- Pronouns
- They/Them
Huh, not bad.
Behind the Serpent Throne (CK2)
- Thread starter The Laurent
- Start date
- Original Fantasy
Huh, not bad.
- Pronouns
- They/Them
Update tomorrow, by the way.
Zeitgeist Blue
Currently Made of Metal
- Location
- Manila, Philippines, GMT +8
You know @The Laurent, Inkarnate is probably what you're looking for when it comes to mapmaking Csirit and the nations around it.
- Pronouns
- They/Them
Also, blah, options-writing, my old enemy.
Turn A Results, Part 7
- Pronouns
- They/Them
Turn A--Part 7
It was not all that hard to talk to people, all things considered. And the court was like one of those houses built at the edge of a walled city. He'd seen a fire once spread from one of them to the next so fast that even the water spirits that were called to help couldn't stop them, for there were fire spirits drawn, out of human control, reveling and stoking on the blaze for a few moments, because that was how flammable they were.
So too could a rumor, if placed right, travel this way and that. It wouldn't influence as much as he might have hoped. After all, this was a credible category, and despite bribery there was only so much that one could do to sway things. One's topic matter, one's polish, one's traditional lineage, these were all important.
Then again, not a single traditional play was even close to in the running. They didn't have to choose the best play, but they couldn't choose a play that was obviously undeserving.
So the bored and cynical had gossiped, while Kiralo had prayed, but for far more important things than a play, even one he liked. It was a quiet day, and then a verdict came down. Or rather, startling everyone, a lack of a verdict.
He was sitting in his room, drinking tea. There was only one more day until the big day itself. He had put on a performance of his play for the Emperor, and Dai'so had loved it, but that didn't mean that it'd necessarily lead to a greater odds of victory.
"Sir, sir," a boyish voice called as Nai, a nine year old who served as a messenger boy, came in, "Cs-Kiralo, the results you wanted me to forward you are in!" He was the son of one of the cleaning women, a brown-haired, short boy who made up for it in enthusiasm. He had a scroll in his hands, which he handed off roughly.
Kiralo opened it carefully and read.
"A lament.
It seems as if in this age of joy, there is yet some sorrow, for this year there were few plays whose messages we would say are edifying. No plays on the moral virtue of Ishiko-la," goddess in charge of the tending of a house, "Or on any other subject such as the philosophy of the classics. The works this year were excellent, no doubt, and yet we saddened by the lack of such content. Plays and poetry exist in part to edify the senses even as they enrapture the mind in a wholesome and philosophically correct way.
Thus, we have to ask that in the next year, one gives us more material. For the plays this year were excellent, and many had moral worth, but none were defined by this worth. And is it not said that, "The poet without a moral is the archer without an arrow." Yet, at times, the moral is hard to distinguish. We shall now present the awards that have been decided."
That have been decided?
He skimmed the page, slightly, as it talked about difficult decisions and then got to the point, "The Green Mountains Journeyman this year is On-wei, for his play Atonement." Kiralo frowned. That was a play that might have gotten far more traction. In fact, if he was being humble and honest with himself, it probably deserved a victory more than he did. Though perhaps it had gotten it, for all he knew he wasn't even on the list. Still, he hoped On-li, who was a rather well known poet in his late forties, one who actually lived outside of the imperial palace for a good deal of the year, continued to make such works.
It went on to describe the rewards. He may wear one small strip of imperial green within his garments as he goes about his business, for the rest of the year, and he received ten strings of of twenty silver 'serenties' as they were sometimes called. It was a rich purse indeed, by almost any standards, though the third place poet received twenty-five, for instance. It was still enough to set one up in some comfort, and more than that
"Yet two other plays surpassed it, but no decision can be reached as to which one is the superior play. Cs-Kiralo's play The Duel is excellent and excellent comedy, and yet there is a dearth of moral worth. At the same time, there is a philosophical thrust to the scenes involving war and conflict, and its worth is not in doubt. Meanwhile, Bei'ren's Final Days of Summer is excellent, but some have raised questions.
Thus, a decision will come tomorrow."
That was folly. Kiralo stood up, gripping the paper tight. More than folly, it was nonsense. He needed this done in order to focus on the great task ahead of him. "Nai, I am going out. You may inform the rest of the staff that I will be back in time for dinner, and to thank them for their service." Though he was going to be doing more than thanking them, since a bonus was not only traditional, but only right, at the end of the year.
He made his way downstairs. Perhaps he could have freshed up, and the pinning on his hair was clearly meant for an informal day in, but he needed to talk to Bei'ren, and perhaps come to some sort of understanding. Ultimately, he was willing to forsake the first place, being already a stretch, and he needed to find a way to do so without humiliation.
Out the door he went, and then...he was stopped. A man was hurrying towards his door, and when he finally caught up, he bowed once and said, "Cs-Kiralo, I am Bei'ren. We need to talk."
Bei'ren was an interesting looking fellow. Kiralo would place him in his early thirties, with soft brown hair that he cultivated longer than the fashion this year, though his styles were actually relatively simple, if well chosen, with four braids around a very simple bun held in by a copper hairpin. He had small, thin lips, a strong jaw, and eyes that were deep, soulfully dark pools of liquid that seemed constantly to be on the verge of overflowing their banks and drowning the village of his other features. Probablly northern, though the ink-stains on his hand said that he was a scholar or bureaucrat, and not a noble, or at least not a traditional one. Thin, slightly bony, though there was something striking about the deep red of his iritu.
"I think, Cs-Kiralo, that it might be best if I withdrew. Or rather, conceded."
Kiralo sipped his tea slowly, glancing down at it for a moment. "Why?"
"Because there is a prejudice against my play, and because while I...would feel remiss to not strive as far as I can, I understand the nature of the situation."
"The...nature?" Kiralo askeed, "I am not going to try to push you out, Cs-Bei'ren."
"I suspected as much. Your reputation is mixed, but precedes you. My own play, though, is already being talked about in ways I did not wish when I began writing it, over a year ago."
Kiralo blinked. "A year ago?"
"Did you think it was about the recent troubles?"
He...had. The aide of a slowly dying general in a lovely, and yet remote village. A strong man reduced to insanity and weakness, where once he had been a powerful man, if one who was sometimes cruel. And a town filled with people who similarly felt like they were at different stages of a decline. The widow whose best days were behind her, the holy man whose pious words were not matched by pious actions, the broke nobleman recklessly building a palace to honor his ancestors despite having no money to pay the workers, who were working because they liked it, and yet would soon demand pay…
And all the while, a story of love slowly unfolded, but also madness. The general died, the aide wandered through the streets, cast out. He talked with the beggar, who was a happy man, who suggested that one should follow that which they love. He went to her house, the aide to his romantic interest, and tried to seduce her, but when she rebuffed him at the last moment, he turned away and then considered what it was he truly loved, and reminisced about the days when the general was a strong man and being his aide had been one act of glory after another. Tired, he killed himself, but at the end, there was something with the way his spirits moved that seemed to suggest...something.
It had seemed to Kiralo that the general surely was the Empire, or at least, the town was the palace.
"Perhaps."
"There is some inspiration, yes," the other man said, shaking his head carefully, "But truly it was my father's death late the year before last that made me think about it, and I began writing even before last year's New Years contests. And I had read some histories of the passing of the last torch, and I talked to others who were aging or going through a transition. And that's what it was about. Decline, loss...transition. I was done with a first draft before the old Emperor died, but it might have reflected there."
His eyes were sad, and Kiralo felt his heart tug out at him. "Ah."
"But it has been misinterpreted," Bei'ren said, "As being a statement on the doom of the Empire, or other such things. I would thus rather take the second place, for your play was skilled as well in the art of effortlessness."
Kiralo frowned, "What do you mean by that?"
"Great comedy, I have always been told, requires you to not seem as if you put a huge amount of effort into every line," he said, with this small nod and a soft smile that really did bring out his eyes.
Kiralo said, "If you are willing to offer me the first place, then I shall accept it, but I insist that I be allowed to grant you ten strings of my prize money," of fifty strings of silver, "Since in truth it appears we have tied, no matter what the official records record."
It was worth it for the shocked look on Bei'ren's face. He stammered his acceptance, his eyes almost overflowing, bowing once and then bowing again.
It was sympathy for the death of his father, and respect for this man's skill. And, perhaps a little bit, there was attraction that drove him to the offer. But considering what Bei'ren was giving up, that was alright. He still gained more money and prestige than if he'd taken the second slot.
Effect: Unlock options with Bei'ren, a poet and playwright whose father was a mid-ranking bureaucrat. +1 Court Influence in options relating to art, music, or plays.
******
"Hold still," the man said, but Kiralo didn't need to be told. He normally dressed himself, but this was a special occasion, and so he submitted to it. His iritu was especially formal, a sky blue that was as far from Imperial Blue as possible, with red accents and hints of purple flowers along the arms, all of it carefully managed to maintain a balanced appearance. And of course, he was wearing rings on two of his fingers, with glittering dark red gems set into them.
And because he had won the first prize, that meant as well that he was allowed to wear one piece of gold upon him for the whole year. A sign of the Emperor's favor. In this case, it was going to be a golden hair-pin, so that his hair, which was now slightly longer than his shoulders, could be put into a tight, but looping, bun. And then two braids carefully culled out from the middle to continue down his back, wrapped carefully with red ribbon along their lengths. Red for blood, perhaps, Kiralo had thought. Or for passion. Or because it matched the colors of his Iritu. The robe was expensive, yet it was an expense that he could not possibly afford to spare.
He walked into the throneroom with Arimi and Vedal at his back, to join in the huge crowd, all equally well dressed. Mostly men, though a few women, wives no doubt, stood with their husbands whispering words of advice.
And there on the throne was the Emperor in a green robe, his somewhat shorter than usual hair pinned up in a simple bun, but with a gold, silver, and diamond hair-stick to hold it in, pattered and filled, Kiralo suspected, with more than a few spirits.
The spirits were thick here, and yet for once he was not one to give them off. He knew that stepping towards the throne would draw his spirits temporarily away or lull them into uselessness, and he did not want to subject them to the annoyance, not when he could simply go a little more unarmed than he already was.
After a few minutes of milling, the roll call began. Each man was named, and his new position and its rights and duties, and its rewards as well. The official ones, for no doubt there would be less official ways to supplement some incomes. It went on down the line...and then skipped Kiralo. Han, to Kiralo's joy, received a position as one of the Emperor's personal dancers with eager gratitude. The names wound towards the end, and suddenly the Emperor stood up.
He spoke, his tiny voice booming thanks to the spirits, "All shall bow and excuse me. I shall be back within a minute."
Kiralo gaped at the figure as he stepped down, soon flanked by his elite guards, and left. Left people to mutter, as Kiralo tried to focus and think about why he was passed by. It was a position that had wrecked many, many men before.
Nobody had truly possessed the power and that position for more than two or three years at a time, even if some remained in that post for a decade or more. It was not cursed, nothing so simple as that, but navigating the army and the Imperial court was a lesson in madness. People had been executed, or failed to uphold the wishes of one side or another and found themselves sidelined or unable to act.
In fact, this could be just such a moment. If the Emperor returned and said that he was withdrawing the offer to one Cs-Kiralo, or that he had found evidence of treason and therefore Cs-Kiralo could not be Envoy To the Army From the Imperial Seat, or anything at all other than a corpse.
It was unlikely, of course, but even if all it was was merely an enemy of Kuojah managing to prevent the ascension at the last moment by some gossip or scheme, it'd leave Kiralo vulnerable and exposed, his promises shattered on the ground like glass after a wind storm.
He'd have to desperately scramble to survive, and there would be no use in bringing his mother's remains here to bury and put a pool over them, there would be no use planning a future. It would not be quite so bad as to necessitate a withdrawal, but he realized suddenly just how vulnerable he might be.
He was the son of Kuojah, but he was a son who was certainly not loved by his father, and being his father's son meant attacks, too. It meant that he needed to step carefully, less confidently than he had. He hadn't an estate to go to to brood if he was banished from the court by politics and circumstances, he didn't have a base, peasants and nobles that would stand with him if he wished to pressure others.
He was a scholar-general-poet-bureaucrat without a post, without an army, without poetic credibility. Kiralo, in other words, was in a bad position if it all crumbled now.
And he considered it all, every move, every way out. If he was refused he'd have to press hard on the victory with the play, and emphasize that aspect of himself while working with the army to attempt to at least keep them neutral.
Or perhaps it would be time to start plotting with them for the downfall of whoever it was.
There were thirty minutes between the Emperor's exit and when he arrived again. Long enough for desperate plotting, and for more than Kiralo. Everyone was thinking furiously, muttering among themselves to see what it was. But if this was a trap, if this was doom, then Kiralo wasn't going to let it show on his face.
One maintained a mask in court, or one lost. So he was the only person who did not gasp when Emperor Dai'so walked in. He was dressed in a new outfit, his hair more elaborate, and in his hands he was holding a lacquered box which seemed to have carefully painted scenes on it. Most importantly, though, he was dressed in silver, inlaid with gold flowers and hints of blue and green to break up the color. But silver dominated, and he walked forward to stand just in front of the throne area, near the serpents, his elite guards in their serpent armor at his back.
"Cs-Kiralo, of Lineage Ainin. I have been told that you have a strong arm, one that can pull back any bow and hit a target ten times out of ten. Whose very spirits dance with the power of war. Is this true?"
Kiralo paused and said, "It is, honored Emperor."
"And I am told that you have a clever mind," the Emperor said, his voice careful as if he was reading from a script, "One that can see their way through court politics to the truth. Is this true?"
"It is, serenity," Kiralo said, and he fell to his knees as the Emperor stepped towards him.
"I am told, by men I respect, that you have a quick tongue, such as you make many friends, and many enemies, and yet possess the ability to lead many men, in war and in peace."
Everyone was staring as Kiralo nodded, eyes averted, "It has been said by some, your Imperial Highness."
"It has come to my attention, that you possess a vast will, such that you might win battles that none had thought possible to win."
Kiralo did not flush, but he did not speak, instead nodding.
"Then," the Emperor said, "Take this, and rise."
The Emperor, far shorter than him, offered the box and then retreated, step by step, as the guards watched him.
"Serenity, may I open it?" Kiralo asked.
"Yes, you may."
He opened it slowly to reveal a beautiful sword indeed. Completely useless, for it was made of silver, and there was a blue gem in the pommel, and golden thread on the grip. But it was no doubt impossibly expensive. Kiralo drew it out slowly, as people began to gasp and mutter. And then the great doors of the throne chamber opened up, and dozens and dozens of men began to spill out.
The Council...of Generals. All of them, of course, since the fiction that there were more than five in charge. All of them were dressed up well, and as the Emperor ascended to the lotus seat, they moved as one to stand in front of Kiralo...and bow.
"Cs-Kiralo of Lineage Ainin, I am in need of a strong arm, I am need of a clever mind, I am need of a quick tongue, I am need of a vast weill, and I am in need of a loyal servent. Do I have them in you?"
"From here until the end of my life, and beyond it," Kiralo said, for it was the only thing he could say. His throat felt as if was closing up, and he was sweating heavily, aware that the die was being cast down, like one of Arimi's games. Whatever rolled up, it would be someone losing. So publically speaking of war, it was a challenge.
It was a statement. There was to be civil war. The pond that was Csirit was to be scoured, to be scourged by fire and disease and stones dropped down to shatter any peace. It was going to be slaughter, and it didn't matter now if it wasn't for months, maybe even a little longer, because it was sure now.
It had crystallized, and whether it turned out to be a disaster or a victory, history would remember this moment.
And he couldn't shy away from it. He could be dead in a few months. His whole life could be a final few pages in the history of the fall of a dynasty, or less than that. A mere mention of an unimportant man who rose to nothing and died for nothing.
The gods willing, the Emperor protect, he wasn't going to let that happen.
"Then, you are now my Envoy to the Generals. You represent the Imperial Seat in all such matters, answering to only one man, myself, and making my will manifest. Wield my sword as a symbol of your office, and may it be a sword never drawn except in need. You are granted the right to wear any amount of imperial silver, and wear any silver adornments, and a grant of one hundred gold taels per year as a salary, transferrable to silver, grants of land, or bushels of rice for the feeding of an estate."
"It is an honor I hope to be worthy of," Kiralo said, and he bowed once more, deeply, and then on his knees. Five times his head met the ground, and around him he saw everyone else had bowed, and then the Emperor spoke.
"R-rise. And turn."
Reluctantly or not, part of a scheme or not the Generals were now on their knees before him.
And in the crowd, Kiralo caught Kuojah, standing, a slight smile on his face. A smile of triumph.
Effect: Gain a position, tons of options. +1 temporary Court Influence (Thanks Dad), +1 Court Influence only used for military actions, +1 State Influence.
*******
A/N: And there we go! Rumors next. Get hyped! War is going to come...eventually.
It was not all that hard to talk to people, all things considered. And the court was like one of those houses built at the edge of a walled city. He'd seen a fire once spread from one of them to the next so fast that even the water spirits that were called to help couldn't stop them, for there were fire spirits drawn, out of human control, reveling and stoking on the blaze for a few moments, because that was how flammable they were.
So too could a rumor, if placed right, travel this way and that. It wouldn't influence as much as he might have hoped. After all, this was a credible category, and despite bribery there was only so much that one could do to sway things. One's topic matter, one's polish, one's traditional lineage, these were all important.
Then again, not a single traditional play was even close to in the running. They didn't have to choose the best play, but they couldn't choose a play that was obviously undeserving.
So the bored and cynical had gossiped, while Kiralo had prayed, but for far more important things than a play, even one he liked. It was a quiet day, and then a verdict came down. Or rather, startling everyone, a lack of a verdict.
He was sitting in his room, drinking tea. There was only one more day until the big day itself. He had put on a performance of his play for the Emperor, and Dai'so had loved it, but that didn't mean that it'd necessarily lead to a greater odds of victory.
"Sir, sir," a boyish voice called as Nai, a nine year old who served as a messenger boy, came in, "Cs-Kiralo, the results you wanted me to forward you are in!" He was the son of one of the cleaning women, a brown-haired, short boy who made up for it in enthusiasm. He had a scroll in his hands, which he handed off roughly.
Kiralo opened it carefully and read.
"A lament.
It seems as if in this age of joy, there is yet some sorrow, for this year there were few plays whose messages we would say are edifying. No plays on the moral virtue of Ishiko-la," goddess in charge of the tending of a house, "Or on any other subject such as the philosophy of the classics. The works this year were excellent, no doubt, and yet we saddened by the lack of such content. Plays and poetry exist in part to edify the senses even as they enrapture the mind in a wholesome and philosophically correct way.
Thus, we have to ask that in the next year, one gives us more material. For the plays this year were excellent, and many had moral worth, but none were defined by this worth. And is it not said that, "The poet without a moral is the archer without an arrow." Yet, at times, the moral is hard to distinguish. We shall now present the awards that have been decided."
That have been decided?
He skimmed the page, slightly, as it talked about difficult decisions and then got to the point, "The Green Mountains Journeyman this year is On-wei, for his play Atonement." Kiralo frowned. That was a play that might have gotten far more traction. In fact, if he was being humble and honest with himself, it probably deserved a victory more than he did. Though perhaps it had gotten it, for all he knew he wasn't even on the list. Still, he hoped On-li, who was a rather well known poet in his late forties, one who actually lived outside of the imperial palace for a good deal of the year, continued to make such works.
It went on to describe the rewards. He may wear one small strip of imperial green within his garments as he goes about his business, for the rest of the year, and he received ten strings of of twenty silver 'serenties' as they were sometimes called. It was a rich purse indeed, by almost any standards, though the third place poet received twenty-five, for instance. It was still enough to set one up in some comfort, and more than that
"Yet two other plays surpassed it, but no decision can be reached as to which one is the superior play. Cs-Kiralo's play The Duel is excellent and excellent comedy, and yet there is a dearth of moral worth. At the same time, there is a philosophical thrust to the scenes involving war and conflict, and its worth is not in doubt. Meanwhile, Bei'ren's Final Days of Summer is excellent, but some have raised questions.
Thus, a decision will come tomorrow."
That was folly. Kiralo stood up, gripping the paper tight. More than folly, it was nonsense. He needed this done in order to focus on the great task ahead of him. "Nai, I am going out. You may inform the rest of the staff that I will be back in time for dinner, and to thank them for their service." Though he was going to be doing more than thanking them, since a bonus was not only traditional, but only right, at the end of the year.
He made his way downstairs. Perhaps he could have freshed up, and the pinning on his hair was clearly meant for an informal day in, but he needed to talk to Bei'ren, and perhaps come to some sort of understanding. Ultimately, he was willing to forsake the first place, being already a stretch, and he needed to find a way to do so without humiliation.
Out the door he went, and then...he was stopped. A man was hurrying towards his door, and when he finally caught up, he bowed once and said, "Cs-Kiralo, I am Bei'ren. We need to talk."
Bei'ren was an interesting looking fellow. Kiralo would place him in his early thirties, with soft brown hair that he cultivated longer than the fashion this year, though his styles were actually relatively simple, if well chosen, with four braids around a very simple bun held in by a copper hairpin. He had small, thin lips, a strong jaw, and eyes that were deep, soulfully dark pools of liquid that seemed constantly to be on the verge of overflowing their banks and drowning the village of his other features. Probablly northern, though the ink-stains on his hand said that he was a scholar or bureaucrat, and not a noble, or at least not a traditional one. Thin, slightly bony, though there was something striking about the deep red of his iritu.
"I think, Cs-Kiralo, that it might be best if I withdrew. Or rather, conceded."
Kiralo sipped his tea slowly, glancing down at it for a moment. "Why?"
"Because there is a prejudice against my play, and because while I...would feel remiss to not strive as far as I can, I understand the nature of the situation."
"The...nature?" Kiralo askeed, "I am not going to try to push you out, Cs-Bei'ren."
"I suspected as much. Your reputation is mixed, but precedes you. My own play, though, is already being talked about in ways I did not wish when I began writing it, over a year ago."
Kiralo blinked. "A year ago?"
"Did you think it was about the recent troubles?"
He...had. The aide of a slowly dying general in a lovely, and yet remote village. A strong man reduced to insanity and weakness, where once he had been a powerful man, if one who was sometimes cruel. And a town filled with people who similarly felt like they were at different stages of a decline. The widow whose best days were behind her, the holy man whose pious words were not matched by pious actions, the broke nobleman recklessly building a palace to honor his ancestors despite having no money to pay the workers, who were working because they liked it, and yet would soon demand pay…
And all the while, a story of love slowly unfolded, but also madness. The general died, the aide wandered through the streets, cast out. He talked with the beggar, who was a happy man, who suggested that one should follow that which they love. He went to her house, the aide to his romantic interest, and tried to seduce her, but when she rebuffed him at the last moment, he turned away and then considered what it was he truly loved, and reminisced about the days when the general was a strong man and being his aide had been one act of glory after another. Tired, he killed himself, but at the end, there was something with the way his spirits moved that seemed to suggest...something.
It had seemed to Kiralo that the general surely was the Empire, or at least, the town was the palace.
"Perhaps."
"There is some inspiration, yes," the other man said, shaking his head carefully, "But truly it was my father's death late the year before last that made me think about it, and I began writing even before last year's New Years contests. And I had read some histories of the passing of the last torch, and I talked to others who were aging or going through a transition. And that's what it was about. Decline, loss...transition. I was done with a first draft before the old Emperor died, but it might have reflected there."
His eyes were sad, and Kiralo felt his heart tug out at him. "Ah."
"But it has been misinterpreted," Bei'ren said, "As being a statement on the doom of the Empire, or other such things. I would thus rather take the second place, for your play was skilled as well in the art of effortlessness."
Kiralo frowned, "What do you mean by that?"
"Great comedy, I have always been told, requires you to not seem as if you put a huge amount of effort into every line," he said, with this small nod and a soft smile that really did bring out his eyes.
Kiralo said, "If you are willing to offer me the first place, then I shall accept it, but I insist that I be allowed to grant you ten strings of my prize money," of fifty strings of silver, "Since in truth it appears we have tied, no matter what the official records record."
It was worth it for the shocked look on Bei'ren's face. He stammered his acceptance, his eyes almost overflowing, bowing once and then bowing again.
It was sympathy for the death of his father, and respect for this man's skill. And, perhaps a little bit, there was attraction that drove him to the offer. But considering what Bei'ren was giving up, that was alright. He still gained more money and prestige than if he'd taken the second slot.
Effect: Unlock options with Bei'ren, a poet and playwright whose father was a mid-ranking bureaucrat. +1 Court Influence in options relating to art, music, or plays.
******
"Hold still," the man said, but Kiralo didn't need to be told. He normally dressed himself, but this was a special occasion, and so he submitted to it. His iritu was especially formal, a sky blue that was as far from Imperial Blue as possible, with red accents and hints of purple flowers along the arms, all of it carefully managed to maintain a balanced appearance. And of course, he was wearing rings on two of his fingers, with glittering dark red gems set into them.
And because he had won the first prize, that meant as well that he was allowed to wear one piece of gold upon him for the whole year. A sign of the Emperor's favor. In this case, it was going to be a golden hair-pin, so that his hair, which was now slightly longer than his shoulders, could be put into a tight, but looping, bun. And then two braids carefully culled out from the middle to continue down his back, wrapped carefully with red ribbon along their lengths. Red for blood, perhaps, Kiralo had thought. Or for passion. Or because it matched the colors of his Iritu. The robe was expensive, yet it was an expense that he could not possibly afford to spare.
He walked into the throneroom with Arimi and Vedal at his back, to join in the huge crowd, all equally well dressed. Mostly men, though a few women, wives no doubt, stood with their husbands whispering words of advice.
And there on the throne was the Emperor in a green robe, his somewhat shorter than usual hair pinned up in a simple bun, but with a gold, silver, and diamond hair-stick to hold it in, pattered and filled, Kiralo suspected, with more than a few spirits.
The spirits were thick here, and yet for once he was not one to give them off. He knew that stepping towards the throne would draw his spirits temporarily away or lull them into uselessness, and he did not want to subject them to the annoyance, not when he could simply go a little more unarmed than he already was.
After a few minutes of milling, the roll call began. Each man was named, and his new position and its rights and duties, and its rewards as well. The official ones, for no doubt there would be less official ways to supplement some incomes. It went on down the line...and then skipped Kiralo. Han, to Kiralo's joy, received a position as one of the Emperor's personal dancers with eager gratitude. The names wound towards the end, and suddenly the Emperor stood up.
He spoke, his tiny voice booming thanks to the spirits, "All shall bow and excuse me. I shall be back within a minute."
Kiralo gaped at the figure as he stepped down, soon flanked by his elite guards, and left. Left people to mutter, as Kiralo tried to focus and think about why he was passed by. It was a position that had wrecked many, many men before.
Nobody had truly possessed the power and that position for more than two or three years at a time, even if some remained in that post for a decade or more. It was not cursed, nothing so simple as that, but navigating the army and the Imperial court was a lesson in madness. People had been executed, or failed to uphold the wishes of one side or another and found themselves sidelined or unable to act.
In fact, this could be just such a moment. If the Emperor returned and said that he was withdrawing the offer to one Cs-Kiralo, or that he had found evidence of treason and therefore Cs-Kiralo could not be Envoy To the Army From the Imperial Seat, or anything at all other than a corpse.
It was unlikely, of course, but even if all it was was merely an enemy of Kuojah managing to prevent the ascension at the last moment by some gossip or scheme, it'd leave Kiralo vulnerable and exposed, his promises shattered on the ground like glass after a wind storm.
He'd have to desperately scramble to survive, and there would be no use in bringing his mother's remains here to bury and put a pool over them, there would be no use planning a future. It would not be quite so bad as to necessitate a withdrawal, but he realized suddenly just how vulnerable he might be.
He was the son of Kuojah, but he was a son who was certainly not loved by his father, and being his father's son meant attacks, too. It meant that he needed to step carefully, less confidently than he had. He hadn't an estate to go to to brood if he was banished from the court by politics and circumstances, he didn't have a base, peasants and nobles that would stand with him if he wished to pressure others.
He was a scholar-general-poet-bureaucrat without a post, without an army, without poetic credibility. Kiralo, in other words, was in a bad position if it all crumbled now.
And he considered it all, every move, every way out. If he was refused he'd have to press hard on the victory with the play, and emphasize that aspect of himself while working with the army to attempt to at least keep them neutral.
Or perhaps it would be time to start plotting with them for the downfall of whoever it was.
There were thirty minutes between the Emperor's exit and when he arrived again. Long enough for desperate plotting, and for more than Kiralo. Everyone was thinking furiously, muttering among themselves to see what it was. But if this was a trap, if this was doom, then Kiralo wasn't going to let it show on his face.
One maintained a mask in court, or one lost. So he was the only person who did not gasp when Emperor Dai'so walked in. He was dressed in a new outfit, his hair more elaborate, and in his hands he was holding a lacquered box which seemed to have carefully painted scenes on it. Most importantly, though, he was dressed in silver, inlaid with gold flowers and hints of blue and green to break up the color. But silver dominated, and he walked forward to stand just in front of the throne area, near the serpents, his elite guards in their serpent armor at his back.
"Cs-Kiralo, of Lineage Ainin. I have been told that you have a strong arm, one that can pull back any bow and hit a target ten times out of ten. Whose very spirits dance with the power of war. Is this true?"
Kiralo paused and said, "It is, honored Emperor."
"And I am told that you have a clever mind," the Emperor said, his voice careful as if he was reading from a script, "One that can see their way through court politics to the truth. Is this true?"
"It is, serenity," Kiralo said, and he fell to his knees as the Emperor stepped towards him.
"I am told, by men I respect, that you have a quick tongue, such as you make many friends, and many enemies, and yet possess the ability to lead many men, in war and in peace."
Everyone was staring as Kiralo nodded, eyes averted, "It has been said by some, your Imperial Highness."
"It has come to my attention, that you possess a vast will, such that you might win battles that none had thought possible to win."
Kiralo did not flush, but he did not speak, instead nodding.
"Then," the Emperor said, "Take this, and rise."
The Emperor, far shorter than him, offered the box and then retreated, step by step, as the guards watched him.
"Serenity, may I open it?" Kiralo asked.
"Yes, you may."
He opened it slowly to reveal a beautiful sword indeed. Completely useless, for it was made of silver, and there was a blue gem in the pommel, and golden thread on the grip. But it was no doubt impossibly expensive. Kiralo drew it out slowly, as people began to gasp and mutter. And then the great doors of the throne chamber opened up, and dozens and dozens of men began to spill out.
The Council...of Generals. All of them, of course, since the fiction that there were more than five in charge. All of them were dressed up well, and as the Emperor ascended to the lotus seat, they moved as one to stand in front of Kiralo...and bow.
"Cs-Kiralo of Lineage Ainin, I am in need of a strong arm, I am need of a clever mind, I am need of a quick tongue, I am need of a vast weill, and I am in need of a loyal servent. Do I have them in you?"
"From here until the end of my life, and beyond it," Kiralo said, for it was the only thing he could say. His throat felt as if was closing up, and he was sweating heavily, aware that the die was being cast down, like one of Arimi's games. Whatever rolled up, it would be someone losing. So publically speaking of war, it was a challenge.
It was a statement. There was to be civil war. The pond that was Csirit was to be scoured, to be scourged by fire and disease and stones dropped down to shatter any peace. It was going to be slaughter, and it didn't matter now if it wasn't for months, maybe even a little longer, because it was sure now.
It had crystallized, and whether it turned out to be a disaster or a victory, history would remember this moment.
And he couldn't shy away from it. He could be dead in a few months. His whole life could be a final few pages in the history of the fall of a dynasty, or less than that. A mere mention of an unimportant man who rose to nothing and died for nothing.
The gods willing, the Emperor protect, he wasn't going to let that happen.
"Then, you are now my Envoy to the Generals. You represent the Imperial Seat in all such matters, answering to only one man, myself, and making my will manifest. Wield my sword as a symbol of your office, and may it be a sword never drawn except in need. You are granted the right to wear any amount of imperial silver, and wear any silver adornments, and a grant of one hundred gold taels per year as a salary, transferrable to silver, grants of land, or bushels of rice for the feeding of an estate."
"It is an honor I hope to be worthy of," Kiralo said, and he bowed once more, deeply, and then on his knees. Five times his head met the ground, and around him he saw everyone else had bowed, and then the Emperor spoke.
"R-rise. And turn."
Reluctantly or not, part of a scheme or not the Generals were now on their knees before him.
And in the crowd, Kiralo caught Kuojah, standing, a slight smile on his face. A smile of triumph.
Effect: Gain a position, tons of options. +1 temporary Court Influence (Thanks Dad), +1 Court Influence only used for military actions, +1 State Influence.
*******
1d100+25 (Half Poetry bonus+Diplomacy)=70, bonus of 3 points.
The Emperor's Seal of Approval: 1d100+23=109 (this was your roll, guys)=+3
Atonement: 90
Iwari: 8
Final Days of Summer: 98-5 (Topic thought potentially subversive)=93
Women In White: 19
The Duel: 87+3+3=93
Discussion: 1d100+23=96
The Emperor's Seal of Approval: 1d100+23=109 (this was your roll, guys)=+3
Atonement: 90
Iwari: 8
Final Days of Summer: 98-5 (Topic thought potentially subversive)=93
Women In White: 19
The Duel: 87+3+3=93
Discussion: 1d100+23=96
A/N: And there we go! Rumors next. Get hyped! War is going to come...eventually.
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Awesome. I love the way this was resolved. Wasn't honestly expecting Kiralo's play to win out, but I like the way it did.
Zeitgeist Blue
Currently Made of Metal
- Location
- Manila, Philippines, GMT +8
Squeeeeeeeeeeee!!!
*flops*
One year and so many updates of clawing our way up. And all of that has just been vindicated.
It's honestly a bit crazy how Kiralo just sort of showed up and started acquiring power so quickly from an outside perpsective. But I suppose it's the 'man on a white horse' phenomenon. Being an outsider to the court helped his image and he obviously had powerful powerful patronage.
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It should be noted, though, that Kuojah is still far more powerful than Kiralo. And is also sorta...I mean, remember, eight of your influence is entirely because Kuojah's backing you. That said, yes, you've risen far and fast, but also to a position which has universally been the doom of everyone else who ever took it. So there's that.
Still, things are going to get crazy.
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Holy shit.
That couldn't have gone better.
The close contest makes it better than a flawless victory even, since a triumph is most meaningful when well fought.
And now we're richer by many Influence...but playing riskier as well.
Kuojah knows what he's doing when he dropped us in the pool. Unaligned, but influential thanks to reflection from HIS influence, meaning everyone's going to be swarming around trying to get a piece of Kiralo before the allies and enemies are locked in.
Meanwhile in the chaos he's getting shit done because everyone else is focused on the new firework.
A diversion, a heir and a future in one.
That couldn't have gone better.
The close contest makes it better than a flawless victory even, since a triumph is most meaningful when well fought.
And now we're richer by many Influence...but playing riskier as well.
Kuojah knows what he's doing when he dropped us in the pool. Unaligned, but influential thanks to reflection from HIS influence, meaning everyone's going to be swarming around trying to get a piece of Kiralo before the allies and enemies are locked in.
Meanwhile in the chaos he's getting shit done because everyone else is focused on the new firework.
A diversion, a heir and a future in one.
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Just to note. I wrote up all of your new Court Action options. 2.8k, on top of the actions that are still left from Turn 5.
Random Member
Gardener of Human Happiness
- Location
- Behind You
I honestly wasn't expecting us to win, but that's a nice surprise.
That's 1 Court Influence which can only be used for art/music/plays, am I right?
For a moment I thought we had messed up this roll. Thank the spirits.
Kuojah, you Magnificent Bastard!
That extra State Influence is useful.
How much is this exactly? How much can one buy with a gold tael, or a hundred? How many gold taels would Kiralo's current funds be worth?
.......
Oh gods, there's so much to do!
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Okay, this is going to be hard to qualify here.
"Tael (/ˈteɪl/; simplified Chinese: 两; traditional Chinese: 兩; pinyin: liǎng) or tahil can refer to any one of several weight measures of the Far East. Most commonly, it refers to the Chinese tael, a part of the Chinese system of weights and currency."
Roughly speaking, a Tael in Csirit is a weight of measurement equal to forty ounces of gold. Acknowledging that any attempt to translate prices is difficult...
Note, because of how peasants exist, imagine if wages were compared at a global scale in the modern day to have an idea of how rich this is. Like, I'm going to throw out the ballpark number, but it has to be contextualized within the fact that there are both 'millionaires' and people making a dollar a day within fifty miles of where Kiralo is standing, pretty much anywhere he stands in the Empire.
So, all that preface done, it's around...100 to 200 thousand dollars, or so? Roughly. So you're making $150,000 a year...ish, in whatever currency/method you want.
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It probably is. I'm trying to translate rough and hard to grasp currency exchanges across hundreds of years. I specifically said it'd be $150,000-ish in a world where the poor person in Africa making less than a dollar a day lives outside your door, and is thus part of your economy.
Rather than $150,000 in a world where the average wage is an appreciable percentage of that (like in America, with its 50k household income average).
TLDR: The poor starve and die horribly outside the doors and manors of the rich.
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If you're asking compared to your own class (rather than against the vast majority of people in Csirit), then? Well, 100 Taels a year isn't all that much. Not for the wealthy landholders and merchants who all but run the world. But what Kiralo probably should do when he has time is start either investing it in merchants, setting up a payment racket so that people are willing to bribe him for his services, or buying up land. Or all three. You don't become 'really' rich, by which I mean, someone making millions and millions of dollar-equivalents a year, by simply serving the state. Even Kuojah relies on owning a good deal of land. Like, a metric shit-ton of land that provides more income to supplement his considerable grants.
So, this is a *first* step if you want to become rich. In a few turns I might start throwing investment options your way, but right now Kiralo has bigger things to worry about. Like the fact that if the Emperor is overthrown, he's now too important to leave alive. So why scramble for land and wealth when there's that to worry about?
So, this is a *first* step if you want to become rich. In a few turns I might start throwing investment options your way, but right now Kiralo has bigger things to worry about. Like the fact that if the Emperor is overthrown, he's now too important to leave alive. So why scramble for land and wealth when there's that to worry about?
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- Location
- Spain
Kind of a shame that we couldn't avoid this.
Then again, Kiralo build was always optimized for war.
- Location
- over there
Oh wow, great update! The threat before the ceremony of losing it all, and later the mention that it could all be for nothing... Putting it into perspective like that really lent it all a weight. Very satisfying.
The poetry victory too; knowing that it really was up in the air makes eking out a win so... *clenches fist*
The poetry victory too; knowing that it really was up in the air makes eking out a win so... *clenches fist*
Like others mentioned, I didn't really expect a poetry victory given the RNG of dice but it's a nice victory. I noticed also there was a brief mention of that dancer we hired getting a good court position too, although I wonder how that came about unless the Emperor personally enjoyed him. Finally I'm glad some of you seem to be coming around to Kuojah, or at least disliking him less, given I've always enjoyed his character. An interesting part though is that when Kiralo turned around and saw the Generals bowing, and there was a brief mention of others doing so too, when he looked at Kuojah he was standing.
@The Laurent - I know you've mentioned having new options (2.6k .. god damn), but are you also changing the percentage of success of the existing ones too?
@The Laurent - I know you've mentioned having new options (2.6k .. god damn), but are you also changing the percentage of success of the existing ones too?
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On some of them, yes. I mean, you've been watching the 'bring our mercenaries in' action creep up every turn for this entire game.
Yeah, but getting rich in Imperial China was inextribly tied to position in Government. If you were a merchant who wanted to make a venture, you'd better be close with someone in government who had some sort of jurisdiction or let him in on the venture. You could get the government working for you. Bureaucratic obstacles disappear for you and get more stubborn for rivals. For landholdings, control over roads, bridges, canals and especially irrigation could easily affect the value of farmland. Then there's political pressure on people to sell at below market prices or straight up confiscation of political rivals' lands.
And that's all in addition to straight up graft and extortion.
China is ostensibly cracking down on that sort of thing, and it's at least heavily frowned upon in the West, though recent events may be changing that.
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Oh sure, but that's all *enabled* by the position. Like, the position itself isn't what grants the wealth that makes you among the top .1%. No matter what position it is. At least in terms of salary. It's what you do with the job.
And there will be options for that sort of thing over time, if you want to start sticking your finger into such pies. But right now it's not really an option, and at least for the moment, even 100 Taels of good is more than enough to cover any needs.
