Zeitgeist Blue
Currently Made of Metal
- Location
- Manila, Philippines, GMT +8
Lemme guess. We burned down Csrae?
Behind the Serpent Throne (CK2)
- Thread starter The Laurent
- Start date
- Original Fantasy
- Location
- ?
If I understand correctly, only if @The Laurent rolled just as badly ^^"
- Pronouns
- They/Them
In this case, nope. This was a secondary roll to notice something/work something out. Unrelated to the truly all over the map rolls with this update, which include multiple failures and multiple just-barely-successes.
Random Member
Gardener of Human Happiness
- Location
- Behind You
Argh. Oh well.
It's to be expected though, we've had some incredible luck the last couple turns. Just need to hope that bad luck went on less important things.
True but with the massive amount of choices, that all feel pretty pressing (at least to me,) it really seems like we need to succeed pretty much everywhere if we ever hope to actually win this thing/get anywhere but an early grave.
- Location
- Penn's Woods
^Indeed- we're in the position people fail in, with unfulfilled obligations, at the precipice of being assassinated/executed if we go too far and losing a civil war if we don't go far enough. Scylla and Charybdis.
If we get our right hand man back and expand our guard, we'll have significantly improved defenses against assassination. Then we can afford to step on some toes while getting the country ready for civil war, as long as we stay in the young Emperor's good graces. If we don't have our guards... then we face Scylla.
If we get our right hand man back and expand our guard, we'll have significantly improved defenses against assassination. Then we can afford to step on some toes while getting the country ready for civil war, as long as we stay in the young Emperor's good graces. If we don't have our guards... then we face Scylla.
- Pronouns
- They/Them
I'll say this. Most of the failures are slightly bizarre in the sense that they're not going to be where you expect them to be.
- Pronouns
- They/Them
Well, you did fail an action that might be considered martial, yes.
In a sense.
*coy smile*
- Pronouns
- They/Them
Also, I commissioned a picture of Kiralo for my birthday. Though it might arrive a little late, but ah well!
I hope this isn't hinting at we failed the ones with double dice ... I put those there because I deemed them important
Random Member
Gardener of Human Happiness
- Location
- Behind You
Huh. 'Most' of the failures. That implies there are quite a few failures.
Oh well. Que sera, sera.
Turn 6--Results, A
- Pronouns
- They/Them
Turn 6--A
With the start of the month came two letters, and in one sense, Kiralo's work was going to involve a lot of letter writing. There was a reason that in the academies and among the tutors that specialized in turning out learned scholars and officials, lessons in how to write letters were common.
A man could spend his whole life writing letters and thinking that by this they ran the world. But, of course, letters had their place. Kiralo was simply being a little annoyed at the barrage of them which had graced his home since his elevation. That and the paperwork was a constant hassle. Yet, as he sipped tea in one of the less used rooms (security of a sort, the bodyguards standing guard over an empty room, thus if anyone wanted to listen in or peek by some spirit, they'd find nothing) he knew that this was the point.
The rolls and rolls of scrolls and papers, enough to make book after book, were how he knew he had authority. If there was ever a day in which he didn't have paperwork, it was because someone else was doing it. And if someone else was doing it, even someone appointed by the person who should be doing it, then a certain amount of power was being handed off. No paperwork meant no power, even if there was no way that anyone in charge of anything important could do it all on their own.
As Envoy, he was untested, and he didn't have any budget for a clerk. He could have hired one, but for the moment, the paperwork was as uncertain as anything else. One day he'd have staff, he decided, smiling at the thought.
For now, there was just him.
"It's boring on the borders," Kueli had written, and he wondered whether Kueli would be happy here. Kiralo hadn't even gone on a ride today, having decided that he'd do so later, in the evening. It was bad to get out of habits, but with the new year passed, and with the world coming back alight with gossip and troubles, perhaps it was best.
Arimi and Vedal were out there for him, in a way, and he frowned and kept on reading.
"Everyone talks about the war, especially the people who shouldn't. It's going to be a hot mess. But more than that, it is, to speak in a Csiritan idiom, a fast moving stream--"
River. Fast moving river.
"Idiom. What a word." Not that Southlander didn't have the word, but out of pure amusement, it seemed, Kueli was using the Csiritan word.
"The essence of it is this: the men are getting bored and so am I, but they also understand the nature of a good job, and we've caught several parties of foragers and bandits…"
The situation, Kiralo soon figured out, was that everything was normal, and that meant there were tensions. Squabbles between the various factions in various courts. The politics of the Southlands were not a mystery to him. He knew the ridges and the cities, the fortified towns and the plains and the river bottoms of rich soil where people toiled and labored their whole lives without seeing the city that they worked for.
The city that defined them.
And mercenaries still took contracts, even in times of peace.
In the court of the Prince of Isvaan, a man had appeared one day, and had very carefully not said certain things. He had, in fact, said nothing at all of any particular importance, but he had said it in Csiritan, and it had been said in whispers. And not whispers into the ears of the powerful, but whispers into the ears of the connected. People who knew people. And then this man had gone to other courts, and all the while a washed up poet had listened and written about it. Had gathered thoughts that needed actions.
Narasim wouldn't call him washed up, but then he'd call his staid forms true fire-breathing poetry of the Southland style. So he knew nothing. But he knew times, dates, places. Not details, no, but men had met men, and that meant…
That meant he had to talk to his father. He could no more send an army of spies south than he could personally run the bureaucracy. And so that had gone on the list of things to do, along with his request for a meeting with both Kuojah and Yonu, and then he had a letter to write.
*******
The first step was introduction, and from there it flowed well, if clearly not in a language that the Anlan would understand without a translator to read it for them. He considered for a long time the degrees of formality required before going with a greater one, but not the highest.
"To the settlement of the Anlan barbarians, holding the man who has the most legitimate, such as that can exist, claim to be the Anlan's diplomatic figure just beyond the reach of this realm, with all necessary greetings and all respect due that is owed, for the purposes of inquiry and for the purpose of friendly greetings.
It has been called to my attention that in rising to the position I now hold, certain matters are required to be attended to. First of them, and foremost among them, is dealing with all external threats, and considering all external dangers. Your presence just outside of Hari-Bueli has always been considered a problem."
His hand almost knotted with the desire to break out of the entirely formal and even banal style he was forced to write in, but he couldn't address matters directly, not yet.
"It might be, and that is why I am asking what, if any, contact you have with Bueli. For the Bueli…"
It was a page later that he actually said something worth saying, rather than briefly writing a negative history of Bueli-Csiritan relations, as if they didn't know the facts on the ground at least as well as him.
Letters as an official involved that sort of nonsense. "This it is a matter of curiosity whether you are perhaps selling weapons or interacting with them. I have heard that there are a number of strange foreign weapons that have some small potency, such as one that I have heard called: 'The Turtle…'"
And that was the only important thing he wrote. Kiralo frowned and looked at the lines, up and down, carefully formed, carefully chosen. What mattered is that now the other party would know that the mention of the Turtle was not one that just anyone could make. It was a letter of introduction that did not truly introduce anything. If read, it would heighten suspicion, which is why he would have to send it by the most careful methods he could manage.
And a few more letters, written in haste. And then he stood up. The paperwork called to him still, but perhaps he would take his ride early.
*****
The messenger's office was a hive of activity, and navigating it involved a lot of careful smiling and apologies while attempting to appear as inconspicuous as possible. And, along the way, he began to look at men with a critical, thoughtful eye. If he was truly going to help Aia and her family find someone, he had to know the rumors about them, the way that the gossip tended. After all, these were all career men, but that didn't mean that there weren't secrets in their private rooms, and less than desirable traits among them.
As an unofficial matchmaker, it was his job to sort them out, and yet to even start that would take a little time and work, to say the least. He merely delivered the letter and gossiped for a small amount of time with a short, balding clerk who was certainly not on the list, and that done, he decided to hold a meeting with Yonu.
The day was proceeding admirably enough when he walked down to Yonu's office, and the other man let him in gratefully enough, his desk piled high with papers, and his eyes straining. "Greetings, Cs-Kiralo," he said, formally.
"It is good that I was able to speak with you, I feared you would be busy," Kiralo admitted, smiling at Yonu. Every rumor and story he could dig up all seemed to hint at the basic fact that Yonu was neither corrupt, venal, nor particularly given to indulgences. He was Kuojah's man in many ways, as was fully half of the bureaucracy, if not more, but he was also Kiralo's man, or so he hoped. So he hoped, because he was aware that this was a dangerous step in another sense.
Yonu was not the person he should have been talking to, there was one step above, and in theory he should be going through those channels, but rumors were rather less complimentary for Ishuni, as he was called, of Lineage Nohi. The man was a bungler, put simply, and he could not afford to go through a long song and dance to get what he needed. So he took a risk.
"I am, but I always have time for my friends. What is it you wished to discuss?"
"Am I to assume that there have been at times complaints about some of the soldiers?" Kiralo asked, cutting right to the chase. Or to the first point.
"Oh, of course. Sent in and duly noted, from merchants and other figures. I do hope that this is not a problem," Yonu said.
"It is to be expected," Kiralo explained, as he took his seat, carefully looking around the room. It was certainly a place to work, rather than live, and Yonu had not even placed any vases or scrolls on the walls. "What I'd like to see is how the army can deal with them in a way that doesn't tie up the Imperial Seat and the local government. And there are similar concerns to buying supplies at market. The laws indicate one thing, but the Imperial Seat needs to be able to enforce them."
And, he carefully didn't say, it was a fact that if it was going to be enforced, Yonu would have to be the one to enforce it.
More than that, there were deeper matters to discuss. The councils and merchants of the city itself needed assurances that the army was going to act within the law, and that meant setting up some sort of system by which the Envoy and thus the Emperor was able to see what was needed, the army got what it needed, the city at least got a voice…
At one point Yonu got up, got tea, and they sat down to continue scheming. The most obvious solution was to designate further offices to settle each matter, but while this had the advantage of simplicity, it spread power about. Another solution, and one Kiralo championed, was to create an office not to settle the matter, but to note it. To file the reports and create a single clearinghouse for the information. A small unit, perhaps with representatives from the Imperial Bureaucracy and the army to assure that no one faction was getting an advantage over the others.
Their job would be, simply, to compile all complaints and record the interactions between the soldiers and the city, and then to send this all on, with helpful annotations, to the Council of Generals, the Envoy, and the Emperor.
Of course, as Yuno pointed out, this would leave the Imperial Bureaucracy and his division with certain shortcomings, especially if they were providing some of the manpower without getting any of the benefits. Because only honest men would be chosen, or at least that was the only way that such a system could work, if one was putting their eyes on it to decide what was relevant and what wasn't.
A fragile system. Yonu had paused, looking over the rim of his saucer at Kiralo, and Kiralo had smiled. "I think it would be best, Cs-Yonu, but I do defer to your expertise."
Yonu sighed, and there was a look in his eyes that was like the man watching a battle from afar who has seen the first moment when it might go wrong, but wasn't sure enough of the outcome to speak. Kiralo looked him over for a moment and wanted to speak. "What is it, Cs-Kiralo?"
"It is not my place to speak, but there are dangers in these times. The army might be needed...in Irit, and Hari-Bueli." The meaning was plain, and Yonu stiffened. War, war was coming, and he couldn't afford for this to be a loose end. He needed this, and he was going to ask it of Yonu.
"I will do what I can," Yonu finally said.
"Thank you."
*****
His father was playing bullshit games, Kiralo realized, when it took three days for him to get a meeting with the old man. In one sense this was usual for any such mid-ranking official, but that was the point. It's usual, and meanwhile Kiralo had pressing needs. Pressing needs, and a message that seems to indicate that what he's trying to do for Yanmae.
So when he steps into the small room and sees his father there, in green and blue robes, eating a small meal of rice porridge, papers spread out all over the low table, he was barely able to compose himself. His spirits were restless, tugging at the edges of his garments. They felt his emotions, his frustrations, because they knew what war was like. They'd felt him in times when he called on them to fight or die.
Plenty of them were not smart enough to quite understand that this wasn't the time, and yet he felt one at the edge of his mind, a sort of whispering, or a shuffling of paper, just at the edge of his understanding.
And it felt...amused.
"Greetings, Cs-Kiralo, I assume things are going well as Envoy?"
"The pay in arrears, I'd like to ask you--"
Kuojah took a bite of his rice, covering his mouth as he did with a sleeve. "If you wish it released, you can no doubt manage to talk to the right officials. The treasury should be in acceptable condition, at least for the moment. It won't be in the future, but--"
"No. I'd like you to refrain from releasing it just yet. Save it near the end of the month. And only release it upon receiving an official petition from myself, begging that the state of the soldiers was good, and yet their stomachs were empty, that winter had been lean and that spring should be rich in promise, for Hari-Bueli and Irit are both troubled."
Kuojah looked blankly at Kiralo for a moment, eyebrow raised. "Boy, you are more cunning than one would think in these matters."
"I am nobody's boy," Kiralo stated, "And yes, I am. Can you do this? I am asking as a favor, and because it is in both of our interests. The Council won't believe it, but the soldiers will. Their opinion of you is probably not good, though I cannot know for sure."
Kuojah shrugged, "I would not know about this. When have I ever done anything but promote peace and prosperity. And even those who live and die as soldiers cannot truly love war, can they?"
"They might not, but they love money."
"That is a failing."
Kiralo opened his mouth, but Kuojah was not done, "But one that we will not be able to eliminate. The Gods made the world as it was, one supposes, even its flaws. And placed down such people in Csirit, rather than in dark barbarian lands."
"These lands you speak of, they are not going to stop existing," Kiralo pointed out, "And in the Southlands...there have been rumors. I believe, though I cannot yet know for sure, that Prince Jinhai is hiring mercenaries. Southland mercenaries."
"What folly," Kuojah said, his voice even, cool even. "What could they even do? This is Csirit, we would not tolerate Southlander mercenaries here. We should not have to."
"Yet, oh dearest father of mine," Kiralo said, his voice dripping venom, "That's just what we're going to have to do. My men are needed here, now more than ever. I am going to press to have them declared my household retainers, because at least at the moment I am your heir, and you yourself do not have more than a small honor guard."
"It is nonsense."
"Of course it's nonsense," Kiralo burst out, unable to keep it in, "It's politics. The Wind-Dancers are needed in Csirit, and your own spies are needed in the Southlands, in order to figure this out. If he gets mercenaries, this war might already be over, but I know people like you, Cs-Kuojah."
Kuojah stared at him mildly, but Kiralo stepped forward and said, "You hate what you don't understand, and no matter how great your intellect, you will never even attempt to understand the Southlands. Let alone your son, or anything other than what you know now."
"Quiet," Kuojah said, and he slowly stood up, his face a mask.
"And being that way, I know there are many who, for all their wisdom, engage in such folly. And would it not be a coup to be able to provide evidence that Prince Jinhai not only is hiring mercenaries, and thus preparing for war, possibly against the Imperial Seat, but that he's doing so with foreigners. There are men who would nod at ambition, if veiled, who would rather die than accept anything to do with those of the Southlands."
"Speak some new wisdom, Cs-Kiralo, for I already know this," Kuojah said, "Your mood is foul, and I do not understand why. Whatever nonsense you say, you are my son, and so show respect. I have aided you in the past, and I will continue to do so in the future."
"So, are you going to look into the matter of the mercenaries?"
"I have not begun to look into it, but I do have agents in the Southlands."
Kiralo did not ask who, but the word was on the edge of his tongue, plus he knew there would be no answer, and he added, "It is good. I thought you'd ignore it."
"Cs-Kiralo, I am not your enemy. Not particularly, at least," Kuojah said, and he even turned around and stepped forward. But Kiralo was not done talking, and there was more yet to discuss.
"And yet, my request was turned down for an assignment of maids to Cs-Yanmae's house, and when I asked to speak to the Emperor on certain matters--"
"You will not sully that boy's ears with the doings of the army," Kuojah stated, and then he walked around the table, moving over to a hanging on the wall, glancing over it. "It is not fit for a young Emperor's ears."
"Not even the politics of it? Not even the logistics? The bureaucracy of it?" Kiralo asked, "Because that's what I am right now, a bureaucrat. I'm not proposing to tell him the secrets of how to disembowel an enemy without getting blood on your robes, I'm proposing to explain to him how the Council works and perhaps the nature of supplies needed to feed an army."
"I still cannot accept that," Kuojah said, "And your interest and respect for your sister is surprising and possibly untoward."
"Untoward? She is a lady of high birth," Kiralo said, "Cs-Kuojah, are you not the greatest respecter of traditions? For all that you have shown nothing but disrespect in certain matters, you are well aware of what the annals, and the Idisian lores say as to the treatement of a noble lady, let alone your own daughter, who by all accounts you cherish."
"It is because I cherish her that I act as I do. It is a lesson for her," Kuojah said, simply, and Kiralo frowned, "And it is good security, among other reasons."
"Is it?" Kiralo asked. There was something wrong with this picture. But Kuojah, old and tired and yet energetic and powerful, dark eyed and yet the darkness seemed to move with intelligence...he had reasons. But not all of those reasons were good. "She is a scholar, you have taught her that well. She's a very smart woman."
"She is," Kuojah said, and there was something he wasn't saying.
"It makes me feel sorry for her," Kiralo admitted, "Cs-Yanmae is a smart woman, but what does that mean in this world, really?"
What did it mean at all? He didn't understand Kuojah, didn't get what he was trying to do here, and the more he thought about it, the more it didn't make sense. But in not making sense...that didn't give him a solution.
"If she is truly so desperate to avoid work, one eunuch could be assigned to clean the house once a day, at certain times," Kuojah said, "Is that acceptable?"
Yanmae had asked for, or hinted at the desire for, a full staff of servants, maids for obvious reasons, in order to cook, clean, and otherwise tend to her needs. A single eunuch to merely keep the house clean was not what she had truly asked for, and yet there was a look in Kuojah's eyes.
Kiralo could press on, and more than that, he had money now. He could afford to pay for the servants for the moment, while figuring out the next move. Why did Kuojah want a single eunuch? Did he trust the eunuchs, or have alliance with them, to a greater degree than expected? Did he distrust the security otherwise? Was the eunuch just another layer of spy or bodyguard?
Or he could give in. It wasn't what Yanmae had asked for, but it was something...a little something, at least.
What is chosen?
[] Go through with the full action of Maid Do, damn the consequences. (-1 Influence next turn from pushing, relationship with father worsens a little bit, Yanmae's wishes satisfied.)
[] Accept the one eunuch compromise (relationship with father...doesn't get worse, though getting better? Hah. No cost in influence, Yanmae not entirely satisfied.
******
A/N: And so there we go! A bare success requires seeing just what you're going to do to get it done. A bare failure on the other roll just means no advantages and -10% to this option from now on. At least for a while.
With the start of the month came two letters, and in one sense, Kiralo's work was going to involve a lot of letter writing. There was a reason that in the academies and among the tutors that specialized in turning out learned scholars and officials, lessons in how to write letters were common.
A man could spend his whole life writing letters and thinking that by this they ran the world. But, of course, letters had their place. Kiralo was simply being a little annoyed at the barrage of them which had graced his home since his elevation. That and the paperwork was a constant hassle. Yet, as he sipped tea in one of the less used rooms (security of a sort, the bodyguards standing guard over an empty room, thus if anyone wanted to listen in or peek by some spirit, they'd find nothing) he knew that this was the point.
The rolls and rolls of scrolls and papers, enough to make book after book, were how he knew he had authority. If there was ever a day in which he didn't have paperwork, it was because someone else was doing it. And if someone else was doing it, even someone appointed by the person who should be doing it, then a certain amount of power was being handed off. No paperwork meant no power, even if there was no way that anyone in charge of anything important could do it all on their own.
As Envoy, he was untested, and he didn't have any budget for a clerk. He could have hired one, but for the moment, the paperwork was as uncertain as anything else. One day he'd have staff, he decided, smiling at the thought.
For now, there was just him.
"It's boring on the borders," Kueli had written, and he wondered whether Kueli would be happy here. Kiralo hadn't even gone on a ride today, having decided that he'd do so later, in the evening. It was bad to get out of habits, but with the new year passed, and with the world coming back alight with gossip and troubles, perhaps it was best.
Arimi and Vedal were out there for him, in a way, and he frowned and kept on reading.
"Everyone talks about the war, especially the people who shouldn't. It's going to be a hot mess. But more than that, it is, to speak in a Csiritan idiom, a fast moving stream--"
River. Fast moving river.
"Idiom. What a word." Not that Southlander didn't have the word, but out of pure amusement, it seemed, Kueli was using the Csiritan word.
"The essence of it is this: the men are getting bored and so am I, but they also understand the nature of a good job, and we've caught several parties of foragers and bandits…"
The situation, Kiralo soon figured out, was that everything was normal, and that meant there were tensions. Squabbles between the various factions in various courts. The politics of the Southlands were not a mystery to him. He knew the ridges and the cities, the fortified towns and the plains and the river bottoms of rich soil where people toiled and labored their whole lives without seeing the city that they worked for.
The city that defined them.
And mercenaries still took contracts, even in times of peace.
In the court of the Prince of Isvaan, a man had appeared one day, and had very carefully not said certain things. He had, in fact, said nothing at all of any particular importance, but he had said it in Csiritan, and it had been said in whispers. And not whispers into the ears of the powerful, but whispers into the ears of the connected. People who knew people. And then this man had gone to other courts, and all the while a washed up poet had listened and written about it. Had gathered thoughts that needed actions.
Narasim wouldn't call him washed up, but then he'd call his staid forms true fire-breathing poetry of the Southland style. So he knew nothing. But he knew times, dates, places. Not details, no, but men had met men, and that meant…
That meant he had to talk to his father. He could no more send an army of spies south than he could personally run the bureaucracy. And so that had gone on the list of things to do, along with his request for a meeting with both Kuojah and Yonu, and then he had a letter to write.
*******
The first step was introduction, and from there it flowed well, if clearly not in a language that the Anlan would understand without a translator to read it for them. He considered for a long time the degrees of formality required before going with a greater one, but not the highest.
"To the settlement of the Anlan barbarians, holding the man who has the most legitimate, such as that can exist, claim to be the Anlan's diplomatic figure just beyond the reach of this realm, with all necessary greetings and all respect due that is owed, for the purposes of inquiry and for the purpose of friendly greetings.
It has been called to my attention that in rising to the position I now hold, certain matters are required to be attended to. First of them, and foremost among them, is dealing with all external threats, and considering all external dangers. Your presence just outside of Hari-Bueli has always been considered a problem."
His hand almost knotted with the desire to break out of the entirely formal and even banal style he was forced to write in, but he couldn't address matters directly, not yet.
"It might be, and that is why I am asking what, if any, contact you have with Bueli. For the Bueli…"
It was a page later that he actually said something worth saying, rather than briefly writing a negative history of Bueli-Csiritan relations, as if they didn't know the facts on the ground at least as well as him.
Letters as an official involved that sort of nonsense. "This it is a matter of curiosity whether you are perhaps selling weapons or interacting with them. I have heard that there are a number of strange foreign weapons that have some small potency, such as one that I have heard called: 'The Turtle…'"
And that was the only important thing he wrote. Kiralo frowned and looked at the lines, up and down, carefully formed, carefully chosen. What mattered is that now the other party would know that the mention of the Turtle was not one that just anyone could make. It was a letter of introduction that did not truly introduce anything. If read, it would heighten suspicion, which is why he would have to send it by the most careful methods he could manage.
And a few more letters, written in haste. And then he stood up. The paperwork called to him still, but perhaps he would take his ride early.
*****
The messenger's office was a hive of activity, and navigating it involved a lot of careful smiling and apologies while attempting to appear as inconspicuous as possible. And, along the way, he began to look at men with a critical, thoughtful eye. If he was truly going to help Aia and her family find someone, he had to know the rumors about them, the way that the gossip tended. After all, these were all career men, but that didn't mean that there weren't secrets in their private rooms, and less than desirable traits among them.
As an unofficial matchmaker, it was his job to sort them out, and yet to even start that would take a little time and work, to say the least. He merely delivered the letter and gossiped for a small amount of time with a short, balding clerk who was certainly not on the list, and that done, he decided to hold a meeting with Yonu.
The day was proceeding admirably enough when he walked down to Yonu's office, and the other man let him in gratefully enough, his desk piled high with papers, and his eyes straining. "Greetings, Cs-Kiralo," he said, formally.
"It is good that I was able to speak with you, I feared you would be busy," Kiralo admitted, smiling at Yonu. Every rumor and story he could dig up all seemed to hint at the basic fact that Yonu was neither corrupt, venal, nor particularly given to indulgences. He was Kuojah's man in many ways, as was fully half of the bureaucracy, if not more, but he was also Kiralo's man, or so he hoped. So he hoped, because he was aware that this was a dangerous step in another sense.
Yonu was not the person he should have been talking to, there was one step above, and in theory he should be going through those channels, but rumors were rather less complimentary for Ishuni, as he was called, of Lineage Nohi. The man was a bungler, put simply, and he could not afford to go through a long song and dance to get what he needed. So he took a risk.
"I am, but I always have time for my friends. What is it you wished to discuss?"
"Am I to assume that there have been at times complaints about some of the soldiers?" Kiralo asked, cutting right to the chase. Or to the first point.
"Oh, of course. Sent in and duly noted, from merchants and other figures. I do hope that this is not a problem," Yonu said.
"It is to be expected," Kiralo explained, as he took his seat, carefully looking around the room. It was certainly a place to work, rather than live, and Yonu had not even placed any vases or scrolls on the walls. "What I'd like to see is how the army can deal with them in a way that doesn't tie up the Imperial Seat and the local government. And there are similar concerns to buying supplies at market. The laws indicate one thing, but the Imperial Seat needs to be able to enforce them."
And, he carefully didn't say, it was a fact that if it was going to be enforced, Yonu would have to be the one to enforce it.
More than that, there were deeper matters to discuss. The councils and merchants of the city itself needed assurances that the army was going to act within the law, and that meant setting up some sort of system by which the Envoy and thus the Emperor was able to see what was needed, the army got what it needed, the city at least got a voice…
At one point Yonu got up, got tea, and they sat down to continue scheming. The most obvious solution was to designate further offices to settle each matter, but while this had the advantage of simplicity, it spread power about. Another solution, and one Kiralo championed, was to create an office not to settle the matter, but to note it. To file the reports and create a single clearinghouse for the information. A small unit, perhaps with representatives from the Imperial Bureaucracy and the army to assure that no one faction was getting an advantage over the others.
Their job would be, simply, to compile all complaints and record the interactions between the soldiers and the city, and then to send this all on, with helpful annotations, to the Council of Generals, the Envoy, and the Emperor.
Of course, as Yuno pointed out, this would leave the Imperial Bureaucracy and his division with certain shortcomings, especially if they were providing some of the manpower without getting any of the benefits. Because only honest men would be chosen, or at least that was the only way that such a system could work, if one was putting their eyes on it to decide what was relevant and what wasn't.
A fragile system. Yonu had paused, looking over the rim of his saucer at Kiralo, and Kiralo had smiled. "I think it would be best, Cs-Yonu, but I do defer to your expertise."
Yonu sighed, and there was a look in his eyes that was like the man watching a battle from afar who has seen the first moment when it might go wrong, but wasn't sure enough of the outcome to speak. Kiralo looked him over for a moment and wanted to speak. "What is it, Cs-Kiralo?"
"It is not my place to speak, but there are dangers in these times. The army might be needed...in Irit, and Hari-Bueli." The meaning was plain, and Yonu stiffened. War, war was coming, and he couldn't afford for this to be a loose end. He needed this, and he was going to ask it of Yonu.
"I will do what I can," Yonu finally said.
"Thank you."
*****
His father was playing bullshit games, Kiralo realized, when it took three days for him to get a meeting with the old man. In one sense this was usual for any such mid-ranking official, but that was the point. It's usual, and meanwhile Kiralo had pressing needs. Pressing needs, and a message that seems to indicate that what he's trying to do for Yanmae.
So when he steps into the small room and sees his father there, in green and blue robes, eating a small meal of rice porridge, papers spread out all over the low table, he was barely able to compose himself. His spirits were restless, tugging at the edges of his garments. They felt his emotions, his frustrations, because they knew what war was like. They'd felt him in times when he called on them to fight or die.
Plenty of them were not smart enough to quite understand that this wasn't the time, and yet he felt one at the edge of his mind, a sort of whispering, or a shuffling of paper, just at the edge of his understanding.
And it felt...amused.
"Greetings, Cs-Kiralo, I assume things are going well as Envoy?"
"The pay in arrears, I'd like to ask you--"
Kuojah took a bite of his rice, covering his mouth as he did with a sleeve. "If you wish it released, you can no doubt manage to talk to the right officials. The treasury should be in acceptable condition, at least for the moment. It won't be in the future, but--"
"No. I'd like you to refrain from releasing it just yet. Save it near the end of the month. And only release it upon receiving an official petition from myself, begging that the state of the soldiers was good, and yet their stomachs were empty, that winter had been lean and that spring should be rich in promise, for Hari-Bueli and Irit are both troubled."
Kuojah looked blankly at Kiralo for a moment, eyebrow raised. "Boy, you are more cunning than one would think in these matters."
"I am nobody's boy," Kiralo stated, "And yes, I am. Can you do this? I am asking as a favor, and because it is in both of our interests. The Council won't believe it, but the soldiers will. Their opinion of you is probably not good, though I cannot know for sure."
Kuojah shrugged, "I would not know about this. When have I ever done anything but promote peace and prosperity. And even those who live and die as soldiers cannot truly love war, can they?"
"They might not, but they love money."
"That is a failing."
Kiralo opened his mouth, but Kuojah was not done, "But one that we will not be able to eliminate. The Gods made the world as it was, one supposes, even its flaws. And placed down such people in Csirit, rather than in dark barbarian lands."
"These lands you speak of, they are not going to stop existing," Kiralo pointed out, "And in the Southlands...there have been rumors. I believe, though I cannot yet know for sure, that Prince Jinhai is hiring mercenaries. Southland mercenaries."
"What folly," Kuojah said, his voice even, cool even. "What could they even do? This is Csirit, we would not tolerate Southlander mercenaries here. We should not have to."
"Yet, oh dearest father of mine," Kiralo said, his voice dripping venom, "That's just what we're going to have to do. My men are needed here, now more than ever. I am going to press to have them declared my household retainers, because at least at the moment I am your heir, and you yourself do not have more than a small honor guard."
"It is nonsense."
"Of course it's nonsense," Kiralo burst out, unable to keep it in, "It's politics. The Wind-Dancers are needed in Csirit, and your own spies are needed in the Southlands, in order to figure this out. If he gets mercenaries, this war might already be over, but I know people like you, Cs-Kuojah."
Kuojah stared at him mildly, but Kiralo stepped forward and said, "You hate what you don't understand, and no matter how great your intellect, you will never even attempt to understand the Southlands. Let alone your son, or anything other than what you know now."
"Quiet," Kuojah said, and he slowly stood up, his face a mask.
"And being that way, I know there are many who, for all their wisdom, engage in such folly. And would it not be a coup to be able to provide evidence that Prince Jinhai not only is hiring mercenaries, and thus preparing for war, possibly against the Imperial Seat, but that he's doing so with foreigners. There are men who would nod at ambition, if veiled, who would rather die than accept anything to do with those of the Southlands."
"Speak some new wisdom, Cs-Kiralo, for I already know this," Kuojah said, "Your mood is foul, and I do not understand why. Whatever nonsense you say, you are my son, and so show respect. I have aided you in the past, and I will continue to do so in the future."
"So, are you going to look into the matter of the mercenaries?"
"I have not begun to look into it, but I do have agents in the Southlands."
Kiralo did not ask who, but the word was on the edge of his tongue, plus he knew there would be no answer, and he added, "It is good. I thought you'd ignore it."
"Cs-Kiralo, I am not your enemy. Not particularly, at least," Kuojah said, and he even turned around and stepped forward. But Kiralo was not done talking, and there was more yet to discuss.
"And yet, my request was turned down for an assignment of maids to Cs-Yanmae's house, and when I asked to speak to the Emperor on certain matters--"
"You will not sully that boy's ears with the doings of the army," Kuojah stated, and then he walked around the table, moving over to a hanging on the wall, glancing over it. "It is not fit for a young Emperor's ears."
"Not even the politics of it? Not even the logistics? The bureaucracy of it?" Kiralo asked, "Because that's what I am right now, a bureaucrat. I'm not proposing to tell him the secrets of how to disembowel an enemy without getting blood on your robes, I'm proposing to explain to him how the Council works and perhaps the nature of supplies needed to feed an army."
"I still cannot accept that," Kuojah said, "And your interest and respect for your sister is surprising and possibly untoward."
"Untoward? She is a lady of high birth," Kiralo said, "Cs-Kuojah, are you not the greatest respecter of traditions? For all that you have shown nothing but disrespect in certain matters, you are well aware of what the annals, and the Idisian lores say as to the treatement of a noble lady, let alone your own daughter, who by all accounts you cherish."
"It is because I cherish her that I act as I do. It is a lesson for her," Kuojah said, simply, and Kiralo frowned, "And it is good security, among other reasons."
"Is it?" Kiralo asked. There was something wrong with this picture. But Kuojah, old and tired and yet energetic and powerful, dark eyed and yet the darkness seemed to move with intelligence...he had reasons. But not all of those reasons were good. "She is a scholar, you have taught her that well. She's a very smart woman."
"She is," Kuojah said, and there was something he wasn't saying.
"It makes me feel sorry for her," Kiralo admitted, "Cs-Yanmae is a smart woman, but what does that mean in this world, really?"
What did it mean at all? He didn't understand Kuojah, didn't get what he was trying to do here, and the more he thought about it, the more it didn't make sense. But in not making sense...that didn't give him a solution.
"If she is truly so desperate to avoid work, one eunuch could be assigned to clean the house once a day, at certain times," Kuojah said, "Is that acceptable?"
Yanmae had asked for, or hinted at the desire for, a full staff of servants, maids for obvious reasons, in order to cook, clean, and otherwise tend to her needs. A single eunuch to merely keep the house clean was not what she had truly asked for, and yet there was a look in Kuojah's eyes.
Kiralo could press on, and more than that, he had money now. He could afford to pay for the servants for the moment, while figuring out the next move. Why did Kuojah want a single eunuch? Did he trust the eunuchs, or have alliance with them, to a greater degree than expected? Did he distrust the security otherwise? Was the eunuch just another layer of spy or bodyguard?
Or he could give in. It wasn't what Yanmae had asked for, but it was something...a little something, at least.
What is chosen?
[] Go through with the full action of Maid Do, damn the consequences. (-1 Influence next turn from pushing, relationship with father worsens a little bit, Yanmae's wishes satisfied.)
[] Accept the one eunuch compromise (relationship with father...doesn't get worse, though getting better? Hah. No cost in influence, Yanmae not entirely satisfied.
******
Kueli Letter: 1d100=50
Poet Letter: 99+1d100=101 (but you can't crit-fail a crit roll, so.)
Reporting to the Emperor
Need: 20, Rolled: 1d100+12=15, failure
A Pain in the Arrears:
Need: 30, Rolled: 1d100+15=89, good success
Turtle of the West, Part 1
Need: 30, Rolled: 1d100+12=46, success
Maid Do
Need: 25, Rolled: 1d100+12=28, bare success
Poet Letter: 99+1d100=101 (but you can't crit-fail a crit roll, so.)
Reporting to the Emperor
Need: 20, Rolled: 1d100+12=15, failure
A Pain in the Arrears:
Need: 30, Rolled: 1d100+15=89, good success
Turtle of the West, Part 1
Need: 30, Rolled: 1d100+12=46, success
Maid Do
Need: 25, Rolled: 1d100+12=28, bare success
A/N: And so there we go! A bare success requires seeing just what you're going to do to get it done. A bare failure on the other roll just means no advantages and -10% to this option from now on. At least for a while.
- Location
- Spain
Dad is being annoyingly stupid. Oh well.
[X] Accept the one eunuch compromise (relationship with father...doesn't get worse, though getting better? Hah. No cost in influence, Yanmae not entirely satisfied.
Not a good moment to contradict him, not in the eve of civil war. Yanmae won't be happy, but she is just a woman anyways.
[X] Accept the one eunuch compromise (relationship with father...doesn't get worse, though getting better? Hah. No cost in influence, Yanmae not entirely satisfied.
Not a good moment to contradict him, not in the eve of civil war. Yanmae won't be happy, but she is just a woman anyways.
- Pronouns
- They/Them
Just to note, is he being stupid? Who knows.
The lost influence is just for a turn. I mean, just in case people are wondering. I said, -1 Influence next turn, but that might be interpreted as, "Starting next turn, you have one less influence".
The lost influence is just for a turn. I mean, just in case people are wondering. I said, -1 Influence next turn, but that might be interpreted as, "Starting next turn, you have one less influence".
[X] Accept the one eunuch compromise (relationship with father...doesn't get worse, though getting better? Hah. No cost in influence, Yanmae not entirely satisfied.
Considering all the compromises we have to accept to get something done in this damn court our sister is well advised to start doing the same. Because spending two influence in this matter seems excessive considering all our other tasks.
Considering all the compromises we have to accept to get something done in this damn court our sister is well advised to start doing the same. Because spending two influence in this matter seems excessive considering all our other tasks.
Zeitgeist Blue
Currently Made of Metal
- Location
- Manila, Philippines, GMT +8
[X] Accept the one eunuch compromise (relationship with father...doesn't get worse, though getting better? Hah. No cost in influence, Yanmae not entirely satisfied.
Well, compromise is the name of the game. Yanmae should be content we managed to better her situation, even if it isn't what we promised. And if she isn't? She's a smart girl, but she needs more real court experience then.
Well, compromise is the name of the game. Yanmae should be content we managed to better her situation, even if it isn't what we promised. And if she isn't? She's a smart girl, but she needs more real court experience then.
[X] Accept the one eunuch compromise (relationship with father...doesn't get worse, though getting better? Hah. No cost in influence, Yanmae not entirely satisfied.
Look people:
Not that anyone here cared.
Look people:
It's for solid security reasons. One Eunuch is already a violation of that. It makes Yanmae twice as visible as she was before, even if she has to do less menial labor. And visibility is how she gets played as a mindless bargaining chip, worth nothing more than the bloodline and her womb.
Not that anyone here cared.
[X] Accept the one eunuch compromise (relationship with father...doesn't get worse, though getting better? Hah. No cost in influence, Yanmae not entirely satisfied.
- Location
- over there
Disagreeing on the best course of action doesn't mean we didn't all want the best for her.
That said, I don't think using an influence here would be good.
[X] Accept the one eunuch compromise (relationship with father...doesn't get worse, though getting better? Hah. No cost in influence, Yanmae not entirely satisfied.