Wind swirled around the young man, keeping him aloft high above the city. Though he wasn’t particularly fond of his responsibilities, it still amazed him. The feeling of wind in his hair as he took in the late spring air thrilled him, even as he has done this countless times. His father often told him that there were three kinds of people: magicians, who “the gods gave the power to do anything admirably, but must work hard for it”; forecallers, who “the gods gave one thing to do admirably for no effort”; and people like him - priests, who “the gods decided to keep in the middle, to do one thing perfectly, but in the service of them.”

While some could be unnaturally fast or strong, could see and hear from miles away, and some could make little flames and tempests or freeze water into ice. There were those who could do them all, with some effort. He was in the middle. The winds obeyed him, and he could call down lightning should he please, but only in the service of He-whose-breath-grows-us. He did what he had to do, in the predawn sky he communed with the dragon-god, asking what He had in store for His beloved Shin Rikoku.

And so he stood there, buoyed by the wind for a few more moments. The wet air conveyed one feeling: fear. His heart was racing in terror as he descended back down to the temple below. He motioned for the acolytes to close the portal on the roof, as he paused to catch his breath. Another acolyte came, bearing a scroll and brush, asking the priest for the dragon-god’s augury. He stared at the pewter statue dominating the temple - a giant metal dragon spiraling upwards, its serpentine body supporting the very temple itself as it helixed skyward, its claws wrapped in clouds and a mighty jaw half-open.

An Ill Wind blows over the Capital. Prepare to avert Disaster. Watch out for upheaval.

For the first time in his life, he prayed that this time, that god has made a mistake.

-

Few words can describe Lady Fujimori Miri, the young head of the Fujimori Family, a noble house known for their healers and sorcerers. “Talented” is one of them, being granted the titles of Adept Sorceress and Royal Physician at the tender age of sixteen. Another would be “recklessly stubborn”, sparing not even royalty from her schemes. Her friends and not-so-friendly acquaintances alike have devised ways to keep her behavior from bothering them too much, although her talent shines and circumvents these restrictions.

She strode with more confidence than was afforded in those hours of the morning, just after dawn. Bright, intelligent eyes along with long hair tied in a neat ponytail betrayed no ounce of sleeplessness on her part. She was already dressed in the fine white silk garments and matching red skirt denoting her station as a specialist in healing magic.

She came upon a particular hall in the Royal Palace’s Eastern Keep. Ancient wood planks groaned at her feet, and tiny slivers of the morning light played shadows on the paper doors. She noticed the familiar tingle of spellcraft as she approached the room that was this morning’s mission. Accompanying it was a faint ringing sound, which one could only pick up if they were looking for it. She didn’t know exactly what the spell was; It was Thaumaturgy, after all; magic far different from sorcery. She knew enough, however, from how it compelled her to stay away that it was a ward: a spell designed to keep her out. She could also conclude from how the spellcraft felt rough around the edges, and from how the ringing was more audible than usual that it was shoddily, hastily prepared.

Adept as she is, she can’t dispel the obstruction. The gentleman she brought - or was it dragged? - with her, however, could get rid of wards such as these.

Lord Morita Kazuma, unlike the lady with him, looks unimpressive - just another lanky seventeen-year-old with a square face, standing almost a head taller than the rather diminutive Miri. But just like his colleague, he is Lord of one of the Kingdom’s Eastern Realms. A Wardsmith by birth, and an Apothecarist by trade, he could be considered a rather accomplished young man, that is, if he wasn’t such an aloof slacker. He was rudely awakened by Miri ten minutes ago, in case the room’s occupant had something planned to keep anyone out.

It turns out that he was indeed needed. The fact that Lady Fujimori’s keen intellect allowed her to predict that such would happen annoyed Lord Morita quite a bit.

“Can you break it?” Miri asked.

“Yuuichi is a talented guy," he began, stretching. “But this ward is garbage,” Kazuma said, disappointment rang in his voice, both at having to work so early in the morning, and to find that the person he personally taught how to create wards did so extremely poorly. As someone who had only woken up mere moments earlier, his hair was a dishevelled mess, gunk still clung to his eyes, and he had not changed from the robes he’d used to sleep in.

“He wasn’t really keen on coming with me today, but it looks like I arrived earlier than he expected," Miri stared at the door, deducing that the room’s occupant had been in a hurry to set up the ward. She imagined him setting up a better barrier as she stood there, the shoddy one merely acting as a precautionary measure.

“By ‘garbage’, you mean you can break it?” Miri asked.

Kazuma yawned, apparently disinterested in whatever scheme Miri hatched. “I guess”. He lazily did some hand gestures, dispelling the ward around the room. The tingling sensation and ringing of the ears ceased. The spell had been broken, and they could now enter.

“Can I go back to bed now?” Asked Kazuma. “Breakfast isn’t in another hour”.

“Of course not!” Miri protested, “Knowing Yuuichi, he’s likely barred the door or something. I need backup!” she hissed, her mind whirring a thousand miles an hour at what countermeasures were in place on the other side of that door.

Unfazed, Kazuma simply yawned and started walking back to his room. “Your problem, not mine.”

Kazuma wasn’t likely to cooperate before breakfast anyway, so she didn’t run after him anymore. Instead, Miri fished a knife out of her pocket. It was almost as big as her hand, and its hilt was attached to the long sash that held her dress in place. Breathing deeply, she concentrated on the blade in her hand.

Magic is all about altering reality. And reality is basically just causes, agents, and effects. So to alter one aspect of reality is to alter them all. Sorcery is a form of magic that alters effects – a sorcerer slicing a door would not cut it, but would allow her to see through it instead. She cut at the door, magic weaved in the air, rendering the door transparent. Peering inside, she could see no traps, no barricades, and most importantly, no occupant.

Bright as Miri was, the room’s occupant was even more so. The room was completely deserted, and any indications that the room had even been slept in were gone. It dawned on her that the barrier was hastily made on purpose. It did not mean to keep her out, but rather, keep her distracted long enough for the occupant to escape through the window, while lulling her into a false sense of security that he didn’t leave.

Miri cursed. Audibly. Way too audibly, as it probably awoke the last people still sleeping in the Eastern Keep. She opened the door, incredulously confirming that there was no one there.

Kazuma sauntered back and poked his head into the room. “So much for shutting himself in?” he quipped.

As it turned out, Lord Morimoto Yuuichi, Head of the Morimoto Family and their desolate land of Bukijima, had already been awake even before Miri came and caused a scene outside his room. He was, understandably, in a bid to escape her dragging him along on one of her insane schemes. He slipped quietly out the third-storey window, using magic to glide down. For extra measure, he darted toward the opposite side of the Palace complex, into the garden between the North and West Keeps. He had stashed some books he’d borrowed from the Palace Library beforehand, and had already started reading when his disappearance was discovered.

Three hours had passed.

Yuuichi completely missed breakfast at the Eastern Keep, and Miri had finally realized that he did not appreciate her plans for him this morning. She was starting to nurse a headache, because after all the trouble she went through to schedule a private audience between her, him, and the King, he bails on her.

“Well, at least we know where he couldn’t be," Kazuma said, in response to Miri pinching the space between her eyebrows. He had already washed his face and changed into his usual garb of blue and white. “He hasn’t set foot outside the palace, as far as I can tell.”

“I don’t get it” Miri began, clutching the wooden railing separating the Keep from the gardens outside. “I do him a favor and he completely disappears.”

“It’s not a favor to him," Kazuma replied. “The past three years have been tough for him. Not that he’s completely without fault, mind you.”

Miri grumbled. It was true that Yuuichi was a bit of a troublemaker - skirting rules that he felt didn’t apply to him as an aristocrat, partly out of protest for being ostracized, which led to further ostracism.

Kazuma continued, “I don’t want to agree with Tanaka and the others, but…”

She cut him off. “Don’t say that. You know it’s not true.”

Kazuma sighed, “He agrees with them, though. Not because it’s been drilled into his head after all this time. He genuinely doesn’t think he belongs here.”

“All the more we should ask His Majesty to give him something… anything! I mean, have you seen how glazed his eyes are lately?” Her voice rose to a hysterical pitch. Not without reason, however - All Lord Morimoto does all day is read, and in fact, has read all the books in the palace library twice over. “You know what the Compulsion could do to him. He’s a hair’s breadth from madness right now!”

Kazuma groaned. “Yes, I know… I don’t need to be lectured on The Compulsion again. Besides, it’s not the first time he’s been problematic.”

“That’s beside the point anyway. When was the last time the council even took his opinion seriously? All he is right now is a hollow representative of a family that has -“

“…No holdings, no land, a traitor for a Great Lord, a criminal for a Great Lady, and a bastard for a head," Kazuma frankly interrupted. He might be lazy and easy going, but he didn’t like sugar coating things.

“I was going to say ‘no influence’. And only two of those things are true.”

“Does it matter? None of us have any influence. We’re just children pretending to be Lords and Ladies. The only reason we’re here is that His Majesty needs us and agreed not to let us leave," That last part stung as he said it. In the wake of The Incident, the only way the Conclave of Elders would legitimately accept Crown Prince Akira as King after his father’s sudden death was to impose that he and his council be literal prisoners – they cannot physically leave the first district of Reinaguchi, the Royal Capital. Doing so would be like hitting a wall that wasn’t there.

“And if His Majesty is that willing to keep us in here, then he ought to give Yuuichi more than just a comfy chair that amounts to nothing.”

“That should have happened three years ago, then," Kazuma leaned over the railing and took a good look at her face. “I know your family is indebted to theirs. But you don’t have to go this far for him”. Her gaze was still fixed forwards, and she didn’t see him smile at her, the kind he does when he gets a brainwave. “Being his friend is enough.”

“You’re right.”

“So… That’s that, then," He stretched again, adjusting his robes to fit him better. “Do you have any plans? I heard from those servants that there’s this new place in town that sells these -”

“I’ll see His Majesty. I still have an appointment with him, after all," She turned to leave.

It was Kazuma’s turn to have a headache… The fact that Lady Fujimori was stubborn annoyed him quite a bit.

-

Morimoto Yuuichi, sixteen-year-old novice Thaumaturgist, chose to read at random places in the palace, shifting every so often, mainly to escape Miri’s nagging, but more because he’d rather be left alone by everyone else. The Council of Forty (or at least, those not from the East Keep) reserved a special kind of dislike to the representative of the thrice-disgraced Morimoto family, which he reciprocated by being slightly problematic himself. This time, he chose to hide in the garden in the Northeast corner of the Palace Complex, a secluded area composed of twisting bridges and platforms above a lotus-covered stream. It was his first time reading here, under a tree in a small island flanked by two bridges. He wondered why he hadn't chosen to come here before. It was probably the most peaceful, quiet place he could go, which made him wonder if these waters turned red with blood in that massacre three years ago.

The Incident, as it came to be called. The bloody murder of the most important members of the aristocracy, as well as the scores of guards and servants who were in the way of the Order of Kuusai left Shin Rikoku in the hands of orphans. All fell to the sword, save one. Yuuichi’s father had gone missing three years prior, and his mother had been in exile in a remote part of the kingdom for most of her life. Yuuichi had hypothesized that part of the reason he was ostracized for the past three years was that he still had parents. Of course, none of that actually helped or mattered.

He had begun to doze off after a while – these books were some he had already read more than once over the years, when he heard the staccato tapping of wooden clogs on wooden planks, broken by an occasional quiet cough. Footsteps coming closer. He tried to pay it no mind, as it was probably Miri finally finding him.

But Miri didn’t take short, deliberate steps. She always strode confidently, almost marching even. Besides, Miri wasn’t sick, and when was the last time she wore clogs?

“Fancy meeting you here, Lord Morimoto,” came a peculiar greeting, followed by a fit of subdued coughing. “Did you need anything from our Keep?”

That was a stupid question. He was half asleep in the middle of a garden. And if he needed anything from other Keeps, he’d send a servant, or ask Miri to send a servant - given how little he was liked. Yuuichi knew that deliberately stupid questions led to one thing: conversation. And conversation usually ended in insult.

“No, Lady Watanabe. I was simply reading," He finally opened his eyes and gazed at Watanabe Yuriko, the King’s sister. She is a pale young woman, owing to the sickness that has afflicted her for as long as anyone could remember. What that sickness was isn’t public knowledge to anyone outside the Watanabe family; not even Miri - court physician as she is - was allowed to treat her, for some reason. Her paleness was only hidden by the bright yellow furisode she wore, embroidered with intricate chrysanthemums, with a dark purple obi tying it to her slender frame. She wore her hair down, quite loosely, allowing her to wear a circlet on her head – gold with a jade inset which she liked to wear above her left ear.

“It must be a boring book, then. For you to fall asleep," She seemed genuinely amused upon saying this.

“I’ve read it before.”

Yuriko chuckled. “Sages are strange, it would seem.”

The comment didn’t bother Yuuichi. He’d heard worse, after all. Thaumaturgists (or sages, the word for them made by people who couldn’t pronounce the official term) were seen to be strange by most people – reading all day and wearing clothes that were too warm. Most people would think that Lord Morimoto was odd, but perhaps not this odd, to read a book again once having read it. Reading, of course, wasn’t one of the things Watanabe Yuriko was particularly fond of doing.

It was confirmation, too, that Lord Morimoto was as laconic as she had previously heard.

“It’s nice to see you somewhere other than the Skysteel seats, for a change," she smiled at him, although he seemed to ignore the gesture.

He nodded, awkwardly.

“Don’t let me bother you further then," she bowed to him, but didn’t leave. She simply walked toward a bridge railing and leaned against it, gazing into the water lilies that were only starting to bloom in the morning light. She played with a small, green pendant she wore around her neck.

Yuriko turned around. “Oh? Leaving so soon?”

He nodded, not making eye contact. Eye contact with anyone outside his Keep, he learned, was dangerous. “I didn’t want to bother you.”

She tilted her head, as if confused. “You’re not. It’d be nice if you could stay here, even. Maybe I’ll have my servants get us tea.”

Yuuichi pouted. Lady Watanabe was good friends with Lady Hibana, who spent council meetings glaring at his direction whenever he would speak (which wasn’t even often). He approached her, cautiously. What was her deal?

She beamed. “That’s better. I don’t get to talk to you often," The truth was, even if they practically spent the last three years within two hundred yards of each other, this was the first time they’ve talked.

“So…” she began, trapping him into conversation. “What do you think of the news?”

“Which news?” Yuuichi remembered that he had skipped breakfast, and news was often passed around at the breakfast table.

“Ah, the one about the Conclave of Elders. They’re considering lifting the Oath that keeps us here.”

Yuuichi’s eyes widened in disbelief.

“Everyone’s talking about it. But everyone’s so busy with running the country that I doubt anyone would take advantage of it. And I don’t think Brother would let me go without someone else with me, either," she sighed.

“You want to leave the Capital?” he asked.

She nodded, smiling, gazing at the blooming lotuses while her mind was far away. “More than anything. I keep hearing stories of beyond the mountains and across the sea… But actually being there? I haven’t even seen the kingdom outside the city. I want to see the world – Hekiya, Washinoyama, maybe even Dai Reigoku," she started coughing.

“I… hope you get to go to those places," Yuuichi struggled to reply, noting that she probably couldn’t travel given her condition.

“How about you? Do you want to go somewhere?” she asked, having settled down after her fit. “You and I aren’t tied to any royal offices so I imagine you don’t particularly have a reason to stay here, either.”

It was true. Yuuichi had no love for the capital. Each day was spent hardly doing anything other than find new ways to stave off the madness brought upon by the Compulsion, which usually ended up with reading what little books he could get his hands on.

“Home. I want to go home," he finally said.

“I see," she responded, her face showing a thoughtful expression. “It must be nice to be reunited with your mother. Great Lady Morimoto… I hope to meet her someday. Perhaps when I’ve travelled and you come back home, I’ll visit you.”

Yuuichi was surprised. No one called his mother “Great Lady Morimoto," Usually it was simply “Bitch”, on account that she was allegedly some shameless woman his father managed to bed one stormy night. He couldn’t imagine the Princess of Shin Rikoku giving such respect for a one with supposed little esteem. “Thank you, I suppose,” was all he could say.

“You’re fortunate to still have parents, Lord Morimoto," She resumed playing with the bead on her neck. “Speaking of which, have you heard from your father?”

This one struck more than a nerve for Yuuichi. His father was often viewed as a traitor to many people in the Capital, not being present to defend the Palace from the Order of Kuusai three years ago. Some even whisper that he is with the Order.

He shook his head. The fact that he had not seen his father in six years, and his mother in three was something that clawed on him.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.”

“It’s alright," it was the first time someone apologized for bringing up the topic of his traitor of a father. Usually it ended up with him being labelled some sort of an equally traitorous bastard.

“Well, I for one, think he’s still out there," Yuriko looked at the water again. “I remember him being on such good terms with Mother, and I don’t think Mother would be friends with a horrible person," she looked crestfallen, pinching ever harder at the jade pendant that hung from her neck.

It was rare for him to hear about his father being addressed as a decent person; even his mother had the occasional harsh words to say about a certain Morimoto Soushi.

“I guess”. Yuuichi said. He felt awkward, being reminded that he was the only one in the Council who even still had someone to call a parent. “I’m… sorry for your loss.”

“Mother and Father are heroes," She said, her smile starting to ring hollow. It seemed to be something she had internalized long ago, though she still had trouble believing.

“The Great King and the Godtamer," He replied, using their epithets.

She finally started letting her tears fall at this point, her coughing intensifying as a result. She started wiping her face with her sleeve. She continued him, echoing the words engraved on their memorials, as customary when discussing the late King and Queen “May Shin Rikoku repay their sacrifice with greatness.”

-

Meanwhile, a short walk away, King Watanabe Akira wondered why instead of a strangely-clothed Thaumaturgist (He understood wearing clothes like a westerner, but who wears a thick coat in the summer?) accompanying Lady Fujimori in her sixth attempt at getting Lord Morimoto a position at court, she was accompanied by…

“Lord Morita," The King regarded the two who entered his office. “I’m not going to ask if Lady Fujimori brought you here as part of an elaborate joke or not. But please, do have mercy on your clan, they might not appreciate you being dragged around by the representative of the Fujimori house.”

Akira is eighteen, but looks older. The boy-king has always been rather imposing, and his imperious tone is usually laced with copious amounts of sarcasm. He has always had a somewhat twisted sense of humor, with his councillors repeatedly wondering if he was serious or simply joking. Not a simple feat, considering his red robe, lined in gold thread, embroidered in the family’s insignia, as well as miniature flames made him look like he was perpetually on fire.

Kazuma laughed it off. “No, your majesty. Lord Morimoto proved uncooperative so I came in his stead." Miri nudged him with her elbow, noting that the comment was not particularly helpful. There was a reason the rest of the Court did not take the Eastern Keep members seriously, and it was folks like him, who didn’t see the King’s sarcasm as their cue to leave him alone.

“If Lord Morimoto is, as you say, uncooperative, then he doesn’t even want a position, is that right, Lady Fujimori?” the King rebutted. “I’m not a heartless man who would give something to someone who didn’t want it.”

Miri bit her lip. He had a point. This was not something Yuuichi wants. But something she felt he needed badly.

“Suppose the Oath is lifted before summer’s end, what would His Lordship do?” Akira asked.

Miri hadn’t even considered the Oath. “I suppose he’ll go back home. To his mother.”

“Right. Then there wouldn’t be a need for him to enter into the Royal Employ. In fact, it would be quite counterproductive.”

“And if the Oath isn’t lifted?” Kazuma asked.

“Did you receive the Augury from Lord Kazami?” the King inquired, not really answering the question. “Of course you did. You ate breakfast with him.”

Miri nodded.

“Care to repeat it for me?”

Miri recalled the slip of paper passed in between them at the breakfast table. “An ill wind blows over the Capital...”

The King interrupted her. “Prepare to avert Disaster. Watch out for upheaval.

“The fact is; Lord Morimoto might be a valuable asset. If the Augury is as dire as Lord Kazami wrote it, then I would want all the pieces in our favor. It could be today, it could be tomorrow, or it could be three years from now. It may well be that upheaval is upon us, and that upheaval would be Lord Morimoto’s doing. But not right now. Perhaps -”

He was interrupted by Kazuma, who suddenly shuddered, collapsing to the floor. Miri and the King reacted, asking him what’s going on. He convulsed violently, eyes going blank. Miri’s hand flew to her pocket, grabbing her knife. She was beginning to steel her mind to perform healing sorcery when the convulsions stopped, as suddenly as they came.

“Breach at the wards of the palace!” Kazuma gasped for breath. “We’re being attacked!”