the same thing. I instantly dismissed the thought. If assassinations are as rare as Lady Fenerah hinted, I don't think she would be part of one in another country.

People like the Emperor who possess a God-given education may perhaps be able to welcome a revolution as if it were quite a natural occurrence. After all, that is how they all come to power in the first place. Even though I find this topic rather objectionable, it remains one of profound interest to me. They produce such destruction – a force which is tragic but at once both piteous and beautiful. Revolutions bring dreams, dreams of destroying but also of building anew and perfecting. And although that day of perfection may never come, people in their passions must destroy. They must start revolutions.

Did the Emperor and his family do a good job of rebuilding after a revolution which took place only a century ago? I fluttered my fan thoughtfully. We were still attacked by neighbours, but there was no fear of ever being conquered. Every person was taught how to defend themselves, and education is freely given to those who will seek it – for there is nothing that we prize higher.

I remember now that Tortall has had a revolution recently. I wonder how their rebuilding process has been.

After realizing I had neglected my ladies for too long, I stood motionless for a moment, at a loss what to do. With a wild kind of desperation, I pressed myself against the door to allow the dressmaker to reenter. With his gentle manner, he soon dispersed the chill that had entered the air.

As we left the dressmaker I looked back at his ancient store, sitting serenely among the plum blossoms for which this area is so famous. Lady Fenerah, blushing but with a smile on her face, was nearly falling over her horse from the weight of her new obi. Yuki was quietly murmuring in to the assistant dressmaker's ear and slipping him coins. I nodded to the building as we left.

I am the last woman in my family who will favour this dressmaker with my custom. It is a strange thought.

AN: so, it's been a few years! I would love to hear what everyone thinks of this new addition. It is quite a bit different in tone from previous chapters - good tone, bad tone? I am determined to finish this eventually, and have completed drafts of the next few chapters - you can expect quite a few updates over the summer.