Random Member
Gardener of Human Happiness
- Location
- Behind You
We must bring Csirit culture back to its enlightened past, when it had no snakes.
Because fuck snakes!
Behind the Serpent Throne (CK2)
- Thread starter The Laurent
- Start date
- Original Fantasy
Because fuck snakes!
Zeitgeist Blue
Currently Made of Metal
- Location
- Manila, Philippines, GMT +8
So we're keeping Csirit from imploding on itself why again?
Man, in any other media we'd be the Evil Empire. We just need some plucky rebels to complete the picture. And, no, Jinhai doesn't count. He isn't plucky enough.
Is that a directive?!
- Pronouns
- They/Them
Evil Empire? You mean 'Empire' don't you? I mean, ask Cetashwayo about the glorious Roman Empire sometime.
Though, if you're looking for reasons to absolutely hate Csirit, something that happened over a thousand years ago probably isn't the thing to do it for. (I can tell you about the history of the Empire sometime if you want.)
...there's plenty of other reasons to hate them from the perspective of a modern person.
That said, I mean, it's not all bad. But Kiralo is biased, and the whole game is too in a way, in the sense that he's not a 21st century man in fantasy garb.
I mean, even that said, I've been downplaying the impact of certain things (Kiralo's less sexist and culturally chauvinistic than most), but you realize that you've talked to all of one woman that actually matters worth a damn to anyone or anything in five months?
Like every Empire, it is founded on and runs on a good deal of blood, sweat, and misery. Being fair, this isn't really all that different from most governments (at the relative time), to a definite extent.
But yeah, there are all sorts of things that could be said in excuse for the Empire, talking about its culture or poems, its beauty or the fact that by and large, at least for the past century or two it's mostly sorta kept the peace and kept things from going bad...but it's still an Empire. And it's still a pre-modern government.
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- Location
- Spain
Yeah. I am sure Csirit imploding will improve life for everybody. Just like in the warring states era, that golden age of philosophy.
- Location
- Germany
... but the warring states period really was a golden age of philosophy. In that time the Hundred Schools of Thought were developed. (I assume your post was meant to be sarcastic.)
- Location
- Spain
/That's the joke
(It was also a period where millions die in a series of completely pointless wars)
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Zeitgeist Blue
Currently Made of Metal
- Location
- Manila, Philippines, GMT +8
Oh yeah, I'm quite aware this isn't a black-and-white setting. My post was tongue-in-cheek.
Just that the mention of 'genocide' set off my nostalgia for Star Wars... and Steven Universe for some reason.
- Location
- ?
Yeah, I still can't believe what those rebels did to poor Ewoks
Turn 5--Results, D
- Pronouns
- They/Them
Turn 5--Results, D
Give:
[X] Support his policies to the Emperor and in the Council regarding…
-[X] Southland Policy.
-[X] Pet projects.
[X] Prioritize Qing'lu's interests in other fields, such as his ties to Hari-Su merchants and other such elements. Actions outside of the sphere of military matters, in other words.
[X] The pay in arrears is still a major issue to Qing'lu, even if it has been carefully defused. Discuss going further with that.
In Exchange For...
[X] Support for getting his mercenaries across that damn border.
[X] Opened doors with Hari-Su and Nestirin political figures.
[X] Support for one type of court action.
-[X] Diplomacy
[X] Different information: What does he know and think of his fellows? The other four leading generals are each very important men to know about.
1d100=88
Kiralo looked across at the other man. Qing'lu looked as if he might have once been a warrior. He looked as if he had risen to where he was through competence, and that competence included a healthy grasp of spirits. For all that he was clearly well into his forties, he was as whole and healthy as a warrior who knew the spirits could be, and his dark eyes were keen, even thoughtful, as they tracked across Kiralo's face, searching for any weakness.
There was something casual about the gaze, something almost perfunctory, like someone digging into a bowl of fruit for the last plum. And that was a word for it. Everyone in this court was like that, in a way.
Searching out bits of sweetness, digging out power and position, and yet to be looked on like that made him wonder with Qing'lu saw.
Kiralo allowed none of this to show on his face. His braid was formal, his robes carefully cut. Red, with a hint of purple in some of the patterns that crisscrossed the front. Not an Imperial color in sight, not yet. Until he had an official position, he did not have the right to wear any colors at all.
Qing'lu, his features strong and hard, wore with pride silver in great quantities and rather more carefully, a hint of blue at the edge of the silver, small flowers in the sheer silver against the darker, non-imperial blue. A proud man, and powerful, but not one who stepped beyond a certain presumption.
Finally, Kiralo knew he had to speak. "Thank you for meeting with me, Cs-Qing'lu. I know that your time is an important resource."
"Some might say that." Qing'lu shrugged, "I say that it is attention that is a resource. Time is a flowing river that sweeps us all along. History is a harsh mistress--"
"And war harsher still," Kiralo interrupted.
"Yes. It is." Qing'lu's eyes closed for a moment, "You seek to become the Envoy, do you? We have not needed one in nearly a decade. Now we need one, is that your claim?"
"The matter with the pay in arrears, stil being withheld, the coming tensions, the attacks on our Western border, are these are illusions?" Kiralo asked. "As much as the world has solidity, and as much as the spirits and the Gods and the Ten watch us, are these things lies or unimportant?"
"I get it," Qing'lu said, and Kiralo knew that perhaps he should take a less formal register. "I understand your point. But what to do about the pay?"
"What do you want me to do?" Kiralo asked. "I will have power and influence, and I am not a fool. I take advice given, as long as it is good. And I am not going to let petty differences stain the relationship between throne and army."
"Reinstate the pay, in full. In the next month."
Kiralo did not wince, but he knew it was a dangerous game. His father, Kuojah, had been holding it back for a reason, but the time for it might have passed. If war was going to come soon, it was going to come, and so perhaps now was the moment to be generous. But if he did it because of Qing'lu, the other man would take the credit.
That was the point.
Kiralo considered this for a moment. But he wasn't Qing'lu's enemy, for all that the other man's tone bordered somewhere between hostile and aggressive. Or rather, there was an edge to it, like a dagger not drawn. This was a man who was willing to make an enemy of Kuojah and stick it out to the end, he wasn't going to be brushed aside easily.
So, let him take credit.
"Very well," Kiralo said. "And of course, since you are from Hari-Su, in military matters consulting you would be vital."
"And perhaps in other matters as well," Qing'lu said, and then he snapped his fingers and a serving girl, looking flustered and a little afraid, bobbed in. She looked almost like a bird, the way she fluttered about, her teeth blackened in what was a fashion among some women, and Qing'lu looked at her for a moment before barking out: "Get this fine gentleman something to drink. We have a long conversation ahead! Perhaps food as well. You know what sort, girl."
Kiralo knew then that there were going to be more requests, but that didn't matter. A drink would be good.
*****
So would two, when it came with the meal laid out before him. Strips of steak, cut finely and mixed with spices and rice and slices of fruit, in a style of food that he'd only ever seen in the Southlands. It was amazing, the way the flavorful beef and the spice and the sweetness alll combined to create a power that was grounded in the rice, brown rice in this case. It was a dish worthy of a thousand memories, and now he wished that his companions were here. They would have felt as much nostalgia as he did for it.
Kiralo realized that he missed the Southlands, then, eating the food slowly, his chopsticks always at the ready as he began to talk on the matter of the Southlands themselves.
"War is not likely, I'm sure you know that. Have you heard about the war between the Seventeen Cities and the other forces down south?" Kiralo asked, between bites, just before he took another sip of rice wine.
"Yes. Everyone hears reports of it. You are famous for a victory in a battle that shouldn't have been fought. It makes them tired, I assume. War exhausts treasuries and destroys kingdoms." Qing'lu shook his head. "There are many who would prefer anything but war, in all cases."
"History sweeps us along, as a river," Kiralo said, throwing the other man's insinuations earlier back at him. "We do as we must. What must you do?"
"What do you mean by that?"
"What must you do that I can help you with," Kiralo asked.
"We shall see, but I know that there is always a price. So let's understand that right now. What can I do for you?" Qing'lu set his hands down on the table, carefully placing his chopsticks so as to face away from any one person, as was only polite.
"I'm curious about your work on the council. There are many generals, and yet it is said that four are--"
"Out with it!" Qing'lu said. "There are only five people who actually matter, and you know it. Don't say 'it is said' as if I might be using spirits of hearing to catch your words on the winds."
"Very well, then, what do you think of your fellows? Do you trust them, what would you have me know about them?"
A very important question, in its own way. Because Kiralo knew that what he wanted Kiralo to know wouldn't always be the truth, but it would be a perspective. He wouldn't lie in an obvious way, and even a lie could point towards the truth.
"I would have you know that Cs-Kuang is never going to be your friend. You might think he will be, because he supports your ascent now, but he has his own ambitions, and he's a dog at Kuojah's feet." Qing'lu snarled the last words, but added, "But he is a clever old man, lecherous and treacherous in equal degrees. At least he is not a poser, a player at martial prowess. From what I have seen of him, he was a very solid and skilled general in his time, but his time has long since passed. He stays up only because of Kuojah, and…"
Qing'lu's voice now became a little mocking, "And anyone who relies on the life of a sick old man for all of their power is resting their ambitions in a single strand of silk."
"I understand this," Kiralo said, brusquely.
"So trust Cs-Kuang only as long as you are your father's man. No longer."
Kiralo nodded, though he understood that Qing'lu shouldn't be trusted at all. "And Li-Jan?"
"I dislike him, though I can't quite say why. The bearded wonder manages to be very up-in-the-air, siding with everyone. I think he thinks he thinks...Gods." Qing'lu shook his head. "He knows that in the case of a war, his home will not be hurt, and if he was a little less wise, I think he might have led the push to attack. As it was, that wasn't him at all. It was Ha'dong, and I went along with him."
"Ha'dong led the charge?"
"Yes, out of shame. He had been positive, or at least neutral, to the Prince before the Emperor's death. He had attempted to have the Emperor use the Prince to gain the loyalty of the people and pacify the Sea Raiders, though there were always problems. He was ambitious, and cunning, and yet in the end Prince Jinhai disappointed him by becoming an enemy, that's how I see it. So his weak, conditional support turned, as wine might ferment, into a blind hatred to destroy a man who might have hurt his reputation."
"That is one explanation," Kiralo said. "Or fear. I can't imagine Kuojah would leave that stone unturned. Yet my father could hardly openly censure someone from pressing to act against a suspected traitor, at least…"
Kiralo trailed off, thoughtfully, "What about Juae?"
"I think he likes being the deciding vote, and wants to do something to be remembered." Qing'lu snorted. "He doesn't want to be a great general, but he wants to be a man like Hanin who introduced a system or a weapon or...something that changed the world. It's why he pushes his pet projects all the time, his little reorganizations and his elite units…"
Kiralo frowned. "That doesn't mean the ideas are bad."
"Does it? If you listen to a million voices you will make half a million mistakes." That was a quote by a famous scholar, Kiralo thought. It was talking about the virtue and justice of the philosopher-Emperor, and the folly of thinking that the voice of the people represented the voices or will of the Gods.
"We'll see," Kiralo said.
"Ah, he's got his hooks into you. Gods have mercy."
"They have so far. But I need more than that. I'd like to ask for your help in learning about and talking to the people who matter in Hari-Su and Nestirin, if I'm going to do all that you've asked."
"For you? I suppose so. What else? I assume you want help for that mercenary band of yours?"
"Yes. I need them here. You want them here, if you're going to fight a war."
"I...suppose that makes sense." Qing'lu nodded. "We shall see what good they do when they arrive. Anything else?"
Kiralo gave a full, toothy smile, his perfect, graceful Csiritan features managing to look quite as acquisitive as Qing'lu's rougher features.
******
What is acquired is lost. All that is acquired is lost. The Judges see you, they see your sins as they drape themselves across you. Like a thousand snakes they slither across your back, they slither down onto the ground. That is what you are, a serpent.
In the Southlands, that is all they say. The Csiritans are snakes. And? Snakes and men are not so different, so the philosopher says. They live and die, they are longer than they are wide...at least in most cases, and more than that, they are made by the Gods. Their bite brings life and death, the way they circle and slither through life is not all that different from human life...there were a thousand reasons why snakes were so important.
But it wasn't something you could explain in the Southlands. Not like here.
He knelt at the altar, surrounded by hundreds of people just like him. The ten altars were not really the focus. They were merely a thing to look at while contemplating something deeper.
Who were the Ten Judges? What did they Judge? Virtue, all sages answered. But in what way? Did each of them judge a different aspect of a man, or different sorts of men, and if so, by what scheme?
There was a sage who claimed to have been inspired by the Gods themselves, in the Southlands currently. Kiralo had thought his idea fascinating, if clearly heterodox. Just as a soul could transform and change, be stretched and even destroyed, or so legend said, so too could time. The Ten Judges, he claimed, judged a person at ten points in their life. As a babe, as a child, as a young man...and so on until the moment of death.
And each of these impressions, each of these selves, might be cast into punishment to work off the term of their evils, or into a happy abode...separately.
It was clearly heresy of some kind, but Kiralo had been tickled by the idea. And in the Southlands, where allies were rare, there was less pressure to conform. Everyone was needed, or at least anyone who actually believed in the Gods and the Ten Judges was enough.
The press of bodies, the smell of scented oils, it all made it hard to concentrate, but Kiralo concentrated still. His mother.was down there, all were down there. And what did Kiralo think?
He thought it was all a game. Or rather, it was fine to debate, but too many people chose a scheme of the Ten Judges that benefitted them. The man who killed and lorded over others thought there was a Judge of Nobles who would compare him only to others in the same position, would forgive him those evils that were normal for his class.
And the same with any other way to interpret it. While it mattered in some senses, it was best to obey the Gods and try to be as good as could be, and leave the judgement for those trained in it.
So he prayed that day, and in coming days.
The Hall of the Ten Judges was vast, and the statues were all beautiful in their own way. White marble and black stone, gems in some and yet others stood brazenly unadorned. Some represented a person, others a concept...it was a cavernous hall, and the floors were bare and hard enough that the knees of a supplicant who did not bring a pillow ached.
And that, perhaps, was the point.
On the first day, he felt little, and yet in the second day, as he took two hours of his time to contemplate the judges, to move through the history of war and death that was his past, through the blood that stained him in ways he couldn't see, he felt something. It was almost like that single silken thread Qing'lu had spoken of.
A sensation of something precarious and small and delicate, something if he blinked would be gone. He had never felt like that, but once, and that years and years ago, when his mother died. And so he stilled himself. Tried to focus on it by not focusing.
And yet his mind drifted. His mother's funeral, her burial, the little details. It all seemed to fill his head as he began to run through the prayers again.
"See me know me judge me, see me know me judge me." Ten repetitions of that traditional prayer, and he felt something, it was even harder to define, and he heard whispering. Heard fluttering, and then he felt it down his spine. A spirit had descended, something with fingers of a sort, though he knew it was likely invisible. The fingers reached up and clumsily brushed themselves against his cheek, and then he heard it.
His ears screamed to hear it, he couldn't interpret it, couldn't understand it. Once he had fallen off his horse when he was but a boy. He hadn't been trampled, but he'd almost broken a bone. That pain was as being lightly slapped to this. It filled his world, and if he was standing, he would have collapsed, but as it was he fought to keep in a scream of agony. It was the kind of pain that defines you, that shapes your every inch until you felt hollowed out. Hallowed out, too. The pain kept on rising and rising and then he felt as if he had a name for the pain, a definition for the agony.
Aiyistin. It felt like only an approximation, as if trying to capture the sound of the long pause before someone says something that changes everything...but the names of spirits were always like that. It was as if the sounds themselves were merely an approximation. Though this felt more.
When he opened his eyes, he realized he must have been silently weeping, because the world was blurred and when he rose he saw that he had spent more hours than he'd thought there. The crowds had thinned, and his steps were unsteady and uncertain.
The name echoed in his head, and he felt changed.
Kiralo didn't know whether to tell anyone, and so the next day when he came back, he didn't talk about that.
The three Judges before him who he requested to see didn't know it, or if they could see it, they didn't speak on it. One was wearing a grey mask, another a white and a third a black mask, their bodies shrouded by their robes. The dead, the ghosts, and their memories in the world. White, black, and grey.
And though they were not adorned at all, they were powerful and potent priests.
"You presided over his funeral?" Kiralo asked.
"Yes," the middle figure said, his voice strangely high and reedy. His black mask was turned in black incomprehension and fear, as the ghosts felt. "The ceremony was done properly, and there was no ghost, nor has any been reported."
"How was...his son, his daughters?" Kiralo asked. "I have not seen the girls lately."
"Seclusion," the man in the white mask said, "Is entirely proper for such young girls. The Emperor took it with manful and great calm, and yet he was surely grieving."
Kiralo suspected that this great calm was fictional. An invention. Kiralo had been the Emperor, losing his only parent--the only one that mattered--and so he imagined tears. He imagined that at best the boy had been dry of tears on the last day of the funeral, when the body was shown before it was buried and the pond created over it, having cried so much he had nothing left.
Thrown everything down on the ground as if in offering, as if to water the weeds and grow a new mother, when in truth all of the tears of the world could not bring back a single woman--
Man. Could not bring back a single man.
The funeral had been traditional, and lavish, but one thing had apparently stood out to them. Could they see souls? It was hard to credit, but one of them, near the end of the interview, shuffled a little when asked about the Emperor's spirits. Surely they were passed onto the son, those who were not with the body and thus impure and needing of cleansing in the vaults which held the spirits of the dead, down below?
He hadn't answered, but an hour later, a man in livery befitting that of a servant of a Priest of a Judge, came to Kiralo's rooms with a message.
'All of the spirits were somehow tainted, and clung not to his body. We had to put all of them in the vault. Do not speak of it. This message will devour itself.'
It crumpled inward even as this was said, and the ink smeared and ran away.
Why him? Had they told the authorities? The secret keepers? The...well, the department that didn't actually exist? Though even if they had, who could admit such a thing was true?
It was...damned unusual, to say the least.
*****
He had set it all up, prepared long and hard for this, and yet there was still that fear that it all might come tumbling down. He'd worked hard, convincing not merely the people in charge but also the bureaucrats at the Sub-Department of Offices, and for all of that, there was a reward. Effort beyond effort, a rush to meet the deadline, and on the last day possible, the last day before New Years Week began...a letter arrived.
On gold, and bordered in silver. The seal was green, and the ink on the golden paper was blue. It was even mimed into something approximating the hand of the Emperor, or at least a simple style that could be believably by the hand of a young boy...if that young boy was, in fact, a principled and great scholar.
'Cs-Kiralo. On the last day of the New Years ceremonies, you shall be presented with the position of Imperial Envoy to the Council of Generals and the Army. Details of its stipend shall be decided by my lessers. If your honor or obligations make this position an impossibility, please indicate so immediately and privately.'
A public refusal would of course destroy any man's career, no matter how great. Manuever was for privacy.
No mask in the world, whether the courtier's mask of flesh or the priest's physical mask, could have hidden the grin that raced across Kiralo's face.
*****
A/N: Alright, and next is the Turn Rumors, and then we start a special turn...New Years turn! Less options, less Influence, and all based around a very local and limited event, so just Court actions.
Give:
[X] Support his policies to the Emperor and in the Council regarding…
-[X] Southland Policy.
-[X] Pet projects.
[X] Prioritize Qing'lu's interests in other fields, such as his ties to Hari-Su merchants and other such elements. Actions outside of the sphere of military matters, in other words.
[X] The pay in arrears is still a major issue to Qing'lu, even if it has been carefully defused. Discuss going further with that.
In Exchange For...
[X] Support for getting his mercenaries across that damn border.
[X] Opened doors with Hari-Su and Nestirin political figures.
[X] Support for one type of court action.
-[X] Diplomacy
[X] Different information: What does he know and think of his fellows? The other four leading generals are each very important men to know about.
1d100=88
Kiralo looked across at the other man. Qing'lu looked as if he might have once been a warrior. He looked as if he had risen to where he was through competence, and that competence included a healthy grasp of spirits. For all that he was clearly well into his forties, he was as whole and healthy as a warrior who knew the spirits could be, and his dark eyes were keen, even thoughtful, as they tracked across Kiralo's face, searching for any weakness.
There was something casual about the gaze, something almost perfunctory, like someone digging into a bowl of fruit for the last plum. And that was a word for it. Everyone in this court was like that, in a way.
Searching out bits of sweetness, digging out power and position, and yet to be looked on like that made him wonder with Qing'lu saw.
Kiralo allowed none of this to show on his face. His braid was formal, his robes carefully cut. Red, with a hint of purple in some of the patterns that crisscrossed the front. Not an Imperial color in sight, not yet. Until he had an official position, he did not have the right to wear any colors at all.
Qing'lu, his features strong and hard, wore with pride silver in great quantities and rather more carefully, a hint of blue at the edge of the silver, small flowers in the sheer silver against the darker, non-imperial blue. A proud man, and powerful, but not one who stepped beyond a certain presumption.
Finally, Kiralo knew he had to speak. "Thank you for meeting with me, Cs-Qing'lu. I know that your time is an important resource."
"Some might say that." Qing'lu shrugged, "I say that it is attention that is a resource. Time is a flowing river that sweeps us all along. History is a harsh mistress--"
"And war harsher still," Kiralo interrupted.
"Yes. It is." Qing'lu's eyes closed for a moment, "You seek to become the Envoy, do you? We have not needed one in nearly a decade. Now we need one, is that your claim?"
"The matter with the pay in arrears, stil being withheld, the coming tensions, the attacks on our Western border, are these are illusions?" Kiralo asked. "As much as the world has solidity, and as much as the spirits and the Gods and the Ten watch us, are these things lies or unimportant?"
"I get it," Qing'lu said, and Kiralo knew that perhaps he should take a less formal register. "I understand your point. But what to do about the pay?"
"What do you want me to do?" Kiralo asked. "I will have power and influence, and I am not a fool. I take advice given, as long as it is good. And I am not going to let petty differences stain the relationship between throne and army."
"Reinstate the pay, in full. In the next month."
Kiralo did not wince, but he knew it was a dangerous game. His father, Kuojah, had been holding it back for a reason, but the time for it might have passed. If war was going to come soon, it was going to come, and so perhaps now was the moment to be generous. But if he did it because of Qing'lu, the other man would take the credit.
That was the point.
Kiralo considered this for a moment. But he wasn't Qing'lu's enemy, for all that the other man's tone bordered somewhere between hostile and aggressive. Or rather, there was an edge to it, like a dagger not drawn. This was a man who was willing to make an enemy of Kuojah and stick it out to the end, he wasn't going to be brushed aside easily.
So, let him take credit.
"Very well," Kiralo said. "And of course, since you are from Hari-Su, in military matters consulting you would be vital."
"And perhaps in other matters as well," Qing'lu said, and then he snapped his fingers and a serving girl, looking flustered and a little afraid, bobbed in. She looked almost like a bird, the way she fluttered about, her teeth blackened in what was a fashion among some women, and Qing'lu looked at her for a moment before barking out: "Get this fine gentleman something to drink. We have a long conversation ahead! Perhaps food as well. You know what sort, girl."
Kiralo knew then that there were going to be more requests, but that didn't matter. A drink would be good.
*****
So would two, when it came with the meal laid out before him. Strips of steak, cut finely and mixed with spices and rice and slices of fruit, in a style of food that he'd only ever seen in the Southlands. It was amazing, the way the flavorful beef and the spice and the sweetness alll combined to create a power that was grounded in the rice, brown rice in this case. It was a dish worthy of a thousand memories, and now he wished that his companions were here. They would have felt as much nostalgia as he did for it.
Kiralo realized that he missed the Southlands, then, eating the food slowly, his chopsticks always at the ready as he began to talk on the matter of the Southlands themselves.
"War is not likely, I'm sure you know that. Have you heard about the war between the Seventeen Cities and the other forces down south?" Kiralo asked, between bites, just before he took another sip of rice wine.
"Yes. Everyone hears reports of it. You are famous for a victory in a battle that shouldn't have been fought. It makes them tired, I assume. War exhausts treasuries and destroys kingdoms." Qing'lu shook his head. "There are many who would prefer anything but war, in all cases."
"History sweeps us along, as a river," Kiralo said, throwing the other man's insinuations earlier back at him. "We do as we must. What must you do?"
"What do you mean by that?"
"What must you do that I can help you with," Kiralo asked.
"We shall see, but I know that there is always a price. So let's understand that right now. What can I do for you?" Qing'lu set his hands down on the table, carefully placing his chopsticks so as to face away from any one person, as was only polite.
"I'm curious about your work on the council. There are many generals, and yet it is said that four are--"
"Out with it!" Qing'lu said. "There are only five people who actually matter, and you know it. Don't say 'it is said' as if I might be using spirits of hearing to catch your words on the winds."
"Very well, then, what do you think of your fellows? Do you trust them, what would you have me know about them?"
A very important question, in its own way. Because Kiralo knew that what he wanted Kiralo to know wouldn't always be the truth, but it would be a perspective. He wouldn't lie in an obvious way, and even a lie could point towards the truth.
"I would have you know that Cs-Kuang is never going to be your friend. You might think he will be, because he supports your ascent now, but he has his own ambitions, and he's a dog at Kuojah's feet." Qing'lu snarled the last words, but added, "But he is a clever old man, lecherous and treacherous in equal degrees. At least he is not a poser, a player at martial prowess. From what I have seen of him, he was a very solid and skilled general in his time, but his time has long since passed. He stays up only because of Kuojah, and…"
Qing'lu's voice now became a little mocking, "And anyone who relies on the life of a sick old man for all of their power is resting their ambitions in a single strand of silk."
"I understand this," Kiralo said, brusquely.
"So trust Cs-Kuang only as long as you are your father's man. No longer."
Kiralo nodded, though he understood that Qing'lu shouldn't be trusted at all. "And Li-Jan?"
"I dislike him, though I can't quite say why. The bearded wonder manages to be very up-in-the-air, siding with everyone. I think he thinks he thinks...Gods." Qing'lu shook his head. "He knows that in the case of a war, his home will not be hurt, and if he was a little less wise, I think he might have led the push to attack. As it was, that wasn't him at all. It was Ha'dong, and I went along with him."
"Ha'dong led the charge?"
"Yes, out of shame. He had been positive, or at least neutral, to the Prince before the Emperor's death. He had attempted to have the Emperor use the Prince to gain the loyalty of the people and pacify the Sea Raiders, though there were always problems. He was ambitious, and cunning, and yet in the end Prince Jinhai disappointed him by becoming an enemy, that's how I see it. So his weak, conditional support turned, as wine might ferment, into a blind hatred to destroy a man who might have hurt his reputation."
"That is one explanation," Kiralo said. "Or fear. I can't imagine Kuojah would leave that stone unturned. Yet my father could hardly openly censure someone from pressing to act against a suspected traitor, at least…"
Kiralo trailed off, thoughtfully, "What about Juae?"
"I think he likes being the deciding vote, and wants to do something to be remembered." Qing'lu snorted. "He doesn't want to be a great general, but he wants to be a man like Hanin who introduced a system or a weapon or...something that changed the world. It's why he pushes his pet projects all the time, his little reorganizations and his elite units…"
Kiralo frowned. "That doesn't mean the ideas are bad."
"Does it? If you listen to a million voices you will make half a million mistakes." That was a quote by a famous scholar, Kiralo thought. It was talking about the virtue and justice of the philosopher-Emperor, and the folly of thinking that the voice of the people represented the voices or will of the Gods.
"We'll see," Kiralo said.
"Ah, he's got his hooks into you. Gods have mercy."
"They have so far. But I need more than that. I'd like to ask for your help in learning about and talking to the people who matter in Hari-Su and Nestirin, if I'm going to do all that you've asked."
"For you? I suppose so. What else? I assume you want help for that mercenary band of yours?"
"Yes. I need them here. You want them here, if you're going to fight a war."
"I...suppose that makes sense." Qing'lu nodded. "We shall see what good they do when they arrive. Anything else?"
Kiralo gave a full, toothy smile, his perfect, graceful Csiritan features managing to look quite as acquisitive as Qing'lu's rougher features.
******
What is acquired is lost. All that is acquired is lost. The Judges see you, they see your sins as they drape themselves across you. Like a thousand snakes they slither across your back, they slither down onto the ground. That is what you are, a serpent.
In the Southlands, that is all they say. The Csiritans are snakes. And? Snakes and men are not so different, so the philosopher says. They live and die, they are longer than they are wide...at least in most cases, and more than that, they are made by the Gods. Their bite brings life and death, the way they circle and slither through life is not all that different from human life...there were a thousand reasons why snakes were so important.
But it wasn't something you could explain in the Southlands. Not like here.
He knelt at the altar, surrounded by hundreds of people just like him. The ten altars were not really the focus. They were merely a thing to look at while contemplating something deeper.
Who were the Ten Judges? What did they Judge? Virtue, all sages answered. But in what way? Did each of them judge a different aspect of a man, or different sorts of men, and if so, by what scheme?
There was a sage who claimed to have been inspired by the Gods themselves, in the Southlands currently. Kiralo had thought his idea fascinating, if clearly heterodox. Just as a soul could transform and change, be stretched and even destroyed, or so legend said, so too could time. The Ten Judges, he claimed, judged a person at ten points in their life. As a babe, as a child, as a young man...and so on until the moment of death.
And each of these impressions, each of these selves, might be cast into punishment to work off the term of their evils, or into a happy abode...separately.
It was clearly heresy of some kind, but Kiralo had been tickled by the idea. And in the Southlands, where allies were rare, there was less pressure to conform. Everyone was needed, or at least anyone who actually believed in the Gods and the Ten Judges was enough.
The press of bodies, the smell of scented oils, it all made it hard to concentrate, but Kiralo concentrated still. His mother.was down there, all were down there. And what did Kiralo think?
He thought it was all a game. Or rather, it was fine to debate, but too many people chose a scheme of the Ten Judges that benefitted them. The man who killed and lorded over others thought there was a Judge of Nobles who would compare him only to others in the same position, would forgive him those evils that were normal for his class.
And the same with any other way to interpret it. While it mattered in some senses, it was best to obey the Gods and try to be as good as could be, and leave the judgement for those trained in it.
So he prayed that day, and in coming days.
The Hall of the Ten Judges was vast, and the statues were all beautiful in their own way. White marble and black stone, gems in some and yet others stood brazenly unadorned. Some represented a person, others a concept...it was a cavernous hall, and the floors were bare and hard enough that the knees of a supplicant who did not bring a pillow ached.
And that, perhaps, was the point.
On the first day, he felt little, and yet in the second day, as he took two hours of his time to contemplate the judges, to move through the history of war and death that was his past, through the blood that stained him in ways he couldn't see, he felt something. It was almost like that single silken thread Qing'lu had spoken of.
A sensation of something precarious and small and delicate, something if he blinked would be gone. He had never felt like that, but once, and that years and years ago, when his mother died. And so he stilled himself. Tried to focus on it by not focusing.
And yet his mind drifted. His mother's funeral, her burial, the little details. It all seemed to fill his head as he began to run through the prayers again.
"See me know me judge me, see me know me judge me." Ten repetitions of that traditional prayer, and he felt something, it was even harder to define, and he heard whispering. Heard fluttering, and then he felt it down his spine. A spirit had descended, something with fingers of a sort, though he knew it was likely invisible. The fingers reached up and clumsily brushed themselves against his cheek, and then he heard it.
His ears screamed to hear it, he couldn't interpret it, couldn't understand it. Once he had fallen off his horse when he was but a boy. He hadn't been trampled, but he'd almost broken a bone. That pain was as being lightly slapped to this. It filled his world, and if he was standing, he would have collapsed, but as it was he fought to keep in a scream of agony. It was the kind of pain that defines you, that shapes your every inch until you felt hollowed out. Hallowed out, too. The pain kept on rising and rising and then he felt as if he had a name for the pain, a definition for the agony.
Aiyistin. It felt like only an approximation, as if trying to capture the sound of the long pause before someone says something that changes everything...but the names of spirits were always like that. It was as if the sounds themselves were merely an approximation. Though this felt more.
When he opened his eyes, he realized he must have been silently weeping, because the world was blurred and when he rose he saw that he had spent more hours than he'd thought there. The crowds had thinned, and his steps were unsteady and uncertain.
The name echoed in his head, and he felt changed.
Kiralo didn't know whether to tell anyone, and so the next day when he came back, he didn't talk about that.
The three Judges before him who he requested to see didn't know it, or if they could see it, they didn't speak on it. One was wearing a grey mask, another a white and a third a black mask, their bodies shrouded by their robes. The dead, the ghosts, and their memories in the world. White, black, and grey.
And though they were not adorned at all, they were powerful and potent priests.
"You presided over his funeral?" Kiralo asked.
"Yes," the middle figure said, his voice strangely high and reedy. His black mask was turned in black incomprehension and fear, as the ghosts felt. "The ceremony was done properly, and there was no ghost, nor has any been reported."
"How was...his son, his daughters?" Kiralo asked. "I have not seen the girls lately."
"Seclusion," the man in the white mask said, "Is entirely proper for such young girls. The Emperor took it with manful and great calm, and yet he was surely grieving."
Kiralo suspected that this great calm was fictional. An invention. Kiralo had been the Emperor, losing his only parent--the only one that mattered--and so he imagined tears. He imagined that at best the boy had been dry of tears on the last day of the funeral, when the body was shown before it was buried and the pond created over it, having cried so much he had nothing left.
Thrown everything down on the ground as if in offering, as if to water the weeds and grow a new mother, when in truth all of the tears of the world could not bring back a single woman--
Man. Could not bring back a single man.
The funeral had been traditional, and lavish, but one thing had apparently stood out to them. Could they see souls? It was hard to credit, but one of them, near the end of the interview, shuffled a little when asked about the Emperor's spirits. Surely they were passed onto the son, those who were not with the body and thus impure and needing of cleansing in the vaults which held the spirits of the dead, down below?
He hadn't answered, but an hour later, a man in livery befitting that of a servant of a Priest of a Judge, came to Kiralo's rooms with a message.
'All of the spirits were somehow tainted, and clung not to his body. We had to put all of them in the vault. Do not speak of it. This message will devour itself.'
It crumpled inward even as this was said, and the ink smeared and ran away.
Why him? Had they told the authorities? The secret keepers? The...well, the department that didn't actually exist? Though even if they had, who could admit such a thing was true?
It was...damned unusual, to say the least.
*****
He had set it all up, prepared long and hard for this, and yet there was still that fear that it all might come tumbling down. He'd worked hard, convincing not merely the people in charge but also the bureaucrats at the Sub-Department of Offices, and for all of that, there was a reward. Effort beyond effort, a rush to meet the deadline, and on the last day possible, the last day before New Years Week began...a letter arrived.
On gold, and bordered in silver. The seal was green, and the ink on the golden paper was blue. It was even mimed into something approximating the hand of the Emperor, or at least a simple style that could be believably by the hand of a young boy...if that young boy was, in fact, a principled and great scholar.
'Cs-Kiralo. On the last day of the New Years ceremonies, you shall be presented with the position of Imperial Envoy to the Council of Generals and the Army. Details of its stipend shall be decided by my lessers. If your honor or obligations make this position an impossibility, please indicate so immediately and privately.'
A public refusal would of course destroy any man's career, no matter how great. Manuever was for privacy.
No mask in the world, whether the courtier's mask of flesh or the priest's physical mask, could have hidden the grin that raced across Kiralo's face.
*****
-[X][State influence] Envoy of the Army x2
Need: 65, Rolled: 1d100+14+5+5+5 (Success on a few more things)+1 (Strange Quarters)+1 (Impressing Qing'lu)=38, 119...good thing that you put two dice into it.
Effects: !!!
-[X][Court Actions] The New Emperor's Boys...Part 2 x2
Need:40, Rolled: 60, 65
Effect: +1 Influence, options.
x-[X][Court Actions] Ride Along Friends
Need: 45, Rolled: 73
Effects: Reduce/eliminate the penalty, aids other actions.
-[X][Court Actions] Going South x2
Need: 50, Rolled: 27, 85 (1d100+14)
Effect: Options, support.
x-[X][Court Actions] To the West
Need: 25, Rolled: 1d100+12=96
Effect: Options, support.
-[X][Court Actions] Building the Case, Part 2: I'm Smart Enough
Need: 35, Rolled: 40
Effect: Bonus to roll.
-[X][Court Actions] Wooing the Hari-Bueli x2
Need: 45, Rolled: 1d100+12+1=21, 105
Effect: Options! Huge success!
-[X][Court Actions] Judge Not
Need: 30, Rolled: 1d100+5+2+4=94
Sub rolls: 58, 97!
97+72=169
Spirits?: 1d100=99, 99+26=125.
Effect: Information! Options! ???, ???, ???!!
Need: 65, Rolled: 1d100+14+5+5+5 (Success on a few more things)+1 (Strange Quarters)+1 (Impressing Qing'lu)=38, 119...good thing that you put two dice into it.
Effects: !!!
-[X][Court Actions] The New Emperor's Boys...Part 2 x2
Need:40, Rolled: 60, 65
Effect: +1 Influence, options.
x-[X][Court Actions] Ride Along Friends
Need: 45, Rolled: 73
Effects: Reduce/eliminate the penalty, aids other actions.
-[X][Court Actions] Going South x2
Need: 50, Rolled: 27, 85 (1d100+14)
Effect: Options, support.
x-[X][Court Actions] To the West
Need: 25, Rolled: 1d100+12=96
Effect: Options, support.
-[X][Court Actions] Building the Case, Part 2: I'm Smart Enough
Need: 35, Rolled: 40
Effect: Bonus to roll.
-[X][Court Actions] Wooing the Hari-Bueli x2
Need: 45, Rolled: 1d100+12+1=21, 105
Effect: Options! Huge success!
-[X][Court Actions] Judge Not
Need: 30, Rolled: 1d100+5+2+4=94
Sub rolls: 58, 97!
97+72=169
Spirits?: 1d100=99, 99+26=125.
Effect: Information! Options! ???, ???, ???!!
A/N: Alright, and next is the Turn Rumors, and then we start a special turn...New Years turn! Less options, less Influence, and all based around a very local and limited event, so just Court actions.
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- Pronouns
- They/Them
Pro-tip. You can succeed on every action you undertake and still wind up dying/losing.
The descriptions were as usual very interesting with a touch of unusual and confusion which is to be expected with a foreign culture. The Qing-lu meeting went well and we appear to have gotten what we wanted along with a bit of respect, although as I've mentioned a couple times it was a little disappointing the southern mercenaries being recruited weren't mentioned given how he would surely have a notable opinion on it. The descriptions of the other generals were likewise useful, although I'm not too sure if that option provides mechanical benefits or just player information. If it's the latter an important characters front page could possibly considered, as this story seems to be quite information dense and as players we've already forgotten important things (such as Hari-Os).
The Ten Judges was as expected with relation to the Emperor dying suspiciously, although I've already mentioned my thoughts on Kiralo investigating it in depth and a certain dislike for it. The spirit part was interesting and if I had to guess, taking the At Beating Heart's action in Irit would progress is further given it mentions it being a religious experience and those who go learning more about faith but also magic.
Overall though the rolls were exceptional, especially with the multiple rolls given one of them tended to fail.
The Ten Judges was as expected with relation to the Emperor dying suspiciously, although I've already mentioned my thoughts on Kiralo investigating it in depth and a certain dislike for it. The spirit part was interesting and if I had to guess, taking the At Beating Heart's action in Irit would progress is further given it mentions it being a religious experience and those who go learning more about faith but also magic.
Some questions though, didn't this option matter as I can't see it anywhere?
And this only needed 35.
Overall though the rolls were exceptional, especially with the multiple rolls given one of them tended to fail.
- Pronouns
- They/Them
It was mentioned, obliquely. Or rather, Kiralo mentioned 'support' that might be forthcoming at one point. At a later date he's going to fill in the 'Diplomacy' thing.
- Location
- Germany
Facinating, but I am a bit confused about some things.
Did I get that right?
What attack is Qing'lu talking about? Could someone clue me in?
So there are spirits that accompany the Emperor, presumably to serve and protect him. The pure spirits stay with the Emperor's body even after his death. The impure spirits move to his son. The priests catch those impure spirits and put them in the vaults, where they are held and/or cleansed.
Did I get that right?
- Pronouns
- They/Them
Mostly. Or at least *want* to stay with his body, or usually stick close by because they're used to being near him.
Bakkasama
There is always a greater fool
- Location
- Buenos Aires, Argentina
- Pronouns
- He/his
I think he is talking about who among the generals were pushing to make a preemptive strike against Prince Jinhai. Li-Jan knows that, in case of a civil war, whatever province he is from will be one of the less affected. Thus, since war or no war his home won't be ravaged, he doesn't feel the need to murder Jinhai because "he might rebel" without proof of it.
On the other hand, Qing'lu and Ha'dong "led the charge" in the argument for said strike. The former presumably because he is competent but likelyy because of his southern interests since that part will be affected. He thinks the later does so because of guilt since before the previous emperor died Ha'dong was pro-Jinhai since he thought he would be useful but that allowed to gain the influence and popularity that makes him a threat now.
Is this because "impure" spirits might haunt the descendants of the emperor?
- Pronouns
- They/Them
It's because how spirits work. To explain. Most spirits are free floating, if sometimes very attached to a thing or area. A person who whispers the name of a spirit of arrow-flight or whatever draws the attention of such a spirit, and then is able to (or not, as it depends) command them to aid them, etc, etc.
But spirits that are often called can sometimes stick around. These are the spirits that Kiralo has on him at all times, and so does everyone else, the spirits that are most useful to them and thus the most used, and they're also usually only so powerful. The kinds of spirits that people worship as gods (as in, Southlanders, for instance) aren't going to follow around a random kid just because he knows a name and says it often. The spirits thus reside in the body or near it and are ready to be called.
As such, they're usually sensitive to certain things.
Thus, spirits of a man who has died often get rather worked up, the same as you would if your home was suddenly torched for no reason that you know (since many spirits aren't human in either intelligence or temperament and thought process). So the spirits get worked up, and that makes them hard to manage, and hard to manage spirits can be dangerous. I mean, there's a reason that Imperial Mages can throw around fireballs, and it's not just because they're so awesome.
So they're kept in the Vault to work out their impurities or at least to be out of the way.
And of course some spirits more easily get over it. Those are the 'not impure.'
All of the Emperor's spirits not only seemed impure, but didn't, as spirits often try to do (like a person picking through a house after it is destroyed by fire) cling to or attempt to 'touch' the body of the Emperor. Instead, they seemed to keep away...
Which is not only impossible and absurd, but even disgusting.
Frankly, if Kiralo said those words in that order to Kuojah in a way that was public, he could be censured and thrown in the dungeon.
The idea that it can happen, let alone happen to an Emperor, is something...grotesque.
It's not something a person can talk about or accuse someone of or even think of...and it also doesn't seem to move one closer towards an answer, does it? It sounds merely like the Emperor might be some sort of...spiritual freak. Some monster of iniquity or...something.
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...so, if all the spirits he's used to keeping on hand to help him suddenly stopped helping while he was riding drunk...
The trail is in the drink. I think.
Something in what made him decide to go out riding while disoriented and robbed of his spirits
- Pronouns
- They/Them
As Kiralo might guess, following the whole trail is difficult and probably not profitable in at least a few senses. And no possible result would actually be viewed as unbiased facts. In this court?
He can't really know more because you haven't been following up the Magical end of actions so far.
Hey @The Laurent, this is a great quest. I just caught up to the end.
The story and narratie are evocative, florid in he right ways and extremely well written. The descriptions almost paint a picture, as much of cliche as that may be. The world building is top notch as well. The main character reminds me of the protagonist of River of Stars by Guy Gavriel Kay. The character was a Yue Fei expy in an expy Northern Song Dynasty, so I guess that's sort of what you're going for.
As game, however, it's... still a lot of fun, but very confusing, overwhelming, and a bit difficult.
It would be a lot easier for new readers, trying to catch up, if on the results turns, the winning plan were placed at the top in spoilers.
It would also help a lot if you had a heading in front each vignette letting us know which specific action (or even actions) it was referring to. 95% of the time, it's clear from context, but when readers have to go back a few pages to find what the winning vote was, and there are just so many options... I understand doing that wouldn't always mesh with the non-chronological pseudo-stream of consciousness style that works so well, but I think in a quest that, quite frankly, is pretty complicated and asks a lot out of it's players, it's worth sacrificing a bit of style and evocativeness for clarity.
Which brings me to the final issues- the options. There are just sooo many options. And it seems that every other successful action results in new options! And then you option bring important options that the players ignore. Honestly, if there are super important options, then you should consider trimming the options that are less than super important.
Or you could categorize (with either nested spoilers, or with bright colored text) the options to make them seem less overwhelming. Maybe categories like "Emperor", "Eunuchs", "Civilian Ministers", "Generals", "Provincial governors", "foreign affairs", "commoners" etc. Or categorize them by primary CKII stat, like in the Kingdom of Ulthuan Quest.
I remember at some point, you snapped at Imrix because when discussing his Diabolus Ex Machina, he seemed like he was gloating that the players didn't choose the options to track Malekith's actions or find out what was going on in Cathay and Nippon. I agreed with you-it felt a bit unfair to have such vital options buried under sheer wordcount. Well, right now, I think your options are even more overwhelming than his are, if only because this is an original setting* and because his options were categorized.
I'm sorry if this sounds too harsh, and I hope this is constructive.
*funny thing, I think the established setting may have led to players ignoring Cathay and Nippon, since, you know, Games Workshop always ignored them too. but I digress
The story and narratie are evocative, florid in he right ways and extremely well written. The descriptions almost paint a picture, as much of cliche as that may be. The world building is top notch as well. The main character reminds me of the protagonist of River of Stars by Guy Gavriel Kay. The character was a Yue Fei expy in an expy Northern Song Dynasty, so I guess that's sort of what you're going for.
As game, however, it's... still a lot of fun, but very confusing, overwhelming, and a bit difficult.
It would be a lot easier for new readers, trying to catch up, if on the results turns, the winning plan were placed at the top in spoilers.
It would also help a lot if you had a heading in front each vignette letting us know which specific action (or even actions) it was referring to. 95% of the time, it's clear from context, but when readers have to go back a few pages to find what the winning vote was, and there are just so many options... I understand doing that wouldn't always mesh with the non-chronological pseudo-stream of consciousness style that works so well, but I think in a quest that, quite frankly, is pretty complicated and asks a lot out of it's players, it's worth sacrificing a bit of style and evocativeness for clarity.
Which brings me to the final issues- the options. There are just sooo many options. And it seems that every other successful action results in new options! And then you option bring important options that the players ignore. Honestly, if there are super important options, then you should consider trimming the options that are less than super important.
Or you could categorize (with either nested spoilers, or with bright colored text) the options to make them seem less overwhelming. Maybe categories like "Emperor", "Eunuchs", "Civilian Ministers", "Generals", "Provincial governors", "foreign affairs", "commoners" etc. Or categorize them by primary CKII stat, like in the Kingdom of Ulthuan Quest.
I remember at some point, you snapped at Imrix because when discussing his Diabolus Ex Machina, he seemed like he was gloating that the players didn't choose the options to track Malekith's actions or find out what was going on in Cathay and Nippon. I agreed with you-it felt a bit unfair to have such vital options buried under sheer wordcount. Well, right now, I think your options are even more overwhelming than his are, if only because this is an original setting* and because his options were categorized.
I'm sorry if this sounds too harsh, and I hope this is constructive.
*funny thing, I think the established setting may have led to players ignoring Cathay and Nippon, since, you know, Games Workshop always ignored them too. but I digress