Turn 5--Results B
Before Kiralo sat in a room drinking tea and considering a new weapon, he stood in a rather different room considering his father. He'd begun to mend, and the room no longer smelled quite as much like death. The spirits in the air were benign ones, clearly drawn as much to power and as much by those who visited as by death.
It was always said that the Judges were watching when a man neared death, and the Spirits sometimes seemed to know it as well. But now Kuojah looked almost on the mend as he sat at the desk, ignoring Kiralo. Kiralo knew not to make the mistake of trying to address him.
Instead, he remained kneeling where he was, waiting for Kuojah to address him. It was a matter of time, and of intimidation. The court played petty games like this, but there were few things more petty than an annoyed Southlander, so it was far from the distraction Kuojah might think it was. In fact, Kiralo wondered at Kuojah.
He'd been at court long enough that Kuojah had to have guessed at Kiralo's deeper plans. Plans that he had only just begun to implement.
Specifically, Kiralo had hired his own guards and servants, was working on his own source of income. Piece by piece, he was attempting to carefully detach himself from his father without losing his support. Ultimately, his father would die. Sooner, rather than later. While the world and the Gods were never predictable, and war could take him away, if that didn't happen, Kiralo would easily outlive his father.
Kuojah would be dead, and if Kiralo wanted to have a political life, or perhaps a life at all, he needed to be his own figure.
Yet, there was more than that. Just as the water ran to the sea, and so as winter slipped into spring, so too did a young man gain ambitions. He clenched his fists as he waited, closing his eyes. Power, wealth, the good of the empire. It was remarkably easy to reconcile them, to put them all together as every rising man had at one point and declare that the three were one and the same.
He wasn't a philosopher, but he knew that the pursuit of power was one of the more complicated subjects of any philosophy, and perhaps one pursued too far. He had seen far too many people for whom the great corpus of philosophy was little avail, because a farmer would never need to know the underpinnings, what they were, of noble rule.
He knew merely that they ruled and that this was how it was. Kiralo was discovering that though he didn't care, it was a little tiring, being on one's knees for so long, and so it was a very minor relief when the games finally ended and Kuojah asked, in a tired voice, "What is it, Kiralo."
"I was wishing to talk to you on something, father." Remind him of the ties, it was very important.
"And what is that?"
"Friendship. It is, as the first among all learned men say, the very pinnacle of manhood to have friends and allies, that you may confer and learn and better oneself."
"And?" Kuojah asked, though he full well had to know what was being asked.
"You have sent away all influences over the Emperor. It is known that a boy who does not have any friends, no matter how keen, shall miss certain lessons. And besides which, speaking plainly father, we cannot afford it."
Kuojah blinked, and Kiralo almost rose at once, because the old man had placed a hand on the desk and forced himself up, the better to look down at Kiralo. The old man was examining him for something, but after a long moment he merely shook his head, "Don't think I do not understand what you are trying to do. It is not all that different, in some ways, from what all men try to do."
The secretaries in the corner, previously invisible to attention, now made themselves noticed by the sheer amount of paper shuffling and shushing of each other that they were engaged it. Kuojah stopped to glare at them and Kiralo took the moment's reprieve to ask, "Yourself included?"
"In a sense. I wished for what I felt was best for the Emperor, as all men do. I knew his friends, and while not all of them liked me, all of them respected me. Respect is the mother of good conduct. Some might think that it is your enemies fearing you that creates a strong governance, and others rely on the love of the masses, but their respect, their understanding that what kindness you do and what just punishment you mete out are as sure as Taigang's sun crosses the sky."
Kiralo did not show emotion, but he was listening, and he recognized almost fatherly advice when he heard it. Advice he'd take? That he wasn't sure of, but the old man's face was lined with shadows and his movements careful as if he were creating a work of art.
"I shall allow it."
Kiralo did not sigh in relief. He had prepared and sent the report earlier, the information. This was not a formality. Instead, it was more like the stamp upon the act he had prepared. That he had promised, in a sense.
"There are conditions. I shall review all boys and they shall be watched at all times. There will be no shenanigans, and we shall let no boys close whose...loyalties are in any way suspect. Additionally, they will have to be educated young men, who can help him with his studies. So I shall be examining that as well, and it seems an area where your own investigation was rather...haphazardous."
"The boys will be overjoyed," Kiralo said blandly.
"So will their parents," Kuojah said with an archly raised eyebrow. And it was true that while Kiralo was deeply concerned for the Emperor and his well-being, the political motivation dominated. Right now there was an impression that he could not truly define as untrue. This was the impression that he had a special sway with his father. It seemed bizarre, because he hated the man. As the moon rose, as the tides shifted in and out, as the plains stretched out before the world, that was him. Steady and constant in his feelings towards Kuojah. And yet, would Kuojah have bent so easily to another?
It was confusing, and more than that, it was enough to leave him unsteady, uncertain. Kneeling there and not sure whether he should rise or not. "Maybe they will, Cs-Kuojah, but it is not they who will grow to rule the Empire."
"Children," Kuojah began, and there was something about his eyes that seemed almost soft for a moment. Kiralo saw it, and it was like a brief cloud across the harsh sun, because as soon as it came, it passed, and Kuojah was looking at him again with eyes that were hard, appraising. Judgemental.
How many young men had Kuojah made sons of? Or tried to, at least. Had he done it with every son-by-marriage, every young scholar whose thoughts aligned with his own? Kiralo wondered at the desperation for a son, for a legacy. It wasn't something he'd felt, not like that, and yet it was something real.
Kiralo stood slowly and gestured at the door, a trifle theatrically. A spirit of wind came when he muttered and opened it. "Yes, children. Without them all is dust."
"And with them," Kuojah began, and then he shook his head, turning, his robes shifting as he did. Still wearing black and white, still mourning even now. "Never mind. You may leave unless there is another matter you would like to discuss."
"No," he said, and he backed out of there, aware that he was treading on dangerous ground. By the next day, he was quite aware that not only did Kuojah know of his ambitions to be Envoy To the Army, but he must have been putting his fingers on the scale, because a few very important meetings opened up.
Small meetings in small rooms where he discussed tea ceremony and the scholar Yi'sung and his thoughts on the Empire and the Army, and a certain official's favorite painting, and what the most beloved god is of a soldier. Is it he who is of battle, or she who makes all helpful herbs and remedies, or he that is the master of the spirits of the world?
Many questions, and many answers, small and subtle steps that were slowly clearing everyone out of the way.
But there were other steps, other moves, that had far less to do with victory and more with maneuver. Tao-An was an interesting man, and a difficult one to shift. The old man was easier to understand, and the rest of the delegation was easy enough to convince.
After all, at the moment he had no goal he wanted them to achieve. All he wanted, it seemed, was their friendship, and while they surely understood that there was more involved than that, Bai was quite happy to discuss poetry for long hours, walking through the vast halls, huddled together.
He was willing to talk to everyone, it seemed. Bai was aware that ultimately his goal was to achieve the best possible deal for Hari-Bueli, and if he worked with Prince Jinhai, it would be because the largest bribe for Hari-Bueli and the best chances came from him.
It was a difficult thing to deal with, since ultimately Prince Jinhai had the most to promise because he was not in power. Anything he promised did not have the weight of the Serpent Throne behind it, but that could change. Might indeed change before the next year was out. Bai knew this, and this made the old man, who smelled of the nuts he ate constantly, a tricky opponent.
Tao-an, meanwhile, was not a warrior, but he wanted to be one. Or a general, he wanted power and glory, and he was seeking it however he could. He liked poetry and art and music only to the extent that they intersected with his interests. He was a Hari-Bueli man, but he was also his own man, and Kiralo also realized a few other things, as delicate as anything else.
For one, there were eyes on him when they drank together. Kiralo watched Tao-an watch him, and saw the way the eyes drank in far more than the mouth did. Desire, Kiralo thought, after a the second time he caught it. It could be a trick, of course, a trap, but Tao-an desired him. Thought him attractive and more than that, was willing to show it or unable to hide it.
Of course, even if Kiralo wanted to pursue it, there were of course complications. Political, of course, but there was also the matter that Csiritans were so bizarre about how they viewed such acts.
Not that the Southlanders were always better, but while they had a word for it, Csiritan didn't, not really. It had euphemisms, and a culture that, Kiralo had gathered from his reading, emphasized in the modern day the manful and the boyish. Yet there were other complexities, between patron and artist, or Emperor and servant, as was famed by the story of the cut sleeve and the winter bounty, among other stories. And there were added complexities everywhere, an entire lexicon and yet many of the terms, as far as Kiralo could tell, were not written down.
Expectations lay in the way like a trap, and yet at the same time, there was a spark of desire, and if he was going to attempt to befriend Tao-an…
Temptation loomed, and yet he felt uncomfortable with the idea. Uncomfortable with the idea and yet not so much that he did not consider the matter. In time, when his position was more secure, he could search out a lover if he wanted, but at the moment even mere flirtation could improve his position, and so he considered it.
There was also the matter of the horses to consider, as well as playing on Tao-an's martial vanity or on the possibility that Kiralo's new position would be one of worth to Hari-Bueli. Or that crossing him was a bad idea.
There were many ways he could take it, because ultimately he felt as if a few more pushes and he could achieve his goal of obtaining at least neutrality.
What angles does Kiralo push (Choose 2 non-contradictory ones)
[] Flirt and perhaps more, play to that side of Tao-an.
[] Play to his martial vanity, perhaps training with him and perhaps showing him the names of a few of the less classified spirits of horsemanship of the Southlands.
[] Pay more attention to Bai. He is the key, the Uncle of the Governor, and his brother is thus Tao-an's father.
[] If Kiralo becomes Envoy To The Army, crossing him would be dangerous. Point this out, discreetly. (Cannot choose with option just below)
[] Kiralo as an Envoy could be a...boon to Hari-Bueli, someone willing to listen to the issues and help navigate the bureaucracy to provide aid to the struggling border. Of course, if promised and not delivered…
[] Write-in, if you want, I suppose.
*****
A/N: Playing on the Envoy thing is sort of doubling your bet, in a way. Because ultimately if Kiralo fails, the whole house of cards tumbles to the ground. But if he succeeds in gaining the position, then as long as he can keep all of his promises and insinuations, he's golden.
Here it is. Stuff. Things.
Not that anyone gives a shit.
