I would assume that part of their obsessive death cult thing is raising people like Maia to be loyal and grateful to the Empress in addition to steeping them in the Vendetta -- it wouldn't exactly suit her needs if they were taught about the latter from the time they were six years old, and then told "oh by the way, be loyal to the Empress" later in life.
I also don't think there's an indication that the Empress ever intended Iselsi to come back into power. They exist in their current form to be her secret attack dogs, and as a group they're pursuing their Vendetta with an almost religious fervor rather than because they think it's in service to a glorious future where they're a Great House again.
My perspective is that the only people who would have been fully briefed on House Ilseli's true nature would be older Dragon-Blooded who were either originally part of the secret plan or were introduced to it once they passed enough milestones of accomplishment. The Dragon-Blood's longevity and power within the fractured House would let them keep the conspiracy going in directions useful to the Empress while their limited number and supernatural skills means that the second layer of the conspiracy can't be immediately breached when someone discovers the first layer. This is vital as one of the main advantages of this multi-layered conspiracy is that the remnants of House Iselsi would seems like an ideal ally or tool for overthrowing the established order when they are discovered by internal rebels or outside powers. Keeping their true nature hidden from the skilled investigators and supernatural powers is far easier if only a select few even know that there is a true nature that needs to be kept hidden.
There doesn't seem to be any real need to inform the basic mortals and new exalts that House Ilseli is ultimately serving the Empress rather than just their personal interests. The practical activities of infiltrating dynastic power systems, acquiring power, and discovering secrets would remain the same regardless of the ultimate motivation.
Canon didn't provide any specific details so anything dealing with them is going to have to rely heavily on homebrew. I prefer this perspective as it allows for some convoluted and amusing character backstories. There is also the opportunity to fully transform House Ilseli into an anti-realm conspiracy with the death or defection of just a few people.
Some Examples:
- An Ilseli who thinks they are opposing the Realm while disguised as a loyal Dynast but is actually viewed by the All-Seeing Eye as a valuable asset.
- An Ilseli Elder has built a conspiracy against the Empress with the intention of betraying all those involved only for it to succeed beyond all expectations when the Empress disappears and the Realm faces new threats from the returning Celestial Exalted.
- The story of a Dynast Princess and a Ilseli Assassin who most choose between love and family loyalties can end with a bitter farce or romantic deus ex machina depending on when it is revealed that they were on the same side all along.
There doesn't seem to be any real need to inform the basic mortals and new exalts that House Ilseli is ultimately serving the Empress rather than just their personal interests.
The need is so they're raised to be her fanatical personal killers, rather than just fanatical killers following orders from elders who know she's in charge. Iselsi are explicitly told about the Vendetta at age six, long before you know who is and isn't going to Exalt. Those kids are going to be told the simplest version of things, but the instrument of her control over what's left of the house is their fear and gratitude of her. Like, "why are we taking revenge on the great houses but not the Empress" is a pretty valid question to have if you aren't raised with the framing of her as a merciful saviour. Iselsi is not supposed to be a collection of rogue murderers obsessed with vengeance, they're supposed to be that but with the Empress's hand firmly on the leash. That's a vital part of the ideology they drill into their scions.
Iselsi is not supposed to be a collection of rogue murderers obsessed with vengeance, they're supposed to be that but with the Empress's hand firmly on the leash.
I don't know why you would want Cosmetic Powder Agents, but between sorcery and artifacts I suppose I can see the potential value of saboteurs and whatnot who use magical make-up as their weapons.
Two years, four months before the disappearance of the Scarlet Empress.
The Port of Chanos
You arrive back in Chanos without a great deal of time left to spare, Diamond-Cut Perfection perfectly willing to take you back at the same speed they'd brought you to the city. Peony had been stoically resolved to it, but you'd still decided to give her a few days to rest after your journey. When you left to go meet Maia at the time and place you'd arranged, you'd unfastened Perfection's scale from around your neck, and asked Peony to put it somewhere safe for you.
As much as your sorcery is less effective without it, some things you'd prefer to carry on with without an unseen audience.
Fresh from the Imperial City, you're struck anew by how different Chanos's character is from the place of your birth. Its rugged shorelines and slate grey skies cast the elaborate architecture of Emberswathe and other fine neighbourhoods into stark relief, its monuments less inescapable and distinctly coloured by House Sesus's sensibilities and history.
Hesiesh Taming the North is as ostentatious as anything erected in the Imperial City, however — a massive brass dragon winds sinuously around a pillar of eternal ice, the rare material a token of a conquest in the North. The statue stands in the middle of a vast market square, marking the border between the upscale neighbourhood of Lamplight and the decidedly seedier merchant docks.
You tell your carriage driver to wait for you a little outside the square, and proceed on foot. A Dragon-Blood without attendants or entourage is conspicuous in its own way, but you're armed, and this is exactly the kind of neighbourhood where young Dynasts sometimes spend time in pursuit of adventure.
The scents of burning incense and baking pastry are strong on the air as you cut through a side street toward the statue, alone for the moment in the space between one building and the next. Looking out at the crowded square filled with stalls and shoppers, it takes you a moment or two to spot who you're looking for.
Maia looks particularly striking today, her dark hair cut short again. She's wearing a well-fitted tunic in blue and silver over silk pantaloons cut distractingly tight in the masculine style; a pale yellow sash is belted around her waist, a jeweled dagger tucked into it, along with who knows how many hidden weapons. She perches on the edge of the statue's dais reading a book, a servant and a bodyguard hovering nearby. You watch her from the far side of the crowd for longer than you strictly need to, filled with mingled longing and apprehension.
You can't, you've decided, keep what you know from her, however much the news is likely to put a damper on things between you today. It's not exactly something you can talk about in such a public setting regardless, but you wouldn't know where to begin even if it were. You take a step forward, prepared to work your way through the crowd toward her, when a hand touches your back.
Whoever had snuck up on you had been utterly silent even to your supernaturally strengthened senses, and you whirl around, your hand going for the hilt of your sword. You freeze up, dumbstruck, when you find yourself looking down at none other than Erona Maia. "Surprise," she says, a quiet sort of satisfaction in her voice.
You look back over your shoulder — she's still sitting near the statue, seemingly, going through the motions of reading her book. Turning back to the Maia in front of you, you reach out to cup her chin in your hand, emboldened by your relatively solitude as well as surprise. "Well, you feel like the real Maia," you say, gentle tilting her face up as if to be sure.
You feel Maia's face heat beneath your touch as a flush comes into her cheeks. "Sculpted Seafoam Eidolon," she admits. "I've been practicing."
"On your family's servants, or just on me?" you ask, trying and failing to look stern.
Maia shrugs, looking a little self conscious. "Looks like it works on both."
"From a distance," you say. Now that the spike of adrenaline has left your body, it's quite funny. "I'm not sure if it would hold up to close scrutiny." Such as the scrutiny you're subjecting her to, just this moment.
Maia looks away, but she doesn't seem displeased. "I missed you," she says.
"I missed you too," you say.
"You weren't too distracted by everything in the capital?" Maia asks. It's a teasing comment, more than being genuinely insecure. But there's still the kernel of something there.
"I can safely say that you rarely left my mind for long," you say. There must still be something a little troubling in your tone that stands out, because Maia looks back at you, a slight frown marring her face.
"Is something wrong?" she asks, dropping her voice to a whisper.
Yes. "No," you say. "There's something I'd like to talk to you about in private, though."
Maia opens her mouth to reply, but over her shoulder, several people in the garb of wealthy peasants round the corner. The woman at their head sees you, with the quartz pattern in your skin and your fine clothes and how close you're standing to a patrician girl. Without a word, she turns around, and pushes her companions to leave.
"... Privacy would be good," Maia agrees. She takes a step away from you, a level of formality coming down over her like a curtain. It's slightly undermined by Verdigris, who has at some point slid out of your sleeve to coil around Maia's neck like a strange choker. "I am of course always ready to accept such an invitation, my lady."
You give a wry sort of sigh at that. "You're really going to leave those two back there with your friend?" you ask.
"I've instructed it to head back home to the house in an hour, and reply to simple questions," Maia says. "I can be back before anyone notices it collapsing back into water sometime early this morning. I assume you have a carriage nearby, my lady?"
"I do," you say. "If you wouldn't mind following me?"
She doesn't, in fact, mind following you, and as much as it deprives you of a pleasant day out on the city, you'll at least get the unpleasant part out of the way quickly. As you enter the manse trailed by Maia, you consider the many ways this could go, good or bad. You can only hope that she trusts you enough that you being able to hold this information over her isn't going to cross her mind.
There's still a knot of tension in your stomach as you lead her to the stairs, toward the guest quarters you occupy. Mnemon Rulinsei's words about the Empress not being reliable forever cross your mind as your eyes meet the large portrait of her hanging over the landing — it will only be a few short years before you leave this place behind, and it returns to being yet another of your mother's unused properties. You should remember not to get too attached.
As you enter your chambers, you order one of the servants to bring up a bottle of something pleasant to drink in the sitting room — he rushes off to do so like you might do something terrifying to him.
"No Peony?" Maia asks, watching him leave.
"She's still recovering," you say. "On my insistence."
Maia glances around the sitting room — it's much the same as the last time she saw it: Expensively dated decor, heirloom furniture that's hardly been touched, tastefully inoffensive wall hangings. A space you're living in, but that isn't fully yours. You'd like to show her your rooms in the palace someday. "You needed to order her to take a nap?"
"Yes," you say. "If she could just work instead of sleep, I think it's what she'd do all the time."
You glance at the door the servant just vanished through, and will soon return through, and step toward the door to the bedroom. "We're not wasting any time, I see," Maia says, watching you hang your sword up on the wall outside the door.
"I still need to talk to you," you say, trying not to be too diverted by the look in her eyes. You're both young, and you've both missed each other fiercely. You'd both appreciate a chance just to be close to each other undisturbed, as much as anything more base.
You step into the room, surveying its impressive windows, austere decorations, and the same large, comfortable bed you'd woken up beside Maia in before you'd left for the Imperial City. It feels like years, somehow, instead of a matter of months.
You'd intended to bring up the subject the moment you were alone with her, but as you close the door behind the two of you, you turn around to find Maia standing very near, an anticipatory smile tugging at her lips in a way that you can't quite bring yourself to disappoint.
In very short order, you're on the bed. Maia is leaning over you with her hands in your hair, fingers skillfully undoing your braid. Yours are around her waist, holding her like something precious, kissing her like something that might slip away from you at any moment.
What brings you out of the moment is a metallic, forked tongue tickling your ear, enough to make you withdraw from Maia, jerking around in surprise. Verdigris looks up at you with an oddly unimpressed expression in her eye, from where she's coiled herself on the pillow.
"There is something wrong, isn't there?" Maia asks. She's still more or less on top of you, hands frozen in their careful work. There's a thread of worry there, as much as she wants to make it a joke. On some level, always trying to be prepared for the rejection she'd expected from the first.
You steel yourself. "Maia... I know," you say.
It would have been very convenient if she could have just decoded your meaning from three words alone. "You know?" she asks, confused, pulling back. You feel a faint pang as her hands leave your hair — you like them there.
You take in a deep breath. "I know that you're a descendant of Is--"
You've seen Maia move this fast, catlike and explosive. It has never before been directed at you, however. She has one small hand clapped hard over your mouth, the other braced against the headboard. She looks at you with wild, terrified eyes. Beside you on the bed, Verdigris hisses in alarm, not liking this, but not capable of threatening Maia enough to prevent it.
You're very aware, somehow, of Maia's dagger still hanging around your neck, having been pulled free from your dress's neckline amid the earlier activity, now in trivially easy reach. You don't know why you never really thought of it as weapon before. However, when Maia speaks, her voice is thick with distress, not malice: "Never say that name!" She's trembling, you realise, her hand quavering against your mouth.
Slowly, as if she's a skittish animal you're afraid of frightening off, you reach up and take her wrists, freeing your mouth to answer. She lets you. "I'm sorry," you say, pushing yourself up to a sitting position.
Maia takes a second or two to compose herself as best she can. Then she asks, "Who told you this?"
You see no reason to hide it. "My mother."
Maia freezes in your grip, silent for another long moment. "What, exactly, did the Empress tell you?" Her voice is barely audible.
You choose your words very carefully, aware, somehow, that there are a thousand ways this moment could shatter. "She told me about who your grandmother was. To warn me, I suppose. I understand why you'd want to keep it a secret."
Maia lets out a nervous giggle, utterly mirthless. "And did she tell you to tell me? Why?"
"No," you say, and there's an anger in your voice that surprises you, a resentment that you've barely allowed yourself to acknowledge bleeding into your words. "No. She told me to 'have my fun' with you, then distance myself before you become a liability. Because there are plenty of other patrician girls willing to warm my bed if I just want to keep a lover of a lower station." Maia flinches, and you deliberately soften your voice with some effort, your hands leaving her wrists, and moving to cup her face. "That's not what you are to me," you say, staring into her eyes, expression plaintive. Willing her to believe you.
Maia stares back at you for a moment, gradually going slack. She lets out a quiet sniff, lip trembling. She doesn't resist as you gather her up into your arms and pull her close, cradling her in your lap.
"She's right though. I am a problem. I'll be a problem for you," Maia says. She curls in against you, making herself as small as possible, her head pressed in against the hollow of your shoulder and your neck. You lean yours against it — as always, her hair smells like oncoming rain.
"I don't care," you tell her, your heart full of uncomplicated feeling, unaware of your own dangerous ignorance. She seems to want to reply to that, but what comes out is a whimper, and in the end you just hold her tightly as she sobs, not entirely understanding what it is about this that hurts her so much.
It's only much later that you think to notice that she wasn't particularly surprised that the Empress would be privy to her family's darkest secrets.
Year 4: Flame and Frost
"Have you heard the news?" It feels a little like being ambushed, L'nessa bright eyed and seemingly very eager for your answer to be in the negative.
You've only just arrived at the docks. The sky overhead is dark enough that you all expect rain. The ship looks particularly small and uncomfortable ahead of that prospect, although not as small as the new first year students work. You could swear that the sacrifices get younger and younger every year. You've barely set foot outside the carriage, but L'nessa doesn't waste time when it comes to gossip.
L'nessa leans up to you, stage whispering: "Simendor took the rite of Daana'd, she says.
That brings you up short. You scan the crowd for a glimpse of iridescent Aspect Markings, eventually finding who you're looking for. Still tall, still gaunt, dressed in that subtly foreign way. But what little in the way of feminine curves he'd had are no longer in evidence — somehow, in a way you can't quite place, it meshes better with the way he carries himself. Unfortunately, he catches you watching, flashing an insolent smile that is exactly the same as it always was.
The 'rite of Daana'd' is not a formal religious rite, in point of fact. But it is a useful euphemism to describe someone going through the sort of change that Sola had before you met her — or Danaa'd herself, in the Immaculate Texts.
"Well," you say, "he might make a more tolerable man, at least."
You hear Sola's laugh before you actually see her — she'd been approaching from the side. "I knew you'd say something like that," she says. As ever, she's wearing that daiklave, the many-faceted ruby in its hilt mesmerising when you catch sight of it.
You're not sure how, but you understand you're being made fun of. "I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about," you say, ignoring her answering grin.
You catch sight of Maia standing a ways off, having arrived at some point when you weren't looking, quietly slipping in among the crowd of her betters. She sends you a small, slightly strained smile. Things had gone better than they might have, but there's still an odd sense from her. Like she's holding something back.
"Have you seen Amiti?" Sola asks, glancing around.
"Over by the end of the dock," L'nessa says. She looks over and frowns. "That looks a little tense."
She's not wrong — Sesus Amiti is a pale, distinctive figure against the backdrop of the ship. Speaking to her is Ledaal Anay Idelle, her brows creased in consternation. Amiti does not look particularly happy.
"If you'll please give me a moment," you say. On protective impulse, you stride over to the two of them, working your way through the crowd, offering polite greetings as you go. As you make your approach, the conversation comes into focus.
"... It's not just a game, Amiti. There are real risks!"
"I am quite aware of the risks of my field, Idelle," Amiti says, hunch-shouldered. "More than you, I'd think!"
"You're aware of them, but you don't respect them," Idelle says. Her eyes flick down to the pendant Amiti is holding in her hand, which she's currently squeezing so tightly it might be a little painful. As you approach, a faint chiming sound fills the air, although you can't quite pinpoint its origin. Idelle turns to face you, her burning eyes briefly flicking to the snake on your shoulders. Literally burning — they aren't simply red, but flicker strangely to orange and yellow as well, uncannily like a candle flame. "Ambraea," she says.
Amiti smiles at you, relieved as though you have just rescued her from something direly uncomfortable — you're glad you interposed yourself. "Hello, Ambraea!" she says. It's striking all over again how much she does and does not resemble her sister.
"Amiti, Idelle," you say, "I trust your summers went well?"
"Oh, lovely," Amiti says, "I got so much reading done, and the weather was lovely. And I saw instructor Sai again." She looks at you expectantly as she says this, and you have a faint, panicked notion that you should know who she means.
"I'm sorry, who?" you ask. Idelle looks equally puzzled.
"It's not important," Amiti says. And then she fishes in her bag for a notebook and graphite, for some reason.
"I spent most of my time training," Idelle admits. "It isn't often I have a chance to work with my master, and it won't do to have my spear work completely atrophy." You realise what made the chime, belatedly — in an unusual affectation for a Dynast, one of her ears is pierced in three places, with three tiny, brightly-coloured bells dangling from it. They're jade — one green, one black, and one red. Oddly enough, they don't make any more noise when she moves her head or speaks.
Idelle is both shorter and darker than you, built along more wiry lines, her dark hair in elaborate braids down past her shoulders. You're not surprised that the daughter of Demon Fang Anay might know her way around a spear, but you've never trained with her or seen her fight. After the summer you've had, you're suddenly curious, even if you're not exactly pleased with her for upsetting Amiti.
As accurate a character assessment of your friend as she may have been making.
"I did a great deal of sword work while I was in the Imperial City," you admit. "There was a lot of opportunity to find new opponents."
"I'm sure you'll beat Sola someday," Amiti says, in an encouraging tone that you're quite sure marks a sincere sentiment.
"I have beaten her. Occasionally," you say, frowning, and not altogether loving that direction of conversation. "I saw your sister, by the way."
Amiti perks up. "Oh! I hope she's well — it's been long enough since we've spoken in person, but I'm sure she'll mention you in her next letter."
"She seemed well enough," you say. "You didn't tell me you're identical."
"Didn't I?" Amiti says.
Idelle laughs. "Of course she didn't," she says. "What is it that your nanny used to say? Kasi got all the sense, you got all the dreams."
Amiti gives her a quietly indignant look. "My sister has plenty of dreams," she says. "They're just about... practical things, mostly."
You can't entirely say that the assessment seems incorrect. Sesus Kasi certainly seemed like she has her mind focused on far more temporal matters than Amiti, but you can't say that you didn't see ambition in her eyes, sometimes.
The gangplank lowers then, and with it the request for you all to board. L'nessa gives you an amused look as she passes by, evidently more than a little tickled by the way you'd left so abruptly. Maia's eyes briefly meet yours, and things aren't quite normal between the two of you, but you're still looking forward to the more socially permissive atmosphere of the school.
Idelle walks up onto the ship, and you're about to follow, but Amiti catches your sleeve. You turn to look at her expectantly. "Thank you," she says, voice quiet.
"You looked like you needed some rescuing," you say.
Amiti gives an awkward little laugh. "A bit! She's not so bad, though — she's trying to look out for me."
"Because your parents are Hearthmates," you say. You recall her mentioning the previous year.
"Yes, and we've known each other since we were children," Amiti says. "I think Anay told her to keep an eye on me, and she takes that sort of thing very seriously."
You suppose it's not so surprising that so many people who knew Amiti as a young girl are of the belief that she needs minding. But at least Kasi is revising her opinion as the two of them grow older. "We're all supposed to keep an eye on one another," you say, as if you don't understand her specific meaning. "It's how the school works."
Amiti smiles, and hurries to catch up with your longer stride as you walk toward the ship. "Yes, I suppose so," she says.
Article:
You will need to make good on that offer of keeping an eye on one another sooner rather than later. During your fourth year, Idelle will approach you with a concern about Amiti and what, exactly, she's been doing. What is the setting of that encounter?
[ ] A difficult binding ritual
As fourth years, you are now being tasked with more dangerous duties around the school. This binding is eventful, but it gives Idelle a chance to speak to you.
[ ] A training session
Idelle politely interrupts one of your sparring matches with Sola. Her news isn't exactly welcome, but you get an opportunity to observe her strange fighting style in practice.
[ ] At the worst possible time
You were planning to meet Maia, but you can't exactly just say that now.
You take in a deep breath. "I know that you're a descendant of Is--"
You've seen Maia move this fast, catlike and explosive. It has never before been directed at you, however. She has one small hand clapped hard over your mouth, the other braced against the headboard. She looks at you with wild, terrified eyes. Beside you on the bed, Verdigris hisses in alarm, not liking this, but not capable of threatening Maia enough to prevent it.
"No," you say, and there's an anger in your voice that surprises you, a resentment that you've barely allowed yourself to acknowledge bleeding into your words. "No. She told me to 'have my fun' with you, then distance myself before you become a liability. Because there are plenty of other patrician girls willing to warm my bed if I just want to keep a lover of a lower station." Maia flinches, and you deliberately soften your voice with some effort, your hands leaving her wrists, and moving to cup her face. "That's not what you are to me," you say, staring into her eyes, expression plaintive. Willing her to believe you.
Maia stares back at you for a moment, gradually going slack. She lets out a quiet sniff, lip trembling. She doesn't resist as you gather her up into your arms and pull her close, cradling her in your lap.
"She's right though. I am a problem. I'll be a problem for you," Maia says. She curls in against you, making herself as small as possible, her head pressed in against the hollow of your shoulder and your neck. You lean yours against it — as always, her hair smells like oncoming rain.
"I don't care," you tell her, your heart full of uncomplicated feeling, unaware of your own dangerous ignorance. She seems to want to reply to that, but what comes out is a whimper, and in the end you just hold her tightly as she sobs, not entirely understanding what it is about this that hurts her so much.
It's only much later that you think to notice that she wasn't particularly surprised that the Empress would be privy to her family's darkest secrets.
