The imperial library was a city in itself, only in place of people were scrolls and tomes that smelled of musty honesty – compared to any suffocating perfumes of his father’s court. Its buildings were its shelves, the tables a home to nestle beside, and best of all its people – the books – all gave their information freely. Not unlike the monk Renshu and his secrets. Liao was sure he had some hidden in his heart. Dangerous men tended to, like his father.

The prince fumed at the monk’s refusal to be bribed for purchase of elixirs or brews. He read the Alchemical Appendix, the latest edition from the guild, little more than blustering propaganda. It helped calm his mind whenever he was stricken. Liao still enjoyed reading what little snippets of the one thing the Alchemy Guild held sway over: elixir production.

He knew any fool could rub together two rocks of Jade and spark a green fire. The longer it burned though, the stronger its Incense effects were. How long it took was a secret the Alchemy Guild killed to keep a secret. Ember smoke condensed into liquid could then be used as elixirs. Elixirs created long life. Elixirs came from Incense. Incense came from burning Jade. The history of the Dynasty diluted into one damnable mineral.

There were other Stones and Herbs and mysteries that Liao’s ancestors had wrested control over, many wars to make what the Dynasty was now. Jade was the most crucial substance of all, granting immortality. He was destined to become such an immortal, like his father, and his forebear before him. Who that was no one could tell, not even all the books of the imperial library, Liao was certain of that. No one lived past a mortal’s lifetime, as it was enough time to make more than enough enemies to plot your death.

His father was the longest living Emperor in over a century, surpassing all those known before him, ruling for over fifty years. The Dynasty was a creature that bit the hand of whoever fed it, and took the head of those who led it, at least what he’d learned in its history.

He was twenty-four, still elixirless; still powerless. If Liao couldn’t obtain an elixir from the monk Renshu, then he would at least try the next best thing; a brew concocted from a Herb, something that would give him some kind of power to stop what he had seen. His Sight was a curse and a blessing, so his mentor, the Oracle, said. Seeing the future, yet making you blind to the present.

The prince banged his fist against the table, seething. His vision would come true. He knew it would, he could feel it in his bones to the tips of his fingers, a chilling dread of the capital being sacked, his family butchered.

A disbelieving smile crossed his face as he thought of himself as an army routing hero, like the wandering monk Giao, who founded the Shadai Order. He would save his family. He just had to find a Herbal brew, and his best chance of obtaining such a thing was in the black market. Where it was he didn’t know, but he knew no one in the court was beyond corruption and its demands, not even his own guardsmen…

An octagon of sunlight, shaped by the skywindow above, shone overhead. Several of them dotted the library, away from the protected shade of its books. He hadn’t noticed his sister approaching from the shadows until she sat down opposite him.

“Why are you here, Feia?” Liao asked, not taking his eyes off his book.

“I know you come here whenever you’re troubled,” she murmured.

“I’m troubled every day,” he said.

Feia was a good sister to him. He wished at times she was firstborn. Even though she was sixteen years old, Feia was stronger than him in many more ways.

“I know you spoke with the monk,” she said.

Liao paused to look at her. “What of it?”

“You’re a bookworm, brother. What would you want to know from a Shadai monk? It’s not like you can join their Order.”

Liao snorted. Him, a monk, his head shaven, able to fight armies? Perhaps he wished.

“It was nothing, I was curious of such a man.”

Feia scoffed. “You’re a terrible liar. Every pilgrimage they've come. Every year you’ve said nothing to them. Now you do. Now you start talking to monks, and always smell of rud, and probably will leave a horde of bastards from all your courtesans. What you do behind closed doors is your own business, but when you bring that into the court and stop acting like father’s deserving steward, nobles talk,” she hissed. “They talk of your deservingness of the throne, of our family’s claim should father not return one day. And when that day comes, our lives will depend on your decisions, brother.”

Liao clapped his book shut. “You’re right, Feia. What I do is my own business. Why don’t you go lecture mother?”

“Because she’s gone, Liao!” his sister shrieked, shocking him at her outburst. She’d always been the reserved one; the deserving one to claim their birthright. Feia said quietly, “Mother has forsaken us. Father has deserted us. And all you do is sit here in your nest of books, pretending like the whole fucking thing isn’t coming apart.”

She left Liao to drown in the silence. There had always been a silence between them, and she’d finally shattered it like a wall of glass.

Liao gave a sharp exhale.

His family was broken, but they were still alive. He would do whatever he could so they would stay alive, as the latter was just a lost cause.