Behind the Serpent Throne (CK2)

Turn 12B/13A--Part 2

It was a long parade, and without half of the grandeur it might have had. There were dirty streets to clean, there were people to move, and encourage to attend, and the Rassit were unruly and tired, clearly wishing to be somewhere, anywhere else.

There were many such small incidents, and more than that, there was the feel of the crowd. They were awed, they were impressed, but they were not move. The coinage hadn't yet been cast for the distribution, and the crowds got out of control, startling the horses, their strange spirits unfamiliar to the Rassit.

There was no open failure, no moment that Kiralo would be able to pinpoint when he sat in the office outside the stables that night, looking over the papers, but it had been a failure, of that there was no doubt at all. He'd gained nothing from it, and the cost had been prohibitive.

"I fucked up," Kueli said as he looked at Kiralo. Kiralo glanced back at him, barely looking up as he read through the tome. The room smelled of horses and ink, and he breathed in and out, calmly, finding his center and considering just what he needed to do now. It had been a failure, but spending time complaining about it, or worrying that he'd lost ground, and that nobody would remember it except as a faintly unpleasant military display, grand in its purpose but meaningless in what it showed.

This was all true. He knew at least a few observers had been whispering, especially when one of his Rassit almost fell out of his saddle, too drunk to see straight.

Celebrating all the night they'd arrived, and then tried to fight off the results of a night living like a dog with the dog's own hair.

'The barbarians, who swarmed like the subhumans that they were, pushed against the border in the 33rd year of the long age of harmony and prosperity in the south, but the Imperial Army marched forth, distracted for a season from their campaigns to the South, and onward they went, and…'

Nothing interesting here, Kiralo thought. The campaigns against the Bueli that had led to the current size of Hari-Bueli, and in fact the province as its own independent power were all too normal, and all too lacking in details, at least here. Three years later, the armies had marched south to bring to heel that last traces of Southlander resistance, in order that the cities that had been growing under Csiritan rule could be integrated.

It had failed, one-hundred and sixteen years ago. Over the two decades after, Csirit had retreated to its current size, maintaining enough land that, combined with what they'd already had, Hari-Su had been made from it, and Hari-Bueli not long after. But having lost power, the Southlands grew strong and independent, the cities growing up in the wake of the retreating Csiritans.

And Csirit had grown inward for nearly a century, culminating in his father's stubborn refusal to trade or even talk to barbarians.

Now there was this. He had to read up on the relevant law, because these reforms were going to take a lot of power from the second-highest layer and place it with the middle layer of society, and with the court. Whether it would truly help peasants, he couldn't know. More diverse crops, and an agricultural council for each area seemed to imply more rights for… well, for peasants who could afford to diversify, and if it succeeded, reap the rewards.

But often the reason one agricultural reform or another failed was because the peasants didn't have the time, energy, expertise or, for that matter, the money to do it. It wasn't because they were stupid, and they knew the land better than anyone at court. At least his father was recognizing it.

There would be winners and losers if this happened, and Kiralo wasn't sure at all how the balance would fall. But he knew who his father cared about. Though did he have a plan for dealing with the arrogance and pretenses of the merchants? They were supposedly the lowest class in the empire, the bottom-feeding scum that made nothing, merely moved money around.

But they were powerful, they were rich, they were influential, and if they reacted the right way, they could become even richer as tenant-gentlemen.

"I fucked up," Kueli repeated.

"I heard you," Kiralo admitted.

"And?"

"Do you want me to disagree? You made mistakes. We should have had the Rassit in hand, and the cannons should have been at the forefront." Kiralo shrugged. "What matters is what we do next."

"You don't care?"

"I do." Kiralo sighed, glancing down at the tax law, the mire of competing Csraen claims that would have to be centralized. Or didn't have to be, but was going to be. "But what good would it do to blame you? Or forgive you." Kiralo looked up. "You want that, don't you? Either for me to stand up and rage at you, or at least slap you, or to forgive you."

Kueli winced, rubbing his face a little. "You're too damn perceptive. Is there anything else I can do?"

"To make up for this? You need to help me get the Rassit under control. We're going to be in or near the capital for quite a while."

Kiralo grabbed another paper, thinking that the genealogy of a few of the noble families of the local area would be, if not as interesting, at least less frustrating.

"And what happens next? If we stay in one area, we grow rusty and weak? Our horses grow fat and lazy… you know what it is like for Rassit."

"Perhaps we could find some schedule of patrol," Kiralo said. He shrugged. "Or perhaps there will be enough to do, given time. I'm not sure to what extent I can send them forth without going myself as well…"

"Thinking about Bueli?"

"Of course. We need to nail them down and them kill them. But I don't want to push any further in that direction than we already have. There's many, many millions of them, far too many for us to easily absorb, especially…"

Kueli rolled his eyes. "A natural Csiritan, you are. Not that it's a bad thing, here. But your father can't approve of that either, can he?"

"He won't live long enough for it to matter. He needs me if he wants to continue his legacy." Kiralo smiled, and it was a bitter, satisfied sort of smile. He knew that for all that his father had not turned out the monster he'd hoped, that… he still didn't feel the grief he should, for the fact that his father's time was almost up.

It had been a long life, and a long time in power. Kiralo was going to have to scramble once his father died, but…

The old man was clever, and cunning, and the fact that he had unleashed this showed that beneath his modest, conservative outside, he was a radical in his own way. Each village was to have at least one day to recite a pledge to the Emperor, and with all land within the areas owned by the Emperor, and merely leased to other landholders, then what would happen if the provinces flourished?

Would the centralized control spread?

Everyone was going to be afraid of these reforms, especially in the mass they were in. It made it harder to fight, but also harder to justify. Take it one step at a time. Consider the local issues.

It was asking all landowners, lords and down, to submit an accurate survey of their lands, its yield, and all other information. Kiralo suspected that the unspoken fact was that inspectors could definitely tell at least within the capital province who was lying. Once these records were gathered, they'd no doubt be outdated immediately, in some small sense, but they'd give a basis for future reforms, and the nature of the other notes hinted at it.

Some landowners would benefit… others would not.

Kueli laughed. "And that's you sitting pretty. Do you plan on calling upon that… young man?"

Kiralo shook his head, knowing exactly who Kueli was referring to. He smiled, his face flushing ever so slightly, but he knew it would be some time before another opportunity like that came around, at least not without exposing a weakness at court.

"Ah, well. You know, they're going to figure it out eventually. It's not like they'd say anything." Kueli stepped forward, his eyebrows raised insinuatingly. "They'd just start offering their sons and male servants as lovers. Csiritans ain't so different, in that regard."

Kiralo couldn't deny that. Southlander or Csiritan, court intrigue and court scandal-mongering were the same everywhere. Who married or had sex with whom, who was betraying whom, who was doing what? He was used to that, and yet he tried to hold his secrets close to his chest, not sure whether he'd fall for the right sort of bait.

"Maybe not," Kiralo said. He shrugged, glancing at another piece of paper. "You don't have to keep me company."

"I'm your friend, I want to."

Kiralo nodded, smiling a little gratefully. "Thanks. What do you think the merchants will say?"

"Ehh. It's an opportunity for profit. And this is Csrae, not far Basrat. Your Emperor's always had his thumb on the scales here."

"Probably," Kiralo admitted.

"You need to give them a chance for profit, and they'll take it."

Kiralo sighed. "That's true."

Whether it was good or not, it was certainly true. And the nobles as well, they had to be considered and conciliated.

Or pushed aside.

Who to target, in the local area (Merchants)? (Choose 2)

[] Hiu Lo of Lineage Nasino, a transplant from Hari-Os. He and his allies have used their ties to Hari-Os to their advantage, and thus are likely a little hostile to Imperial designs, and no doubt fear they will interfere with their wealth.
[]Yang'ah, a Merchant of a more traditional stripe, trading silk and rice, and other common goods, he's rich and powerful, but also old and settled. There's nothing about these changes that will necessarily hurt him, though it will mean competition, but more than that, he likely disapproves of change in general.
[] The Merchant's Council of Hangyuari, slightly out of the way, but willing to host a small banquet for him. They have strong ties with Xissand, which while not a target of the reforms, is an important province.
[] The local silk Merchants as a whole, the small and the large, can be addressed.
[] The 'Money merchants' who influence the supply of silver, and the resources that come from Rerin, include many political actors.

Who to target (Nobles)? (Choose 2)

[] Yang-Bo, the largest landholder, and a classic enemy of Kuojah's. He's not likely to ever be a friend of these reforms, which will likely harm him further, but perhaps he can be talked around, or his son can be talked around, to greater neutrality.
[] Some of Kuojah's traditional allies are having a poetry reading and moon viewing party. Perhaps Kiralo could see where they stand, both with the plan… and with him, for that matter.
[] Huang Dao of Lineage Leng is a 'City Noble' an an absentee landowner, but one whose deep connection to traders and merchants makes his ancestral lands as much of a burden as a strength.
[] The grandson of Bisao of Lineage Ulis, an ancient lineage that goes back to ancient names and ancient traditions. His father and grandfather both play games at court, while he manages the lands nearer to Rerin.
[] Known as the 'Exam Board Nobility', there are groups of nobles without much land anymore, who practice scholarship and right-thinking, as well as showing piety, but whose power is almost entirely bound in a combination of moral suasion and patronage.

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A/N: So here we go. Hope you enjoy. Please check out the completed rough timeline, and comment on it. Heck, I might give a few points towards Diligent for commentary.

Imperial Groupings: The Emperor

The Emperor. The center of it all. How is he a grouping? After all, is he not one man? How little you know of the ways of the universe.

It is said by Cao Ren Lung, that august philosopher of Imperial Power, that the Emperor is in fact divided into four.

First, there is the Emperor as a divine figure, chosen by the Gods and with great ritual power. The Emperor oversees a number of important rituals, and his blessing or allowance is required for all sorts of rituals to worship the Gods, or appease the Ten Judges. This Divine Emperor is universal and immortal, and cannot die. In a classical schema, these are the clouds of the sky.

It passes through the Emperor of the Blood. Through the bloodline that unbroken, stretches back, according to myths, five-thousand years. This bloodline guides the Emperor towards right acts by communing with the Emperor Divine. This is the rain that nourishes the earth.

It then goes to the Emperor of the act. This is the Emperor that eats food. This is the Emperor that enjoys plays, or hates plays, or is rude to his mother, or respects his father. This is the Emperor that can get sick, or fail. This is the Emperor that can be led astray, which is why attempting to weaken the morality of the Emperor is treason punishable by death. In the past, Emperors have had men trying to convince the Emperor towards debaunchery executed. Obviously, it depends on whether the Emperor wants to be convinced or not. This Emperor is the stream. If the stream is bad or fouled, then the water, pure up to this point, can become unnourishing. Thus, an Emperor or future Emperor must be brought up well.

Finally, and importantly, there is the Emperor of the Law. This is the Emperor who governs with great sagacity, who makes the laws and allows all to function under him. This Emperor is the result, and the lake in which the streams flow, and if they are pure, then the Heavenly Perfection flows with them.

This company of men (all in one) lives in the greatest luxury. The Emperor does at times put on his silver helm, or traditionally did, and take part in warfare, but in the last three or four centuries this has been disapproved of, as has extensive travel beyond the capital or holy shrines or other sites. If an Emperor needs something, it should be provided for him, it should come to him, unless it cannot. The Emperor is isolated, thus, and lives within an internal palace within the palace city within the city. It can be lonely at times, in theory, but in practice Emperors rarely want for anything, including company.

The Emperor is usually referred to as "The Emperor." His reigning name is usually used only when it is needed, and only a friend very close to him would ever use a diminutive.

The current Emperor is Dai'so, just barely eight years old. With only two sisters, and with his only other relatives now soon to be dead, he is vitally important. His few friends, the noble children and children of palace servants, might call him Dai, but nobody else would. He lives and learns in relative isolation, and his young age means that he is often only briefly present at the ceremonies that an older Emperor might have done more than merely allow by his brief presence.

Unlike previous child Emperors, he does not officially have a Regent, for political reasons, and is in theory fully competent and fully in charge at this very moment. In effect, though, it might be a decade before he can rule in his own right, and depending on how tightly controlled he is by his advisers, it could be a long time before he actually does rule in his own right, if it ever happens at all.